#(i almost forgot about the heat... almost lmao)

[lavellun]

snippets from my week in lombardia 🍝🍷

[inkedinshadows]

Lost in Submission

Pairing: Azriel x f!reader

Summary: After you spend all day teasing Azriel, he grows very needy and very eager to be alone with you.

Warnings: smut, no plot, sub/dom dynamics, oral (f receiving), p in v, creampie

Word count: 3.6k

A/N: @callsigns-haze this one's for you <33 also, I didn't proofread it after final editing bc i was too eager to post so sorry if there are typos or anything else. This was originally a draft for kinktober but I had written only a few paragraphs then completely forgot about it lmao. I didn't want to wait till tomorrow so sorry for the late posting, now I'll go to bed cuz it's 1am ANYWAY enjoy babes love you all

You had been teasing him all day—heated glances in his direction, a brush of your fingers against his, purposely walking so close to his wings that he sucked in a breath every time. And when you sat on his lap after dinner, gathering in the living room with the rest of your family, Azriel didn't waste time wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling your neck.

He didn't pay attention to the conversation. Mor and Cassian's banter, Feyre's quiet laugh and Amren's halfhearted complaints were nothing more than background noise. There was just the sweet scent of his mate and the soft skin where neck met shoulder, that spot he always liked to gently nip at.

“Azriel,” you murmured under your breath. “What are you doing?”

He trailed the tip of his nose along your neck, up your jaw, until he could whisper in your ear, “I want you.”

He didn't care if the others could hear, could see. You'd been driving him crazy all day, and now that you were in his arms, he wasn't sure he could hide how much he needed you. The proof of his desire was hidden from his family’s sight only because you were sitting on it.

“I know you do,” you answered sweetly, running your fingers through his hair. “But you'll have to wait, my love.”

Azriel almost groaned. “You've been teasing me all day.”

“That I have.”

Your sly smile made his cock throb in his pants, and by the way your eyes glinted with amusement, he knew you had felt it against your thigh. But as he opened his mouth to try to convince you, you shook your head.

“Pleading won't get you anywhere,” you said. Your voice was low enough that the rest of your family wouldn't hear it over the chatter, but your tone was firm, authoritative. “Now behave. Or I won't let you touch me tonight.”

It was Azriel's worst nightmare—having you lying next to him in bed, but not being allowed to touch you. Especially when all he wanted to do was bury himself inside you. So he nodded.

You just smiled, and focused again on the conversation.

Azriel tried his best to do the same, but he couldn't. Your scent filled his nostrils, your body pressed against his was a constant reminder of how much he wanted you, and then there was the way you would shift from time to time. To find a more comfortable position, you said, but Azriel knew your squirming around was another test, another torment.

Time seemed to stretch on forever until even his patience ran out. His hand on your thigh squeezed gently, and he brushed a kiss to your neck.

“Can we go upstairs?” he whispered. “Please, love.”

He felt your breath hitch as his lips touched your skin, but your voice was stern as you answered.

“This is not exactly what ‘behaving’ means.”

“I just… you're driving me crazy here.”

You sat up straighter, and it took all the self-control he had left not to moan at the pressure it applied to his aching cock. He was so desperate that he could spill in his pants like a little boy if you did that again.

“So it's my fault you can't wait a little longer?” you asked, raising a single eyebrow.

“You teased—”

Azriel drew up short as he realized his mistake. Of course it was his fault. If he grew restless in his desire to touch you, to kiss you, to have you, then it was his problem. But you didn't give him time to apologize.

“You know what happens if we go upstairs now, don't you?” you murmured, slow and deliberate. Despite your cool voice, the corner of your lips twitched upward, just slightly, a barely visible tick that was still enough to make Azriel's wings rustle in anticipation.

“Yes,” he whispered softly. “I do.”

Now your lips curled into a tantalizing smile. “Good. Then you can winnow us there.”

He didn’t hesitate. He didn’t say goodnight to the others, he didn’t wait for you to do it. No, as soon as you gave him permission, Azriel’s shadows curled tight around the two of you and winnowed you away.

He was holding you in his arms when you appeared in your shared bedroom, and he gently positioned you on the edge of the bed as if worried you might break. Then he just stood in front of you, shadows gone and wings tucked tight behind his back, waiting for you to speak.

You looked at him for a moment, your eyes lingering on the straining bulge in his pants. Azriel had to restrain himself from shifting on his legs in a useless attempt to create some friction. He needed your hands on him, your mouth, your whole body moving against his. But he had misbehaved, and he knew he was going to pay for it.

Your gaze finally met his hazel eyes, a smirk tugging at your lips. When you spoke, your voice was low and teasing. “Touch or be touched?”

Azriel could only stare at you with wide eyes. He had expected you to tease him some more until he was begging for more, to give him instructions on what to do and maybe even tie him to the bed with his own shadows. But his usual companions had vanished the moment he'd winnowed you, and he hadn’t considered that you might make him choose between touching you or being touched by you.

He opened his mouth to answer, but immediately closed it again.

You gave him an amused look as you waited for him to decide.

Just a moment ago, he had been desperate for your touch and the release only you could give him. He still was. But when faced with the choice between his pleasure and yours… he didn’t care how desperate he was. He would always choose you.

And you knew it too.

Before he could try to answer again, you leaned back on your hands and spread your legs in a silent invitation. A command you didn’t need to voice.

Azriel dropped to his knees. His fingers found the button of your pants and quickly undid it. As he slid your trousers down your legs, you pulled off your shirt and tossed it aside.

His tongue flicked out to wet his lips as his hands rested on the back of your knees. You were wearing a simple set of black lingerie, but you looked ravishing. Your soft skin was so inviting, the swell of your breasts calling to him, but the scent of your arousal reached his nose, diverting his attention to the panties still concealing your sex.

He didn’t know where to start and which part of your gorgeous body to touch first, but he knew he couldn’t leave you waiting. He didn’t want you to risk changing your mind and denying him the chance to worship you.

Eventually, Azriel reached for your bra, swiftly undoing the clasp as his lips trailed along your collarbone. He felt your shiver, but before he could take one of your perky nipples into his mouth, you clicked your tongue.

“Not my tits, Azriel.”

He looked up at you, brows slightly furrowed. “But you said I could—”

“I never said anything,” you replied with a smug smile.

Azriel was about to reply, but he held back. You were right, of course. You hadn't actually told him to touch you—or where. And you had spread your legs, which meant that was where you wanted him. He should have understood it earlier.

“I'm sorry,” he murmured, settling down on his knees again, scarred fingers already hooking into the waistband of your panties. “You're right, my love.”

You lifted your hips to help him take off the flimsy material, but just as his eyes settled on your cunt, you gently grabbed his chin and tilted his head up. “Now you're being a good boy,” you hummed. “I think you deserve a reward, don't you?”

His eyes lit up, heart beating faster at the prospect of whatever you were going to give him. If admitting he was wrong and you were right was all he had to do to earn your praise and your reward, then he'd gladly be wrong for the rest of his life.

You tugged his chin forward, and he eagerly followed, leaning in just as you leaned down. Your thumb brushed over his bottom lip and his lips parted in response. He held his breath, wondering what your next move would be.

You held his gaze for a few seconds, enough to let anticipation build in his chest, and just as he was about to squirm, you finally kissed him.

Your lips were soft and warm, moving against him as they'd done a thousand times before, yet it sent a thrill through his body every single time. You deepened the kiss, claiming his mouth and brushing your tongue against his. Azriel couldn't stop the small moan rising in his throat at touch, the sound quickly swallowed by your kiss. But then you pulled away, leaving him breathless and wanting.

Your hand released his chin, yet he tilted his head toward you as if to chase your retreating mouth.

You placed a finger against his lips as if to shush him. “That's not how it works,” you scolded, though your tone was amused. “You have to earn it first, pretty boy.”

And earn it he would.

Azriel's gaze dropped to your pussy, the delicate flesh just begging him to lick it, to taste it until you were utterly, completely satisfied.

He slipped his hands beneath your thighs to pull you closer to the edge of the bed and hold you open. And then he dove in.

You gasped softly at the first stripe he licked up your slit, and he groaned as your sweet arousal coated his tongue.

From that moment, Azriel lost himself in you.

He was aware of every little twitch of your hips, every sigh, every breathy moan that left your lips. Your fingers tangled in his curls, stroking his hair back from his forehead so you could hold his gaze while he feasted on you. And fuck if he didn’t love the way you looked down at him.

He knew your body as well as his own—if not better. He knew you would breathe a little more deeply when he pressed the flat of his tongue against your core, that your delicate walls would pulse around it when he pushed it inside, and that your eyelids would flutter every time he closed his lips around your clit and gently sucked. And the little sounds coming from you… Azriel felt his cock throb in the restraint of his pants.

“That’s it,” you breathed, shifting slightly to rock your hips against his face. “Don't stop...”

As if Azriel ever would.

Your words only spurred him on, and his grip tightened on your thighs. He lapped and licked and sucked like he was starved and only you could satiate his hunger, every cell in his body craving more of your praises, more of your soft whimpers and of your taste on his tongue.

He flicked your clit a few times, and then there it was—his favorite moment. Your moans grew louder, your fingers twisted and pulled on his hair, and you leaned back on one hand to have more leverage and grind your hips more insistently. But your eyes never left his, your heated gaze meeting his adoring one.

“Azriel,” you called, your voice firm enough that he almost squirmed in anticipation of the upcoming command. “Be a good boy and make me come.”

He was your good boy. He wanted to be your good boy forever.

He'd been waiting for your permission, and now that he had it, his tongue was relentless. He teased around your slit before sucking on your clit, rolling it between his lips and flicking it with the tip of his tongue as you squirmed in his grasp. He felt your body tense under his skilled touch, and he smiled against your skin.

A gasp and a whimper—the telltale signs of your impending orgasm—had him pull you closer still, and then you shuddered.

Your thighs quivered and tried to close, pressing on both sides of his head as he continued to lap at your dripping cunt, swallowing every drop of your release with a delighted groan. Your eyes fluttered shut, and as much as he missed the connection, Azriel couldn't help but admire your blissful expression—lips slightly parted, eyes half-closed, cheeks flushed.

He'd done that. He'd made you feel good once more, and he wanted to keep doing it again, over and over until you were thoroughly satisfied. Pride swelled up in his chest, but too soon, your body relaxed and you tugged on his hair in a silent request.

Though reluctantly, Azriel pulled his mouth away from you and licked his lips clean of any lingering trace of your arousal. When he met your gaze again, you were smiling down at him, eyes bright with amusement and lingering ecstasy.

You simply crooked a finger, beckoning him to lean closer, and when he did, you cupped his cheeks and guided him to his feet. Your lips collided once more, the kiss passionate and hungry as you pressed your body against his. The feeling of your breast brushing against his chest, even with his shirt still separating your skin from his, had him growing harder in his pants, his cock straining in its confinement and pressing against your lower stomach.

He’d been so focused on you that he had almost forgotten his own needs and desires, but now he was aching, growing more desperate with each brush of your tongue against his. He was tempted to start grinding against you just to create some much-needed friction.

But then your lips trailed up his jaw, each kiss burning against his skin until you whispered in his ear, “You’ve been so good for me, pretty boy. It’s time for your reward.”

“Yes, please…”

The words were out before he could stop them, but you didn't seem to mind. He felt your low chuckle skitter down his spine, and your soft nibble on his earlobe drew a quiet groan from him.

Your hands slid to his back, undoing the fastenings of his shirt around his wings, your touch only fueling the rising need inside him. He shuddered and gasped when your fingertips brushed the delicate membrane, his wings rustling softly behind him.

“My love…” he pleaded, though he wasn't even sure what he was asking for. For you to do it again, maybe, but properly this time, not just a fleeting touch. Or maybe to undress him faster and let him bury his cock inside you so he could finally find his release. He already knew he wasn’t going to last long, not with how desperate you had made him. But he didn’t care.

“Patience, pretty boy,” you murmured, your voice as sweet as honey. He was trembling with barely restrained need as you placed a kiss just below his ear. “You’ll get what you need. I promise.”

As if to prove your point, you undid his pants and pushed them down his legs. Your hand hovered near the straining bulge in his underwear, and he had to summon every ounce of self-control not to shift his hips those few inches and lean into your inviting palm.

You were testing him, and he knew it. He wasn't going to ruin whatever you had in mind for him just for this. You had promised he'd get what he needed, and he had no intention of making you change your mind.

He swallowed hard but stood still, his gaze locked on the center of your forehead. He wasn't sure he could hold back if he looked you in the eye.

But it was enough for you.

A satisfied smile tugged at your lips as you removed his underwear. Somehow, you managed not to touch his skin, just the fabric. It only made him crave you more.

Once he was fully naked, your gaze drifted down to his hard cock with a knowing smirk. “Someone's impatient,” you teased.

Azriel's fists clenched at his sides, but he didn't move. His skin felt too tight, as if his body couldn't contain the intensity of his need. A bead of precum welled at his tip, and he was about to beg you to please do something, anything, when you moved.

You placed your hand on his chest, gently pushing him back toward the bed. “Sit, my love.”

He did, sitting down on the edge of the mattress, right where you'd been until a few moments ago. He let his wings splay out behind him, resting on the bed like another set of dark sheets.

And then he held his breath as you wrapped your hands around his neck and slowly straddled him while never breaking eye contact. Yet he still gasped when you settled on his lap and his cock nestled between your slick folds. His hands instinctively gripped your waist, but he knew better than to shift his hips.

“I'm going to fuck you now,” you murmured, reaching down between the two of you.

“Yes… yes, fuck me,” he pleaded, unable to keep quiet any longer. “Please, my love.”

Instead of answering him, you closed your fingers around his cock, drawing a moan from him. You guided him to your entrance and kept your eyes locked on his as you slowly sank down on him.

You only bit your lip and sighed deeply, but for Azriel, the feeling of your tight cunt engulfing him was overwhelming. He groaned as your walls pulsed around him, warm and wet and so deliciously tight, and his fingers dug slightly into the soft flesh of your waist.

“You always feel so good,” you breathed. “I wish I could keep you inside me forever.”

He wanted to say it back, to tell you how good you felt around him. Good wasn't even close enough. And if he could stay inside you forever, he'd be the happiest man in the world.

But you began rocking your hips before he got a chance to say any of that, and the only sound that came out of him was a guttural groan.

You didn't hold back. You fucked him, just like you had promised.

You kept a hand around his neck and one behind you on his thigh as you alternated between bouncing on him and rolling your hips. Either way, your rhythm never faltered, nor did your gaze stray from his.

Azriel wasn't sure how much he could take. His groans and pants soon filled the silence of the room, accompanied by the sounds of your body moving on top of his. He tried not to squeeze you too tight, not to buck his hips and thrust up into you, but despite his desire to be your good boy and obey your every instruction, he was struggling.

Having you ride him was heavenly. Your breasts brushed against his chest with every movement and he wanted to reach out and either squeeze them or suck on them, but he needed your permission to do either of those things, and he was already too far gone to form the words he needed to ask for it.

Each time you lowered yourself onto his cock and took him, each time your pussy clenched around him, each quiet moan and small sigh from you brought him closer to his climax. His groans soon turned into whimpers.

