you know what they call me?

but only for a day

[sneegswagger]

hi!

i am finn and i’m twenty one!

here is my kofi!

this is my spam account!

i write for quite the variety of people! you can find my masterlist here!

if you want to request anything from me to write or you even just want to talk ab your day, my inbox is always open!

type away :)

[starlostjisung]

don’t look away

pairing: bang chan x reader

genre: smut (yep, that’s it); established relationship

wc: 3.3k

warnings: pure smut; unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!!); mirror sex; dom!chan; fingering; oral sex (f!receiving); silver bang chan (that’s the biggest warning)

summary: you never realised how much a mirror could change everything - now you’re pressed against the wall, forced to watch every moment as your boyfriend makes you come undone in ways you never thought you’d see

a/n: did y’all see the last skz-talker? DID YOU???? that’s all i have to say (and blame for this idea)

dinner is simple but perfect, the kind of night that doesn’t need anything grand to feel special. just you and chan tucked into a corner booth of a small restaurant, the hum of quiet conversation around you, the low lighting catching in his eyes every time he leans forward. he insists you order dessert, even though you say you’re full, and then eats half of it himself while pretending it was always for you.

he makes you laugh so hard your stomach hurts, telling some ridiculous story from practice, exaggerating every detail until even he’s grinning too wide to keep going. his hand never leaves yours on the table, thumb tracing circles absently across your knuckles like he can’t stop touching you.

it’s soft, easy - love that doesn’t need to be spoken because it’s there in every glance, every brush of his fingers against yours.

the walk home is just as gentle, your hand still in his, swinging lightly between you. the city feels alive around you, neon lights and cool air, but it all fades in comparison to him. by the time you reach your door, your heart is already too full, a warm ache blooming in your chest just from being near him.

inside, the shift is subtle. chan’s tugging at the collar of his shirt, muttering something about how warm it is, his voice rougher now, carrying easily across the room. he moves towards the mirror without thinking, and you follow with your eyes, the way you always do.

you catch yourself staring. not just at him, but at his reflection in the tall mirror propped up against the wall. the way his broad shoulders fill the frame, the soft glow of the lamp catching on his hair, the curve of his smirk when he notices you watching.

“what?”, he asks, playful suspicion in his tone. he doesn’t look at you directly - he looks at the mirror instead, at your wide eyes flicking away too late.

“nothing”, you say quickly, but the heat creeping up your neck betrays you.

he chuckles low, dragging his shirt over his head, tossing it aside carelessly. his reflection shifts, all lean lines and muscle, and your breath stutters before you can stop it.

“mm”, he hums, stepping closer until he’s right behind you, his chest warm against your back. his eyes meet yours in the mirror, sharp and knowing, “you like watching, huh? didn’t think you were that shameless”

your mouth opens, then closes again. he grins, satisfied, his hands already finding your waist.

“don’t get shy now”, he murmurs, voice brushing hot against your ear, “you’ve been looking at me all night. thought i wouldn’t notice?”

the mirror holds it all - the way his fingers press into your hips, the way your lips part on a shaky breath, the way he looks at you like he owns every inch of your reflection.

his reflection fills your vision, silver hair catching the lamplight in pale strands that shimmer almost unnaturally, like he doesn’t belong fully to this world. the contrast is dizzying - the warmth of his chest pressed to your back, solid and grounding, and the cool flash of that silver in the mirror that makes your pulse quicken.

“look at you”, he murmurs against your ear, voice low and rough with amusement. his eyes don’t leave the mirror. neither do yours, not really. you’re caught between wanting to hide and wanting to see more, the heat creeping higher up your neck.

his fingers toy with the hem of your top, dragging lightly across your stomach, back and forth, never quite lifting it.

“should i?”, he asks, lips brushing the shell of your ear, knowing the way your body tenses at the question.

you nod, too quickly, and he chuckles, slow and pleased, “thought so”

his hands move with infuriating patience, gathering the fabric, brushing his knuckles over every inch of skin he uncovers. you watch as more of you appears in the glass, the shape of your waist, the rise of your ribs, the flush spreading across your chest. he pulls the shirt over your head, dropping it carelessly, and immediately brings his hands back to your bare skin, palms wide, possessive.

“don’t look away”, he says when your eyes flick down, the command soft but unyielding, “i want you to see how beautiful you are like this”

the mirror reflects the tremble in your body when his fingers trace along the edge of your bra, the way your lips part without sound, the silver of his hair falling forward as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. he unhooks the clasp slowly, deliberately, and the straps slip down your arms like a secret you’re not supposed to share.

your breath hitches, your hands twitching like you want to cover yourself, but he catches them gently, guiding them down.

“no”, he says softly, eyes meeting yours in the glass, “let me”

the fabric falls, and his gaze lingers on the sight revealed, dark and hungry even as the corner of his mouth lifts into a smirk.

“perfect”, he whispers, like he’s talking to himself, though you hear it clear.

he lowers his mouth to your neck, sucking lightly, then harder, while one hand comes up to cup you, thumb brushing across your nipple until it hardens under his touch.

you gasp, the sound filling the quiet room, and he smiles against your skin.

“see?”, his voice is warm now, velvet and fire, “even your body likes being watched”

you do look - you can’t help it. the way your chest rises and falls unevenly, the way his strong hands touch your frame, the way his silver hair shines as he kisses along your collarbone. it’s overwhelming, too much and not enough, the intimacy doubled, tripled, by seeing it reflected back at you.

he drops lower, fingers brushing at the waistband of your skirt, teasing.

“should i keep going?”

the question is a formality - he already knows your answer, already feels the way your body leans back against him, needing more. still, the way he waits for your nod, for the small whispered “yes”, makes your skin prickle with anticipation.

the zipper slides down, slow, exaggerated, and he pushes the fabric over your hips, letting it pool at your feet. you step out of it without thinking, breath catching when he settles his hands back on your bare thighs, thumbs tracing circles dangerously close to the lace still covering you.

“look at you”, he says again, more heated this time, and in the mirror you see it - the flush across your chest, your parted lips, his silver hair glinting as his mouth curves in satisfaction, “so good for me”

his fingers trace the lace between your thighs, the slightest pressure that makes your knees weaken. in the mirror, you see yourself tilt into his touch, without thinking, desperate for more, and he hums with satisfaction like you’ve proven his point.

“watch”, he whispers, the command almost reverent, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, “don’t look away. i want you to see what i do to you”

your pulse is erratic, your breaths shallow, but you can’t look anywhere else. the reflection pulls you in - the sight of your own body trembling under his control, his hair falling forward as he presses kisses along your shoulder, your throat, down the line of your spine until he’s crouched behind you, a bit to your side so you can still see his face in the mirror.

he tugs your lace aside with careful fingers, exposing you just enough, and your stomach flips at the vision in the mirror: chan on his knees, silver hair gleaming, eyes dark and fixed on you like you’re something holy.

then he touches you - slow at first, his fingers sliding through heat, circling where you’re most sensitive until your legs almost give. your hand flies out instinctively, bracing against the mirror, palm flat against cool glass.

“that’s it”, he breathes, his voice lower now, thick, “hold yourself up. let me see you”

your eyes blur with the force of it, but you obey, watching as he works you open with his fingers, patient but relentless. the sounds fill the quiet - your shaky breaths, the wet slide of his touch, his small hums of approval.

then he moves you. hands firm but careful on your hips, chan turns you sideways until the wall beside the mirror is behind you. your palm presses to the cool surface for balance, chest rising and falling fast. before you can question, he slides one hand up, cradling your jaw, guiding your face until you’re forced to look again.

the reflection burns into you - your body trembling against him, lips parted, hair mussed - and chan directly in front of you now, on his knees, silver hair shining under the dim light as his mouth lowers between your thighs.

the sight nearly undoes you.

his tongue finds your clit, hot and wet, flicking against where you need him most before dragging slow and deep. you see every movement in the mirror - his lips parted around you, his eyes half-lidded but sharp, fixed on your face as he devours you. your own expression looks foreign, undone, and the intensity of seeing both at once makes your stomach clench.

“chris-”, his name slips out, broken, and his only reply is a low hum against your skin. the vibration travels through you, your knees threatening to give out, but his hands are there - gripping your thighs tight, keeping you open for him.

his tongue alternates, teasing circles, then hard pressure, then a sudden flick that pulls a cry from your throat. the sound bounces back at you from the walls, raw and unguarded, while his fingers slide back inside, curling just right, pushing you higher.

the mirror doubles everything - the heat in your face, the way your body jerks under his touch, the hunger in his eyes as he watches you watch yourself. it’s unbearable, the intimacy of it, and yet you can’t look away.

“i-i can’t- don’t stop, please”, you can’t help but beg while he keeps pushing you to your limit.

your palm smears against the glass as you struggle to steady yourself, your chest heaving. he only tightens his hold, mouth relentless, tongue stroking you as if he’s tasting you to memory.

you can’t breathe, can’t think - only feel the sharp coil inside winding tighter and tighter. he tilts his head, silver hair falling across his forehead, his tongue pressing harder, his fingers thrusting deeper, and that’s it - your body bows against him, your cry spilling out sharp and desperate as you come undone.

the reflection sears itself into your mind - your body trembling, your face flushed and wrecked, his mouth buried against you, silver hair gleaming as if lit from within.

you clench hard around his fingers, your walls gripping him desperately, and he groans low, almost guttural, the sound vibrating against you until your shaking finally fades away.

he slows gradually, easing you down, his tongue gentler now, his fingers still stroking until your muscles finally soften. your hair sticks to your forehead, the glass cool against overheated skin, your breath jagged and uneven.

chan finally pulls back, lips slick, eyes dark and soft at once, his chest rising hard with his own ragged breath. he tilts your chin slightly so you have to see - your reflection in the mirror, your body trembling, his mouth swollen, his hair mussed silver and wild. the smirk curving his lips is edged with pride and something deeper.

“look at you”, he murmurs, reverent and rough at once, “so perfect for me”

his words still echo inside you, but before you can even recover, chan is moving. his lips trail upward, slow and hot, leaving a damp line across your stomach, your ribs, your chest, until he’s kissing your mouth with the taste of yourself still fresh on his tongue.

you’re trembling in his arms, but he doesn’t give you time to steady. one hand cups your jaw, tilting your face back towards the mirror again, while the other slips to his belt and the sound alone makes your stomach flip.

you glance at the reflection - chan had already taken his shirt off before, but now his fingers go to the button of his jeans. the sound of it popping open fills the room, followed by the slow rasp of the zipper. he doesn’t rush - he lets you watch in the mirror as he pushes them down, his boxers going with them, until he’s completely revealed.

your breath catches. silver hair messy across his forehead, body flushed from the effort of holding himself back, the hard line of him standing proud and ready - every inch of him is laid bare, and the sight alone makes your thighs press together instinctively.

he notices, of course. his smirk flashes, sharp and knowing, before his hands find you again. one slips down the curve of your hip, fingers hooking beneath the last thing you’re wearing - delicate lace, the thin scrap of fabric clinging to you like it has any power left.

“so pretty”, he murmurs, voice rough with restraint, “but i want you bare for me”

with one smooth tug, the lace falls away, left forgotten on the floor. the mirror reflects you now - completely stripped, your skin flushed and trembling under the weight of his gaze.

the contrast vanishes. there’s no more fabric between you, no barrier, nothing left except you and him. he steps closer, pressing himself against you, the hard heat of him nudging at your thigh, slick evidence of your need already smeared against his skin.

your breath shudders out, your palm flat against the mirror for balance, as he tilts your chin so you’re forced to keep watching. his reflection with yours is devastating - silver hair glinting in the dim light, broad chest heaving, his body lined perfectly against yours as he positions himself.

his forehead rests against the side of your head, silver hair brushing your skin as his breath shakes. his hands slide along your sides, warm palms skimming your bare waist, your ribs, before settling on your hips.

“look at us”, he whispers, tilting your chin again, just enough so your gaze catches the mirror.

you see it all there - two bodies pressed close, nothing between you now, his chest flush against yours, your lips parted as you try to breathe. the sharp ache of wanting him coils inside you, deeper now that you’re bare together.

he guides himself lower, dragging the head of his cock through your slick, spreading you open with nothing more than the weight of his need. you shiver, nails curling into his shoulders.

“chris…”, your voice trembles, not quite a plea, not quite a warning.

he answers with a kiss - hungry, messy, all teeth and tongue - as he finally presses forward. the stretch steals the air from your lungs, your body clenching reflexively as he pushes in, slow and deliberate.

your cry spills into his mouth, and he swallows it, groaning low in his chest.

“fuck, you’re so tight”, his words vibrate against your lips, rough and unguarded, “always so perfect for me”

you force your eyes to the mirror, and the sight unravels you. your own face twisted in pleasure, the long line of his body pressed against yours, the way he buries himself inside you inch by inch until you’re full, stretched around him completely.

“eyes on us”, he reminds, his thumb brushing your jaw as he bottoms out, “don’t look away, baby. i want you to see how good you take me”

your breath catches, chest heaving against his, “i can’t- it’s too much-”

his smirk flickers, soft but mischievous, “yes, you can. you’re stronger than you think. and i want you to watch how beautiful you are when i make you fall apart”

he pulls back and pushes in again, deeper this time, and the shock of the sensation rips a sound from your throat. your reflection shows everything - how your mouth drops open, how your body jolts almost against the wall, how he clings to you like he’s desperate to never let go.

his rhythm builds, steady but consuming, each thrust hitting deep enough to make your knees buckle. your hands scramble against his shoulders, clutching tight, but he steadies you with his grip at your waist.

“that’s it”, he breathes, teeth grazing your neck, “hold me tighter. i want to feel you everywhere”

you do - wrapping your legs around his hips, dragging him closer, both of you falling against the wall behind you, the slick slide of skin against skin sparking heat across every nerve.

his hand slips between you, fingers finding your clit, circling in time with his thrusts. the double sensation has you gasping, head tipping back until you nearly lose the reflection.

he doesn’t let you. his hand catches your jaw again, forcing your eyes back to the mirror.

“watch”, he growls, his hair sticking damp to his forehead, his chest heaving with effort, “watch yourself come apart for me”

your body clenches hard at the command, walls gripping him tighter with every deep stroke. your reflection blurs, tears of pleasure pooling at the corners of your eyes, but you still see it - yourself trembling, chan’s muscles straining as he holds you up, the raw need written all over both of you.

the pressure inside coils unbearably, wound tight by his fingers and his thrusts and his voice in your ear.

“i can’t- chris-”

“yes you can”, he insists, his own voice breaking now, guttural and raw, “come for me, baby. let me feel you”

the words tip you over the edge. pleasure bursts through you in sharp waves, your cry filling the air as your body clamps down around him. your reflection shows every tremor, every shudder, every moment of you unraveling completely.

he groans, the sound ragged, his rhythm faltering as your body drags him down with you. his jaw tightens, silver hair damp against his flushed face, as he buries himself deep one final time.

“fuck-”, his voice shatters, his whole body stiffening as he spills into you, clutching you so hard you feel it in your bones.

the mirror holds it all - the way you collapse together against the wall, shaking and breathless, your mouths finding each other in a desperate kiss as the aftershocks ripple through you both.

for a long moment, it’s just the sound of your heartbeats crashing in sync, your breaths tangled, your skin sticky where it presses together. his forehead rests against yours, eyes still dark but softened now.

“look at us”, he murmurs again, but this time his voice is quiet, reverent, “i don’t think i’ll ever get over this view”

your laugh is shaky, small, but real, “you mean your silver hair or the mirror?”

he grins, mischievous even through the exhaustion, “both. but mostly the way you looked when you fell apart on me”

you smack his shoulder weakly, but he only kisses you again, deeper this time, and your laughter dissolves against his mouth as he murmurs, “round two later?”

and with the mirror fogged around your shapes, you kiss him back, smiling into each other like there’s no one else in the world.

the library

permanent taglist (ask in the comments to join): @stormofwho @luvbangchan @annyeongffs @iamlazychip @lavunyan @sammhisphere @kaybeerrosa @changbinshearteubeateu @jeonginslittledoll @wolfhallows4 @emmiesoverthemoon @geni-627 @xxestxays @btch8008s @sayuri122014 @beabidoobee @necrozica @n3ha @skinnyjeans-tanktops @hyvneluv @bluesungology @hyunjinxxs @ann-gell @minastronaut

[sneegswagger]

thinking about writing stray kids stuff. should i??