“I… I need…”

You smiled at his struggle to talk, at the needy note in his voice. “What, my love?” you coaxed. “What do you need?”

Azriel fought to keep his eyes open and on you. “Come,” he mumbled. “Need to… come… please.”

“You need to come?” Your smile only widened, and your movements grew more insistent. “You want to come inside me? Is that what you want?”

“Yes…” He nodded desperately, feeling tension coil tight in his groin. He wasn't going to last any longer if you kept moving like that. “Please…”

You leaned closer to him until your noses brushed. “Then you can come,” you murmured, your voice low and intimate. “Come inside me, my love.”

Azriel didn't need any more encouragement. As you rocked your hips one more time, his cock throbbed inside you one last time before he found his release. He groaned and twitched beneath you, white spurts of seed flooding your cunt as he closed his eyes, letting the waves of undiluted pleasure wash through his body.

“That's it,” you praised softly, slowing your rocking to a gentle grinding. “Let go, pretty boy. Give it to me.”

He shuddered and trembled as you milked him for all he was worth. Yet even when he was spent and his eyes opened again and his grip on your waist loosened, you didn't stop.

You still moved, slowly, almost lazily. You drew him in for a kiss—soft and tender compared to the passion of the previous ones. Azriel was still panting, his lips sloppy against yours.

“Don't think we're done here,” you said when you broke the kiss. You let him rest his head against your breasts and threaded your fingers through his hair. “I'm going to keep riding you until you're hard again.”

Azriel was still lost in the bliss of his lingering orgasm. His answer was just a low purr as you stroked his hair. He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you even closer as he buried his face in your tits, a quiet whimper escaping him when you shifted around his sensitive cock.

“And then you're going to fuck me.”

He wasn't going to argue with that.

Taglist: @mrsjna @navyblue-eternity @paintedbyshadows @highladyandromeda @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @azrielsmate3 @mollygetssherlockcoffee @mirandasidefics @tinystarfishgalaxy @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @anarchiii @readinggeeklmao @anneas11 @lilah-asteria @lorosette @azrielsrealmate @pey2618 @mellowmusings @k8r123-blog @daughterofthemoons-stuff @minnieoo @saltedcoffeescotch @georgiadixon @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @ivy-34 @yesiamthatwierd

[hyunebunx]

˖˙ ᰋ ── you, blanket forts and heated kisses

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff!! (and some heated kisses lmao)

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: hiii! this is a continuation of this fic right here! you don't need to read that one to understand this, but they're taking place in the same universe. enjoyy and let me know what you think!! <33

“Let’s build a blanket fort.”

Said Hyunjin randomly on a stormy day, right after kissing you stupid and taking away your ability to think.

Unfortunately for him, you later engaged in an activity far different from the one he suggested, so different that he forgot all about his initial idea for the remainder of the week.

Until now, when you’re found in the same predicament – your beloved has come over with the biggest smile, elated to see you after spending the past month apart. Everything was fine and dandy until the sky suddenly darkened and it started pouring, trapping you both inside the apartment and cancelling all plans you might’ve made outside.

At least this time, the harsh weather took pity on your unfortunate soul and allowed the power to stay on.

“Alright, so it says here we can use chairs, a table, or even the couch for our fort.”

“Did you seriously pull up a wikihow article?”

You turn to him, a little embarrassed at being caught, his genuine laughter making heat rush to your face at an alarming pace. No words escape you and he coos, dropping the big pillows he got from your bedroom before stepping over them to hug you from behind, holding you close while his lips pepper sweet kisses from your cheek down to your neck.

“That’s adorable, baby.” Hyunjin nuzzles your neck, placing one last kiss on your cheek before resting his chin on your shoulder. “What else is your little article recommending?”

“Don’t make fun of me.” You whine, attempting to turn around in his arms with no success, quickly settling on hiding your face and embarrassment in your hands, just so he won't see them.

He’s laughing again, tenderly spinning you around by your hips so you’re face to face. “I’m not, baby. I’m just curious why you thought I don’t already possess all the knowledge we need.” He points to his temple, after prying your hands away from the beautiful face that has started to appear in his dreams almost daily.

“Alright, Bob the builder, knock yourself out.” You nod towards the mess he’s made on the floor, to all the pillows, blankets, and sheets he’s stolen from your room. His wish to build a fort made a lot of sense if you take into consideration his ferret nature he always denies. The tiny animal thrived on alone time, hid away in a secluded place away from everyone.

He gasps, bringing his hands to his chest as if he could really fool anyone into believing he’s actually offended. “I’ll have you know I’m an artist! An architect if you will! That guy has nothing on me.”

Giggling, you can’t help but get closer to kiss his pout away, bringing his smile back instantly. “Of course, you are love. The best of them all.”

“Are you making fun of me?” And just as it disappeared, his natural pouty lips can’t help but jut out.

You shake your head, amused at how the tables have turned. “Never.” Then, with the softest touch, you intertwine your fingers and begin dragging him along to the materials he abandoned in the middle of the room. “I’ve never built a fort before.”

“Never?” The look on his face is incredulous, pulling you by the hand to his chest to tenderly kiss your temple, feeling clingier than usual. “Let’s get down to business then.”

Turns out, building a blanket fort is as easy as reading a wikihow article, especially when your Loverboy does most of the work and knows exactly what to use to make it all happen. With the tripod he left at your place, you balance the sheets, keeping them up and creating the perfect opening to your little den of comfort and secrets. Your U-shaped couch was sturdy, assisting your building activities with the many ornamental pillows that became trusty pillars.

You don’t know how much time passed, absorbed into your current task, laughing away with your beloved and teasing each other in good fun. At some point, you get distracted and as he’s ranting away about something that happened at practice, one of your soft pillows collides with the side of his head. Hyunjin stops dead in his tracks, words dying on his tongue as he slowly stands from his crouched position while you try everything in your power to not burst out laughing in his face.

“What was that?”

“What was what?” You feign innocence, gingerly hiding the pillow behind your back like nothing has happened.

Hyunjin stares you down, the intensity in his gaze almost making you confess. Almost. The obvious glint of mischief in his eyes tells you he has an unused card under his sleeve, one you should not ignore.

Without another word, he stretches his arm and beckons you closer with two fingers, obviously expecting surrender. And the pillow that has now become his number one enemy.

When you shake your head and smile brightly, he pauses for a total of five seconds before stepping closer to take matters into his own hands. That’s your cue to flee, so you run in the opposite direction, laughing loudly when he follows and you begin chasing each other around the apartment like little kids.

He’s letting you get away, pretending to be slower and clumsily stumbling over his feet just so your laugh can continue warming his heart, providing the flowers in his chest with the sunshine needed to bloom to maturity.

Then, out of nowhere, he manages to sneak behind you, arms circling your middle and pulling you to his chest with ease, lifting your feet off the ground as both of your laughter blend beautifully. Hyunjin begins attacking you with kisses all over your face and you stop pretending you want to get away, melting into his embrace and fully accepting your fate.

“Caught you.” He says in a sing song voice, over the moon at having you in his arms once again.

Your hands move over his, pillow falling to the ground with a soft thud as you lean back, head on his shoulder to reach his plump lips and press numerous kisses over them. When you move to pull away, one of his hands instantly comes up to cup your cheek to keep you there, tongue sneaking past your lips cheekily. The air shifts instantly as he hugs you closer, kissing you as he needs it to keep living, strong arms serving as an anchor while your body’s buzzing like you’re intoxicated, tingling all over.

Summoning all of your willpower, you manage to pull away from him for the briefest moment. “Just because I let you.”

Hyunjin smiles but you have a feeling it’s an automatic response, his brain not actually processing any of your words as he dives back in, impatient to feel your lips on his once again.

Kissing Hyunjin was always an experience, full of love and passion that had you weak in the knees – but kissing him after not seeing each other for a while felt like the air in your lungs was running out and him, out of the kindness of his heart, kept you alive by sharing his breath with you.

You turn in his arms, just like earlier, but oh so different, one hand gripping his tank top while the other sneaks its way into dark hair, pulling lightly to deepen the kiss which makes him groan lowly. Hyunjin’s grip on your hips burnt, your whole body on fire as he explored it to his heart’s desire, handling you in the exact way one would a priceless sculpture, a work of art he couldn’t look away from no matter how hard he tried.

He tasted divine, and his cologne made you dizzy, just like everything about him did. Without warning, he begins moving, pushing back and guiding your body expertly, biting down on your bottom lip right before breaking the kiss, to your great disappointment.

“Baby.” His voice is hoarse, breath shaky, a nervous laugh escaping him at the look on your face. “Our fort.”

With a groan, you ignore him in favour of placing sweet, open-mouthed kisses up his neck. “You have been driving me crazy with that fort of yours, Hyun.”

His grip on your hips is a warning, sending you mixed signals as he can’t resist but connect your lower halves, needing you as close as possible while he tilts his head back with a heavy breath. “And here I thought that was my irresistible personality.”

You grin, looking up at him while holding onto his biceps for support. “Nope, only your blabbering mouth.”

The tension dissipates as he laughs, eyes wandering and pupils blown even as you tear yourself from him and exhale, trying your best to calm down before going back to the fort you’ve both worked so hard on.

In the end, after weeks and weeks of waiting, you and Hyunjin are finally in your very own blanket fort, giggling like two children who have somehow forgotten what has just transpired a few moments ago.

“This is nice.” You hum, resting your head on his shoulder, glancing at the fairy lights he somehow managed to hang up. You’re both sitting cross-legged on some pillows, surrounded by snacks and blankets.

“I told you I got this. I didn’t need any help or tutorial.” He puffs out his chest, obviously proud he impressed you.

You nod, eyes almost fluttering shut, his bare shoulder surprisingly comfy. “Good job, Bob.”

The words barely have time to escape before you get a pillow to the face, the soft feathers getting into your mouth and startling you awake. You’re frozen in place, not realizing what happened until Hyunjin starts laughing next to you, delighted at the stunt he just pulled.

You push his shoulder, biting back a smile and he laughs harder, toppling over while hugging the pillow to his chest. A part of the sheet gets caught under him and before you know it, the whole thing collapses on top of you, trapping you under along with all the decorations and food neither got to enjoy.

It’s silent for a second before your laughter joins his as you reach to help him sit up, only for him to lose his balance and fall over you, feeling a little claustrophobic under the restrictive sheet. Holding himself up above you with his bulging arms, eyes two crescent moons and engulfing the whole room in a light that could only be produced by him, you move to squish his cheeks together. Lovingly, of course.

“I love you so much, my little liar. But I’m revoking your architecture license.”

Fortunately, Hyunjin didn’t look disappointed in the slightest.

[daycourtofficial]

In a world of boys, he’s a ✨gentleman✨

Summary: based on this request - your friends help walk you through all the nice things Azriel does for you

Author’s note: I forgot all about this tbh lmao why was this just sitting in my drafts all alone

“I think Azriel has the best manners,” Feyre says, her cheeks glowing from the wine, wisps of brown hair coming out from her braid.

“And the biggest wingspan,” Mor adds, raising her blonde eyebrows.

“I’m serious,” Feyre turns to Mor, “he’s so polite, he cleans up after himself, he treats (y/n) like a queen, he-“

You choke on your wine. “Treats who like what?”

Mor slaps your shoulder, causing you to almost spill your glass. “Oh, do not start this again, I will scream.”

“Start what?”

Mor rolls her eyes, falling back on the couch, “pretending like you don’t know how nice Azriel is to you.”

Your face heats involuntarily. “He’s very nice to me, I’m well aware of that. He’s a nice guy.”

Mor groans, getting up for more wine, “see! This is what I’m talking about!”

Nesta and Feyre giggle, but you sit up, “what do you mean what you’re talking about? What is wrong with me thinking that he’s nice to me?”

Feyre’s giggles continue, “it’s not that, sweetie. It’s just… he’s exceptionally nice to you.”

“So? We’re friends.”

Mor chimes in, “if any male was as nice to Nesta as Azriel is to you, Cassian would slit his throat.”

“Cassian’s more of a hands-on brute, but I see your point,” Nesta corrects.

“Friends don’t act like the two of you do,” Feyre muses, refilling her wine glass.

Soft touches, sitting needlessly close to each other at gatherings, Feyre catching the two of you napping on her couch on multiple occasions.

“He always blushes around you,” Elain observes.

Images of Azriel’s reddened cheeks and ears flood your memory, and how adorable you’d find it.

“He always asks you if it’s okay for him to pick you up to fly.”

A montage of soft “may I?” and “is this okay?” flutter through your mind. His soft touches of your hair when you’d take off, knowing it was your least favorite part, trying to comfort you in some way.

“He pulls out your chair for you at every family dinner.”

“-and plates her food!”

Azriel’s scarred hands grab the back of your chair, a soft scraping noise filling your ears, replaced by your soft “thank you”.

He sits next to you, grabbing your plate reflexively, piling it with roast, carrots, and potatoes, knowing to avoid the celery.

You thank him again, oblivious to Cassian’s exasperated arm movements at the two of you, as well as Nesta’s immediate swatting of him.

Elain giggles, “he always comes by every Sunday asking me to help him arrange a bouquet for her.”

Nesta smirks as the other two females let out soft “ooooh”s, as if you all were gossipy teenagers. Maybe you were. Your eyes draw towards the bouquet sitting on the table in front of Elain, the pink and yellow hues making you smile.

“He always has a hand on you whenever you’re out in town.”

The warmth from his hand is a welcome presence on your lower back as you two push through the crowds of the Velaris stalls. You prefer going out into town with him in tow - he was much taller than you and could see over the crowds.

Not to mention how he carried all of your bags and you spent the rest of the day catching his scent on your clothes afterwards.

“I’m not even sure you own your own coat from him lending you his.”

Nights out at Rita’s always ended with the two of you walking along the Sidra, his arm around your shoulder. He’d always wait for you to start shivering before placing his coat around your shoulders, helping your arms into the sleeves.

You scratch at your neck, uncomfortable with all the attention on you. “That doesn’t mean anything… right?”

Mor huffs, dramatically falling back on the couch after draining her glass, “I can’t explain this again.”

“Ask him out,” Feyre says, while Nesta nods her head, “just do it.”

As if the Mother herself were in the room gossiping with you all, Azriel strolls into the room, a bit shocked when five pairs of eyes peer back at him, amusement in four pairs, adoration in one pair.

You can’t help the smile that graces your face when you see him, and Nesta loudly placing her cup on the table jolts you out of your trance.

“Will you- would you,” you clear your throat, rushing the words out before you get too scared, turned in your seat to peer at him, “would you like to have dinner? Tonight? With me? Alone?”

Mor and Feyre are trying, but failing, to hold in their giggles at your nervousness, but you have completely forgotten they were in the room with you.

Azriel’s lips curve into a smile, “I would love to. I can pick you up at 7?”

[ozzgin]

I looveee the Monsters x Heartbreaker reader. Especially how reader is a b**ch.

So what about a motherly reader with the monsters? I do love to give those monsters an awakening breeding kink and future family when they meet motherly reader lmao

TW: monster smut, breeding kink, pregnancy talk

I think it definitely adds another layer of possessiveness. Reader is not only a player, but also a caring Darling who just happens to be hornier than the average person. So she will lovingly accept the courting of any monster, with a lot of preparation and plenty of aftercare.