[minholuvr333]

soooooo monster skz 👀 werewolf chan??? siren felix?? vampire seungmin 👁️👁️ kyuubi jeongin! incubus hyunjin :000 orc or half orc changbin. jisung as some kind of hybrid (cat? dragon? bunny? who knows ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

Do with this information what you will ✨

monster!skz drabbles i can’t stop thinking about

sweet anon… you opened the floodgates that is my monsterfucker brain. i hope you enjoy my devolve into madness >.< this is a long ass post sorry (not sorry at all btw)

pairing; skz x reader (minho is posted here!)

tw; monsterfucking, fem reader, NSFW!, pet names, unprotected sex (be smart), manhandling, blood drinking, oral (f and m receiving), blood and guts, semi public scene, vague manipulation, abo dynamics, ropes, claws fangs scales and fur (*blushes*), some degradation, biting, branding, temperature play (?), poor y/n is about to be exhausted

bang chan;

it’s late when you first meet him. you’re walking home from a night out, hands pulling your skirt down on the dimly lit street. the full moon gives an eery glow to the otherwise dark, lonely concrete path.

and yes, you know it’s stupid to walk home alone. you know you’re a little tipsy and should have called an uber, but alas, you thought the ten minute walk could clear your head. you had a fight with a friend and felt too heated to get into the stiff air of someone else’s car- so, the chilly night air seemed like a better alternative.

this alternative, however, also included a giant fucking wolf in the tree bank. you still completely when you see it, eyes glinting off the moon light, hunkered down like it waits for prey. your heart drops to your ass, surely, you’re dead. surely, you’re about to be on the morning news, torn to shreds and beyond the point of identification.

the wolf watches you from a distance. when you scoot closer to the corner, ready to make a run for it, the wolf suddenly snaps its head in the direction of the woods. you inhale- it runs off, darting back into the thick greenery.

you run.

the next day you feel like you’re caught in a haze, glowing eyes meeting you every time you close your own. so you think, maybe you need a pick me up. maybe you need a coffee.

the coffee shop is a nice, day-lit walk. the overcast sky and gentle air remind you that you are alive and well- not torn to shreds. not a late night snack for a giant beast. as you’re walking, a body brushes yours. when you turn, a man is staring back at you.

“oh! my bad,” the man says, voice smooth, grin splitting his face and dimpling his cheeks. you feel your heart skip a beat in your chest as he looks over your body. he seems to catch himself, clearing his throat and sticking out a large, scratched hand. his knuckles are bruised. “i didn’t mean to startle you. i’m chan.”

you don’t remember giving him your name, but you love the way it rolls off his tongue. it sounds like a sigh, an exhale, he says your name like you’ve met before. old friends, even.

chan starts popping up more and more, he becomes your best friend. loyal, strong, muscular- fucking hot- he’s the whole package. he’s the type of friend that makes it easy to blur the lines, makes it easy to see how far you can push before he pulls away. but he never does. he pushes back, closes in on you every single time.

chan is acting weird. it’s been about a month since you met, since he became so important to you, and today feels… off. you try to ask him to hang out, but he brushed you off, saying he wasn’t feeling well. instead of taking his word for it, you decide to check up on him.

you’re not crazy. if you didn’t have such a horrible pit in your stomach, such a terrible feeling, you wouldn’t bother him. but it’s nearing midnight and you can’t sleep- restless at the thought of something bad happening. so, you go to his place. you take the spare key from the potted plant next to his door, and you walk in.

chan is on his couch. chan is panting, noticeably sweating, hair mussed from constant tugging. he’s barely wearing any clothes- only boxers- and you pause as you look at him.

chan is alert, snapping his head toward you in a way that’s almost too fast. he stands on wobbly knees, frantically looking towards the night sky through his open window before looking back to you. his eyes are glowing.

“y/n,” chan pants out, brows furrowed. “fuck- go home. now!”

you aren’t quite sure what happens next. one minute, you’re standing in the entryway of chan’s apartment, watching in horror as his body starts to contort in ways that cannot possibly be real. the next minute, you’re slammed into the carpet, claws digging into the floorboard by your head and a snarling set of canine teeth way too close to your neck.

chan- at least, you think it’s chan- is above you. he is growling, sharp and animalistic. between low noises you hear a single word, filled with the need to claim, to mark you. mine.

you would have to be massively fucked up to find this hot- your pussy clenches at the sight of him, though. not quite wolf, not quite human, and you gasp loudly as claws rip through your shirt. fuck, maybe you are massively fucked up.

“you shouldn’t have came here,” chan growls, voice ripping from his throat. “stupid puppy, need your alpha to teach you some respect, hm?” you whimper. chan absolutely demolishes your clothing.

you’re soaked, probably need to pay to get the carpet cleaned, but chan doesn’t seem to mind. he growls, sniffing at your neck right where it meets your shoulder. you feel his cock- large, pulsing, hot- against your thigh and a moan passes through your lips. chan can’t help but rut into your thigh, now nipping at the skin of your neck.

“spread your legs, darling. good girls take their alpha without whining, yeah?” chan grumbles, voice a low timbre next to your ear. you shiver violently, legs spreading open as he lines up with your entrance. no prep, no lube, just your soaked cunt and his precum covered cock to ease the way.

you scream when he thrusts in, you can’t help it. it’s rough, the stretch making your vision blurry. it’s so good. you feel like you’re being split in half, marked and claimed entirely by him. you are chan’s, and in return, he is yours.

“my sweet puppy,” chan moans, rutting into you frantically. his clawed fingers grip your hips hard, sure to draw blood. you hope they leave angry red scratches. you hope your blood stays under his nails forever. you beg, a string of please please please chan please leaving your lips, although you aren’t even sure why. all you know is that your stomach is tightening, hands balling up into fists, and chan’s sharp canines are grazing the fragile skin of your neck.

“gonna mate you- fuck, y/n-“ chan is panting now, teeth grinding together like he wants nothing more than to sink them into you. you want him to so bad, you bare your neck for him. “shit. gonna fill you so full, you’re gonna take my knot-“

chan’s teeth sink into your neck. you moan loudly, the noise ripping from your throat like an animal of its own, and you cum- hard. then chan is cumming too, pumping his load into you and thrusting in to the hilt, a large bump at the base of his cock wedging inside of you and staying there. his knot, probably.

you spend an uncertain amount of time- maybe minutes, maybe hours- on the ground, panting and allowing chan to lick your neck clean. he’s practically purring, hands no longer clawed as they run through your hair. finally, he is able to pull out. you whine, earning a sweet hushing sound from the man as he carries you to lay down. a gentle kiss is pressed to your forehead. you fall asleep laying in your mate’s arms.

changbin;

the last thing you expected when you heard a loud bang on your front door was this.

a man stands towering over you. huge- well over seven feet tall, muscles the size of your head, and the expression of someone that would easily murder you without blinking twice. holy fucking shit, you’re dead.

when he bullies his way into your apartment, opening the pantry door and killing a fucking demon right in front of your eyes, you’re surprised to say the least. a demon was messing with your pancake mix and shit.

the man- the orc, rather, tells you his name is changbin. he’s grumpy- a little pissy all the time. you tell him you’re fine, but he insists on staying around a little longer to ensure your safety. humans are too dumb and fragile to be safe on their own, he grunts. he wants to make sure the threat is eliminated.

he stays with you for months. not only in your home, but physically with you. all the time. honestly, you assumed this would annoy you. you consider yourself to be pretty independent, but you would be lying if you said you didn’t like having scary guard dog privileges.

changbin is bigger than any human man you could ever meet. no one approaches you, no one tries to pick you up when you’re having fun with your friends. changbin is always there, like a statue next to you, ready to fight (and kill) anyone who looks at you wrong. it’s oddly peaceful. you feel safe.

the thing is, changbin does not make empty threats. he told you he would keep you safe, and he has proven that he will. the demon in your pantry was the first instance; the sleazy man in denim staring you down from across the room will be the second.

sometimes, men have no survival skills. you can tell this is one of those times as the man wobbles on his feet, stalking towards you and flopping down into the chair to your right.

immediately, you say you’re not interested. why would you be when you’ve been fucking yourself to the thought of your hot orc bodyguard every night? but the man doesn’t take no for an answer. his hand moves to touch your bare thigh.

it never makes contact. instead, there’s a sickening crack as the man falls from his seat with a loud cry, holding his wrist. you didn’t even see changbin move, but suddenly he’s towering over the figure and raising his fist in the air.

you dart out of your seat, tugging at changbin’s snug shirt and whining about wanting to go home. obviously, murder would be a hard crime to plea innocent for- especially when half the bar is staring in your direction. changbin is still for moments, then he huffs loudly. grumbling, he circles your wrist with two large fingers and drags you towards the exit of the bar.

you can tell he’s pissed. and really, he doesn’t give you a chance to ask him about it. as soon as the door to your apartment is locked, he’s throwing you over his shoulder and taking large strides towards your bedroom. you punch and kick at him, telling him to let you down, but it’s wasted energy. he throws you onto the bed without breaking a sweat.

“ridiculous,” he scoffs, arms crossed and visibly fuming. “can’t even go out of the house without having useless humans beg for your attention.”

then, he’s closer. caging your thighs in between muscular legs and pinning your wrists at your head. “but i don’t have to beg, right y/n?” he asks, voice still tinged with anger. “no, i don’t. you will, though.”

your clothes are ripped away in seconds, the cotton fabric feeling so flimsy under his strong hands. changbin undresses next, leaving you panting and your eyes bulging at the sight of his massive cock. it’s almost as big as your forearm. you’re about to be ripped apart, just like your clothes.

“don’t worry, fragile little thing,” changbin huffs. “i’ll get you nice and wet. ready to take what i give you.”

and he does. changbin’s tongue, large and dripping with his spit, licks a stripe through your already wet pussy. he moans at the taste, sound vibrating your sensitive clit as he moves his tongue and lips. your hands thread in his hair, legs spread wide open around his strong, solid shoulders.

changbin’s tongue fucks into you deeper than anyone has ever been, your own fingers couldn’t even do it justice. he prods at your bundle of nerves, with each press of his tongue fire zips up your spine. he can tell when you get close- legs trying to squeeze around his head but unable to move much- and he… stops.

you whine and cry for more, begging for the release you could practically taste, but changbin doesn’t respond to your cries. instead, one solid arm flips you over in a single movement; you’re on your stomach now, large hands wrapping around your hips and pulling you to your hands and knees.

“have to make sure stupid assholes know who you belong to,” he grunts, hands tightening on your hips. you’ll have finger shaped bruises on your lower stomach tomorrow. the dimples of your back with be marked with purple kisses. the thought brings you that much closer to desperation.

when changbin lines his cock up with your greedy hole, you clench in anticipation. he grumbles in annoyance under his breath, large thumbs spreads your cunt open to make way for his length. then, he slides home.

your eyes roll back when you feel his hips press against your ass, head falling to hang between your arms. his hand stretches over your stomach- palming himself from within your body. fuck.

changbin starts thrusting, hips smacking into your ass and turning it bright red. you hold onto the headboard, hoping it doesn’t break- the bed is creaking. mattresses are expensive. each and every thrust inside you leaves you dripping, and if you were capable of forming any thoughts you would be embarrassed of the wet sounds coming from the place where the two of you are connected.

changbin shifts, long fingers coming to press against your clit and move in tight, fast circles. then he’s groaning, forehead resting between your shoulder blades as he moans, “fuck, you feel like heaven- cum for me, pretty girl. wanna feel you squeeze my cock-”

and then you cum. harder and more earth-shattering than you ever have in your life.

you get impossibly tighter around his length, pussy throbbing with every wave of the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. changbin isn’t far behind you, pounding into your heat once more before burying himself deep inside you and cumming, stuffing you full.

when you come back down from the clouds, changbin is wiping your body with a warm washcloth. you blink sleepily at him, smiling in your dazed state at the feeling of his gentle movements, as if afraid to hurt you now. when he is done, he climbs into bed beside you. large, strong arms wrap around you like a blanket, a kiss lands in your hair. as you’re dozing off, he mumbles out a last breath into the night air- a promise.

“i’ll always keep you safe, baby. you can count on me.”

hyunjin;

really, you’ve had plenty of stupid ideas in your life. this one might take the cake.

summoning a demon with the intention of trapping it, with the intention of tricking it into hunting someone down for you, is a bad idea. you know that. when your best friend had proposed the idea, handing you an incantation that predated modern latin, you had told him exactly how bad you thought the idea was. but here you are- black candles lit in a circle of salt, a bowl of your own blood resting in the middle.

granted, you probably should have learned old latin pronunciation. or maybe even like, new latin. really, any form of latin. but you didn’t, because the idea was already bad. how could it get worse?

in the end, the incantation didn’t even work. the candles burnt out, your blood remained cold in the ceramic bowl, and you were left with nothing but vague frustration as you cleaned your kitchen floor of the mess.

you lay down for the night shortly after, snuggling under your blankets and feeling the softness of them against your smooth, bare legs. with a sigh, you sleep.

then you wake up- sweating, heart racing, bolting upright to dart your eyes around your room.

you can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. you feel the urge to bolt from your bed, run out the door and keep running. someone- something- is watching you. you can’t explain how you know, you just know.

then, you see it. from the corner of your dark room, there is a figure crouched in your floor. you sharply inhale when crimson eyes meet your own, the shadow tilting it’s head in observance. slowly, the figure stands.

as it comes into the abysmal light from your window, you can start to make out certain features. elegant legs taking graceful steps, slim fingers attached to large, veiny hands. long, black hair cascades over broad shoulders, and those eyes- blood red, glinting with mischief in the sliver of light.

it’s a man, you think. a shockingly beatiful man. you feel the bed dip as hands press down on the mattress, the figure slowly crawling up until he is caging you in from all sides.

a low hum rumbles in his chest, then, “it has been centuries since i have been called upon, millenniums since the being was so… mouthwatering.”

the man leans in close, stealing the breath from your lungs as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. “so tell me, y/n. why did you call?”

oh, so he knows your name. fantastic.

“i… i need to kill a man.” you mutter, doe eyes batting upwards in nervousness. you were much more confident when you went over your script in the bathroom mirror. the man laughs breathily, shifting his weight to trail fingertips down your neck, collarbone, and downward. the fingers stop at your cleavage- right where your tank top starts.

“you called me for a murder? darling, i never get my hands dirty. i prefer to feed on those who are more than willing.”

shit. you really should have learned how to pronounce that incantation.

you gulp audibly, hand shaking as it moves to the demon’s chest. your intent had been to push him off of you, but now that your hand has made contact with chilled skin and strong muscle, you can’t find it in yourself to drag it away.

“do not lie to yourself, doll. why did your heart call to me?” the demon mutters, his hand enveloping your own on his bare chest. he moves your hand down, down further, until it rests at the silk fabric above his groin. your fingers curl into it without thinking.

“maybe-“ your voice cracks, so you try again. to your humiliation, the demon grins. “maybe i wanted… to forget?”

now, the fingertips at your cleavage move further, dragging your top down and off your shoulders- off your body all together. you fight the urge to whine as cool air hardens your pert nipples, the demon locking eyes with you as your shirt leaves your body. his grin widens, dark and warning. your heart accelerates against your ribcage.

“that, i can do. it is what i was made for, after all.”

the demon wastes no time revealing your body, strong hands leaving chills in their wake each time he removes more clothing. next, the silk around his hips unfolds, revealing the biggest, prettiest cock you have ever laid eyes on. and you have never thought a dick to be pretty in your life.

your mouth is watering- the demon coos at you like he knows. his hand wanders into your hair, petting the strands before gripping you tightly and moving forward so that his length is just out of your reach. with glassy eyes and a breathless sigh, you open your mouth for him. and he takes full advantage.

his cock is heavy on your tongue, throbbing when you whine around him and close your lips to suck at the tip. he pushes further in, continuing to use your hair as a guide to push and pull your mouth on his length. he groans, low and deep, when you feel him hit the back of your throat and you swallow.