The realization doesn't immediately settle in. Obviously they've never dealt with a human before, so pregnancy is borderline ridiculous and out of the question. The monsters just follow their instincts and filling Reader with their seed is merely a kinky finale to their play.

And then it happens. Maybe it's a pregnancy scare, maybe more knowledge comes to light, but the important conclusion is that Reader can indeed be bred. It's the ultimate way to mark their territory and permanently brand her as theirs. What better way to say "She's mine" than turning her into the mother of their children? Bite marks, scratches, rough handling, they all go away with time. This is permanent.

Except, you know, this flawless logic implies there's not a horde of suitors waiting for their turn. "You're all mine", but multiply it by Lord knows how much. Yet, regardless of the reasoning, the urge prevails. No rational approach would convince the beasts in heat that they should take a step back. Even the ancient, all-knowing eldritch creature is clouded by tremendous jealousy at the idea that some other pathetic brute would gain the upper hand with Reader. Absolutely not.

It's a terribly crass way of putting it, but once this desire develops within the monsters, Reader will be dripping every step of the day. Whatever was happening under the sheets before has now turned into who can fill Reader up the most.

*insert multiple gas pumps meme*

(Ah, yes, that's where the Breeding Olympics from the previous ask come in. I almost forgot. Naturally, only the best of the best may have the chance to procreate with the one and only human of their realm. Funded by the Mayor of Monstertown, the historical event will ensure that Reader doesn't waste her time - and birthing resources - with anything less than elite.)

[aspenous]

As an absolute sucker for A/B/O Au's I love the idea of Kim Suho getting thrown into that kind of verse.

Imagine living your life, dying (?) And waking up to the concept of alpha, beta & omegas being the norm???

Plus the number of changes he'd have to deal with in his new body (omega!Lloyd hc).

This naturally brings only trouble for Javier (ノ^o^)ノ

It turned into a ramble more than anything tbh. Don't mind that <3 if there's anything plot vise I forgot/overlooked thru this it's cause my memory is A s s)

Javier POV lowkey:

Lloyd couldn't get any weirder. To add onto his sudden change in demeanor, he'd begun to get reckless with his scent as well. A scent similar to a Clementine or Tangerine that wafts in waves whenever Lloyd is particularly pleased with himself or got his way with another contract. Its a sharp contrast to the smell of booze everyone was used to, and it more often than not left a few townsmen sputtering when they spoke with him. Javier was left to deal with this change too, except he was beside his master 24/7. When that scent would hit him full force every morning, leave his nose twitching when Lloyd gets into the rhythms of his new work and when it calms into something comforting around noon; when the days almost gone and Lloyd decides to rest.

Javier first chokes up this lack of scent control to Lloyd's cold turkey sobriety. But it's been weeks now. Almost two months and Lloyd still hasn't tried to restrain his scent. Worse, others seem to be picking up on it as well. Loitering around the young master when they get the chance, chatting it up now that Lloyd wasn't defaulting to throwing chairs and yelling. Lloyd himself doesn't seem to enjoy it either; after a few minutes of chatter his lip would start to twitch and that scent of Tangerine (it was definitely closer to tangerines than clementines) would sour. Javier learns to take that as close enough a hint to pry his master away from the crowd, spill a white lie about how he's needed elsewhere and get Lloyd some air. He tries not to be pleased about how Lloyd visibly relaxes when it's just the two of them.

"Master Lloyd–" Javier is at his wits end. He's a patient man. Strong willed and resilient when it comes to most obstacles. His Master however? His loud , arragont, obnoxious at times master being this stupid? Javier is a patient man but he's a man nonetheless. A Knight who's had to deal with his masters turbulent scent that just doesn't want to leave him alone. And worse, Lloyd turns back to him with a genuine look of confusion (as genuine as it can be). Javier ends up questioning his master through a locked face and Lloyd in response looks bewildered. "The drinking must have hit me worse than I thought" is all he gets. Javier refuses the sleeping spell that night, throws a hand over his masters mouth before he can get a word in and declares to help him control his scent again. From then on they spend an hour every night before bed going through the motions, and Lloyd (after months) finally learns to control his own scent. Javier sighs in relief, and tries not to think about how he misses that familiar tangerine scent.

Master Lloyd seems to loose his filter as well. Not when around the staff, count or contracted men he's hired no. Only when it's just the two of them, in a moment of what Javier could've hoped was peace before his master opens his mouth. "You smell like mint." he says unabashed. "I'm safe when you're here aren't I?" He laughs with no shame. "I trust you." He declares. Javier understands this is comradery of some kind. A trust and faith in him that no one else has given him before. His master is far too good at feeding that quiet voice in the back of his mind, and Javier let's him. (Alpha instincts have low standards lmao)

It's after they get back to the estate that Lloyd gets his heat. It's not hard to notice. He asks for seconds during meals, sleeps late into the mornings, speaks more with his summons than with anyone outside the estate and avoids half the staff like the plague. It's rather obvious when that overripe scent of tangerine clings to his skin and his expressions screams dazed more than anything. The count had noticed, Javier had as well, but Lloyd hadn't. Despite being days into Pre-heat, his master still drags himself out of bed and goes about the motions, despite how miserable he looks. It ends up being Javier's job (once again) to pull him aside and question him. "My what-" is all he gets before Javier realizes he has more on his plate than he expected.

(+I like to think heats can be sexual and non-sexual given the circumstances!)

His pillow is missing. Javier turns his room inside out and still can't find it. He assumes he'd left it where he last slept; Lloyd's room. When he enters said room however, he doubts he would've found it if he tried. The beds drowned in pillows and blankets. The summons are jumping around in their own world until they notice Javier and greet him with small chirps and sounds. Javier ends up smelling Lloyd coming before the door opens. Sweet Tangerine and hints of earth that hit him when the door opens. He finds his pillow then, tucked under his masters arm as if it belonged there. Javier blanks out for a moment. "Ah Javier! Great timing. I was just looking for you." Lloyd smiles. Something often quiet in Javier's gut comes to life then and there. He doesn't end up on the chair that night. Lloyd doesn't let him. Spouts nonsense about how the chair isn't comfortable and how important sleeping positions are and only shuts up when Javier relents. He ends up in Lloyd's nest, the only barrier between him and the other being his own damned pillow. He falls asleep without the sleeping spell that night.

That's it for now? That's a lie my brains rattling with more HCs but I should stop here lmao. If people like this word vomit I'll make a part 2.

[truetogaia]

RAWRRRR THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING DBF!JAKE OOPS

pairing: dbf!dom!jake x fem!na'vi!reader

genre: smut, 18+

warnings: age gap (reader is 19, jake is whatever age yall want LMAO), p in v, slight choking, someone almost walking in on 'em. DADS BEST FRIEND!, tit play

word count: 500 :)

His hair tickled the skin of your tummy as his face was pressed into your soft chest, his hot tongue licking hungry stripes up your swollen breasts, occasionally swiping over your nipples. Your legs were wrapped around his torso as you ran your hands through his silky hair, tugging on it from time to time in sync with his rough thrusts. Your soft mewls and moans grew in volume and you felt Jake’s large hand snake up your chest, before he rested it loosely around your neck.

“Shh, keep it down sweetheart..” His hot breath fanned over your collarbone as he pumped his cock into your tight heat. “You’ve gotta keep quiet, babygirl. Don’t want your dad to hear, right?” He teased, sinking his sharp canines into the plush of your breast, groaning against it as your cunt squeezed him. “Such pretty tits..” 

The sound of approaching footsteps made you snap your head up, desperately checking whether or not you had secured the entrance to your part of the hut. Jake didn’t seem to care though, despite the fact that a thin drape was the only thing keeping your dad from revealing the secret that had been going on between his daughter and his best friend for so long. Instead, Jake put a finger over his lips, gesturing for you to keep quiet as he increased the tempo of his rough thrusts. You almost forgot about the person standing outside the entrance, before a voice snapped you out of your thoughts.

“y/n? You okay in there?” Your dads voice came from just outside the room, worry present in his tone. Jake retreated from your neck, placing both of his calloused hands on your soft tits, squeezing them and toying with your hard nipples as he pounded your cunt. Your voice was breathy and you stumbled over your words, interrupted by involuntary moans.

“‘m.. I'm fine da- hmn! I’m okay dad!” You managed, clamping a hand over your mouth to muffle any further unwanted noises. It felt wrong, so lewd and vulgar, but the way Jake’s cock filled your needy cunt so deliciously had your mind in a haze, and your sense of judgment was thrown out the window. As soon as your ears picked up the sound of him walking away, you fell limp into Jake’s strong embrace. 

“Atta girl.." He cooed, grabbing your hips with his large hands and laying you down on your back. His cock was still buried deep inside your soaked cunt, and you begged him silently to start moving again. “I don’t think he noticed, baby, good job..” He grabbed a hold of your plush thighs, throwing your legs over his broad shoulders before snapping his hips into yours, reaching deeper in this position. He fucked into you mercilessly, teasing and testing you to see what made you moan the loudest. And when he found the right button, he hushed you with a gentle squeeze to your neck. 

“Ah ah, what’d I say, sweetheart? If you keep moaning like this, he’s bound to figure it out. What do you think he’d say about it, huh? About his best friend being balls deep inside his precious daughter's needy, sopping cunt, hm?”

UHUHU I WISH I ADDED MORE PETNAMES BUT I CAN'T BC I DIDN'T WANT TO MAKE IT TOO LONG..

[mingi-s-dimples]

Drenched - yeosang

KINKTOBER DAY 26, REQ. BY anon

~"Please make one where Yeosang and reader have been intimate but one time she was trying to rush to use the bathroom and Yeosang stops her and fucks her till she pisses?" - anon I hope you'll like it cause I slowed down on the kink and made it a little bit sweeter than you probablt intended 😞🤍

pairing: yeosang x fem!reader

genre: 18+, filth

summary: you suddenly get the urge to relieve yourself while getting intimatr with him.. only for him to have completely different plans from yours.

wc: 3.6k

warnings: slight piss kink? or piss kink 100%? i have no idea tbh, yeosang asks if she wants to be fucked until she pissed herself basically (consent is key pls use it irl), making out, biting, shower sex, some teasing, some praising, fucking against a wall, both have orgasms, unprotected (wrap up irl!), completely consensual, for sure forgot something, might edit later.

Author's Note: At first I didn't know how to feel about this request..? that's why it took me fucking ages to write it. But I didn't exaggerate with the piss kink idea so I think it's pretty okay tbh (y'all are allowed to not like it lmao everyone has preferences I still love y'all). Anwayssss anonnn, enjoy itt!

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member ij any way.

The living room was quiet except for the low hum of the television, the soft flicker of light casting warm shadows across the space. The movie on the screen had long since lost your attention. You were curled up next to Yeosang on the couch, his arm draped around your shoulders, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along your arm.

The scent of popcorn lingered faintly in the air, but the bowl sat untouched on the coffee table. Your focus had shifted entirely to the warmth of Yeosang’s body pressed against yours, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek.

“You’re not even watching the movie,” he teased, his voice low and tinged with amusement.

You tilted your head to look up at him, his features softened by the dim light. “Neither are you,” you pointed out, the corners of your lips quirking up in a playful smile.

“Can you blame me?” he countered, his fingers brushing the bare skin of your collarbone where your shirt had slipped slightly.

The touch was light, almost absentminded, but it sent a shiver through you. You tried to focus on the screen, but the sensation of his hand moving slowly along your arm, his thumb brushing over your skin, was impossible to ignore.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” you murmured, your voice barely audible over the movie.

“Doing what?” he asked innocently, though the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him.

You rolled your eyes, but the warmth spreading through you made it hard to keep up the pretense of irritation. Instead, you shifted slightly, settling closer against him. His hand moved to your waist, his touch firmer now, deliberate in the way his fingers pressed against your side.

The tension between you both built slowly, the space between playful and intimate narrowing with each passing second. Yeosang’s hand slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, his palm warm against your skin. His other hand cradled the back of your head as he tilted his face toward yours.

He leaned in for a kiss. It was soft at first, a question rather than a demand. You answered without hesitation, your hands finding their way to his chest, his heartbeat steady beneath your palm. The kiss deepened quickly, the world around you fading away as Yeosang’s hands roamed beneath the blanket that draped over both of you.

But just as the moment reached a fever pitch, a sudden awareness jolted through you. You pulled back abruptly, your breathing uneven as you sat up.

“Yeosang, I…” You trailed off, the words caught in your throat as heat flooded your face.

His brows furrowed slightly, concern flickering in his eyes as he shifted to sit up. “What’s wrong?”

“I just—” You hesitated, fumbling for an explanation. Finally, you blurted, “I kinda need to use the bathroom… before anything”

Yeosang blinked, surprise flashing across his face before he gave a soft laugh. “Now?”

You nodded, avoiding his gaze as you stood. The cool air of the room was a sharp contrast to the heat of his touch, and you hugged yourself as you made your way to the bathroom.

Once inside, you leaned against the sink, your hands gripping the edges as you tried to steady your breathing. Your reflection in the mirror stared back at you, your cheeks flushed, your lips swollen from his kisses.

You barely had a moment to compose yourself before there was a soft knock at the door.

“Don’t leave me like that,” Yeosang’s voice came through, light but tinged with something deeper.

Before you could respond, the door opened, and he stepped inside, his gaze locking onto yours. The way he looked at you—his eyes dark, his jaw set—made your heart race all over again.

“Yeosang—” you started, but he closed the distance between you in a single step, his hands finding your waist as he backed you against the counter.

“You think you can just walk away?” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. His lips brushed against your temple, then your cheek, before trailing down to your jaw. “Not when you look like that.”

“Like what?” you managed to ask, your voice breathless as his hands moved to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him.

His answer came in the form of a smirk, his gaze flicking downward. The heat in his eyes was unmistakable, and your knees felt weak under the intensity of it.

“Yeosang, I really…” Your words faltered as his hands slid beneath your shirt again, his touch firmer this time, more insistent.

“Let’s not worry about that right now,” he murmured, his lips finding yours in a kiss that stole the breath from your lungs.

You wanted to protest, to remind him why you’d come in here in the first place, but the way his hands moved, the way his lips claimed yours, made it impossible to think straight.

The cool edge of the counter pressed against your back as Yeosang deepened the kiss, his fingers digging into your hips as he lifted you slightly. Your hands found their way to his hair, tangling in the soft strands as you surrendered to the pull of him.

“Yeosang,” you murmured again, your voice a mix of protest and surrender.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his forehead resting against yours. “What?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

“I really need to…” You trailed off, your cheeks burning as you tried to explain, but his smirk only deepened.

“Are you sure you can’t wait?” he teased, his tone light but his intentions clear as he leaned in again, his lips brushing against your ear.

The heat of his breath sent a shiver down your spine, and any protest you’d planned to make melted away as his hands moved again, his touch igniting a fire beneath your skin.

You took a shaky breath, your body warring with your mind. “I… I can’t,” you admitted softly, though the words sounded weak even to your ears.

Yeosang chuckled, the sound deep and rich, reverberating against your neck as he pressed a kiss there. “Alright then,” he murmured, stepping back just enough to catch your gaze. His fingers brushed against your cheek, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Let’s make this easier.”

You blinked up at him, confused, until he nodded toward the shower.

“Let’s just… solve everything at once,” he suggested, his voice low but playful. “No mess, no interruptions.”

Your face flushed at the suggestion, but there was a logic to it that you couldn’t deny. You nodded hesitantly, biting your lip as you met his gaze.

Yeosang’s smile widened, his hands finding the hem of your shirt. “Good,” he said simply before lifting it over your head.

The air felt cooler against your skin, a stark contrast to the heat of his touch. He made quick work of the rest of your clothing, his movements slow and deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours. His gaze was intense, almost reverent, as though he was memorizing every inch of you.

When it was his turn, you found yourself mirroring his actions, your fingers trembling slightly as you undid the buttons of his shirt. Then, your eyes darted to his pants, a tent visible from his unmistakable hard cock. The moment felt intimate, heavy with unspoken anticipation.

Once both of you were bare, Yeosang took your hand, leading you into the shower. The warm spray of water cascaded over you, easing some of the tension in your muscles. But the moment you turned to him, you realized it wasn’t enough to cool the fire burning between you.

Yeosang didn’t wait. He cupped your face with both hands, his lips crashing into yours in a kiss that was deep and desperate. The water streamed over you both, but it did little to temper his intensity.

His hands roamed over your body, sliding down your back to grip your hips, then lower to your curves. He pulled you closer, leaving no space between you, and you let out a whine, your body arching into his touch.

The sound seemed to spur him on, his movements growing hungrier. His lips left yours to trail down your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that made you shiver.

Your mind was a haze of sensations, but one thought managed to push through: *Everything feels so much more intense, like this need is amplifying everything else.*

“Yeosang…” you murmured, your voice barely audible above the rush of the water.

He responded with a hum, his mouth still working its way across your collarbone.

“I can’t—this is too…” You struggled to find the words, but he seemed to understand.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered against your skin, his hands sliding up to cradle your face again. He kissed you once more, softer this time but no less consuming.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as you lost yourself in the moment, the water surrounding you both like a cocoon. There was no room for anything else—no hesitation, no worry—only the heat of his touch and the pull of your shared desire.

Yeosang’s lips moved from your collarbone, traveling upward to your ear as his hands explored every inch of you. The warmth of his palms against your skin sent waves of electricity through your body, leaving you breathless.

Suddenly, he shifted. His strong hands guided you, turning you gently but firmly to face the tiled wall of the shower. The cool surface pressed against your chest, a stark contrast to the searing heat of his body against your back.

His hand slid to the curve of your neck, his fingers resting there lightly but with enough pressure to make your heart race. “Stay just like this,” he murmured, his voice low and velvety, carrying a hint of command.

His other hand found the small of your back, his touch steadying and possessive as he pressed you closer to the wall. The water streamed over both of you, heightening every sensation as his lips brushed against the shell of your ear.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, the sincerity in his tone cutting through the haze of desire. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

The words hit you like a tidal wave, leaving your knees weak. A soft whimper escaped your lips, and you leaned into his touch, your body responding instinctively to him.

Yeosang chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your skin as his lips ghosted over your shoulder. “I can feel you trembling,” he said, his hand on your neck shifting slightly, his thumb stroking the sensitive skin there. “Do you like this?”

“Y-yes,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled against your shoulder, his lips pressing a lingering kiss there before he spoke again. “Tell me if it’s too much, okay?”

You nodded, your breath hitching as his hands moved, one trailing down your spine while the other stayed at your neck, grounding you.

After a moment, he leaned closer, his voice dropping even lower. “Can I take care of you, baby?” he asked, the words laced with both restraint and yearning.

The question sent a shiver through you, and you felt a heat pool in your core at the way he said it—so full of desire yet waiting for your answer. You turned your head slightly, your lips parting as you whispered, “Yes… please.”

Yeosang exhaled, the tension in his body shifting as if he’d been holding himself back, waiting for your permission. “Good,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your shoulder again. “I’ll make you feel so good.”

And with that, his hands began to explore more purposefully, his touch both reverent and passionate as he brought you closer, every movement filled with the promise of what was to come.

Yeosang’s lips continued their journey along your shoulder, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses onto your damp skin. The way his mouth moved—slow and deliberate—made your head spin, every nerve in your body alight with anticipation.

His right hand slid from your neck, trailing down to your waist, and settled on your hips. The grip was firm yet tender, guiding you slightly backward until you felt the unmistakable press of his cock against you. A sharp gasp left your lips as your body instinctively arched, pushing into him.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered against your ear, his voice deep and husky. His words sent a shiver down your spine as his lips resumed their path, trailing down to the back of your neck and along your shoulder blade.

With a steady yet commanding touch, his left hand slid down your arm, capturing your wrist and guiding your palm to rest against the cool tile. He laced his fingers with yours, holding you in place as he pressed his chest to your back, his warmth enveloping you completely.

“Relax for me,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “I’ve got you.”

His right hand moved to your lower back, coaxing your hips to tilt slightly. His fingers tightened momentarily on your curves before sliding lower to guide you further into position. The sensation of his hand so deliberately on your body made you whimper softly, your anticipation building with every moment.

Yeosang leaned forward, his kisses trailing down the curve of your spine, slow and unhurried, as though savoring the moment. He paused just above your lower back, his tongue flicking teasingly against your skin before his teeth grazed the sensitive area.

“Are you ready for me?” he asked, his voice rough with need but tinged with care. His right hand returned to your waist, holding you steady as he waited for your answer.

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice trembling but eager.

He groaned softly at your response, the sound vibrating through you as he aligned his length to your folds. Slowly, with a deliberate pace, he began to press into you, the stretch making your breath hitch. His left hand squeezed yours on the tile as if grounding you, while his right hand pulled your hips closer, ensuring no space remained between you.

A low moan escaped him as he seated himself fully, his forehead resting momentarily against your shoulder. “You feel so good,” he muttered, his voice thick with pleasure.

You whimpered in response, the fullness of him making your body tremble. His hand on your waist shifted slightly, his fingertips digging into your skin as he began to move. His rhythm was slow at first, each roll of his hips deliberate and sensual, his body pressed firmly against yours.

His lips found your shoulder again, trailing kisses along your damp skin before moving lower. He worshipped every inch of you with his mouth, his kisses trailing from your neck down your spine in time with his thrusts.

“You’re doing so well,” he murmured against your back, his praise making your knees weaken. “Taking me so perfectly.”

The words sent a rush of heat through you, and you moaned softly, your free hand pressing against the wall for support.

Yeosang’s left hand, still entwined with yours on the tile, squeezed lightly as his thrusts deepened. His right hand slid around to the front of your body, resting just above your navel, pressing you back against him with each movement. He's doing that on purpose.m you thought.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps as Yeosang continued his slow, deliberate movements, his body pressed intimately against yours. The heat of his skin and the rhythm of his thrusts sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, but a different sensation stirred deep in your belly—a tingling reminder of the tension you’d been holding onto earlier.

It mixed with the pleasure in an overwhelming cocktail of need, making you whimper softly.

“Yeosang…” you managed to say, your voice trembling, barely audible over the rush of water.

His lips paused their journey along your spine, and he tilted his head slightly, his breath warm against your shoulder. “Hmm?” he hummed, his voice rich and deep.

“I-I still…” you stammered through a moan, your body arching into him involuntarily. “I still need to … it’s making me feel…” You trailed off, heat flooding your face as the words hung in the air.

Yeosang stilled for a brief moment, the tension in his body palpable, before he let out a low, guttural chuckle. “Oh, baby…” he murmured, his tone laced with mischief and desire.

He pressed his lips to your shoulder, his teeth grazing your skin teasingly before he bit down softly. The sting was just enough to send another wave of heat through you. “That’s why you’re trembling so much,” he whispered, his voice both teasing and full of admiration.

His right hand tightened on your waist, pulling you even closer against him. “That’s making you this sensitive, huh?” he added, his tone lower now, almost a growl.

You nodded, too overwhelmed to speak, your moans escaping your lips in tandem with his deepening thrusts.

Yeosang chuckled again, the sound vibrating against your skin as he placed another soft bite on your shoulder. “Don’t worry,” he said, his pace picking up slightly, his hips snapping against you with a newfound urgency. “I’ll help you with that.”

The promise in his voice sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt his left hand squeeze yours tighter against the tile as his movements became faster and more deliberate. Each thrust seemed to push you closer to the edge, the pressure in your belly building in tandem with the pleasure coursing through you.

“You’re so perfect like this,” he muttered against your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “So beautiful, so responsive. Let go for me, baby. I’ve got you.”

The combination of his words, his pace, and the overwhelming sensations in your body left you breathless. You whimpered his name, your voice trembling as the tension in your belly grew more intense with each passing second.

“Yeosang, I… I can’t hold it,” you cried out, your voice shaky, your body trembling against him.

“Then don’t,” he said simply, his tone dark and commanding yet filled with care. “Just let go. Let me take care of you.”

The way he spoke, the way he held you, made it impossible to resist. His hips drove into you faster, harder, yet with a precision that made every movement feel intentional. The pressure finally became too much, and you felt yourself unravel completely, surrendering to him in every way.

Yeosang groaned low in his throat as your body responded to him, his grip tightening on your waist as he guided you through it, his movements unrelenting as he chased his own release. All the while, his voice was in your ear, murmuring praises and encouragement, grounding you as you both gave in to the moment.

Your body trembled violently as waves of pleasure and release collided. The warm rush of relief as you gave in to your body’s needs mingled with the intense pleasure of Yeosang thrusting deeply into you, his movements deliberate and unrelenting.

A deep groan rumbled from his chest, his grip on your waist tightening as he buried himself fully inside you, the warmth of his huge load of cum spilling into you. The sensation made your breath hitch, and you realized you hadn’t noticed how close he was—he’d been too focused on you, on your pleasure, to give away any signs.

He didn’t stop, his hips still rolling into you with languid, purposeful thrusts as he rode out his high. The overstimulation sent your body into overdrive, and a cry of pleasure escaped your lips as your own orgasm tore through you, your knees buckling slightly as tears pricked the corners of your eyes.

“Yeosang!” you whimpered, your voice trembling as you clung to the edge of the tile, your body unable to handle the onslaught of sensations.

“Shh, I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice soft and reassuring despite the hoarseness from his own exertion. His free hand slid from your waist to your belly, holding you securely as his thrusts slowed, easing you through the aftershocks of your release.

The tears spilled freely now, a mix of relief, pleasure, and the overwhelming intensity of the moment leaving you utterly spent. You sagged slightly against the wall, your breathing uneven as you felt Yeosang press a tender kiss to your shoulder.

“You’re incredible,” he whispered, his lips brushing against your damp skin as his hands began to roam over your body. His left hand released yours from the tile, pulling it gently to rest against his chest as his right hand smoothed over your waist, your stomach, your thighs. His touch was reverent, almost soothing, as though grounding you after everything.

“You did so well for me,” he murmured, his voice dripping with pride and affection. “So perfect, so beautiful.”

His words, combined with the soft caresses of his hands, made your heart ache in the best way. Despite the lingering overstimulation, you couldn’t help but lean into him, letting his presence calm you as you both came down from the intensity of the moment.

He pressed another kiss to the nape of your neck, his movements tender and unhurried now. “How do you feel?” he asked, his voice gentle, his hands never ceasing their comforting exploration of your body.

You took a shaky breath, the corners of your mouth lifting in a small smile. “Tired,” you admitted, your voice soft but content. “But… good. Really good.”

Yeosang chuckled softly, the sound vibrating against your back as he held you closer. “Good,” he said, his lips brushing against your ear. “That’s all I wanted.”

And as the water continued to cascade over both of you, washing away the remnants of your shared moment, his hands never left your body, his touch a constant reminder of his care and devotion.

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1

[myslutwritings]

Human Heian era! Muzan with arranged marriage wife! s/o super sweet and kind. Cue tsundere (and in denial ✨) Muzan whenever his wife cares for him. Wants to cuddle with her and tries to makes up the excuses that he needs her body heat lmao

... Then she dies after trying to get blue spider lily for the medicine that the doctor requested (doctor "hinted" to lady s/o that the flower can be a cure for Muzan so he could trick her to get it for his lazy self lmao)

Fluff to angst my cup of tea 👍

LOVE THIS IDEA!!

➤ Muzan with a wife!reader

➤ SFW headcanons (not proof read)

Human!muzan x Fem!reader

•

•

•

warnings: death of reader

No, no, no, no.

None of this sat right with him!

Why, why on god mother earth would he need a wife only to probably get bored of him and slowly witness him die?

What’s the meaning of this nonsense?

Muzan isn’t happy with it one bit.

He throws a fit.

Bro is immature as hell to be honest.

He judges you and absolutely resents this situation before he even meets you.

Fast forward to the first time y’all meet. let’s just say you aren’t what he expected!

you were.. so kind. it almost seemed unreal.

Wonders if your kindness is fake or genuine.

He obviously doesn’t admit he does in fact enjoy your presence so instead he either throws childish insults at you or pretends he doesn’t want to be around you when really he craves your body warmth and soothing voice.

I feel like this Muzan is insecure.

Like, definitely insecure of his sickness and he usually asks you why you even want him if he’s just going to die in the end.

You consistently remind him that you love him for who he is and reassure him that you’re going to find a cure for him.

Doesn’t really help since he hears that from the doctor 24/7 but when it’s coming from you he actually feels a bit better about himself which is a first.

I also headcanon that this Muzan grows a bit shy when you touch him.

That’s only because he isn’t used to someone touching him so intimately and gently.

If you notice his flushed cheeks don’t you dare point it out!!

One night, Muzan really wasn’t feeling the best (as per usual) so being the loving wife you are you gladly offered him cuddles. you enjoy holding him, or him holding you.

Most of the time it’s mostly you holding him since he struggles to move..

Despite him being the biggest asshole on the face of the earth sometimes he does have a cute side.

Cue those special moments whenever you have to leave the futon he lies in, he briskly grabs your waist and pulls you back down with him while mumbling the words “stay”

Anywho, you smother this man to death at times.

Turns all Tsundere mode every time you do anything.

Acts repulsed by love but deep down you know he loves you just as much as you love him.

You adore Muzan with all your heart. No words can even begin to describe how deeply you appreciate him. You’d do anything to see him grow healthy. You know he can!

You’d walk the earth to find your husband a cure for his sickness.

Muzans doctor is highly aware of your growing relationship with him and how you’re so desperate to please him.

So, here you are, naively making the fatal mistake of doing the doctor a massive favor and searching for a medicine/plant called “blue spider lily”

Your clueless self accepts this mission in a heartbeat, assuming ahead of time that nothing could possibly go wrong.

Oh my, what an unfortunate evening that was because as soon as you leave town a deadly storm hits.

To make matters worst, Muzan isn’t even aware of any of this. He just thinks you forgot to visit him tonight.. which is incredibly odd considering the fact you’re all over him by now.

Doesn’t think much of it all until you’re pronounced dead by the next day.

You died, searching for that damn flower that the lazy bum doctor couldn’t get himself?!

As soon as he heard of your death, Muzan goes on a rampage with all the strength he can muster up in his fragile body.

He killed the doctor that same day you were announced dead.

Now Muzan truly has nobody. No cure for his illness, his lovely wife is gone, the doctor isn’t alive to nurse him back to health.