“good, darling. worship me,” he hums. and you do.

drool leaks from your lips, down your chin, as the demon uses your mouth to his content. when you move a hand up to stroke him, he gently slaps it away with a hush. with one final tug of your hair, he leaves you panting, mouth open, and tears falling from your eyes. you aren’t sure if you are thankful for a breath of air- you want to choke by his hands.

“stop whining, doll. i will give you what you desire most,” he grins, sharp teeth glimmering in the darkness of the room. his eyes are brighter somehow, red pools of blood swirling in otherwise black irises. your legs spread wider, bracketing his sharp hip bones as his length presses to your entrance, running his cock head through your soaked folds and watching you clench around nothing in desperation.

when he presses in, it’s slow. deliberate. like he wants to make sure a space is carved out for every inch. when he is buried to the hilt, hips pressed flush to yours, he lets his head fall back with a sigh- as if embracing a lost lover. he pulls out just as slow, you feel him pulse as just the tip of his cock rests inside your wet, messy hole.

then, his hips snap.

the pace he sets is immediate- bruising, deep, pulling your thighs so that your legs are around his broad shoulders, ass lifted off the bed. his hands grip your hips like he will never let go, the promises of bruises seared into his touch. and you scream, hands reaching for his arms and clawing at his skin, sure to draw blood. instead of a complaint, the only thing to fall from his lips is a long, animalistic groan.

it’s all so much- so many sensations pulling you in so deep you feel like you’re suffocating. one of his hands moves to your nipple, plucking and pinching meanly just to feel the way you clench around him.

the demon can tell when you’re close, it only makes him double his efforts. his claws prickle your hip where they draw blood, he pants and moans loudly when he licks his fingers clean.

“fuck- darling, you taste so good. show me how you feel when you fall apart, when i take what is mine.”

with those words, you’re completely swallowed in pleasure. as you cum, moaning and sobbing and shaking, the demon moans too. his eyes roll back, snapping his hips once more before burying himself to the hilt inside your pulsing cunt and cumming- long, thick ropes covering your walls.

the demon shushes you gently as you cry with the aftershocks, turning you onto your side and slipping in behind you. you’re a mess; sweat covered skin, blood drying on your hip bones, cum leaking from your aching cunt. he doesn’t seem to care, just pushes your hair away from your face and mouths at the place where your neck meets your shoulder.

“you did amazing, doll. perfect for me,” you hear him hum into your back before your eyelids grow heavy.

you black out. you know you do, because when you wake it is to the sound of birds chirping and early morning light. you’re fully clothed, your pjs from the night before hanging off your body- wrinkled, but clean.

that was the hottest dream i have ever had, you think, stretching and groaning when your limbs pop after being still for so long.

you go to the bathroom groggily, still foggy brain barely wincing at the bright lights. when you look in the mirror, you pause.

the back of your shirt has a large, dark red stain. blood. it has to be.

your heart drops to your ass as you gently lift your shirt in the mirror, gritting your teeth as sensitive, aching flesh hits the cold air. then you gasp- wide eyes staring at your back in shock.

right between the dimples at the bottom of your spine, large and dark crimson from dried blood, lies one word. italicized cursive, a stamp on your body that will surely take forever to heal; a brand that will stay scarred long after the pain subsides.

hyunjin.

jisung;

in hindsight, you probably should have done a background check on your new roomie before he moved in.

but really, your intuition is so good! and han jisung did not seem like a murderer or stalker- he seemed like a very strange, very hot, loser.

and for fucks sake, that’s your type.

so he moved in shortly after responding to your craigslist ad, shortly after you met for coffee to get to know each other. and to be fair, things haven’t been bad. just… odd.

jisung might be a little weirder than you had initially thought. the man has a metric fuck ton of trinkets- and hey, you love trinkets! but he brought boxes full of things; little gold coins, gold statues of various animals and deities, ashtrays with golden flecks molded into them. you had initially joked that you were more of a silver girl, jisung had just wrinkled his nose and huffed at you. huffed.

not only does he have a hoarding issue, but jisung is also like, incredibly clothed. all the time.

here’s the thing: it’s the middle of fucking july. there is no reason for jisung to be wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, t shirt tucked in underneath. you sweat just looking at him. and he wears these weird ass contacts- all the time. bright blue eyes were jarring to see staring back at you in your kitchen at first, but whatever. you got used to it.

about a month after moving in, jisung started leaving you gifts. little crystals, flowers that he had definitely picked himself- they were never creepy, he always tried to play it cool, but the blush high on his cheeks made you hide smiles behind your hands. you knew he wanted you to like him, and it was working.

you’re a simple gal- when jisung comes home from one of his late night walks, silently placing a rock next to you (a geode, split open and glimmering delicately in the low light) it makes you swoon a little. when he knocks on your bedroom door and holds out a beautiful silk fabric, emerald green and expensive to the touch, mumbling something about how he had too many clothes and you deserve it, you melt. he’s just too damn cute.

the longer jisung shared your apartment, the more time the two of you spent together. suddenly, you couldn’t imagine your life without jisung. he’s your very best friend. he’s clingy in the same way you are, love language shown in his effort to spend quality time in your presence and give you pretty things. living with jisung comes easy, natural.

you have never seen jisung mad.

he’s a chill guy. a nice dude. he is frustratingly calm all the time, laughing off jabs directed towards him, grinning in amusement when you try to push his buttons. nothing gets under his skin, like ever. and it drives you crazy, because you want to get under his skin- just once. just to see what would happen.

jisung is very adamant about having time alone. part of the reason the two of you work so well living together is because he works from home and you work in an office, meaning he gets to be by himself from 9-5 every weekday. jisung also values honesty. he is incredibly loyal, never leaving your side whenever you’re at home or spending time around the city together, and he expects the same from you. he expects honesty, loyalty, and his alone time.

which is why you plan to break all three of these expectations at once. just to see what will happen.

you have another friend who you love dearly. he thinks you’re a little insane, suggesting your master plan to him, but he also lives for the drama. it isn’t hard to get him on board with your idea. it isn’t hard to call into work and say you’re sick. it is a little hard to look jisung in the eyes and tell him you’re leaving for work that morning- but you hope he will forgive you.

“it’s just a prank, relax,” you huff to your friend, walking down the hallway to your apartment door. he rolls his eyes, whining behind you.

“i literally don’t know this man, he could kill me!”

you laugh in response but say nothing more as you quietly step up to your front door. when you have slowly turned the key, unlocking it, you look back to your friend with raised brows. now or never.

he sighs, grimacing in annoyance before grabbing you by the waist and leaning into your neck. he whispers i hate your guts into your ear before you back into the door, opening it quickly.

you don’t see jisung immediately, but you know he sees you. you giggle and thread your fingers into your friends long hair, trying not to actually laugh at the feeling of his lips pecking your neck. there are no butterflies, no arousal pulls in your stomach, it feels almost clinical- but you pull out your best acting skills to moan softly.

you hear the tv show playing stop as jisung pauses the tv, cursing loudly. when you peak an eye open, pushing your friend away in fake shock, jisung is covering himself with a blanket. for a moment the room is silent. you stare at jisung with wide eyes, fighting a grin as he stares back at you, chest heaving from the unexpected entrance.

“shit, sungie- i didn’t realize you would be home,” you curse, faking an apologetic look and smoothing out your skirt. jisung blinks back at you, stare blank for a moment. then, his eyes turn to slits- head tilting as he looks between the two of you.

“y/n,” jisung states, calm. too calm. “could you tell the other thing to leave? we should chat.”

your friend has his hand on the door before jisung is even finished- coward. he mutters something about hoping your lay is worth his life, and as the door closes you lock it, biting your lip when you turn back around.

it’s too quiet. jisung has his legs crossed under the blanket, whole body covered by the fabric, but his eyes are still pinning you to your spot. when you open your mouth to speak, jisung holds up a hand to stop you.

“you know, y/n, i think this is really funny.” he says, looking entirely unamused. his tongue pokes into his cheek as he shifts under the blanket- uncomfortable in his seat. “it’s so funny that you just- what? conveniently forgot i work from home? forgot i am always here, every weekday? forgot i don’t like having uninvited- pests, in my home? touching my things?”

your mouth is dry. you can’t speak, can only squeeze your thighs together and try to squeak something out. “sungie, i-“

“no. there’s no need for that,” jisung cuts you off again. “you know what i think you’re doing?”

then, he stands. the blanket is left to fall on the ground, and you immediately notice three things.

one: jisung is wearing baggy shorts and a tank top. you have never seen this much honey skin- if your mouth was dry before, now it’s like cotton.

two: jisung is jacked. biceps protrude from his top, strong calves and thighs, huge pecs-

three: jisung… has fucking scales. honest to god scales- red and orange crawling up his arms, down his legs, and peaking out from under his tank top. you flush, suddenly feeling too sweaty in the cool air of the room.

jisung doesn’t stop until he is right in front of you, now looking down at you through thick, dark lashes. his eyes are even orange- bright, with cat-like pupils. that explains the contacts.

“i think, you knew i would be home.” he murmurs, tongue (forked fucking tongue) peaking out to lick his bottom lip. when your breath catches in your throat, he grins- too-sharp white teeth making your knees feel wobbly.

he doesn’t stop talking. “you know i’m always home, you know i don’t like people in my space, and you know i don’t fucking like lying. so you’re either really, really stupid, or you did this on purpose.” jisung leans in closer, eyes practically glowing as he huffs through his nose, agitated. his hand comes up to your neck, holding the side of your throat in his grasp- not applying pressure, just holding, as if to say i could hurt you if i wanted to.

“so y/n, which is it? are you just really fucking stupid?” then, he gives your throat a shake- jostling your head like a doll. “or was it on purpose?”

you’re silent. speechless. stunned and blinking dumbly at your roommate. you can see the vibrant scales on his arm from the corner of your eye, reminding you jisung isn’t fucking human- at least, not entirely. suddenly you feel like an animal, small and weak and trapped in the hunter’s lair.

your pussy throbs. holy shit.

jisung is waiting for you to speak, so you muster what little words you can remember through the fog in your brain. “you- you caught me, ji. it was on purpose.”

jisung’s tongue pokes into his cheek as he raises an eyebrow, head lifting condescendingly. “oh really? and what made you think you could get away with that?”

you flush, thighs squeezing tighter together. jisung notices this time, cat-like eyes flicking down to your legs before they’re back on yours. you clear your throat, his hand briefly squeezes before letting go to simply hold you again.

“maybe i didn’t think i could get away with it,” you whisper, batting long eyelashes up at him. “wanted to know how far i could push before you pushed back.”

that seems to be all it takes. jisung laughs once, nodding as if he had just made a decision in his head. then, you’re being shoved back into the wall- hand on your neck pinning you to the surface. his other hand moves to your top, pulling it down roughly and revealing your hard nipples to the air. you gasp at the sudden shift, but the sound is swallowed as jisung kisses you harshly.

all you can do is moan as jisung kisses you, meanly biting into your bottom lip until your mouth opens and his forked tongue meets yours. the hand not gripping your neck tugs on your thigh and you take the hint, wrapping your legs around his waist and leaning your weight into the wall behind you.

jisung breaks away from the kiss, lips traveling to your neck to bite and lick across the skin. then, his mouth is on the top of your breasts. “you wanna see me push back, baby?” he breathes into your skin, making eye contact with you briefly. “this is me pushing back.”

jisung’s mouth wraps around one of your nipples, sucking it into his mouth. you moan breathlessly, head tilting back into the wall. jisung’s mouth is warm- but it gets warmer. it gets hot, tongue like liquid fire as he kisses across your chest to tease your other pert nipple.

“fuck- jisung, that-“ you gasp, moaning at the heat blooming into your skin. you feel him grin against you, lips pressing a chaste kiss to your chest before he raises up.

“you like that? like feeling that flame, baby?” jisung purrs, pupils dilated to near-circles. you whimper as he flips your skirt up around your waist, nodding quickly.

you do like it, the feeling of his molten tongue leaving a searing trail over your sensitive skin. in your half-delirious state you wish it would leave marks. then jisung moves his hand from your neck, rubbing his thumb up and down your soaked underwear and laughing to himself.

“shit, baby. already a mess and i’ve barely done anything, hm?” he coos, pressing harder against your clit through the thin fabric. you whine, trying to grind your hips into his hand. he takes pity on you, tsking once before finally pulling your panties to the side.

you sharply inhale when jisung’s finger enters you without warning- jisung inhales too, mocking you. the look you get when you raise your head to weakly glare at him makes you clench around his finger. not only is he enjoying this, but he knows you are too. jisung is always so nice, so gentle, but now? seeing him mean and biting, teasing you with dexterous hands and a mischievous glint in his eyes? you’re so turned on it hurts. you need him- bad.

but you know jisung. you can feel his hard cock pressing into the swell of your ass, you know he wants this just as bad as you do. he slides a second finger inside of you and you moan as he curls them, pressing insistently into that sweet bundle of nerves.

“fuck, y/n- you’re putting on such a good show,” jisung grins, fingers moving faster. “my hand is dripping, rockstar.”

you whine, long and drawn out, hands clenching on his shoulders. “god- close, jisung! please, please don’t-”

you feel his lips on your neck, heat licking up your spine as he growls into the skin. “cum, baby. cum all over my fingers.”

you fall apart just like that; your thighs shake, sensitive cunt tightening and pulsing around jisung’s fingers. then, you feel his fingers leave you as something way fucking bigger takes their place.

jisung thrusts his entire length into you in one swift motion that has you sobbing- hands clawing at his shoulders hard enough to break skin while you’re still pulsing from your orgasm. you feel his cock splitting you open, the stretch of it aching in a way that makes you feel dizzy. you’re still throbbing, pussy clenching around his length as you come down from your high, and he doesn’t even give you time to adjust before he’s adjusting his grip on your ass and shifting his hips.

“just like that, baby,” jisung pants, snapping his hips forward like he’s starved. “gripping me so tight, that little cunt is greedy, huh?”

all you can do is moan, tears falling from your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure. jisung uses his thumbs to spread your pussy, watching himself fuck in and out of you with a half-manic look in his eyes. he bites down hard on his bottom lip, starting to rub your oversensitive clit in tight little circles while nailing your g spot with every thrust- you might die like this. to your shock, you feel close again.

this time, you barely open your mouth before your orgasm is slamming into you, white-hot and licking up your spine like a fire. jisung groans loudly, forehead falling to your chest, hips moving quicker as his thrusts grow sloppy.

“just like that, rockstar. squeeze my cock- fuck,” he rambles, pistoning his length into you for a few more seconds before moaning and squeezing his eyes shut, mouth falling open as you feel his release coat your aching walls.

you’re still whimpering when jisung pulls you off the wall, shushing you gently as he carries you to his room. you register vague details, like the shiny trinkets littering his shelves and the heaps of soft, silky blankets you’re deposited onto. when jisung crawls into the bed behind you, spooning you under the warm, weighted blankets, you hear him purring.

“next time you want attention, just ask baby.” jisung huffs, rubbing your back tenderly. “i would be happy to give it to you.”

felix;

you have never really liked the ocean.

it’s creepy- being in water that is so vast, knowing you could be swallowed deep in a seconds notice, no one to hear your screams over the roaring waves- it’s scary. you’re much safer on dry land, where you can walk and breathe fresh air.

going on a cruise is genuinely the last thing you ever wanted to do. but your best friend bought the tickets for her birthday, and it would be decidedly shitty of you to say no. so you find yourself here- laying on the deck with your friends surrounding the pool, waves looking darker under the rising moon. the sun had set half an hour ago, and the lull of the waves crashing into the ship has rocked you into a sense of security. your eyes are half closed, breath coming softly.

“psst, y/n,” your best friend shakes you, making you look up sleepily. “i think we’re heading back in. coming?”

you nod, yawning and stretching. “in a second, my leg is asleep. i’ll catch up,” you chuckle, trying to rub the pins and needles out of your calf. you watch your friends head back inside, sighing and leaning back against the cheap plastic chair again.

you fell asleep- like a fool. you don’t know how much time has passed when you blink your eyes open, but the moon is hanging right above you in the sky. you shiver, the chilled night air causing goosebumps to appear on your bare arms and legs.

the thought of being alone, on the ship’s deck in the middle of the night, leaves an eery feeling in the pit of your stomach. you sit up quickly, trying to calm the anxiety in your throat, when you hear someone behind you clearing their throat softly.

your body jerks- head snapping towards the sound so fast your neck pops.

behind you stands a man. a gorgeous man. clear honey skin, long blond hair, full pouty lips. you blink at he waves and draws closer, trying to even out your rapid heart rate. when he sits down gently beside you, you feel much calmer. a deep breath leaves you.