But at the end of the day, he doesn’t care for the doctor, nor that stupid medicine.

He only cares about you.

Muzan is aware he’s close to dying. All his life he despised his condition, desired for it only to go away, dying was his greatest fear.

But now?

Maybe dying isn’t so horrible after all.

At least he could reunite with you in the afterlife.

A/N: i apologize if this post isn’t well written. i was rushing and i’ve been insanely busy lately! I hope you enjoyed tho:))

[i-know-you-know-we-know-lee-know]

Skz hyung line react to being called good boy

Guess what?

Im not dead

ʸⁱᵖᵖᵉᵉ

Sorry i dropped off the face of the earth for like three weeks

I dont really have an excuse for it lmao

But hey! My ult groups both had comebacks so that's a plus ig

Also i kinda changed my organization style a bit bc it fit better with what i was writing

Warnings: slightly suggestive(?) fluff, read at your own risk ig, mild cursing, Minho is probably the most suggestive so you can skip if it makes you uncompfy, readers gender is not specified but they do wear more "feminine" clothes in Minho's, mentions of food

Maknae Line

Chan

Shook

Is the only way i can describe it

Literally whips his head around with he most bewildered expression on his face

Ya know?

Kinda like that

Anyways

Scenario~

You had been feeling a bit ✨mischievous✨ lately and decided to prank Chan. Luckily he was a very compatible victim and had not a single clue what you were doing.

"Channie can you get that box from up there"

You say, looking to him for help with the box you had definitely not put up on the top shelf earlier needed to get down

Chan, being the chivalrous bf he is, plucks the box down from the top shelf and hands it to you.

"good boy" you say, standing on your tiptoes to give him a kiss on the cheek and walking away nonchalantly.

"your welco- wait what" Chan says, looking at you flabbergasted as you walked away from him.

But soon he grins and sets off after you down the hall

"good boy huh? I could get used to that"

UHM

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN GOOD SIR?

...

*realises i just wrote that*

I-

What?

Anyways moving on

Minho

Ok so there's two options

1. 😏

2. 😐

Or both

But most likely 1

" min can you come in here?"

You call out to your boyfriend, awkwardly holding the top of your dress up while the back hangs open.

"hmm? Yeah what do you need love- oh"

He stops behind you and you can see his eyes in the mirror traveling from your reflected face to the front of your dress to thr back and down lower-

"will you quit staring at my ass and help me with my dress"

You say, meeting his eyes in the mirror as he grins

"how can i help it when you look like this?"

He says, causing heat to rise on your cheeks as you feel his hands warm on your back

He laces up the back of your corset top dress and ties it at the end, stepping back to admire his work

You turn around to see what he's done and find it acceptable

"good boy" you say, turning back around to smooth out the front of your dress

Minho freezes, blinks a few times, then smirks and leans down over your shoulder

"good boy?" he says with a raised eyebrow "are you trying to make us late to the party?" he murmurs in your ear, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him

You were in fact late to the party and although you told everyone you simply lost track of time (which was technically true) your lipstick peeking out from Minho's collar which he "forgot to rub off" told a different story

No thoughts

Head empty

(except Minho, he's always in there)

⸜( •⌄• )⸝

Changbin

He is also shook

But in a more innocent way?

Kinda?

Like he doesn't know how to react but he thinks he likes it

He definitely likes it

The two of you were going on a nice walk out in the park and were having a lovely time.

You decided to stop on a bridge to look over the edge and take a break from walking for a bit.

Changbin was telling you about his past week and how busy it had been when he noticed your shoe was untied.

"we've been practicing almost every day for such a long time now im glad i get a break today- hey your shoes untied"

He stoops down, still talking and ties your shoe for you while you watch him.

You've tried telling him you can tie your shoes on your own but alas, he doesn't listen so you've gotten used to it.

But this time you decided to pull a little prank on him.

"good boy" you say to him as he stands back up to your level.

"and on tuesd- what" he stops mid sentence, looking at you confused. "what did you just say?"

You frown, faking confusion

"what? I didn't say anything"

"yes you did i heard you"

You laugh, linking your arm with his and pulling him along the walking trail.

"you shouldn't say things like that in public baby it sounds wierd"

You glance up at your boyfriend, who's face now has a red tinge and laugh again

Who knew you could get him so worked up with just two words?

*sighs*

God i love him so much

🥰

Hyunjin

Boi likes it

But doesn't show it

Because he's too shy to admit he wants you to say it again

But he might ask

Might...

Hyunjin had been watching movies with you for the past few hours and had just gotten up to make yet another bowl of popcorn for the two of you.

He came back with a heaping bowl for both of you to share and held it just out of arms length from you.

"isn't there something you'd like to say to me?" he asks, looking down at your small form curled up on the couch.

"please?"

"close, but not quite"

Hyunjin grins, still holding the bowl just out of your reach.

"im looking for two wor-"

"good boy"

He freezes, and you take advantage of his confused state to lunge and grab the bowl.

He takes a few seconds to fully process what you just said and flops down on the couch next to you.

"why'd you say that?" he mumbles, shoving a handful of popcorn in his mouth.

You laugh "to see your reaction"

Hyunjin sits in silence for a few moments, contemplating life and processing the last few seconds

"say it again"

"say what again?"

"...you know"

You laugh

"good boy, Hyunjin"

Don't you just love it when Hyunjin system malfunctions? 🥰

hehehe

I enjoyed writing this

[lis-likes-fics]

Music to My Eyes

Pairings: Finnick Odair x deaf!fem!Reader Word Count: 7.5k words Warnings: Mentions of the Games, so killing and death, mentions of trauma, my attempt at writing sign language, pre-Katniss, no Annie... A/N: Hey, everyone! I watched the Hunger Games a few months ago and had a mini obsession and decided to write for it and only now just got half of my fic done. Since it was running as long as it was, I decided to go ahead and split this into two different parts, but I swear the rest of it is being planned and written. Also A/N: Just FYI, anything written in /slants/ is an indication of something being signed because explaining every little sign just does not work. And, also, Hecton Leary is absolutely done by Peter Capaldi in my mind...just in case you need a visual. I was watching a lot of Doctor Who during this so, get ready to see those intense eyebrows all over the place in this, lmao. Also Also A/N: Special thanks to my beta-reader @killerqueen-ofwillowgreen who I will be crediting more bc I literally forgot to last time and she's too amazing for that! Thanks, Vee! 💖

You don't love wearing dresses—especially not extravagant ones like these, more expensive than likely your entire district as a whole. You also don't love parties like these where you have to wear said dresses, surrounded by tons of people generating body heat and stuffing the room full of perfumes and colognes that make your nose and eyes burn. Your feet hurt from the heels your designer paired with your outfit, and the air is active with words and voices that overwhelm your brain with too much information to take.

Having Hecton beside you is a relief at least—not completely lost in a sea of people as he and you communicate with two rich sponsors from District 1 dressed just a slight less dramatic as you but just as exaggerated.

You watch their lips, painted over with bright colors complementing their attire, as they speak to you. "It must be so hard, isn't it?" the woman asks, spending too much time on "so" as she speaks slowly for you to comprehend. You want to roll your eyes. "Flailing about all the time just to get a few words out?"

The man next to her agrees, nodding his head. You can see his throat shift, and you assume he's hummed a response.

Hecton's hands move with skill as he speaks, partly as aid in translation for you but mostly for the performance people are looking for.

You feel like your lips are going to fall off, you can almost feel them twitching at the ends from how long you've been smiling at all these people who don't know anything about you and assume they know everything.

You widen your smile to show teeth and shake your head, continuing to be as respectful as you can with your social tolerance running low.

Your hands move and, out of the corner of your eye, you can see Hecton speaking as they do. "Not really," he translates. "It's natural for me."

The man puts a hand over his heart and turns to her. "Oh, you poor thing," he says rather dramatically. Hecton doesn't dignify his words by translating that for you—not that you needed it in the first place. His hands remain still, folded in front of him. The man glances toward them, and you can see his brief disappointment at his words not receiving the glory of illustration.

You glance up at Hecton, your smile intact as you slightly squint the corners of your eyes in a silent plea. He answers you gracefully, turning his attention back to the fashionable vultures in front of him.

"This was wonderful," he says, "but I believe our little lady is excited to meet other guests here tonight."

Hecton is an older man with grey hair, pale eyes, and intense brows. Upon looking at him, he isn't the most approachable man. You don't just say no to him—especially as a past victor of the Games who certainly triumphed by a long-shot. He is not weakened by age, but he's definitely wisened by it. Although sobered by surviving the horrors of the Games, it neither slowed nor ruined his life, it simply gave an abrupt end to what little childhood people of Districts like yours can obtain.

One look at the finality on his face and they were fully ready to end their (rather insulting) conversation. They turn to one another, making these awful pity-faces as they hold each other's hands and turn back to heartily agree. "Of course." She puts too much emphasis on the words. "Goodbye, dear."

You nod gently and look toward Hecton for confirmation as he places a hand on your back and turns with you. You both walk away from the conversation gratefully, still smiling for everyone else in the room but moving your hands in silent conversation.

/These people are exhausting,/ you complain, entirely within your right with the way they treat you.

Hecton sighs, looking at you with eyes that understand your struggle. /Just keep them happy./

You nod, remaining light-hearted for both your sakes as you offer a genuine smile before you slip back into a customer service front. /I know, I know./

Lots of eyes are on you tonight, but none so keen as a certain boy across the room. He has basically been watching you all night, intrigued by the way you've been communicating, by the way you draw so much attention without having spoken a single word since you arrived.

He has seen you around a few times—on television, at other parties. He knows your face and that you won the Games like him, but he's never paid enough attention to actually know anything past that. But now, observing you all night, he's interested enough to ask.

His elbow brushes the guy next to him, a victor from another district he doesn't care to specify right now. "Who is that again?" he asks, not taking his eyes off of you as his friend turns to look. "I've seen her a couple times, never remember."

He looks at you and then back at him. "Her?" he gestures vaguely toward you. He nods.

"Victor from District 10, she won the 67th Games." He takes a sip from his drink, leaning back against a table with a hand in his pocket. "Surprised everyone cause she," he shrugged, "can't hear or something."

That definitely caught his attention as he turned full bodied toward him. "Really?"

"Yeah," he swirled his drink around. "She's nice…in a little bunny sort of way." It's not necessarily an insult, more than it is him calling you soft-hearted and skittish.

He walks away without a word, finally making his way toward you to quell his curiosity as he approaches you and takes his sweet time about it.

Your back is turned to him. He briefly wonders the best way to get your attention on the way over, knowing you hate being tapped by the way your shoulders flinch and you strain a smile when you turn.

Then again, no one likes tapping.

When he reaches you, he just folds his hands behind his back and smiles. "Hello," he says simply. Hecton turns at the greeting, prompting you to do the same.

"I'm Finnick. Finnick Odair," he greets with a smile of his own as he regards the both of you. He watches the way the old man's hand moves on his name. Your hand reaches out and interrupts him as you place a gentle palm on top of his. He makes a face—it's not annoyed, just teasing.

You turn back to Finnick, your performance smiling still intact. Hecton speaks while you sign. For a moment, Finnick thinks he'll understand the movements you make—Mags doesn't speak, she has to use her hands to communicate all the time, surely it couldn't be that different—but he is proven wrong when words don't match waves.

"I know who you are. You won the 65th Games, you're from District 4." Finnick thinks, briefly, that your friend's voice doesn't match you at all (which is obvious, of course, but he feels it's worth pointing out).

"Well, then," he responds with a slight chuckle, only glancing for a moment at the way Hecton's hands move as he talks, "I'm flattered you know me. Unfortunately, I couldn't say the same for you…"

You seem surprised by that. He thinks it may have something to do with the way that you haven't had many moments away from conversation since you arrived. Everyone has been too taken by you, too interested in snatching a few minutes.

Your hands don't start moving in that curious way Finnick likes to watch because words are already being spoken. "Mr. Odair, this is Y/N Y/L/N. I am her mentor and translator, Hecton Leary."

Finnick holds out a hand, which each of you shake. Out of courtesy, he doesn't start talking again until after your hands are free. "Wonderful to meet you both. And, please, Finnick is fine. There's no need for formalities when we could be friends, right?"

You still smile as you begin to sign, though your brows furrow. /Why exactly do I want to be your friend?/

Finnick doesn't understand, looking at Hecton for translation. He only says your name, a sort of reprimand as he continues to smile.

/I'm only being honest./

Where you expected frustration from not understanding, you find amusement in Finnick's eyes as his genuine smile widens and he looks between the both of you. "What am I missing?"

Hecton looks at you, raising a large brow and waiting for your reply. You sigh gently and shake your head, remaining civil as you begin to sign.

"Sorry," he speaks for you. "I look forward to establishing friendship with another fellow Victor. Maybe one day we'll…" Hecton gets quiet as he just watches your hands continue to move and your lips continue to smile, full of amusement.

/We'll frolic in the woods together, holding hands and singing songs./

Hecton turns full body to you. He holds his palms apart and brings them together swiftly without clapping them. /Y/N./

You smile wider and hold your hands in surrender, the tiny sound of a giggle slipping out of you. You're otherwise silent as your hands fly. /I'm joking! Tell him it was nice to meet him, and I look forward to being friends./

Hecton eyes you momentarily before relenting, turning back to Finnick with exasperation. "She says it was a pleasure meeting you, and she looks forward to your friendship."

Finnick raises his brows, bowing his head gently. "The pleasure is all mine." He's a charmer, and he makes that clear by reaching out and slowly, softly taking your hand in his (his grasp is so gentle that you could easily take your hand back if you wanted and he wouldn't stop you). He bends forward, pressing his lips to the back of your hand. He straightens his spine and watches you fondly. "Until we meet again."

As he lets go of your hand, he bows his head once more before he walks away. You and Hecton watch him leave. He raises his own brow at you. "Is that blush I see?"

Your hands are quick and exaggerated as you move them. You know he's joking and you're not blushing, but his teasing makes you. /No!/

Hecton's smile is wide and open and you know he's laughing at you, so you call him out for being mean. He drops it just as quickly, once the joke has faded to a funny memory and you both are back to mingling with people who do not care about you.

~

The halls are empty this late in the night. Everyone has retired to their rooms or taken an early train home. It's peaceful, wandering the halls this late and being undisturbed by curious eyes and ears watching you like some wild animal. You enjoy the silence—the physical silence of steady air and only one set of footsteps to track instead of hundreds.

At the end of the hall you wander now is the elevator that takes you to your level. Hecton will be wondering where you are—and if not, it's probably time for you to retire for the night before the victor's interviews with Lucky tomorrow anyway. As you make your way toward it, the lights bright and beckoning, you stop in front of it and click the door button.

It's as the doors are sliding open that you realize you're no longer alone in the dead of this night. You feel it in the prickle of your skin, the change in the weight of the floor beneath you. You look over quickly where the side of your face heats with a new presence.

You see Finnick approaching you, seemingly pleased to see you as he smiles at you, stopping short of the doors to offer you first entry. You grin hesitantly, your confidence from before waning a little with the absence of your mentor and translator. If he tries to talk to you, you're probably going to have a rough night. You press the tenth floor button. He presses the fourth.