“hello, beautiful. what’s got you out here so late?” a deep, soothing voice rumbles from the man’s chest. you feel your breath come easier, as if his voice is giving you oxygen.

“i fell asleep…” you mutter softly, raising an eyebrow as you take in his body- dripping wet, by the way. “what’s got you soaked?”

the man grins, sharp white teeth and freckled cheeks and crinkles by his eyes. the moon is above you, but you feel the warmth of the sun. you grin back at him, almost subconsciously.

“i just showered,” the man laughs. “can i have your name? i’m felix.”

“yeah, it’s y/n. you showered fully clothed, felix?” you ask, brow furrowed although you don’t feel as confused as you should be. the more felix talks to you, the more you sink into your chair. you could listen to him for the rest of your life.

felix flashes a dazzling grin again, but his eyes seem somehow sharper- like he knows something you don’t, like you just handed him a golden ticket. you barely blink when he shifts closer, shifting your legs into his lap so he can sit in the lounge chair with you. the closeness makes you feel dizzy; a warm, swooping feeling running down your spine.

“enough about me, love.” felix says calmly, thumb running back and forth on your bare thigh. “who left you out here all alone?”

your friends- you had forgot about them. “oh, my friends… i should head back to the room.” you pout, so comfortable where you are.

felix blinks at you like he feels sympathy. like you’re a toddler who doesn’t understand anything about the world around you. he tsks at you, lifting your chin with his index finger and thumb. holding eye contact when he whispers, “or… you could stay with me, right?”

right. you could do that- why didn’t you think of that? felix smiles softly at you, looking proud. it makes your cheeks flush and your stomach clench. felix’s eyes are glimmering, little silver specks of glitter wafting through pools of deep, dark ocean water. the thumb holding your chin moves to your bottom lip, opening your mouth gently. then, he’s leaning in.

his tongue slips into your mouth. immediately, you’re gone. you moan softly into his touch, letting his tongue flick behind your teeth and circle your own like he’s claiming you. his hand tightens on your thigh and before you can really comprehend it, he has flipped your positions so that you are straddling his waist.

“are you gonna fuck me, gorgeous? hmm?” felix hums, smiling when you nod rapidly. his shorts are pulled down, long cock heavy against your stomach as he pumps himself. “go ahead, love. show me how good you can be for me, yeah?”

you whimper, hips grinding against his length as the words wash over you. felix is holding your hip steady, taking his other hand away from himself to move your bathing suit bottoms to the side and reveal your wet cunt to the cold air. you gasp, rocking back and forth and getting more soaked at the feeling of felix’s hard cock between your folds.

you feel so good- too good. you could cum just like this, pussy dripping onto the length of his pretty cock. but felix has different plans, he taps your thigh lightly to get you to stop, lining his member up with your clenching hole, and pushes in.

you feel like you’re drowning- fully seated, feeling his tip kiss your cervix and rub against that sensitive bundle of nerves inside of you. you whimper quietly, circling your hips to get used to the feeling. when felix’s hands tighten against your hips, you slowly start moving.

at this angle, his cock hits your most sensitive spots with every thrust. all you can do is bury your head into the side of his neck, moaning and bouncing on his length, fucking yourself like your life depends on it. you want to feel good, of course, but you want felix to feel better. the thought of giving him pleasure, making him cum, makes you more soaked with every thrust.

“look at me, angel,” felix says, the words rolling off his tongue like a song. he grips your hair firmly, using it to pull your head up.

you moan, the sound turning into a gasp when your eyes settle behind him before you meet his gaze. the boat- you’re still on the boat. you’re out in the open, being fucked within an inch of your life by the most beautiful man you have ever seen.

“what if someone sees us?” you whimper, eyebrows furrowing as you slow to a halt. felix laughs breathily, shifting you on his lap so he can bend his legs.

“let them see, i want everyone to know how good i fuck you.”

felix’s hips snap- his length moving in and out of your ruined cunt hard.

you scream.

you hope the sound is drowned out by the waves- the waves that have gotten rockier since the last time you can recall. beyond the sound of water crashing into the ship, all you can hear is felix, and felix doesn’t seem to care about the waves.

his hips continue to meet your ass, the pace so harsh it might bruise (you hope it does). you’re breathless, but felix is still talking.

“that feel good, baby? tell me, who do you belong to now? who’s pretty little pussy is this?” he grunts, leaning forward to press biting kisses to your chest.

“you- fuck, it belongs to you!” you whine, trying desperately to meet his thrusts. your legs have gone useless, thighs made of gelatin, but you still try. you want to make him feel so good.

“that’s right, baby. all mine to use,” felix groans, hand moving from your hip to your ass. suddenly, there’s a long fucking finger- and it’s pressing into you. right beside felix’s length.

you whine one more time, the feeling of being stuffed full enough to have you blacking out as you cum. your body is in overdrive, spine zipping with lighting, stars bursting behind your eyelids, pussy clenching around felix’s length and finger tight.

the feeling has felix gasping, pretty glittering eyes rolling back in his head as he cums, hot and deep inside you. you feel full to the brim, ropes of the sticky substance hitting your walls and making you throb again. you feel owned.

felix is still inside you when you come down from your high, face buried in his neck. he smells like sea salt and fresh air. you feel him tap your thigh again, causing you to blink at him sleepily, still feeling trance-like. he smiles softly at you, tucking stray hairs behind your ear and wiping tears from your face. when had you started crying?

“are you ready to go home, beautiful?” he asks, deep voice making you feel safe and satiated- warm despite the night chill. you nod softly, leaning into his hand as he cradles your face.

“yeah,” you mutter, yawning. “take me home.”

felix pulls out of you, gently hushing your whines of emptiness. he pulls your bathing suit back into place, scooping you up in his arms. you look out at the blurry scenery, watching as felix walks the two of you to the ledge of the ship. the waves are calm again, brushing the boat like a small animal saying hello. it feels inviting.

“let’s go home, love.” felix hums. and you do.

you go home.

seungmin;

a vampire lives in the creepy old castle on top of the hill by the cemetery. you’re sure of it.

your friend group jokes about this all the time- let’s go say hi to the vampire, i’m sure the vampire at the cemetery would love a snack, etcetera, etcetera. it’s one of the longest running jokes your friends have.

“okay, y/n- i dare you to go say hi to our friendly neighborhood vampire.”

still, it never gets old.

you laugh, running a hand through your hair as your friends whoop and holler, encouraging you to take the dare. rolling your eyes, you say, “what if he doesn’t want my company?”

another friend giggles, “c’mon y/n, don’t be a coward! are you… scared?”

really, that’s how you end up here- at the cemetery gates, one in the morning, your friend group yelling and pointing their phones at you as you walk inside.

“if i die, i’m haunting every single one of you bitches,” you laugh, shaking your head. you turn towards the cemetery, just barely able to make out the shape of the eery, desolate castle in the distant fog. well, it’s now or never.

the further you get into the fog of the night, you start to shiver. it’s cold out, late autumn air making your skin tingle. you’re sure the corpses around you are staying warmer. when you arrive at the foot of the hill, you wipe your sweaty palms against your long skirt and start your ascent.

from afar, the castle is big. up close, standing in front of the long, towering doorway, you realize it is gigantic. the gothic, stained glass windows and cobblestone exterior are beautiful, but the sheer mass of the building has something stirring in your gut. nerves attack your stomach as you raise your hand to knock.

knocking is the most reasonable thing to do, right?

there’s no answer- shocker. it’s the middle of the night, and if anyone truly does live here, they would be asleep. though, you doubt anyone actually resides in the castle. you’ve never seen anyone coming or going, the cobwebs on the door knockers proof of the vacancy. whatever. this was a waste of time.

your phone chimes, a message from your group chat stating go in or you lose!

annoyed, you huff. apparently, this will continue to waste your time.

you steadily grip the intricate door handle, polished stone carved with symbols you don’t understand, and twist the knob. at first it doesn’t budge- but then, a loud creak as it is pushed open.

you grunt with the force you have to exert, but manage to crack the door wide enough to squeeze inside. once you’re in, the door slams shut behind you, sealing your fate with an ominous click. the sudden silence makes your ears ring.

taking a deep breath, trying to ignore your rapid heart rate, you look at your surroundings. to your left is a large living area, deep red silk covers each sofa with yellow vines sewn into the fabric. a matching red rug sits underneath a large, mahogany coffee table, which is in front of a massive fire place. you breathe in deeply, smelling the lingering scent of burning wood.

someone has been here.

you carefully make your way further into the room, running fingers over books lining a shelved wall. no dust- you blink at your fingertips.

turning towards the fireplace, you squat down to hold a hand over the burnt wood. heat emits from the pile, warming your palm. then, you still. you didn’t feel it before, but you do now. something is behind you.

“oh, the spider caught a fly.”

you stand in record time, fighting the black spots dotting your vision as you twist to stare at the man before you. dark, elegant suit pants, a tan silk shirt, and heavy rings adorning calloused fingers. dark brown hair feathers out over his forehead, leading you to stare in shock as he looks back at you with crimson irises.

“well?” the man questions, raising a single eyebrow. “i would start running, little one.”

you run.

your feet stomp against the wooden floorboards as you try to sprint back to the door. when you had came in, it was only a handful of steps. now, it feels like the door keeps getting further and further away. when you successfully make it past the living room threshold you reach a hand out for the polished doorknob.

you hear a ripping sound, followed by an oomf! as you crash onto the floor. looking back you realize-

your fucking skirt got hung on a loose nail.

of course it did. you aren’t the final girl in some fucked up horror movie, this is real life. if anything, you would be the dumb one that dies in the first fifteen minutes.

you hear a low chuckle as the man slowly comes closer, shoes clicking in the silence of the room. you can’t hold back a whimper as he towers over you, feet planted on either side of your hips. you couldn’t move- couldn’t try to run anymore. he would just catch you.

he crouches down, smiling small and sharp and a little cruel as he looks you in the eye.

“that was pathetic,” he mutters. you nod slowly; it was pathetic. “what’s your name, little lamb?”

your voice is shaky when you reply, “y/n.”

“y/n,” the man mumbles, tilting his head as if deciding how it tastes on his tongue. he reaches out a hand, lifting your chin between his pointer finger and thumb. he is holding you a little roughly, making your lips pout slightly as you furrow your brow.

“it is a pleasure to meet you, y/n. call me seungmin. can you repeat that for me?” the man- seungmin- asks, although you don’t feel like you have much of a choice.

“…seungmin?” you whisper, the name foreign on your tongue. you might be delusional, but it tastes good in your mouth- like heady incense and metal.

when he grips your chin harder, sharp nails digging into your soft skin, you wince. that only serves to make him hold tighter, shaking your head slightly. “no whining. do you know why i asked you to say my name?”

you shake your head slowly, eyes watering at his grip. seungmin grins, and your blood runs cold. fangs. honest to god fangs are seated where his canines should be.

a vampire lives in the creepy old castle above the cemetery. you fucking knew it.

“because after i’m done with you, it is the only name you will remember.”

you’re hauled off the ground before you can process the words, and you’re being tossed onto silk sheets before you can even question how you got up the large, winding staircase in the hall so quickly. you yelp as he plops you onto the bed, not harshly but not soft. he treats you like a thing- an object he doesn’t care to break.

seungmin considers you for a moment, eyes dragging over every inch of your body. you feel naked and exposed, fragile and prey-like, and he hasn’t even touched you.

“i will only say this once,” he mutters, hands behind his back as he steps forward. he sits on the edge of silk sheets, looking every bit like some ancient, biblical statue of god. he smirks at you, unable to hold it back, like he can read your mind. and maybe he can- do vampires have superpowers like twilight made them out to?

“i am hungry, y/n,” seungmin says quietly, snapping your focus back to the present. he raises a hand, one singular finger running over your exposed calf. your breath hitches like you’ve been touched with a live wire. the ghost of a smile turns his lips upwards- feeling your reaction to him.

“i am starved,” he continues, fingertip trailing up and up, taking the bottom of your skirt with it. his movements stops half way up your thigh, pausing right before your skirt is moved to expose everything underneath. then, locking eyes with you:

“but you will let me feed, right?”

your chest rises and falls as if you’ve ran a marathon- panting for air and locked in a staring contest with something ancient, magic thrumming through his veins and curling down your throat heavy enough to make air scarce in your lungs.

you’re shaking, terrified, but beneath all the adrenaline and sweat clinging to your skin- you’re fucking soaked.

the realization makes you squeeze your thighs, knees knocking together. seungmin notices- of course he does- his sharp eyebrow raises.

“i need an answer,” he states, monotoned and deadpan, as if he didn’t look between your legs like you were the juiciest steak in the world. you would think he remains unaffected if you hadn’t noticed his blown out pupils; black fills his irises, animalistic and ready to pounce.

you nod, he doesn’t move. “a verbal answer.” he states, reigning in impatience. his fingers move on your leg, just barely raising your skirt more. just enough to reveal the barest hint of your aching core and wet panties.

your head feels heavy, the only thought playing on repeat is please, please, please- though you aren’t sure what you’re begging for. you say it aloud anyway, because maybe seungmin will know.

“i want it,” you say, voice coming out like a whimper. “please.”

the sharp grin you get in response makes you burn.

seungmin takes his time undressing you, as if he hadn’t said he is starved at all. if anything, he is patient. your clothes are taken inch by inch, until you’re left in nothing but the silk sheets around you; you shiver, trying to use the sheet to cover your chilled body.

you don’t make it far- seungmin grips your wrist as soon as you pull the blanket towards you, thumb pressing harshly into your fluttering pulse point.

“don’t try to hide,” he chides, eyes flitting from your own, to your chest and hard nipples, traveling down to your stomach, and finally pausing on your glistening pussy. you clench from the attention, empty and wanting so badly to be full. not only full, but whole.

he settles between your legs, hands coming to spread your thighs wide. you whimper- pitiful, you think. the voice in your head sounds like his.

seungmin is laser focused, leaning down and dragging open mouthed kisses over your neck. you heart stutters when he pauses by your shoulder- and he huffs a laugh into your skin. mean, teasing, like he knows what you’re waiting for.

suddenly you feel long, rough fingers- feather light touch running up from your entrance, circling your sensitive clit, then moving back down. you moan loudly, when your hips jolt to get closer to the touch his hand moves away. he chuckles at your resulting whine.

“what’s wrong, little lamb?” seungmin purrs, hand gripping one of your thighs tightly to hold you open. the fingers of his other hand continue to barely press against you, making you feel more and more desperate for ruin.

“please-“ you borderline sob, hands grabbing his shoulders through his shirt just for an anchor. finally, finally, you feel him move.

two fingers slide into you in one smooth thrust, immediately curling upward with pinpoint precision and making you cry out. seungmin mutters something, you can take it, as he starts pumping and scissoring them. your cunt is soaked- dripping onto the silk bedsheets and ruining them as you hear the wet sounds of his palm hitting your sensitive clit.

seungmin leans in again, mouth ghosting over your neck just long enough for you to clench around his fingers in anticipation. then, he passes by your neck entirely. instead he focuses his attention on your nipples- hard and already too sensitive- pressing his tongue directly to one before closing his lips around it.

you moan loudly, hips grinding down so that his fingers are pushed deeper inside you. seungmin huffs out an amused sound against your tits, the vibration around your nipple causing you to whine and beg for more.

“please, please,” you borderline yell, nails clawing at clothed shoulders. “need more- fuck, need you-“

seungmin slides a third finger into your eager pussy, the stretch sending you spiraling into more fucked-out whining. you feel like you’ve been lit on fire, desperate to have him own you in every way possible. you want his fingers, his tongue, his cock- fuck, you would probably let him carve his name into your ribs as long as he promised to finally fucking bite you.

“so needy,” seungmin hums, lifting from your nipple and moving to give the other one the same treatment. “you gonna beg for it, little one?”