Finnick isn't as pessimistic, glancing at you out of the corner of your eyes as you stand with your fingers tangled and your eyes toward the ground. You don't look nearly as cocky this time around—in fact, you seem nervous, refusing to even give him that small, awkward smile you usually receive when stuck in a space next to someone you don't know.

Finnick licks his lips, and speaks before he can correct himself. "Hello," he says, giving you a charming smile before immediately remembering your certain disability.

His curiosity grows when you raise your head, glancing his way but not quite committing.

"Oh, right," he mumbles. His added words spark your attention once more as you finally look at him, moving your hand in a talking motion.

"Yeah," he responds. "How did you know?" You're deaf, but you could tell that he was speaking without even looking at him?

He watches you think for a moment, staring off to try and figure out a way to tell him without Hecton to aid you. You look at him again, raising a hand palm down and shaking it.

"Shaking?" he guesses, raising a confused brow.

You gestured around the elevator, your face etched in concentration, determined to be understood. You sometimes forget how hard communication can actually be for you.

"The room?" he tries. "The room is shaking?"

You make a face, one that says "not quite".

He thinks for a moment, putting your gestures together before it dawns on him. "The air is moving."

You smile, far too happy to have successfully gotten a point across.

Finnick's brows raise, though not in a mocking or upset way. "Is everything really that sensitive for you?"

'It has to be,' you want to say, but you can't. You can read lips, but moving your own to try and copy them is a completely different story. Instead, you just nod and agree.

"I heard that's how you won the Games," he said, before adding on the end with a genuinely impressed smile. "Very cool, by the way." He had spent an embarrassing amount of time—or it would be embarrassing if he actually cared about that—asking party comers about you. Most of the information he got was about the Games, always about the Games. He got the same answers from just about everyone about how you were just so sweet and how it was so inspiring how your lack of hearing helped you to win.

As much as that sweet grin on your face made you want to smile, he wasn't technically right. So you shook your head, and he watched you raise your hands to cover your eyes.

"You were blind?" he wonders, but that doesn't make any sense and he doesn't feel very smart for asking now.

You shake your head and do it again, this time pulling your hands away and then covering your face again.

"You hid," he answers. That makes more sense.

You nod and he hums.

You didn't win the Hunger Games by killing for being killed, you didn't win by joining alliances or traveling in groups and pairs. You won the Games by running and hiding until everyone had killed each other.

When the Gamemakers used their tricks and schemes to flush you out of your hiding places, you found another one to lay low until the end. Yes, there were times when you had to fight for your life, but you were no strong competitor. It was dumb luck that you won. Right up to the end, facing off with the almost-champion after having been hunted down by Mutts. He killed them, and then he tried to kill you.

And that was when your disability was labeled your greatest weapon.

Maybe one day you'll be able to tell him that.

The doors slid open to reveal Finnick's floor. You both linger there in the elevator for a moment, trying to decide what to do from there.

Truly, you should have just waved at him and let the doors close to take you to your own floor. It was late already, you needed to rest.

But…

"Do you like sweets?"

Yes, you do.

You nod, answering his charming smile with a shy one and being upset with yourself in the back of your mind for falling for his obvious charm. If you got hurt, it was on you and no one else. But who cares?

You, you care. Maybe not enough, though.

You follow him off the elevator and into the common room. The kitchen is just off of it, with a long table cleared of dinner but still adorned with snacks—fruits and a few deserts. Finnick slides over a plate of cookies as you take a seat. They're chocolate and very good.

He sits across from you, a little too keen in the way he leans forward. He picks up a cookie between his thumb and forefinger, playing with it absent-mindedly as he speaks.

"Is that," he waves one hand, "usually how you communicate?" He hopes he doesn't sound offensive and takes a bite from his cookie.

You don't seem offended as you shrug. He watches you move your hand like you're grasping a pen, shifting it around in a circle. He understands and, like a dog, goes to grab the supplies for you, dropping his cookie back on the table with little to no regard. He's not necessarily upset about his obedience, if anything, he's happy to let you boss him around—not that you have been—if it means quenching his genuine curiosity with how you operate.

He slides you a notebook as he reclaims his seat, gently slapping a pen on top with a cheeky grin. He seems proud of himself. You hold in your chuckle as you write with the best handwriting you can with the quickness of your scribbles.

/Signing or writing./

Finnick reads it off. He thinks your handwriting is pretty.

"Does it get tiring?" he asks, cookie forgotten in crumbs on the counter. He absent-mindedly pushes it to the side so he can lean closer. "Moving your hands like that all the time?"

His question is one you get often, a repeated question every person asks to suit their shallow interest in you. But you can't bring yourself to be offended or annoyed. Finnick doesn't seem shallow, his curiosity runs deep and his kindness deeper. You're not sure you could take anything he says with offense.

You simply shake your head. /Easy as it is for you to talk,/ you answer honestly, adding the gesture for "speak" at the end to try to be helpful.

He shouldn't be impressed, but he is. "Oh," he says, brows raised in vivid interest. "Is it easy to learn?"

He's full of questions. He knows he probably sounds like a child, piling them on top of each other like tidal waves. But you don't seem upset, so he carries on.

You shrug again.

/Would not know. Depends on person./ You look up at him, and then you add, /You want to learn?/

The way you write is interesting to him. You don't do it in full sentences in an effort to keep it short and simple. But you also don't use contractions, though you try to write as quickly as possible to keep up the feel and consistency of actually speaking.

He smiles slyly and pretends to be shy about it, bowing his head and looking up at you through pretty lashes. "Maybe," he says. "Could you teach me?"

You mirror his expression, bowing your chin toward your chest and smiling at him. /Maybe./

You finish your cookie and rip off the first page to turn to another. He watches you write out the alphabet, quickly scribbling a very poor illustration of a hand gesture underneath each one. It takes a while, longer than you wished for it to.

Finnick doesn't mind. While you're distracted with the activity at hand, he's watching you. You're very pretty, he thinks. With the way you sit to draw, you keep your body open and give yourself the room you need to still see him as you work.

You've got kind eyes. He doesn't think you get that enough. Everyone calls you a sweet girl, but they usually follow it up with something along the lines of "even with her issue".

But Finnick just thinks you're pretty and kind. That's it. No exceptions.

He wants to learn about you without the tainting of word-of-mouth or television programs. He wants to know you. The stuff you love, the stuff you hate, everything that makes you happy, and the stuff that makes you want to throw chairs. He wants to know what your favorite color is, if you like to dance or paint or swim.

Before he can keep daydreaming about whether you like cats or dogs, you look up at him to show off your work. You think it's sloppy. He thinks you did great.

You start going through it with him, showing him the hand signs as you get to them with a patience that amazes him. Once you've gone through the whole of it once, he lifts his own hand to try it out. He looks weird and silly, and you smile as he tries his best.

When he offers a poor attempt at a 'Q', a giggle manages to slip. You probably don't hear it, but Finnick certainly does. His face lights up at the sound. He had heard you make little more than a sigh. Managing to pull a giggle out of you—especially one as pretty as that? It's like winning the lottery.

He goes through it with you a couple more times before he straightens his spine. "So…"

He points to his chest and holds his hand out, slowly moving it to fit the gestures he's tried.

F. I. N. N. I. C. K.

You nod quickly, beaming from ear to ear at how quickly he's picked it up already. You point to yourself and spell your own name out. You move slowly, giving him time to connect each letter to each sign as you go. And when you finish, he spells it himself. A nearly perfect copy, (although perfect may be generous, he's definitely trying and it shows—that's perfect enough in your book).

You carefully tear the page out and set it to the side so he can still see and write excitedly on the next page, your writing almost terrible with how quickly you scribble. /Natural!/

You sign the word after. He copies you, and then tries to spell it out. He gets it right for the most part—even though you're pretty sure you saw him use an 'X' instead of an 'R'.

He really wants to impress you. He doesn't make that subtle, and you're honestly happy he doesn't. It makes you genuinely giddy, the way he's so eager to learn and show off his new skill (a skill he's literally been practicing for no more than ten minutes). You don't realize how far onto the table you've learned. Your hands would brush if you moved them an inch closer.

"I'll keep at it," he replies genuinely at your proud smile. He had no idea someone so silent could be so pleasantly loud. Your ecstatic movements and wide grins compensate for your lack of vocalization. When you speak through your hands or the notebook in front of you, he almost swears he can hear a voice he hasn't heard in place of it, so kind and pretty. Like a song.

You smile too fondly at him, taking in a soft breath before looking down at your hands and sitting back again. You'd gotten ahead of yourself. You don't correct it as much as you should. You're just as fond as you sit correctly in your seat and watch him with intense interest.

After a moment of comfortable silence, you pick up your pen again. He watches you write something down. You turn the book around for him to see.

/Mentor cannot speak?/

"Mags?" he wonders. You nod, tilting your head. "No."

You write again. /Cannot sign?/

"No."

You tilt your head and furrow your brows, a silent inquiry. He shrugs, "Never learned."

You contemplate for a moment, rubbing your neck gently before taking the notepad once more. You show it to him.

/Can teach./ You point to yourself, offering a small grin.

"Really?" he furrows his brow.

You shrug. Why not?

Finnick stares at you a moment, searching your eyes for a joke he knows he won't find. So why would you be so open to helping her? Maybe you're just weird.

His lips curl in a smile. "I'll ask her."

Your own smile grows.

He drums his fingers on the table, watching you watching him. He thinks for a moment, just staring, before he opens his mouth.

"So obviously, you can read lips." You nod. "Were you born deaf?"

You nod and reach for the notepad once again. It takes you a moment to write this time. /Parents did not find out til 2. Was a quiet kid. Did not realize until I never started speaking./

He's so interested in everything you tell him. He hangs onto your every word like pure gold. "So you've never heard anything before? Ever?"

He feels like it's a dumb question. Of course not. But you hesitate, glancing off before you nod.

/Yes./

His eyes go wide with wonder. "How?" He crosses his arms and leans forward on the table.

You thought for another moment, trying to find the best way to phrase it to keep it simple. You tap the pen against your lips and click click click it.

/Before the 67th Games, my team gifted me hearing aids. Thought it would help./ You pull away for him to read, staring at the page before taking it and adding in a new line, /Didn't think I'd make it deaf./

The look on your face told him how much that bothered you—or, at least, a whisper of how much it used to bother you. He thinks you may be used to it by now…

"Seemed to work, huh?" he asks with a slight chuckle in an attempt to brighten your mood again.

But you shake your head as you pull the notepad back. /When Games started, too much. Ripped them out and ran./ You sigh gently, swallowing thickly. /Couldn't handle it./

He listens in, his full attention heeding your words. "So you never wear them?"

You shake your head. /Do not like to./

He nods gently. "Because it hurt?" he asks, trying to understand.

You think for a moment before raising your hand and shaking it like before, meaning a different thing this time. /Kind of,/ you write.

You sigh and raise your hands, loosely clawed in front of you as you bring them into your chest in fists. Then you pick up your pen to translate. /Trust me?/

He nods. "Yeah."

/Sure?/

His second nod is more firm. "Yes."

He watches you grab a hand towel. You lift it up, gesturing to him with it and he nods his approval once again. You step behind him and tie it around his head to cover his eyes.

After you blindfold him, sure that he no longer has sight, you turn off all the lights and spin him around a couple times before you lead him into the living room.

Without his sight, Finnick is reduced to having to let you lead him where you want him. And he trusts you. He sways on his feet for a moment, standing still when you stop guiding him again.

"Can I look now?" he asks, his hands out by his side blindly if not for anything but balance.

He hears your voice, the slight sound of you clearing your throat before humming gently, like you're feeling for it. Then he hears your broken response, unaccustomed to actually speaking.

"N-o," you mumble. He smiles a little, and you think he's weird—in a good way.

After a moment of silence where the both of you just stand there and do nothing, he feels you begin to remove the towel from his face. You don't give him a chance to adjust to the dark, you just flip the closest light on and let him have it.

He winces, shielding his face as the shock sets in. You smile gently as you apologize, rubbing your fist over your chest in a circle. When his eyes adjust to the light once more to look at you, your smile is still a fond apology as you motion to your ears.

He breathes lightly. “That’s what it felt like for you?” You make a “bigger” motion with your hands as you nod. “That’s awful,” he mumbles.

You shrug as you begin to walk back to the dining table to grab your pen and notepad again. As you take a seat on the sofa, you bring your legs up under you and invite him to sit beside you. He watches you write something as you prop the notepad against your thighs. You show it to him when you finish.

/What do you like to do?/

He is happy to answer as he settles back and thinks for a moment before offering his reply. You sit and talk back and forth for a long time. You don’t really keep track as you learn that Finnick loves to swim and he dabbles in cooking when he can. You learn that he likes the color blue, but his favorite color is probably white. You learn that he is a “live life like it’s your last day” type of person because of his experience with the games (a philosophy you have adopted yourself in a smaller intensity). You learn that he’s more fond of the quiet than the rowdy crowds he’s grown accustomed to.

Finnick learns that you also like the water, but you enjoy sitting under the surface and feeling like the world is just as silent as you in a way that isn’t so interesting to the rest of the world. He learns that you don’t have a favorite color but you always say green, that you’re not a people person but everyone thinks you’re a person who loves people, and that you like to watch Hecton play the guitar while he lets you set your hand on the body of it to feel what he plays.

You don’t know when you fall asleep on the couch, laying against the back of it with your head turned toward the large, cushy pillow that supports your head. You’re curled up against it, and Finnick thinks you look precious. He’s not long after you as he dozes off on the couch. Neither of you touch at all, hands to yourself as you let the night ease on around you. But the presence is comfortable enough, you’re happy for it.

But sometime in the night, you don’t know when, how long the passage of time had gotten to be, the calm that had set over you slowly began to fade and slip into something a little more unnerving. Uneasiness sets in your bones, makes you queasy as your fingers twitch. You hum, a groan that slips from between your lips and rouses Finnick as he opens his eyes and glances your way, eyes still heavy with sleep.

He starts to sit up as he sees you shift, your breath quickened and your muscles twitching. He calls your name gently, a first instinct he immediately realizes isn’t going to work. He hears you hum again and begins to reach a hand out. His fingers hardly brush the skin of your arm when your eyes suddenly open. You’re muttering something intelligible to yourself as you glance around frantically, eyes glazed over and movements full of adrenaline.

“Woah, you’re good,” he tries as you grip the cushions on the couch. It’s too warm and it’s cushy and you don’t want to be up there anymore. He’s still trying to ease you, hands out like you’re a frightened animal ready to attack him. You slide off the couch and onto the floor, where the cold hardwood greets your skin as you catch your breath, your face tucked between your arms as your whole body heaves for air.

He lets you stay there, concern written all over his face as he tries to figure out what the issue is. He guesses they’re just nightmares, bad, ugly nightmares that he, himself, has faced over and over and over again. He waits and waits and waits for your body to steady and for your breath to calm, keeping his hands out but away as he waits for you to recover.

When you’ve calmed down again, you lift your head and sit back against the floor, turning toward him with lethargic muscles, your adrenaline already waning as the exhaustion from before trumps everything else. You catch the movement of Finnick’s lips from out of the corner of your eye and turn to see him speak. “What’s wrong?”