“seungmin,” you whine, feeling the drag of his long fingers against your sensitive walls. you’re close already- you’re fucked. “god, please! i need you i-inside me, please!”

you’re crying. you hadn’t even realized. you are so overcome with need that your body doesn’t know what to do with itself. but then seungmin is shushing you, whispering that he knows exactly what to give you- exactly how to take care of you. then, he’s shedding his clothes.

his cock is mouthwatering.

he is long, curved just slightly at the tip, a blushing vein running under his shaft and precum leaking from his tip. you know you aren’t the only one affected now. seungmin wants you so bad.

he curses under his breath once, spreading your folds to watch as he lines his cock up with your entrance and teases the tip around your aching hole. he leans down to your ear, about to speak.

he pushes in to the hilt in one smooth, deliberate thrust.

then, his fangs sink into the fragile skin of your neck.

you scream. you absolutely shatter around his length, buried inside you as you come undone.

your neck is fucking sore- white hot pain quickly morphing into dizzying pleasure as you feel him pull the blood from your veins. his hips grind into yours, not pulling out. just a dirty rhythm to make your toes curl while he drinks from you.

“fuck, that’s it. squeeze my cock, work for it,” seungmin is moaning, eyes rolling back in his head as you throb around him. you see stars, panting and clawing at his arms hard enough to leave angry red lines. he pulls away from your neck, eyes glazed over as he looks down at you.

he starts thrusting.

the pace seungmin sets is deadly- hips pistoning into you with measured, fast punches. his cock kisses your cervix with every full, deep thrust. you swear you can feel it in your stomach. it’s like your body is rearranging its organs specifically to make room for him.

“please,” you whimper out again, entirely unsure what you’re begging for. you’re fucked dumb. and seungmin knows it, grinning at you with blood stained teeth and still-hungry eyes.

“already fucked stupid?” he asks, looking sympathetic. “unfortunate. i’m just getting started, pretty girl.”

seungmin’s hands move, one anchoring your hip to the bed for easier control, one coming up to your throat to grip you tight. the air fights to pass into your lungs, your moans turning broken and fragile at the added pressure. seungmin’s thumb is right above the puncture wound from his fangs, and when he shifts he presses directly over the still-tender wound in a way that makes your body seize up, squeezing him tight.

your moans grow an octave higher- that feeling sparking in the pit of your gut once again as seungmin drags his cock over that sweet bundles of nerves that makes you melt. he shifts, hand that was on your thigh now coming to circle your clit with precise, sharp fingers.

“gonna cum again, little one?” seungmin asks, huffing in amusement even as he starts to lose the pace of his thrusting. “go ahead. milk me dry, darling.”

your legs twitch on either side of seungmin’s waist, thighs clenching shut around him as you cry out- loud, voice cracking, eyes rolling back. seungmin squeezes your neck once more, a harsh reminder of who you belong to from this point forward.

you cum. hard.

the second orgasm you have makes your vision go white. you can feel seungmin lean back down to puncture your neck, the side he hadn’t already bit, and another wave of pleasure moves through you. your legs shake, vision going blurry, as you weakly grab onto the hair at the back of his neck.

seungmin pulls away, using your pliant body to thrust once, twice more before holding himself deep inside you with a guttural groan, breaking apart while seated deep inside you.

you can feel him throbbing, pulsing with every wave of his orgasm. when you both ride out your highs, the room is silent aside from your panting and seungmin’s quieter, deeper breathing.

he pulls out slowly- you both wince. he disappears for a minute only to come back with a soft cloth, damp and warm where it touches the skin of your thighs. seungmin cleans you up, focused on every bit of the mess the two of you have made.

when he deems you clean enough, he lies down beside you on the wrinkled sheets. your heartbeat stutters as he wraps you in an oversized, silken button down, a large comforter enveloping the two of you right after. he brings a hand to the back of your head, pulling you gently into his chest.

“i have unfortunate news for you, little lamb.” seungmin mutters, lips to your hair. you furrow your brow and look up, not responding. fingers card through your hair.

“i plan to keep you in this bed, forever. you’re mine now.”

seungmin’s fingers trail down, stopping at the fresh puncture wounds on your neck. you gasp, eyes fluttering as he presses down teasingly over the wound.

“til death do us part.”

jeongin;

getting lost in the middle of a forest was not on your bucket list. but if it had been, you could put a little check mark next to it now.

you had laid a trail of flower petals when you entered the forest. all of the townspeople always warn against going in without a clear way out- the winding paths and overgrown flora make even the best cartographer fall into confusion. however, you live on the very edge of this forest- however dense and intimidating it may be, you always follow the tree-line to pick seasonal berries and honeysuckle from the bushes. the forest makes you feel at peace.

today you decided to venture farther in than usual. the season has been bountiful, but rumors detail more forage buried deeper in the intricate canopy of trees- berries you can’t even find unless you dare walk into the unknown. so you picked flowers from your garden, shed them of their petals, and left a colorful trail behind you as you walked into the thick greenery.

you had thought you were lucky. you had thought the petals would keep you from getting turned around. now, so deep into the trees and bushes that all you can see is more trees on all sides, the flower petals you remember leaving trails of liberally are gone. as if swept away by the wind- or picked up as soon as you had placed them.

you sigh as you slouch onto a large tree that had fallen over. you tried going back the way you came, only to feel deeper in the woods. the sun is slowly moving overhead, slowly making way for the moon, and the sweat beading on your forehead is only partially from the temperature.

you’re lost. thoroughly.

oddly enough, you feel less worrisome than you should. the forest has always been a second home to you, now you have just explored farther into its walls and deeper into its crevices. as long as you make it home by sundown, there is no need to fret. the fresh honey suckle in your basket relaxes you, the berries ready to provide nourishment when you feel hungry.

the sun goes down.

you have been wandering for hours- feeling no closer or further away from home than you had been during the day. dusk quickly approaches, every owl hooting and deer rustling the nearby fallen branches makes your heart kick in your throat. you feel faintly dizzy, how had you passed the same tree four times now?

another fallen branch snaps nearby; undoubtedly, another deer trying to remind you it’s time to leave. you step backwards, ready to turn around and walk in a straight line until you can see something that isn’t green, but your heel hits a large root.

a muted thud- just as you trip on the tree root, hitting the damp dirt, ass first.

ouch.

you groan in frustration, pitifully kicking your legs as you squint up through the leaves above you. hours ago, the sun had been overhead. now, the moon takes it’s place, glimmering and twinkling like it is amused by your struggle.

“are you lost?” a smooth voice, quiet and to your left. your head quickly snaps towards the sound, heart beating like that of a wild hare as you look at the crouching figure beside you.

you hadn’t heard him approach, but the man is close now. elbows on his knees, loose fitting pants tied around slender hips with a simple rope. when your gaze tilts upwards, you find a wide, mischievous grin and sharp, white teeth.

the man is gorgeous. jaw-dropping, like he just walked out of ancient greece. The taught muscles of his biceps and large thighs let you know his body matches the gods you compare him to.

the fox-like figure raises an eyebrow, plush lips curling upward in an amused grin. you blink at him, unable to remember what he had said.

“what?”

the man grins fully, laughter curling around your body and settling beside your brain. he reaches a hand out towards you, slender fingers and manicured, pointed nails aiding in getting you to your feet.

“i said, are you lost?”the man hums, dimpled cheeks and mischievous eyes luring you in. you shake your head, smoothing out your dress and picking a stray leaf out of your stockings.

“no! of course not,” you scoff, completely lying. “i just… got a little confused. i’m on my way home.”

the man still grins, undeterred by your uncomfortable posture. he raises his eyebrows at you. “oh yeah? i’m on my way home, too. wanna walk together?”

you pause. normally, trusting a man you don’t know in the woods would be a terrible, horrible idea. but really- this guy seems… fine. maybe your survival instincts are just dulled because he’s hot. and what other choice do you have? wander until a larger animal finds you?

you nod. “sure, lead the way.”

he does lead the way; you watch the man’s broad back as he walks half a step in front of you, hands in his pockets and humming to himself. slowly, you begin to relax. you aren’t really in danger, you will be able to go home.

the trees don’t get any less dense the longer you walk. however, the man suddenly comes to a halt and turns to face you. you jump, almost running into his solid chest, but stop yourself at the last second. when you look up, the moon shines in his glimmering pupils.

“well, you’re welcome to come in. get a good night’s rest then start home tomorrow,” the man hums, grinning still. you furrow your brows, but your eyes widen when you peak behind him. there’s a whole cottage in the middle of the thick, twisting trees.

“you live here?” you ask, incredulous. the man laughs, eyes turning to sweet crescents. his laugh makes your ears ring, like a siren song.

“i do,” he nods, heading towards the wooden door. you follow quickly behind, afraid to be left alone again. “i can get you home, but it’ll have to be when the sun is up. i can’t see well at night.”

you pause in the threshold of the wooden cottage, watching as the man walks into his kitchen and stirs a large, boiling pot. as you cautiously step further into the home, closing the front door, your mouth waters. you smell stew- it smells heavenly.

you shuffle closer to the pot, stomach rumbling. apparently, berries and honeysuckle are not the best source of nutrition when you have been walking aimlessly for hours. the man notices your starved state, wetting your lips as you peek into the large pot. he clears his throat softly.

“you can have some, you know.” the man smiles, pulling two wooden bowls from a shelf above. he scoops a large portion into both bowls, handing one to you.

“oh- thank you…” you smile sheepishly, trailing off as you realize you don’t have his name.

he tells you it’s jeongin.

the longer you spend in jeongin’s presence, legs criss-crossed on a mat beside a large, stone fireplace, the more relaxed you become. jeongin is nice; he is witty, sharp-tongued, yet comforting to be with. you finish the stew fast, stomach full and bones content to rest.

jeongin takes your bowls back to the kitchen. when he sits down on the mat again, his knee brushes yours. the feeling, oddly, makes your stomach swoop.

“y/n,” jeongin murmurs, eyes quickly cataloguing the details of your face, the relaxed state of your body. whatever he finds when he looks at you makes his lips quirk up at the edges.

“are you tired? you are more than welcome to sleep in my bed. i can take the couch.”

you furrow your brows, pouting slightly. jeongin’s eyes flit down to track the movement.

“no way, i can sleep on a couch. it won’t kill me,” you say. you move to twist your body, back cracking as the tension from the day is released. as you groan from the feeling, jeongin laughs softly. his hand comes to gently rub your spine.

“please, your body needs proper rest. you should take care of yourself- if not, you’ll get weak.”

the hand on your back draws lazy circles, making your breath hitch. your half lidded eyes fly open, wide and doe-like. when you make eye contact with the man, sharp teeth bite into his bottom lip. briefly, you imagine them at your jugular.

“really, it’s fine.” you breathe out, pulse thudding against your temples. you can’t pinpoint why, but you feel cornered. trapped.

jeongin’s nails graze your skin through the thin fabric of your dress. while running them lightly over your back, one of his fingers catches on a torn seam. you feel the cut of the thread as his nail snags it, breaking the hemming.

suddenly, the contentment you felt earlier is replaced. while you expect to feel terror, you can’t bring yourself to move away. you realize with startling clarity that you aren’t afraid. your pussy throbs- you’re soaked.

jeongin’s mouth splits wide, like a cat that caught a mouse. self-satisfied, confident in his domain. he lives in these woods; if you chose to run now, he would find you. catch you.

you don’t want to run.

“what made you so quiet?” he hums, tilting his head. “you’re like a mouse, baby.”

you squeak. he laughs.

then, he leans in. whispering right by your ear, “come here. let me show you what these claws are for.”

jeongin pulls you into his lap, leaving you gasping and holding his broad shoulder with shaking hands. with a hand gripping your jaw, claws digging into your cheeks, he opens your mouth and takes exactly what he wants.

the second his tongue meets yours, you both moan. the wood burning in the fireplace behind you crackles, heating the room as your skin breaks out into a sheen of sweat. jeongin uses the hand not on your face to run up your thigh, under your dress, and grip your bare waist in his rough grasp. your hips grind downwards unconsciously- the feeling of claws gripping your skin and his cock heavy underneath you makes your panties stick to your wet core. you want to wake up tomorrow and find nail-shaped marks on your body.

“fuck, i can feel how wet you are, baby.” jeongin purrs, lips turning upwards against your skin as he leaves open mouthed kisses down your neck. “soaking my pants too, hm?”

you shudder, tilting your head back so he has more access to your neck. “please, jeongin- i need you, please-“

“shh, sh, sh,” he shushes you gently, looking at you with pity in his eyes. you whine against him, circling your hips harder and causing his eyelids to flutter softly. “don’t worry, lovely. i’ll give you what you need.”

jeongin lifts you effortlessly, laying you on your back, legs spread wide on the mat below you. he helps you remove your dress, leaving you in your ruined panties and nothing else. his eyes are hungry, starving even though you had just ate. when he glances back up at you, he’s panting.

“you look absolutely delicious,” he moans, hands gripping your thighs and spreading your legs wider. you whine as his head lowers, nipping teasingly at the sensitive skin near your core.

“i just have to taste you.”

jeongin slides fingers into your panties, slipping them to the side before he is devouring your cunt. you cry out at the first pointed, precise flick of his tongue against your clit, trying to close your legs around his head. the thought is useless; jeongin keeps your legs open with his hands, tongue fucking in and out of you at a pace that makes your toes start to curl already.

“please- too much-“ you beg, tears prickling the corners of your eyes as your hands grip thick, dark hair like it is your only tether. you have never felt so close so fast in your life. no slow build, no wave of pleasure, only white-hot, pinpoint pressure that makes your vision go blurry. it feels too good, has your pussy clenching on his tongue before he’s even been between your legs five minutes. it’s embarrassing, how fast you’re hurdling towards orgasm.

you feel more than hear it, the vibration of laughter against your sensitive clit. jeongin is laughing at you- at your pitiful, needy sounds. the thought makes a fresh wave of slick arousal leave you.

jeongin’s tongue moves upwards again, flicking over your clit and encasing the sensitive bud between his lips, sucking on it until your legs are trembling. then, claws dig into your thighs again- you’re reminded the man below you is not quite human.

you break. thoroughly, completely shatter.

your thighs try to snap shut, but jeongin holds them open with rough, calloused hands. his tongue moves through your orgasm, steadily working you until you’re reduced to nothing but whimpers and twitching joints. with one last wide, flat lick to your core, he rises to his knees between yours legs.

“fuck, baby-“ he groans, head tilted downward so he can untie the rope of his pants, pushing the fabric down around muscular thighs. “you’re perfect, needed me to find you, hm? needed me to bring you home?”

you nod faintly, biting your bottom lip harsh enough to taste metal. jeongin is huge- cock pretty, vein running up the underside of his shaft, head pink and leaking precum that makes your mouth water. he notices you looking, a sharp, calculating glint in his eye.

“what is it, pretty?” he tilts his head, looking down at you with half lidded eyes as he taps the head of his cock against your pussy teasingly. “wanna beg for it?”

you whine, clenching at the wet sound of your cunt trying to pull him in. “please! jeongin, i need you- please, please, please-“

he laughs again, has the audacity to lean down and hook his thumb into your mouth just to shut you up. when you try to glare at him through watery eyes, you still completely.

there are three- no, four tails coming from behind the man. you watch the way they curl and sway like a cat, unable to move as more and more pop up. in total, as the fur fans out in a peacock-state, you count nine orange and white appendages springing forth from behind him.

holy fucking shit. definitely not human.

jeongin sees your distracted state, glancing behind himself with little care. when he turns back to you his eyes seem somehow sharper, more aware of his surroundings. more aware of you.

the thumb in your mouth presses down on your tongue, causing spit to pool around your teeth. you blink up at him, eyes wide and expression deer-like.

“still begging, baby?” jeongin murmurs, narrowing his eyes.

against all warning signals flaring in your head, you nod.

the grin you get in return is borderline feral, all sharp canines and pearly white teeth as jeongin lines himself up with your entrance and bottoms out in one long, smooth thrust. you cry out around his thumb, biting down on it in your attempt to ground yourself. the sting of pain makes him hiss, the pace he sets is immediately brutal.

jeongin drags his thumb away from your mouth, dragging your own salvia down your cheek before gripping both thighs to pull your legs over his shoulders. his hips snap in time with your loud cries and his own panting, hitting that sweet spot inside you that makes your heart stutter every time he thrusts in. your hands fumble to grab onto something- anything to keep you stable- but come up short. instead, you can only grab the edge of the mat to pray for sanity.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” jeongin moans, head tilting back to bare his neck. the tails are wrapped around him now, curled like tentacles and fluffed up in a show of dominance. if you were capable of thought, you might think they’re pretty.

“please- j-jeongin, i can’t-“ you babble, whining out the words in between your own moans, pleasure zipping through every atom in your body. your blood pumps in time with his thrusts, your heart beating in his clawed grip. even now, you know nothing will ever compare to this feeling. you’re undoubtedly ruined for anyone else.

“baby, god. you getting close?” jeongin asks, bottom lip once again taken between sharp teeth. you nod frantically, head bobbling as you feel the coil in your stomach tighten for the second time. this time, the feeling builds slower. the peek of pleasure is just up ahead, and all you can do is squeeze your eyes shut and pray that the spiral leaves you still breathing.

jeongin moves his hand and your eyes snap back open with a broken moan. his deft fingers meet your clit, pressing tight, fast circles to the bud of nerves. faintly, you can tell his thrusts are getting sloppier too. less precision, more desperation.

“cum on my cock, pretty.” he groans, fucking into you at a faster pace, using all of his energy to push you that much closer. “fuck me, just like that.”

your body locks up around him- coil in your stomach finally snapping as you shudder through a second orgasm.

it lasts for what feels like decades, pussy convulsing and throbbing around his cock. then, as you’re finally coming down jeongin groans. he thrusts into you once, twice more before burying himself to the hilt and cumming deep inside you.

when the rhythm of your heart finally returns to normal, jeongin pulls out. you almost groan in annoyance, but the feeling of soft warmth enveloping your body has you sighing instead. looking to your left, jeongin looks back at you with puffy lips and pink cheeks. nine tails surround the two of you, cocooned in safety and comfort in the woodland cottage.

you wake up to the bright light of the morning sun. looking around with a furrowed brow, you feel discontent with your cotton sheets and silk pillowcases. the thought of fur and a beating heart still haunts you. had you dreamt the whole thing?

the dense treeline of an evergreen forest still peeks at you from beyond your bedroom curtains. when you finally crawl out of bed, your lower back aches. there are small, claw-shaped scratches littered along your hips. none of this convinces you of the truth, though. no-

the thing that convinces you of reality lays on your kitchen table. your basket, fresh berries and honeysuckle piled on one side. the other holds a large mason jar, delicious stew from your memories seated inside. there’s a piece of parchment attached to the lid, when you pick it up you can feel the warmth emitting from the glass.

when you miss me, come to the forest.

i will find you.

-y.j.

a/n;

this was so tremendously fun to write and i put my whole pussy into it so please lmk what u think :3 /gen i worked on this every day for like two weeks bc i wanted to make sure it was perfect

i can’t stop thinking about jisung being a dragon like im crawling on the floor i need him so bad

requests are open!!

[belikejk]

Funny enough I’ve read something about each of them as these specific creatures lmao

[sneegswagger]

uhhhhh god i haven’t touched this app in months

[sneegswagger]

BEAUJOLAIS

joost klein x fem!reader

you were visiting the netherlands with your best friend. on the odd occasion of going to a club, you find yourself having more fun than you intended.

contents of: alcohol, tipsy sex so obvious smut warning, i’d say it’s a quick paced fictive.

—

“no way.” you grin. taking a coke to sip. you were getting ready to go clubbing and as you curled your hair, your friends were applying make up.

“yeah, are we ready?” jessica, your best friend, asked, applying powder.

minutes later, the two of you popped up at a bar about ten minutes from the airbnb booked for the month. the bar was hidden away, which made it a miracle to find.

walking in, your eyes scanned. it smelt like liquor, specifically vodka.

you heard the songs blasting and before you knew it, jessica was on the dance floor. you went straight to the bar and asked for a shot of vodka. tapping your heeled foot to the music, someone slid right beside you.

“i’ll pay for her shot.” “chivalrous.” you say, downing it.

with a smirk, his curly hair made him look better. “anything for someone as good looking as you.” you smiled, your pointer finger tracing your jawline. “what?” his lips parted.

“you’re very cute for buying that shot for me.” you glanced at his lips ever so slightly, “you’re actually insanely cute.”

the energy you two shared was tense. clearly, you weren’t the only one that noticed it. looking back to him, you sighed.

“so what’s your name?” he asked, sipping something.

“yn.” you smiled, “yours?” “joost.”

he grinned as you then stuck to water. feeling his hand on your thigh, it felt great.

“a glass of beaujolais, please.” you said, eyeing down one specific wine. recieving a wine glass of it, you drank it faster than you thought.

“looks good,” joost said. watching him, you played with the loose tie he had on, “you look good.” his voice growled at the end and you smiled. you let the night get the best of you and yanked his tie forward, attaching your lips to his.

the first thing you tasted was whiskey. it wasn’t that you hated it, there were just better liquors out there for you to enjoy.

but tasting it on him was enriching.

you wasted no time in leading him out of the bar, the two of you slightly stumbling to the airbnb, where you continued kissing him on your bed.

your jacket and his shirt was shed after mere minutes and his hands felt you up like no tomorrow. the mix of him and your lost sobriety was hanging in the air as you knocked the radio beside your bed, it immediately changing to some random station.

this made both of you giggle. his hands made their way to cup your breasts and the lazy tune accompanied the way his hands traveled to your thighs. squeezing them slightly, his tongue was wet and hot against your hot pussy.

aroused moans left your mouth as your hands found his curly blonde hair. “jesus christ.” you murmured.

pretty quickly, to you at least, joost was kissing your neck as he thrusted in and out of you. the bedroom was filled with moans and as much as you enjoyed it, the two of you were making out before he was tying up a condom and throwing it in the trash.

watching him, you felt hot. a bottle of red wine was right next to him, in perspective, yet it was closer to you than he was in actuality.

you didn’t know what to say as he wished you a goodbye, leaving nothing but what was left from the sexual tension you two shared.

your head hit the pillow and with a sigh, you watched him walk down the street from your window.

[rabbitsrams]

rewatching this sleep deprived video where schlatt keeps talking about tits so i will actually post this thing i wrote when i saw it initially

@light-blue-lace hey im posting it after weeks

nsfw under the cut, minors dni, 18+ only.

so one day you’re just chilling on the couch doing nothing when schlatt randomly asks you:

"can i see your tits?"

you're a bit surprised at how blunt he was being. "uh... why?"

"because."

"uh..."

"please?"

"um, okay." you lift your shirt, thankful you weren't wearing a bra. he looks at them for about 30 seconds, humming in approval and touching them for a bit. after he's done, he removes his hands and you put the shirt back down.

"thanks toots."

"uh huh, no problem..." you're a little confused but frankly quite aroused. like... he's seen them MANY times before. but there was something about him having the urge to see them in a normal mundane setting that was exciting. and him having that same reaction every time.

then he starts to do it more often.

always just straight up asking to see your tits and you always say yes, lifting your shirt and letting him see them.

then you start to walk around the house with smaller and tighter shirts that really show them off and he just loves it.

then one day you spice it up even more and just. walk around shirtless.

and he’s got his hands on them for hours. he just loves how pretty your tits are.

one of them is slightly bigger than the other and he just is absolutely fixated. loves them so much.

sitting on his lap as he edits and they're just in his face and he keeps getting distracted but he doesn't even care 'cause he "just wanted to see some fuckin' titties today."

also sending so many pics of them while he’s away and him saving every single one of them to use for... later...

bonus: so he's recording a drawing game (gartic, skribbl, etc.) for sleep deprived and one of the prompts is just. tits.

so he leaves the room to ask you if he can use yours as a reference (of course you say yes, you know it's just an excuse for him to see them but you don't even care).

the drawing turns out like really good and the boys are like WHOAAAA.....

one of them was like "what was your reference ain't no way you did that from memory" and he just straight up says:

"my girlfriend."

that's how your relationship was revealed lol

[prezohhh]

[sneegswagger]

thanks prezohhh

[equthis-deactivated20240515]

FINNICK ODAIR (PORN LINKS)

Summary all porn links have a visual description of finnick x fem!reader. For example; “Finnick and Fem!reader end up doing more than a movie.” Etc. if any are the same link, dm me!

Warnings very explicit content, all are Twitter links.

🎀 17+ below the cut!

Pussy drunk!Finnick eating fem!reader out while she whines and whimpers above him..

Soft, yet rough sex with dom!finnick in your room..

size kink kinda with soft Dom!finnick in your bedroom at your parents house..

tattoo!fem!reader getting told ‘sit there and take it’ by Dom!finnick

Soft!dom!Finnick fucking sub!fem!reader into missionary <3

[janitorhutcherson]

finnick odair x bunny!reader (fluff)

just some silly fluff hcs. finally feeding u guys finnick content too. not literal bunny, btw. pet name bunny!! :p plz enjoy!!! it’s short oopsies.

—————————

finnick odair and bunny!reader are the absolute best pair. finnick isn’t typically a gentle person. he is elegant, handsome, masculine, but he’s cocky and quick witted, something that can come off as arrogant rather than charming. with you, however, he can’t help but melt into a pile of mush.

finnick had started calling you bunny one day by a fluke. you two had been calling each other assortments of strange pet names, such as ‘bear’ or turtle’. that was, until, finnick froze, his expression softening as the corners of his lips turned up. “bunny,” was all he said, quietly, his voice laced with honey and love. you cocked your head to the side, eyebrows furrowed. “bunny, it’s perfect for you,” he chuckled, leaning forward and rubbing his nose against yours.

after that, the rest was history. finnick didn’t use baby or honey or love much, but instead, he always used bunny. you never even heard your real name from his lips unless it was serious. he’d thought it was so perfect for you. your eyes were soft and round, like a bunny’s. your skin was soft, smooth, and you loved to be caressed and pet. your nose would twitch and you’d loved nothing more than to be cuddled, kissed, but only on your own time. you were moody much like one too, your mood swings similar to the way a bunny may stomp if they’ve not gotten their way.

you adopted the role pretty easily, leaning into him every time he’d say the word. “bunny,” he’d say so quietly, his eyes inviting you to come lay beside him on the bed, and you’d do just that. it was like a command almost, something that fell from his lips in order to remind you that you were his in a way so unique that no one else would get it. you were his bunny. he’d get you bunny ears, shirts with bunnies on them, little shorts that had lace on the hems and bunnies on the thighs or hoodies with bunny ear hoods. he loved to see you in them. he felt it was so fitting.

at night he couldn’t help but to admire you while you slept in his arms, his eyes tracing your body, your mouth slightly open as soft little snores slipped out of your mouth. you were perfect, his bunny, his angel that fit right into the crook of his arm like a puzzle piece. he’d curled up in front of you now, his arms wrapping around you as he pulled you into his chest. he pulled the blankets up to your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your cheek before nuzzling his chin onto the top of your head. “goodnight, sleep tight, my lil bunny…” was the last thing he whispered before his own eyes fluttered closed, his arms warm and his heart fuzzier with love than the coat of a rabbit.

[sneegswagger]

going feral over this fluff

[aimseytv]

be kind to yourselves

[sneegswagger]

paparazzi // finnick odair

being the winner of the 69th hunger games, it turns out your mentor was none other than finnick odair, winner of the 65th hunger games.

summary: you are celebrating your win at the party snow was holding when you and finnick quit the scene for some alone time

fic in gender neutral terms

use of yn like once or twice xx implied smut at end.

story under the cut :)

"wow," you had muttered to yourself, walking towards snow's mansion.

you were sure that he had plenty more. this seemed to be his main one, though. watching your favourite colours dancing on the white paintjob, you laughed to yourself.

your escort, glitter, was talking you through the plan but you apparently weren't even listening.

"pretty," he had smiled, walking off to leave you by yourself. you wandered in, the fancy outfit foreign against your bare skin. stepping into the back garden, whispers escalated into applause and cheering.

you mirrored a small bow, one finnick had taught you.

finnick. where was he, anyway?

tasting different items, and a few glasses of some sort of vomit agent being constantly offered with the promise that you could taste everything if you only drank it, you were quickly tiring out.

the mansion's doors were wide open, an indefinite home to strangers that you were actively trying to avoid. you certainly felt less than at ease in this situation but essentially, it was a tradition that would go on forever and ever. you weren't the first, nor the last.

so when you found a quiet, empty room, you were met with an ungodly amount of peace. sure, you could feel the quiet thump of the music and see the lights dancing around with solidarity, but a quiet knock had made you physically jump.

"there's my victor." the familiar purr of one finnick odair.

"oh?" you chuckled, setting down the drink that definitely was just lemonade, "i'm your victor?" you teased, finnick laughing soft.

"well, yes." he smiled, sitting on the cushioned bed, "you're my favourite victor, yn."

that made you blush a little, even if you swore his smiles could never.

"that's very cute, finni." you smiled, sitting next to him. "you're very cute."

he blushed and suddenly was a little less confident, "brave." he chuckled, "very brave, baby."

you smirked, "baby?" this caused him to stammer but you shut him up, "i like it."

you felt the bed shake a little as he fell back, now looking up at the celling that was the same as every other wall and floor in this mansion.

the music hadn't died down but you were absolutely sure people were looking for you. you were this year's victor, after all.

"crazy turnout." you filled the silence. not awkward, just nothing, "i didn't realise i was this popular."

"everyone loves you." finnick stated as you now were lying down, too. "i mean, i've admired you ever since i began training you for your games." he turned to look to you, noses grazing, "you're very cool."

you smiled and watched his eyes dart to your lips.

when you leant forward and kissed finnick, the world had tuned out.

as your lips moved with his, you tasted them and they were everything you could have imagined, plus a slight taste of salt.

when finnick pulled away and sat up, you followed suit and quirked your brows. "what's wrong? was that not everything you had dreamed?" your voice had sounded as if you were joking with him but you weren't, at all.

"i just- i'm your mentor! isn't it frowned upon to date a mentor?" "not that i know of? i'm sure it's been done before!" you reassured. "besides, isn't it kind of hot?"

he sharply looked at you and smirked a little. "absolutely."

next thing you knew, you were feeling one hand on your waist and the other on your tit as the two of you made out. he made sure you were going to have a great victory party.

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

a darling and a virgin

masterlist

summary: you are a victor from district four, having just ended your first victory tour. after being confronted by president snow, you have no choice but to lose your virginity. luckily, your previous mentor is willing to provide some guidance.

pairing: finnick odair x reader

warnings: mentions of forced prostitution, angst, gentle smut, loss of virginity, fingering, lots of consent, praise, happy but also unhappy ending??, reader takes contraceptives.

notes: i’ve recently found that i’m incapable of writing short smut one shots so… i’m sorry y’all. love describing every detail too much.

word count: 6.8k

Your hands were clasped over the balcony railing of the penthouse you were spending the night in, the vibrant artificial lights of the Capitol burning your retinas as you overlooked the city. You had finally completed your first Victory Tour and were offered one more night in the Capitol to enjoy its ‘luxury’ and ‘generosity’ before returning to District Four in the morning.

For the past two weeks, you had read fabricated speeches to each District, resurfacing both your trauma from the Games and the families of the tributes you had murdered in the arena. The toll it was taking on you was heavy, but you managed to put on a splitting grin for every interview, speech, and disturbing congratulation. But not for your previous mentor, Finnick Odair.

Finnick had been there for you through the whole nightmare, even during the week before your Games. His support was unwavering which was one of the many reasons you had managed to survive from the moment you were Reaped to the end of the Tour. It was hard to tell when his mentorship had turned into something more complicated, but it had. It had become more about feelings than simply survival. Not a relationship per se, but not just a friendship either. You teetered on the line between the two, never crossing it and never discussing the fact that you were both aware of it either.

For six whole months.

When the final destination of the Tour came—the grand celebration at President Snow’s mansion—Finnick had told you it was the easiest part. All you had to do was manage a happy face, mingle with obnoxious Capitol citizens, and eat an abhorrent amount of food. He would have been right if you were a different person. If President Snow hadn’t demanded your singular presence at the end of the night.