You breathe in slowly, filling your whole chest as you gather yourself enough to answer. You stroke a circle over your chest with your fist, a movement he remembers seeing you do earlier when you were apologizing to him. He shakes his head gently, slowly shifting off of the couch to join you on the floor, giving you space as he props his elbow on the cushion.

“S’okay,” he says, his lips moving gently around the word. “What happened?”

You breathe out slowly, still centering yourself. You lean toward the table, sliding the notepad over with lazy movements. You contemplate before writing. /Vibrations./ You show it to him and he tilts his head. /I sleep with my hand on the floor. It lets me know if someone is coming, I can feel the footsteps in the ground. It wakes me up and keeps me out of trouble./

The way you write is different now, filling the missing blanks of words you’d usually leave out because they were unnecessary. Like you’re too tired to summarize, letting the words do their job as you slump against the table like you haven’t slept in ages and are simply going through the motions.

He moves slowly, letting you see what’s happening before it happens as he sets his hand atop your own on the table. You don’t move, glancing at his hand and letting it happen as his skin brushes yours. He feels honored.

“Well,” he says, “you’re safe here.” With me.

You manage to pull the corners of your lips up into a small smile, turning your hand so his rests in your palm. You raise your free hand to your chin. /Thank you./ You take a moment to sit there, looking at each other and enjoying the feelings of your hand in the other’s. Then you pull your hand away regretfully and pick up your pen.

/I should get back to my floor before my people worry./

He reads it off and nods. “Yeah, you’re probably right,” he sighs, already moving to stand to his feet as he holds his hand out to help you, hoping you would accept. When you do, he smiles. You lift yourself to your feet and give him another of your best in this condition.

You pick up the notepad one more time. /Thank you for the sweets. And for the company. I liked talking with you./

He puts a hand to his heart, too heartfelt to be teasing as he dips his head slightly. “My pleasure.”

Finnick walks with you to the elevator, standing by you in silence after the button is pressed as you both wait for the doors to slide open. When they do, you step in and offer yet another warm smile as you sigh and wave, mouthing the word “bye” as you depart from him, sad to go. He mouths the word back to you, though you’re not positive he spoke them as he offers a small wave of his own.

The doors shut and Finnick misses you already.

~

The blaring lights, (otherwise) deafening crowds, and extravagant costumes are something you get used to and never get used to all at once. All the attention is on you, and it's your job to make sure they are entertained as you make your way onto the stage with Hecton's at your side.

Lucky is standing, that unnervingly large grin tearing his face in two as he watches you excitedly. His hand is extended toward you, both to show you off and welcome you in.

"Hello, my dear!" he exclaims theatrically as he takes your hand. He places a kiss to your knuckles and then shakes Hecton's hand as well. You all take your seats, your smile the picture of thrilled.

"It's been a while since we have last spoken, hasn't it?" He stops dramatically and then says, "Well, a while since I spoke to you, at least." The air is on the fritz with cheers and laughter and more clapping as you look around at everyone. Lucky's laughter is just as wide. "How have you been, Y/N?"

You look at Hecton, your smile and his set in perfection. He speaks as you sign, beginning his role as your ultimate translator. "I've been great, Lucky. I've missed you!"

His big brows furrow as he slaps a hand over his heart. He turns to the adoring fans. "Oh, isn't that sweet?" He laughs again and looks back at you, his expression calmer but no less dramatic. "I have also missed you, my dear. Now, tell me, this is a tour for some of our previous victors, have you met any of them yet?" He leans in like you're sharing a secret.

"I'm glad you asked, I have. It's been great getting to be reacquainted with old friends and making new ones."

"Ooo," he says, looking around and encouraging the crowd to join in. "New ones like who?" He sits up straight and brings a finger to his lips, glancing away and smiling slyly. "I know I have it from a reliable source that you were mingling with District 4 Champion, Finnick Odair." He leans forward with narrowed eyes. "Do I sense something blossoming?"

He and the crowd tease you, making lovey dovey noises that you don't hear but definitely feel as you glance at Hecton and he raises his thick brows in amusement.

"Oh, Lucky," you smile like you'll laugh as Hecton continues to read your hands. "I wish I could agree, but who am I to say?" You shrug it off with a sigh.

"Oh, really?" he jabs. "Because when I brought it up with Finnick, I believe he described you as 'a special kind of beauty'." This riles the crowd up even more, they cheer louder and the air feels suffocating. You smile through it.

"Did he now?"

"He did."

Lucky laughs dramatically, Hecton laughs less dramatically, and the crowd eats right out of the palm of your hands.

"Well," Hecton says as you catch the attention again, "you know I'm not one to gossip."

"Ohh, not just this once?" He says it like he'll cry.

"I wish I could."

He sighs heavily. "Oh, well." The crowds 'aww's and you give an apologetic smile to them all. Lucky leans over and takes your hand in his, which you then cover with your own. "It has been lovely catching up with you, my dear. And you, too, Hecton, my friend." Hecton nods. "I hope to see you again soon, both of you—I do so love our talks!"

"As do I, Lucky. As do I."

He puts both hands over his chest this time, smiling with sadness to see you go. "Would you give us a kiss before you go?"

You stand to face the crowd and kiss your hand, blowing it out to them as they scream and shout for you. You beam and look at them all, waving happily.

"Oh, fantastic!" Lucky exclaims as he stands to join your side, Hecton at the other. He takes one of your hands again. "It is always a pleasure."

"The pleasure is all mine."

He turns to the adoring audience. "Our Silent Spectacle, everybody!"

They scream and shout and you press your cheeks to Lucky's before you and Hecton leave the stage. Even after you're past the curtain where they can no longer see you, you keep the smile as wide as you can until it trembles out of place.

/Very well done, Y/N,/ Hecton congratulates.

You huff out a tiring breath, massaging your cheeks before regaining your posture and masking your frown with a much softer smile as you respond. /It's exhausting./

He offers a sympathetic look. /Maybe so, but they love it./ He glances at you again, noticing the fatigue in your eyes and your twitching lips, the nerves kicking from overuse. He sighs, taking your hand and turning you to him.

/You've got to keep them happy./

You look at him, how his words reflected a deeper worry, a double meaning that surpasses the gratification of your adoring crowds. Your eyes glue to his own, solemn, sober—a fair contrast from the faces surrounding you, drunk on the sap of their own self-importance.

/I know,/ you nod.

The tense moment is interrupted as a new player enters the arena. Hecton is the one to turn first, redirecting your attention toward the person approaching you. You immediately smile, an instinct by this point as you turn your gaze on your next audience. It only takes a moment for you to recognize the person, and your smile comes a little easier.

Seeing the situation before he approaches, Finnick wonders whether or not it would be appropriate to interrupt. But when your mentor turns and you turn with him, and you smile a more genuine smile upon seeing him, he finds that he doesn't really care if it's appropriate right now.

"You're quite the personality," he says as he steps up, smiling himself as he tilts his head.

"They love quiet, happy girls," Hecton translates as you sign. Finnick really doesn't think his voice suits you, coarse and thick with an accent hard to find.

"That, they do," he nods. He licks his bottom lip, "So you'll be headed back off today?"

You turn toward Hecton, your jaw clenching briefly before you turn back. "Soon. I've got some business tonight and then we'll be off tomorrow."

"Business?" he raises a curious brow, taking a small step forward as his lips quirked. "What kind of business?"

You tilt your chin, a nervous kind of smile on your lips as you move a hooked finger from your nose to your cupped hand. "Nosey," you tease, though Hecton speaks it flatly.

"Oh, it's a secret?" he wonders, even more curious now. He doesn't speak like a creep as he continues, holding that same teasing feeling while also offering his genuine curiosity. "I have a thing for secrets, y'know. I can keep it safe for you…"

You do it again, with a little more delight this time. Again, Hecton's translation holds no ounce of the delight you give off as you talk to Finnick. "Nosey," he repeats, this time with a little more sternness to get him to stop asking. You give him a side glance, but he isn't affected.

Before you can communicate anything else, Hecton's sets his hand on your lower back. It isn't patronizing, he's just used to guiding you, your protector.

"Come now, Y/N," he says. "It's time we were off."

You sigh gently but nod, still smiling as you glanced up at him. You begin to wave to Finnick, but he speaks as you're waving your hand.

"Am I free to visit down in District 10?" he asks, his tone light and playful to avoid sounding as hopeful as he feels. He's just met you, and he wants to know you.

You nod quickly, too eager. You move two fingers over your fist, missing the way Hecton doesn't translate. But Finnick can figure that one out himself.

His chest floods with relief. "I'll keep it in mind."

You wave. /Goodbye, Finnick./ The way you sign his name is different. Where he is expecting to see the familiar letters you showed him last night, he finds a wave of your hands and a fond smile.

He winks at you. "Goodbye, sweetcheeks."

You scrunch your nose, circling your hand over your belly. /Gross./

Hecton is already walking you away as Finnick blows you a cheesy kiss, mirroring the one you'd done for the audience earlier. You wave him off, smiling and shaking your head as you go.

When you're far enough from him, walking away from backstage to wherever you were headed now, Hecton's intense brows are furrowed in what you can only assume is annoyance at his distrust in Finnick.

/You seemed familiar./

/Stop./

Music to My Eyes taglist: ... This is a temporary taglist for those who want to be tagged in the sequel to Music to My Eyes, Finnick Odair x Reader. Please keep in mind that once the second part is posted, the tag will disappear. Feel free to DM, comment, or send me an ask to be added, if you would like. Or simply add yourself here...

[groupiewhoreee]

Hi! if you have time would you write getting caught with izzy smut cause he needed you so bad

hiii!!!!! omg surr! i'd love to do this! also i have been getting so many izzy requests LMAO people are just so downbad for izzy ig

Heat Of The Moment

Pairing: Izzy Stradlin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Smut, P in V, unprotected sex, just smut.

Summary: In request by a lovely anon <3

Note: I didn't read over this or anything since I was busy at the moment! So its bad.

One of Izzy's hands were entangled in your hair, tugging it ever so slightly and yanking your head backwards. His other hand was rested on your hip, gently caressing your curves that you had to offer. Soft, but yet quiet moans of pleasure escaped the airplane bathroom, grunts, and low pitched groans could be hear too, mixing together with your moans. Your legs shook, and quaked, as you were leant over the small sink that was cramped into the tiny bathroom. He pounded away at you at a rough but fast pace. "Fuck, Izzy-" You moaned out in a high pitch, your voice cracked alongside it. Izzy took his hand / fingers out of your hair, releasing his grip and immediately over to your mouth, covering it. "Shh, be quiet baby. You don't want them to hear, don't you? Unless you want them to hear.." Izzy chuckled lightly into your ear, continuing to go at a rough pace. You simply nodded, moaning into his hand as it was muffled. You didn't know if the other boys were awake, yet. Izzy sweet-talked you, "Your so pretty baby, I just can't resist you.. wearing skirts so short," He hummed with a smirk. Before you got into the bathroom with the male, Axl, Duff, Steven, and Slash were all asleep, snoring away. You assumed they couldn't hear you. .. or maybe they could? You let out a pleasured sigh, your eyes rolled back into your head. Izzy's mouth went to your neck, sucking at the skin, and making purple, but almost pink love bites. He bit into your skin, leaving harsh bite marks. You were close, and Izzy was too. "I'm close, sweetheart." He hummed in your ear, before going back to burying his face into your neck, his long and flowing black hair fell over his face.

Maybe after a minute or two, you climaxed, and cum dripped down your thighs. Izzy still wasn't there yet, so he continued to thrust into you. Little did you know, you didn't lock the bathroom door. Why? You forgot since it was so rushed,, and he needed you. Bad. Izzy grunted, about to cum until Axl, opened the airplane door. You two immediately looked over at him. "-Holy shit," Axl said, now covering his eyes, but he began to laugh. "I see you two we're having fun?" He asked to you, and you frowned. "Get out!" You shouted. "Okay okay, jesus, i'm leaving. Maybe lock the door next time, dumbass." Axl rolled his eyes, and closed it. After a minute, Izzy went back at it and came inside of you, not asking if you wanted him to or not. You two got all dressed and ready, and when you guys walked out, they were all snickering and staring at you. Axl had told all of them what happened. "So I-" Duff didn't get to finish, "-Shut up." Izzy huffed and went to sit with you in the very back. He let you have the window seat and held your hand. "Sorry, I forgot to lock it. I just needed you so bad," He chuckled. "It's okay," you hummed in reply. "I love you, babe." He told you, and kissed your cheek. "I love you too, Izzy," You replied and kissed his nose.

[enhafilthandfiction]

$ex Tape - Sim Jake

A/N : Hi Anon, your brain is so good for this, this literally screams Jake. Ik for a fact that this boy would want to make a sex tape lmao, istg he's a sex symbol to me. Anyway, happy reading! :)

Synopsis : Jake has been begging you to film a porn tape, but you didn't expect him to film when you were having a quickie. What happens when his friends come back home to find you having sex on the living room couch, and even worse, filming a sex tape?

Pairing : Bf!Jake X Fem!Reader

Warnings : kissing, make outs, quickie, fingering, filming you two having sex, unprotected sex, withdrawal, voyeurism.

Word Count : 1,600 Words

Masterlist

Your very risky, horny boyfriend Jake has been begging you to make a sex tape for a while now, claiming that making your own porn was so hot. Every time, you would think about it but you were always a little unsure. Until all his begging started to get annoying.

"Fine. We'll film it next time we have sex" you announced, looking at his beaming smile of happiness. Sometimes he acted like a kid who constantly whines until they get their candy.

"Yeahh, promise?" he asked you with that big smile, holding out his pinky finger at you.

You roll your eyes. "Promise" you also put out your pinky finger, him intertwining it with yours before leaning in to give you a hug and place a little sneaky kiss on your neck.

What you didn't know was however, is that the next time you two had sex, it was a quickie against time, before his friends came back home.

It started by you sitting in his lap for a nice hug until he started kissing you and your neck, a simple kiss turning into a heated make out session on the main couch.

"Please Y/n, it'll be quick I promise" he pleads, begging you to fuck him on the living room couch before his friends come back.

"Jake, they're coming back in a little less than half an hour!" you whine, trying to shake your head no, but deep down, you knew how irresistible he was and that you were going to give in.

He looked at you with puppy eyes, and you knew he was was hard. Fuck, you couldn't embarrass him like that in front of his friends or letting him down by making him take care of it himself. "Fine" you roll your eyes, pulling off your top.

He smiles widely and reaches for his phone which was somewhere on the couch as well. He opens the camera and places it at the end of the couch the camera facing you both and your position. You almost forgot about the promise you made him, sighing when you realised he wanted to film the porn tape now.

You shut your mouth and hoped it was gonna be quick, not wanting to risk the others finding you fucking, and even worse, making a sex tape. But Jake on the other hand, loved it. He loved the risk and it egged him on even more.

"Ready?" he asked you before pressing the play button to start recording. "Ready" you reply, trying to make it as quick as possible. He presses play and looks up at you with a cheeky smile one last time before leaning up to kiss your lips, his hands finding your bare hips.

His top was already off, haven removed it way before you came up to him since it was getting hot lately. He just needed to get your panties off and slide his down. "Get up for me baby" he whispers, his low husky voice ringing in your ears.