You exhaled a shaky breath, watching the white mist drift into the light-polluted sky. The President’s words bounced around your head: Desirable… Customers... Family. The conversation played on a loop in your mind. You could remember the repugnant smell of roses, the overwhelming whiteness in the room, and the way his too-pleasant face lit up as fireworks exploded outside the window.

Shivers trickled down your spine, forming goosebumps that were borderline painful. The fact that you were on the ninetieth floor and wearing flimsy pyjama shorts and a thin long-sleeve shirt wasn’t helping either. The crisp wind blew against your body, but you had no intentions of moving to seek warmth. It felt appropriate to stay in the cold when your body would soon know nothing but unwelcome heat.

So lost in your spiralling thoughts, you failed to notice as another body silently took up space beside yours, warming up the side of your arm. This heat was welcome.

“Pretty cold out here.”

A startled gasp escaped your mouth. You straightened up and turned to the owner of the voice, only to find Finnick leaning against the railing, forearms over the edge the same as you.

“Sorry.” He chuckled. “I know my presence can be a little breathtaking sometimes. Nice shorts by the way.”

He turned his head turned to you, revealing his infamous flirtatious smirk. The dimples in his cheeks were prominent and charming. His bronze hair was perfectly dishevelled as usual, as if someone had purposefully placed each strand to give him the ‘sexy bed hair’ look. He was still wearing his white button-up and black trousers; the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows and a few buttons were undone, revealing his toned chest. The outfit had been accessorised with a metallic golden corset-like belt among other decorations that made him fit in with the Capitol crowd, but he must have taken them off. Now the outfit sort of resembled one that a boy would wear to a Reaping. Simple yet formal. Still gorgeous, not that he needed reminding.

Normally, you would retort with a snarky remark or, on the off occasion, flirt back, but instead, you resumed your previous position over the railings. You weren’t immune to Finnick’s charms; you praised anyone who was. You would usually be internally swooning at the sight of him, especially with the way he looked right now and his obvious flirting. But this night was much different. Flirting and swooning were at the back of your mind. All you could think about was your interaction with the president; the way his guards manhandled and escorted you to his study. The conversation that destroyed your hopes of a peaceful future.

Desirable. One word that sent ice coursing through your veins. Or snow, to be more poetic.

“I don’t think you’ve said a word since we got back,” said Finnick, still a hint of playfulness in his tone. He watched your gaze—eyes distant though not really seeing. It was clear something was wrong, so he continued, this time more softly. “You were gone during the fireworks.”

You remained unmoving, staring straight ahead at the city. Only when he uttered your name did he finally gain your attention. As you turned your head to face him, tears began to well up in your eyes.

Finnick noticed the silent distress in your expression and straightened up his stance. He towered over you, brows knitted together whilst his sea-green eyes flickered across your face, looking as if pieces were slowly falling together in his mind.

“He spoke with you, didn’t he?” he said. “Snow.”

To answer his question for you, a tear escaped your eye, but you were quick to swipe it away with a sniffle.

Your arms wound around your torso, hugging yourself as the words began flowing. “After I won my Games, when I was being crowned, he said something to me that I didn’t really understand." Your voice was gentle, just above a mere whisper. “Months passed and I’d forgotten all about it. Until now at least. He told me…” You swallowed the ache in your throat. “He told me, ‘I have big plans for you, Miss (L/N). I think you will be a very valuable asset to the Capitol citizens.’”

Finnick’s face had melted into an unreadable expression. His entire body turned to stone; it was like he was a marble statue portraying a Greek God. All of a sudden, he was sixteen again. He was in Snow’s study, being told that if he didn’t cooperate and essentially sell himself to the Capitol, his family would pay the price. And they did.

With a sad smile, you whispered, “I know what he meant now.”

Something inside him snapped and he broke from his stupor.

“No.” He vigorously shook his head. “He can’t do that. You can’t. I’ll go to him and—fuck!” His hand ran through his hair, making it even more dishevelled. The bright lights from the city were reflecting off his eyes, revealing the shine that was starting to gloss over them. “I can fix this for you, I swear I’ll—"

“Finnick.”

“He’s a fucking—”

“Finnick.” The plea in your voice ceased his panicked movements. He just stood there, looking completely and utterly helpless. You both did. Another tear slipped down your cheek as you stared at him, your voice wavering as you asked, “Can you hold me?”

He let out a breath as if the air had been knocked from his lungs and in one fell swoop, he stepped forward and pulled you into his arms. Silent tears began to flow more heavily, saturating his white shirt which he held you tightly against. There was a hand wrapped protectively around your lower back and another stroking the hair flowing over your neck.

You were certain Finnick let a few tears slip too because you could feel the cold breeze nip at the top of your head the slightest bit more. He mumbled the words “I’m so sorry” over and over into your hair but you just shook your head. You told him it wasn’t his fault, but he wouldn’t accept it. He had told you months ago about his arrangement with Snow. You couldn’t have imagined what it was like for him then, but you would be able to now. You would know every single little detail.

His embrace tightened as you turned your head and pressed your ear to his thumping chest.

The tears had stopped, and you managed to find your voice again. “Snow threatened to kill my family. What if the customers don’t think I’m good enough and he takes it out on them? I mean, I don’t have any experience.”

You remained silent, awaiting his response. When the hand stroking your hair halted, you realised your mistake. You realised what you had just admitted to him and mentally kicked yourself. Repeatedly.

Finnick moved both hands onto your forearms, gently pushing you away from him to get a clear view of your face. The surprise in his expression was enough to make you want to jump over the balcony ledge in embarrassment.

“You’re a virgin?”

Hearing the words out loud would have sent you over the edge—literally—if Finnick’s large hands weren’t wrapped around your arms. You tried to turn away from him, but his grip was unshakeable. Your eyes began to water again, and you felt pathetic.

“Hey,” he said tenderly as he tried to regain your eye contact. “It’s not a bad thing.”

Your distraught red-rimmed eyes snapped back to him. “Not a bad thing? Of course it’s a bad thing, Finnick! I have to give my body to a stranger despite never even having my first kiss! Let alone sex!” As you said the words, the full reality of your situation began to set in. Panic turned to sadness as you realised yet again, the Capitol was taking another innocence you thought was your own to give away. You looked down, your tone becoming quieter. “I thought my first time would be special. Or at least with someone I loved.”

God, you felt so embarrassed admitting that to him. Sure, a lot of your conversations were flirty and full of sensual banter. Sex, however, was not a topic that came up very frequently. You would never want to accidentally cross a line with Finnick, especially given what Snow forced upon him. So you liked to avoid the subject as much as possible. Now, it was inescapable.

He released his grip and sighed heavily, looking out toward the view as if he were deep in thought. The vivid city lights cast an unnatural hue on his usually golden-tanned skin; even now the Capitol was changing him into something he wasn’t. His eyes shut for a quick second before he reopened them and looked back at you. The only time he had looked this serious was the morning of your Games and the night you returned. It was a little intimidating.

His jaw ticked and his gaze bore down into your own. “Sweetheart, I’m going to ask you something,” he began, “and I want you to know you do not have to say ‘yes’ if you don’t want to, okay?”

Alright, now he was really starting to scare you.

“Okay,” you said warily.

The hardness on his face remained for a moment longer, but then his expression softened and became the most vulnerable you had ever seen.

His voice was gentle. “Do you want me to take your virginity?”

*************

You were sat on the edge of Finnick’s bed, toying with the black satin sheets with a frown. Your room didn’t get satin sheets. It was probably one of the benefits of being the Capitol Darling. Not that you envied him very much. He would probably be content with sleeping on a dirt floor if it meant he got his autonomy back.

Finnick was in the bathroom doing God knows what. You weren’t sure if he was trying to make himself more presentable or hyping himself up to have sex with you. The latter worried you. The last thing you wanted was to pressure him into something he didn’t want to do. Then again, he was the one who asked.

After you had told him “Yes, please”, he had tentatively but oh-so-gently taken your hand in his and guided you inside and to his room. Neither of you had spoken along the way; you just walked in silence toward something that would either ruin or deepen your relationship. Despite being two victors, this was still a mentor making sure his tribute stayed alive.

You heard the bathroom door slide open and looked up to see Finnick standing outside the door. Shirtless, pants still on, and towel in hand. It took everything in you to not stare at his perfectly sculptured torso, his equally toned arms, or his broad and muscular shoulders. Instead, your eyes met his for a split second before you returned to the satin sheets.

Blood rushed to your head and everything felt too real. Finnick Odair was standing before you, looking like an angel and willing to fu—

“You’re allowed to look, you know,” he chuckled.

But your gaze remained on the bed.

“I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable.”

“You won’t.’” He spread the towel on the bed, positioning it in the middle. Then he stopped his movements as he realised what you meant. “It’s not like that. I’m not being forced to do this. I want to.”

Your head snapped up and your heart leapt as those three words left his lips—I want to. For a second, you believed him, but then reasoning came to deflate your hopefulness.

“You wouldn’t want to if I weren’t in this situation.”

He let go of the towel, sitting down mere inches beside you, his eyes amused despite the solemn context. “And how do you know that?”

“Because…” you trailed off, searching your brain for an explanation only to find none. “Because.”

He smirked. “We need to work on your argumentative skills, sweetheart.”

A small smile worked its way across your lips. He returned it with a comforting smile of his own, though the sense of playfulness never left. It never really did and that was one of the things you admired most about him. Even in the darkest of situations, he was able to provide some light.

Rosy heat crept into your cheeks and you were forced to break eye contact again. Hiding how much he affected you was pointless now; if this was going to work out, you needed to be vulnerable with him. With each other. You looked down at the space between your bodies. His hand was resting on the bed beside him and soon enough, it was slowly creeping across the sheets over to your own. He gently brushed his fingers across your knuckles before sliding his hand beneath your palm and interlocking it with yours. You couldn’t help but notice how small your hand looked compared to his, feeling butterflies flutter around your stomach at the small observation.

The both of you silently watched your intertwined hands. That is until Finnick decided to speak up.

“I would,” he said ambiguously, caressing the side of your hand with his thumb. “I would still want to. Even in different circumstances.”

The blush on your face reddened even more; your cheeks were on fire at this point. Even in different circumstances. Was that his way of confessing… that he did have feelings for you? It wasn’t exactly explicit, but it was certainly implied. Oh god, you didn’t know what to think.

You didn’t bother to reply; words probably would have failed you anyway. You just gave his hand a slight squeeze in acknowledgement—well, it was more in appreciation. It was obvious how hard he was trying to make you feel comfortable, but no matter how hard he tried, you couldn’t shake the nerves that were rattling your entire being.

Sex was a pretty big milestone—to you, at least—and here you were, on the precipice with someone you trusted with your life. Did you love Finnick? You weren’t sure. What you did know was that your feelings for him were deep, and even though neither of you had ever clearly confessed to each other, you knew he felt something for you too. Which made everything all the more daunting.

“Are you nervous?” he asked softly.

You nodded.

“We still don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

You shook your head, lifting your gaze to his. “No, I—”

His eyebrows pulled inwards, awaiting your answer. His eyes were so inviting and full of understanding, if you hadn’t lost the ability to form full sentences, you would have found yourself spilling all your secrets to him. He was so patient with you. So good. You had to rethink your uncertainty about loving him.

“I…” you tried again. Your eyes flickered back and forth from his sea-green eyes to his soft, pink lips. As shameful as it felt to admit, you had imagined what it would feel like to have his lips on yours many times before. Usually right before you went to sleep. Never would you have thought the day would come when it would actually happen.

He was still caressing the side of your palm, silently reassuring you, encouraging you to communicate with him. You sighed, closing your eyes. If he wanted you to communicate, then you would.

“Finnick,” you whispered. “Kiss me.”

Your words drifted into the air, stilling everything in the room—the air, Finnick’s hand. Your heart. He just stared at you, unblinking, unmoving, like someone had hit pause on the television at the tensest moment. The tension was tearing you apart and you almost got up and left the room. But you didn’t. Because suddenly, the sides of your face were cupped by large hands and his lips were on yours.

Finnick Odair was kissing you.

His lips pressed against yours once more in one long close-mouthed kiss before leaving again. Shock came and left within seconds and you found the courage to copy his actions. Your lips locked perfectly onto his, remaining still, enjoying the pressure and tingly warmth of simply having them connected. Then your lips moved to kiss him again. And again, and again until soon enough, his tongue had slyly slid into your mouth and you had somehow instantaneously become a master at French kissing.

This kiss felt familiar, despite it being your first. Like something you had done millions of times before, but only with him. Like having his lips on yours was the most natural thing to ever exist.

A hand moved onto your waist and suddenly you were being pulled onto his lap, legs straddling his lap. Your hands fell on his chest, mindlessly wandering and feeling the toned muscles ripple underneath your palms as he pulled you closer by the neck to deepen the kiss. Damn the people of the Capitol, but they were right to say he was an incredible kisser.

“Finn,” you huffed in between kisses, “have you got a rock in your pants?”

He pecked your lips once more with a smirk, resting his forehead against yours as you both attempted to catch your breaths. “No,” he chuckled. “I’ve just got a beautiful girl on my lap.”

Your eyes opened to see him grinning at you with mischief. Oh.

“Is that okay?” he asked.

You nodded jerkily. “Ye—Yes, that’s okay.”

“Okay, good.”

Biting your lip, you looked down between your bodies. Curiously, you rocked your hips along the length of his lap once, earning a quiet grunt from him.

He tucked a lock of hair behind your ear. “Careful,” his voice was low, tempting.

And of course, in full defiance, you did it again. His warning was a bluff. He made no real action to prevent you from grinding any further on his erection, so you kept moving, and he kept revealing how good it made him feel. The thin fabric of your shorts created a little barrier between his hard lap and the growing sensitivity between your thighs.

Meanwhile, you found yourself never wanting to be parted from Finnick’s lips. With every rock of your hips, your hands ran over every inch of his upper body, eventually settling in his hair. The way he kissed reminded you of stories of District Twelve. A district full of hunger and desperation. Only what Finnick was craving wasn’t the fullness of food in his stomach, but the desire to devour you whole. To ravage you. And by God, would you give anything to satiate him.

Forget what you thought before. This wasn’t just a victor keeping his tribute alive. As clear as the sea on a sunny day, this was a man giving himself over to a woman he loved. You. Finnick loved you.

When you pulled back to tentatively lift your shirt over your head, his eyes stayed on yours. Your breasts were literally bare and he just continued to scan the features of your face. However, you did notice the subtle shift in his breathing.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, stroking the side of your breast.

A shy, cheek-warming smile crept on your face and then suddenly, Finnick was rolling you over. Your head fell back onto the soft silk pillows, Finnick hovering above you. This position remained for a long while, the time spent simply kissing each other, alternating between deep tongue-filled kisses and soft sweet pecks. There were moments when you both stopped to flirt or giggle. These were the times you entirely forgot the whole reason you were doing this in the first place.

It was just you and Finnick. Two new lovers in a perfect world.

After a while, your lips had swollen with warm, passionate heat. You were flushed and you didn’t even need to look to know your hair was already a tangled mess. But you didn’t care.

One of Finnick’s hands had begun to wander down your stomach, breaking the established pattern of merely making out. You knew what was coming and surprisingly, you weren’t afraid. Unlike outside the penthouse apartment, there was no danger. Not in this room, in this bed, or in the hands that caressed you. He grazed across the skin beneath your belly button, causing your body to flinch up into his.

Of course, he smirked at that—the smug asshole.

He returned to your lips before lowering down to your neck and sucking soft, red marks into your fragile skin. His fingers found the edge of your waistband. At this point, you were already breathing like a marathoner.

His lips detached from your neck. “Can Itouch you?”

“Yes, please,” you breathed.

As he travelled down, down beneath your waistband, he pecked your reddened lips once more. A soft gasp escaped you and warmth tingled between your thighs. His fingers were gentle as he began circling that sweet, sensitive spot only you had ever touched. Having someone else touch you felt so much more different, so much more exquisite. Your body responded to his touch immediately, hips following each movement of his fingers, breaths quickening in pace.

Finnick gazed down at you, observing each pleasured twist of your expression. He began to pick up the pace as he noticed your body familiarising itself with the sensation. More pressure was applied and the gasps leaving your mouth were gradually turning into quiet moans.

“This feel okay?” he asked. Obviously, he knew the answer, but after years of having others take advantage of him, he couldn’t help but want to hear your willingness. Your consent.

But you weren’t sure if the words could form. Everything felt like it was vibrating. All you could do was focus on the pleasure his fingers were building.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can tell me.”

His voice had taken on that seductive purr he was well-known for and you just couldn’t deny him. It took everything inside you to muster up the words. “It—it feels so good.”

He smiled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. The gesture was so sweet, you could have cried. So sweet even with his hand stroking between your legs and his hard cock pressing against your thigh. Time slowed as his fingers sped up. Muscles in your stomach were tightening. Your insides were churning—not like when you first entered your Games’ arena, but in the best way possible. It was a sensation you had never felt before, but before it could build any more, Finnick’s hand stilled. And you genuinely whined at the loss of friction.

Then his hand moved even lower, resting a singular finger over your slick entrance. Your eyes were wide, unsure of how to feel with the sudden turn of events.

Finnick’s eyes flickered between your own. "You trust me?”

You weren’t sure if an easier question existed. “I do.”

And his lips were on yours again, deep and sensual. His tongue rolled over your own, pushing forward and then retreating in a perfect rhythm. He almost successfully distracted you from the feeling of his middle finger sinking into you knuckle-by-knuckle. Some sort of sound resembling a mix of discomfort and surprise vibrated in your throat as his finger bottomed out.

There wasn’t much pain. It was just an odd feeling.

Your lips parted from his and he looked down at you, his eyes holding an immense amount of security as he communicated through your shared gaze.

Does it hurt?

You gave him a gentle smile. No. Keep touching me.

He returned your smile with a grin. Gladly.

His buried finger curled, shooting a sharp pang up into your stomach which caused your back to arch up against his bare torso. Whether you considered it painful or pleasurable was uncertain. Perhaps a mix of both. He did it again. This time you settled on describing it as a tight twinge in your lower stomach which sent a wave of chills down your legs. Definitely pleasurable. Only, he stopped indulging you with the sensation after the second time.

Instead, you felt another finger slowly slip inside you and whimpered. Now that hurt. You felt your inner walls stretch with the second addition and it stung. Especially when he began to scissor his fingers inside you. This was him preparing you for the real deal. How you were supposed to have Finnick inside you when just his fingers had you stuffed was incomprehensible. But you allowed him to keep going, trying to enjoy the comforting kisses he pampered onto you.

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart,” he said.

Your hands moved to push back his messy bronze hair as he hovered above you. His dimples deepened with a grin and you swore you would endure any pain to keep them etched on his face. After he deemed you stretched out enough, he slowly rose to his knees, unbuttoning his trousers and throwing them aside. You couldn’t do anything but stare. He wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

The way you gulped was almost cartoonish. How the hell was he supposed to fit? You had never seen a man naked before—you weren’t even sure Finnick was human. He had a body sculptured by the Gods, a face carved by angels, and a… well, let’s just say he didn’t disappoint in any other areas. You weren’t sure if the smug look on his face was real or a carefully curated mask created for his Capitol customers. By the way it quickly washed away, you could tell it was the latter.

He began sliding your shorts down your legs, tossing them to the floor. Suddenly, you felt extremely vulnerable. Almost inferior. Your knees fell together, concealing the most private part of yourself from him. You avoided his gaze, cheeks becoming red and hot as he observed your naked frame. He had a way of looking at you as if you were a long-forgotten masterpiece, rediscovered from centuries of being lost. No one had looked at you like that before him.

Gently, he pried apart your legs and you didn’t bother trying to resist. Only when he descended and settled between your legs did the insecurity dwindle into the background of your mind. Your naked bodies were hot against each other. His weight pinned you against the bed. Everything that was yours touched all that was his. You thought this experience would feel like a dream, but it all felt so real. You were nervous, you were trembling, and your breaths were shaky.

Finnick was quick to recognise the nervousness radiating off you. His arm curled beneath you, somehow pulling you even closer, meanwhile, his other arm rested beside your head. He brushed strands of hair away from your face, soothing you with his tender touch.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

You nodded. You wanted this—wanted Finnick. It was just the anticipation that was killing you. Your thighs squeezed his sides to tell him you were ready. For a few moments longer, he restarted the pattern of sweet kisses, rolling tongues, and the warmth of blood rushing to your head. His hand was caressing your cheek; yours were splayed on his back, gliding over the rippled muscles.

Then finally, he shifted, his hand moving south to align himself with your entrance. All you could do was watch his focused expression. This was the moment. The threshold of your relationship would be ­­crossed as soon as he pushed forward. There was no one else you wanted to share the experience with because you knew this wasn’t just sex. Not for him or for you; it was more than that. Something bordering spiritual, breaking the bounds of physical pleasure and entering into a deep emotional connection. Something no paying customer of the Capitol could provide.

He was gazing down at you, half-cradling your head as he began to say, “Are you su—" But before he could finish, you had pressed your lips to his, answering his question. You were sure. He nodded in response.

His eyes were hesitant he began to push his tip between your folds. Your fingers dug into his back, more from anxiety than anything else. It became a game of stopping and starting as he moved deeper inside inch-by-inch, allowing your walls time to adjust around him. Never had you seen someone’s face filled with so many emotions—concentration, controlled gratification, affection. So many feelings twisted his expression. Meanwhile, yours held only one. Discomfort. He was so big; you felt like you were being split apart and he wasn’t even fully inside yet.

Finally, when his pelvis connected with yours, you exhaled a heavy breath. It hurt. Bad. Finnick had the right idea to lay down a towel because you definitely needed it. He had you filled to the brim, stretched out and stuffed. Even the slightest shift in his position had your hands flying to his shoulders in pain.

“Are you alright?” he asked.

“Yes, just—” You bit your lip in an attempt to suppress a whimper. “Just go slow.”

He nodded. You smiled. Then for some odd reason, you laughed. And then so did he. Finnick’s face fell into the crook of your neck, muffling his boyish laughs into your skin. The added movements had your insides dully aching, but you didn’t pay it much attention. The moment was so innocently intimate that you wanted to stay in it forever. He lifted his head to press his grinning lips to yours and the laughter began to dissipate. Your mouths moved slowly together, full of heat and fervent emotion, and suddenly, Finnick’s body began to move too.

Careful as not to harm you, he slid himself backward in one slow motion and then pushed forward again in another. Pain stung at your inner walls and your lips left his as a gasp escaped your mouth. You were tempted to close your eyes whilst riding out the discomfort but couldn’t bring yourself to look away from Finnick’s face. He was so mesmerizingly beautiful.

His cheeks were a baby pink. Lips were a rosy red. There was a thin sheen covering his forehead, slightly wrinkled by his furrowed brows. Those messy bronze locks you adored so much fell in strands across his forehead. The evident concentration and care on his face just made him look all the more picturesque.

While you admired his features, you started to notice the pain accompanying his slow thrusts was becoming more tolerable. There was still a sting, but also a dull twinge in your stomach that had you biting your bottom lip. It felt sort of… nice. And you wanted to experiment with that feeling.

Your hands were hooked around his shoulders. “Faster.”

Are you sure? His lustful eyes spoke.

You pulled him back down to your mouth. Absolutely.

And so, his hips started to rock back and forth at a faster pace. You could feel yourself clench around his cock from the change of rhythm but forced yourself to relax. He thrust in and out, rubbing against the ripples of your walls, tip brushing at a spot inside you that was anything but pain. That is what you focused on—that one sweet spot.

Time went on and he gradually increased his speed. Your lips were swollen and red, no doubt from the way he would nip and suck on your bottom lip in between each flick of his tongue. His breaths were coming out louder, heavier, as were your own. Soon enough, you were in a rhythm that was both pleasurable for him and for you. The pain lingered but it was no longer unbearable. A shudder ran down your body and your pussy fluttered around him. Finnick broke away from your lips with a breathy groan that you swore you could feel in the pit of your stomach.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

His thrusts became a little faster, a little more painful. A hand slipped down between your bodies and the pain faded quicker than it came. He was rubbing circles around your clit, occasionally running his fingers across it which caused you to lurch upward. All of a sudden, you came to the realisation that everything bad that had been clouding your mind had disappeared. The ache, the confrontation with Snow. Everything. The only thing you could focus on was the pleasure slowly building between your thighs and in your stomach. And Finnick. His tantalising eyes. His wicked mouth. His throbbing cock.

People always said your first time would be horrible; this was anything but. Maybe it had to do with the fact that you… loved him? Yeah, you loved him. Also because he was something of an expert at sex. You were in a pretty unlucky predicament but having Finnick willingly fucking you was a blessing.

His fingers were relentless, applying the perfect amount of pleasure that had you writhing beneath him. And added with the sensation of his cock repeatedly hitting that spot inside you, your uneven breaths turned into soft moans. He fucked, he rubbed, he nipped and sucked at the delicate skin of your neck. Heat was enveloping your entire body.

“Finnick,” you moaned.

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” His voice was strained and hoarse.

His hand left your clit, hooking around your thigh, and curling it around his back so he could thrust even deeper. He restarted his rhythm of rubbing circles, but his thrusts felt different. Instead of just brushing that sensitiveness deep inside you, he was mercilessly hitting it. Over and over. Your moans were louder now; Finnick was more vocal too, grunting and occasionally uttering words of praise.

This went on for a while. His stamina was incredible—if you had a moment to think, you would have realised the depressing reasoning behind it. But you couldn’t think at all. Your heel was digging into his back; nails scratching at his skin. Both of you had a layer of sweat covering your bodies, skin wet, slapping and sliding over one another. Your pheromones had filled the room with the smell of sex, driving your need to finish.

Finnick’s mouth had been everywhere at this point. Your lips, your neck, shoulders, and breasts. Everywhere except your pussy, not that it really mattered anymore.

It was hard for you to comprehend how fucking amazing the sensations you felt were. There was heat and pressure pooling in your stomach, increasing at a slow pace, and growing more powerful by the minute. Finnick’s hips moved at a steady pace, but his hand had begun to slow. Even he had to succumb to fatigue at some point. He sounded like he had run for miles though was obviously pushing himself on for your benefit.

Instead of ceasing his tiring hand movements entirely, he switched hands. And that was when the heat in your stomach turned into a blazing inferno. He was much faster now. Applied more pressure. Your head fell back against the pillow with a cry. His cock was throbbing inside you at the sound.

“That feel good? Huh?” he practically moaned.

He left kisses across the stretch of your neck, running his tongue over the skin and leaving behind red marks.

“Yes!” you cried out.

Your entire body felt like it was being dipped into a white-hot flame of pleasure and the feeling was only increasing. It was clear Finnick felt the same way. His thrusts were becoming more frantic, he was cursing left and right, and he was practically pulsing inside you.

The heat in your stomach was overwhelming but you needed more.

“Finnick, I feel—I feel—” You couldn’t describe even it.

Finnick nodded, breathing heavily above you. God, he looked gorgeous. “You’re gonna come.”

Your half-lidded needy eyes met his. Something about him saying those words sent a wave of acceleration through your body. You hadn’t known what the edge was until you were on the brink of coming, and there was no stopping it. His cock plunged in and out, pushing deep inside you, practically rocketing your orgasm to the surface with each thrust. His fingers moved at such an intense pace you didn’t even know was physically possible.

As your eyes fluttered shut, your mouth fell open and every frantic breath, moan, and cry was able to escape. Finnick had the same problem. Fuck, he sounded so sexy, it only spurred you on.

Then it hit you all at once. “Fu—"

Every inch of your body tensed. You were sent into a space where white noise filled your hearing and bliss was all you knew. No pain. No sadness. Just ecstasy. Electric sparks jolted up and down your body, rising to your head, and causing you to see stars behind your closed eyes. Your moans were uncontrollable and desperate, voicing Finnick’s name over and over.

His thrusts were frenzied and sloppy, prolonging your orgasm as long as he could. He had lifted your lower back into an arch, enhancing the sensation coursing through your body. Your walls were clenching and pulsing around him, so much that he was abruptly thrown into his own high. His hips stuttered and eventually, his cock filled you as deep as he could, spurting out warm strings of white that coated your inner walls.

He collapsed on top of you, face buried in the crook of your neck. Your fingers wound into his hair, clinging to him as the aftershocks of your orgasm ravaged your body. Legs trembling and mouth panting, you lay there allowing yourself to regain your breath and ability to move.

After pressing a lazy kiss to your neck, Finnick slid off you, falling onto the bed beside you. Hopefully the towel was enough to save the silk sheets.

Now that you were resting, exhaustion had the chance to cloud your mind. You weren’t sure what the customs were after sex—whether you made conversation or simply went to sleep. The latter sounded pretty good though. A warm hand slipped beneath your back, turning your body sideways and pulling you so you were half strewn across Finnick’s chest and legs. You made no effort to resist.

Eyes closed, you listened to the heart beating inside his ribs. Thrumming intensely though starting to return to a normal rate.

“Are you okay?” he asked with a murmur, sounding utterly drained.

His thumb drew gentle patterns on the skin of your waist.

You nodded against his chest, remaining silent. After a little while you finally decided to speak. “I’m glad it was you.” And then after a few more moments of silence, you added, “I wish it was just you.”

You felt him press his lips to the top of your head. A long and emotional kiss. The whole reasoning behind losing your virginity returned to mind. It felt heavy, weighing down the atmosphere in the room. No matter how hard you tried to deny it, what was coming was inevitable. You wouldn’t get to stay with Finnick in this bed. You wouldn’t get to belong to him, or he you. You both belonged to the Capitol. To Snow. No matter how much you wished to belong to each other.

He whispered, “Me too.”

[sneegswagger]

third times the charm

[wardrobeoftime]

The Hunger Games + Costumes

Finnick Odair's grey sweater in Mockingjay - Part 01.

// requested by anonymous

[sneegswagger]

just finished watching hunger games the other night and i want to get back into writing one-shots. send me requests :))

if i get more requests, i might start a new master list or completely revamp it.

i can take requests for finnick odair, katniss everdeen, peeta mellark, haymitch, johanna, young corionalus snow and lucy gray baird! i’ll open it up to more and stuff but please request!!

i’ve never really written smut before but i can write that along with basically any type you wanna see!!

[sneegswagger]

midnight visit

you get a visit from a certain feline!

-- this is a highly edited, stand-alone one shot from a book i'm completely rewriting! --

opening your eyes, you're disturbed by the knocking on the window. looking up, confused, chat noir is there, awaiting your attention.

you yawn and look at him, "chat? what?"

"hi, yn." "why are you here at—" you see that it's nearly one in the morning, "— one in the morning?"

he smiles, tiredly. "to see you, princess." you hesitantly open the window and walk back to your bed, flustered at the compliment.

"you came to see me, chat?"

he smiles and nods, "yeah, i did. that's not a problem, is it?" "not at all." you yawn, inviting him in.

you watch him sit on your bed and look away briefly before feeling his gaze on you.

"what bring you here, kitty?" you ask, casually.

"have i not explained that already, yn?" "you have, i just needed to confirm."

chat looks around your room. he acts like he's never seen it but something tells you that, infact, he has. you walk over to your desk and shut down your laptop before putting some books away. "are you okay, yn?"

"well, you've woken me up, you see. might aswell clean a little so it's more presentable." he walks over to you and takes my chin.

"i think it looks perfect." he purrs at the start of the last word and your face flushes, "i think you look perfect."

you laugh, flustered, "i just woke up." "and? i still like the way you look."

you pull away and brush fingers through the lengths of your hair, muttering to yourself that you know that it's wrong to like a hero.

looking back to chat, he watches you with a squint.

"did i do something to upset you? i promise, i didn't mean it."

you walk over, "no- you did nothing. i just got flustered. there are just so many butterflies in my stomach."

he blushes and you shake your head, "sorry, i just said that." "well, it's cool that the feeling is mutual."

his shrug didn't help the fact he just said that nonchalantly.

"what?"

your eyes go wide as you look over to chat.

"what?" he replies, same word as yours, "i like you, yn."

"i don't know your civil identity, chat." he looks away and you look down, "how would this work if i don't know your identity?"

"you do, though." you shoot your gaze at him, sharp and quick.

i can't know who he is, you think.

"i think it's best if you left. i need to sleep anyway."

he nods and walks to the window. as he runs off into the night, you lay back on your bed, head slamming into the pillow.

[prezohhh]

some old art