You get up and let him slide your panties down, eagerly pulling you back on him. Once you're back on him with his legs between your knees, his hand instantly snakes down to between your body, feeling your wetness before spreading it to your clit, rubbing messy cirlces.

"Fuck you're so wet" he points out, licking his lips "You like this don't you? the guys barging in hm? watching you take my cock like a good slut?" he teases, not really expecting them to be home that early, since Heeseung usually buys the whole ramen isle when they go shopping.

All you can do is whimper above him as he slides in one of his nimble fingers into your tight cunt and hear as he hums out at your warmth. "F-fuck Jake" you moan out, forgetting about the stupid video he's recording, the pleasure getting overwhelming.

"Yeah? Feels good?" he asks, looking up at your pleasured face which already gives him an answer. You nod your head vigorously, biting your lips as he fingers you at a quicker pace. When he feels you clenching tighter around him, he just removes his fingers, watching you frown at the loss of contact.

He easily lifts you up by your waist just to slide down his sweats along with his boxer briefs before lowering you back on his thigh. His cock springs up, almost slapping against his abs, before he gives it a few strokes, grunting at the feeling.

He fists his cock a few more times before looking up at you expectedly with a smug grin on his face. "C'mon baby, ride me" he orders, putting his hands to his sides and leaving it up to you.

You shakily lift your hips up, grabbing the base of his cock and aligning it with your entrance. You slowly sink down on it, the thickness stretching you out so well. "F-fuckkk" you breathe out, trying to adjust for a second.

He wastes no time grabbing your ass, moving you up and down his cock. "Yeah, show them how well you can take it" he says, referring to the viewers who will be watching the video. Probably not anyone but himself to masturbate with it, he's too possessive to send a video of you getting fucked to anyone.

"Fuck yeah, just like that baby, you're doing so well" he tips his head back, focusing on the pleasure of your tight, wet pussy gripping and clenching around his dick like that.

With his hands on your ass he can easily move you up and down, fucking you on him, rather than letting you ride him. He gets lost in pleasure and so do you, losing track of time. You don't acknowledge the fact that the video's already about 20 minutes long and suddenly..

"We're bac- fuck" Heeseung's words are cut off when he notices the scene infront of him. Right in the living room on the main couch which was almost at the entrance.

"You have got to be kidding me" Sunghoon deadpans as Jay makes his way over to the couch to see what the guys are seeing. With the shopping bags long forgotten, they gather around the couch, thankful that despite their appearances, Jake kept going.

"You little shit" you whisper in his ear, your burning face hidden in the crook of his neck, shy of the guy's attentive stares. Jake loves the fact that he's the only one getting pussy, the other having to desperately palm themselves over their jeans, not being able to do anything.

They notice Jake's phone recording and share glances between each other, thinking that you two had an only fans account or something. Jake smirks to himself, fucking harder up into you, making you moan into his neck.

"J-Jake fuckkk" you try to muffle into his neck but it's for nothing because they all heard you and felt jealous of him, gripping their hardening cocks through their jeans.

"Yeah baby, tell them who's fucking you this good, let them hear you moan my name" he bites his lips as he feels you becoming tighter around him, indicating you're close. He also loved the way his friends were almost moaning messes, desperately wanting to jerk themselves off but also wanting to be respectful.

"Fuck Jake, grope her tits" none other than Heeseung desperately said. Jake looks up at you before sliding his hands up your waist to your breasts, grabbing them and squeezing them in his palms. He could've sworn he saw Heeseung cum in his pants at the sight.

"Jakey I'm cumming!" you warned, him agreeing to your statement. "Me too baby, s-shit" he informs you, thrusting up into you a few more times before pulling out and jerking himself off, cumming on your tummy and tits for all of them to see.

"Fuckk" he moaned out one last time before leaning back against the couch, hands still holding your waist with your face still hidden in his neck. "So good" he praises "You did so well for me, doll"

Sunghoon suddenly bent over the couch to grab Jake's phone, stopping the video. "Sooo, how much are you selling this tape for?" he asks, referring to the video, wanting to buy it and watch it.

"It doesn't matter, I'm willing to pay anything, send it to me" clarifies Heeseung from the other side of the couch.

"Guys, you've all seen in it first person why do you need the video?" Jay questions as if they were dumb.

"To re-watch it?" they say almost together.

You and Jake giggle realising how awkward this is. "Can you guys get the fuck out so we can dress up? Please?" he asks the guys, his face turning red.

"Geez, next time you should get a room" Heeseung says, not meaning it since if you did get a room, he wouldn't be able to witness porn on the main couch. "Yeah, save yourself some embarrassment" Sunghoon continues, also making his way out of the living room.

When they were all out, you lightly slapped Jake on his bicep, scolding him for this and telling him that you were right all along. "I told you that they'd catch us!" you exclaimed, crossing your arms. "They probably think we're a horny couple with a twitter account or only fans now" you pout, looking down in shame.

"That's because we are, Honey" he confirms "A very horny couple indeed, and we will be starting a twitter account" he smiles proudly like its the best idea he's ever come up with. "Wanna show you off online, make more people jealous of me you know?"

"Jake, you're really stupid sometimes"

Hiii, thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed! sorry for not posting yesterday, I had a fever fever, fever, fever. Anyways, have a good day/night and remember that ily <333

[fanfictionstuff]

Amaimon x Student (16)

I can't believe this has sixteen chapters. This wasn't meant to be a legit story lmao I forgot I didn't add his tail last chapter.

The next morning, the first sensation that greets you is pain. Every part of your body aches, making it difficult to pull yourself up from the bed. Amaimon isn’t gentle, and you wince as you inadvertently brush against a bruise on your leg. He sits beside you, watching your struggle to sit up with an unsettling indifference. “Could you please help me into the bathroom?” Amaimon nods and slips off the bed to assist you. As you lean on him for support, each step you take is more painful than the last. After a few steps, you aren’t sure if it’s out of annoyance or a desire to help, but he lifts you into his arms and carries you into the bathroom.

He leaves you alone in the bathroom, and after quickly using the toilet, you stand up and frown. You hadn’t thought about this. “Amaimon?” It feels embarrassing to ask for help, and you’re uncertain if he would even care enough to assist. When he returns to the bathroom, you’re leaning against the sink for support. “Could you get a chair from the table?” It’s the only thing you can think of.

“A chair?”

“Yeah, I can’t stand to take a shower…” You admit.

Amaimon’s eyes sweep over you, noting every bite, scratch, and bruise while you awkwardly lean against the sink for support. "Oh," he responds, not heading for the chair. Instead, he steps closer, offering himself as a support once again. “We’ll take a shower.” He pulls you into the shower and turns on the water; after a moment, once the water is heated, he turns it to you, causing you to hiss and pull away. Amaimon has to catch you before you fall, holding you tightly against his chest. “It’s too hot.” He looks confused for a moment before he nods and changes the temperature; you jolt in his arms again. “That’s too cold.” The cold water is probably good for some of your pain, but it’s not what you need. “You said the other was too hot.”

“More hot, less cold,” you say with a groan. When Amaimon stares at you in confusion, you adjust the temperature to just the right level. He gives you an odd look when it’s set, but he doesn’t say anything about it.

Reaching for the shampoo proves difficult, and when Amaimon notices your struggle, he quickly takes it from the shelf for you. “I’ll do it, just lean on me," he insists, squirting some shampoo into his hands. He gently runs his fingers through your hair, carefully scratching your scalp while massaging the shampoo into your hair.

As Amaimon massages the shampoo into your hair, you can't help but close your eyes and lean into his touch. His fingers are surprisingly gentle. The warmth of the water cascading down your body, mixed with the soothing sensation of Amaimon's fingers in your hair, creates a sense of comfort that you hadn't expected. 

When he finishes washing out the shampoo and starts on the conditioner, you dare to open your eyes and meet his gaze in the steamy shower. His expression is neutral, but there's a flicker of something in his eyes that you can't quite place. It's almost as if he's...concerned? 

As he rinses out the conditioner, you muster up the courage to speak. "Thank you, Amaimon." 

He glances at you, a flicker of surprise in his eyes before his typical nonchalant mask swiftly hides it as he reaches for your sponge. He holds you close as he glides the sponge over your body, gently navigating the bruises and scratches covering your skin. Once you’re taken care of, Amaimon quickly washes himself, though he continues to hold you against him. 

After the shower, he follows your instructions to locate the towels, wrapping both of you in them before gently carrying you back to your bed. “Amaimon, I have some pain pills in the living room; could you please get them for me? They’re on the table next to the sofa."

When he returns, he has changed into a pair of shorts, and something peculiar catches your eye behind him. You lean in slightly for a better look. “Amaimon, why is your tail different?” You had noticed it somewhat last night, but Amaimon hadn’t exactly given you the chance to look around. If your face wasn’t pressed into the mattress, he made sure you were looking only into his eyes. He shrugs, handing you a glass of water and pills. “Most of us have tails like this when our vessels are more human.” 

Amaimon watches you quietly for a moment, realizing that he might have been a bit too rough last night. He knows he’ll need to be gentle for the next week or two. “Sorry,” he states bluntly, before rummaging through your drawers in search of clothing for you—just some underwear and a large t-shirt. He glances over his shoulder at your bruised thighs, deciding that shorts might not be appropriate just yet.

He hands you the clothing, then pulls on the shirt he wore last night. “I’ll get lunch. Stay here.”

-------------------------------------------------------------

He finds a restaurant not far from your home. Upon entering, he awkwardly stares at the menu, unsure of what you would like to eat. The staff encourages him to take his time as he sits in a spot reserved for to-go orders. After another moment of scanning the menu, he places the order. 

Moments later, Rin Okumura and his blonde friend entered the restaurant, laughing among themselves. Rin’s gaze instinctively landed on Amaimon, and a smug grin spread across his face. “______ isn’t with you? I guess Mephisto finally spoke to you.”

“You’re the one who cried to Mephisto?” Amaimon stares blankly at Rin. “He did speak to me last night, and ______. I was in her apartment when he appeared.” 

“Finally, so you’ll leave her alone?” Rin is confident that this time Amaimon will have to acknowledge that he will indeed leave ______ alone. With Mephisto involved, he has no other choice now.

Amaimon shakes his head. “No. She’s mine.” Just then, a staff member calls out his order number. Slowly, he rises to collect the paper bags. “I made sure of that last night.”

Rin glares, beginning to raise his voice. “What do you mean you made sure of it!?” 

“No other man can give her the pleasure I gave her last night. She is mine. Forever.” 

“But you don’t love her!” He snaps back. 

“I don’t.” He agrees. 

“You’re mean!” Shiemi interjects during their argument. “Why are you treating someone who loves you like this? You don’t love her, so why do you want her? You’re hurting her feelings.” 

Amaimon pauses, an unusual look flashing in his eyes before it melds back into his usual emotionless gaze. “She’s told you multiple times she wants it. She wants me. There’s nothing else to say.” He turns his back to the two teenagers, leaving the restaurant.  “That bastard,” Rin growls, preparing to chase after him, but Shiemi holds him back. “Rin, I think he likes her.”  

“He just said he didn’t.”  

“He said he doesn’t love her, but I really think he likes her. Maybe he just doesn’t realize it yet?”  

“Bingo!”

Mephisto's nosy ass is always everywhere.

[lovelykil]

would you perhaps be willing to write the recent voice memo headcanon you wrote for kenny… just an thought…

─Headcanons─

kenny x reader older ver.

cw; nsfw

hc; reader asking for whimpering/ moaning vm from kenny

note; lmao so I actually thought on adding him but I got tired and jst forgot abt it.. anyway let's start ⤵

Kenny checked his door to see if it was locked one more time then got into his bed to start touching himself for the 5th time that night.

He was eager to touch you again that's probably why he was so horny, the last time you guys were together it didn't go far, it was just a slight heated make out session then you had to get to class, leaving him with a sad boner.

As Kenny looked down at his erection he almost wanted to weep he was tired of doing it himself, he wished you were here.

He sighed, pulling down his boxers to do the job when he got a text.

(mind you I actually don't have an iPhone but I'm using a imessage app bc its so aesthetically pleasing to me so ignore the emojis 🙄)

Kenny stared at his cracked old phone trying to come up with a response, he laughed to himself typing away.

With that Kenny began to fulfill your request, he wasn't shy about it either he was actually kinda happy you asked.

With a tap to his cracked phone the audio started to pick up what he was doing, he touched the tip of his member letting out a breathless moan.

His dick was so hard it hurt, he slowly stroked his length slightly making sure to bring his phone to his mouth so you could hear.

Also let's just say the mic on his phone was actually good, okay.. 😭

His hips began to buckle up slightly, groaning from the pleasure.

And unlike Stan and Kyle he was probably the only one who didn't mind moaning in your ear or letting out any sound but he rather hear you.

His heavy breathing was low and whiney, jerking his head back as he thought of you.

A scene entered his mind, you were kneeled down infront of him blowing on his growth then jerking it off. He pretended his hand was yours, which made him grow slightly louder.

Saying some.. interesting things on accident though was it really with Kenny?

"Oh shit, just- like that baby.."

He whispered, panting about to reach his limit.

Once he felt his peak coming he let out a mumbled grunt, trying not to be loud.

A flash of you appeared in his head, he just let out his warm seed into your womb, holding you by the waist as you moaned into a pillow.

He instantly grinned, panting heavily.

"Ohh fuck Y/n." He spoke under his breath, low and hushed.

He then sent the vm, texting back.

[red-takami]

Hi North!

Can you share how one bonds with a dragon in your Navariah DR? Also, what other mythical/magical creatures live in Navariah and if one could bond with those creatures in the same way as dragons?

Navariah is super fascinating to me, I love hearing about it!

Hey y'all! I see all of your questions I promise, I'll get to them ALL eventually. Anyways 🌚

In my Navariah Dr, I have two dragons, my main dragon that comes with me on expeditions or when I'm just in need of a big powerhouse with wings, Ajax. My other dragon, she's a shifter (no pun intended 😭) her usual form being just a teeny little snake that I keep wrapped around my ankle or somewhere on my person, Lillian. She turns into a huge floating dark green and white glider with teeth that could snap a tree in half probably (haven't considered her to try it out yet but we're getting there)

Ajax is still a baby compared to how old dragons get, he's only around 100 years or so old so he's like a puppy almost, Lillian is a bit older, having had a human partner before me before they retired.

I met Ajax first, after I had turned 20 and started getting classes on military foundations and dragons work (riding, aid, sometimes military work, bonding and instructing, all kinds of stuff) cuz I knew I wanted to be somewhere working for the royals. Ajax was assigned to me after I accomplished my first 3 star assignments while in school (basically tests, one on paper sort of like an exam but one legit lasts 24 entire hours, second one is in training where I've learned an extraordinary skill related to dragon work ((in this case, directing large groups and being successful enough to win a star), and third being approved by an elder by presenting everything you've acquired through your schooling and show promise for both the dragons and Navarians)

Shit took more effort than id like to remember, but it's achievable and I ended up being introduced to my now companion Ajax. He's still pretty new to like.. everything, so we're both still getting the hang of some things, but overall we grew closer over one as we BOTH climbed the ranks and experienced troubles and errors together.

Lillian, actually came to me instead of me seeking her out surprisingly. Popped up on my windowsill one night while I was shaving my mustache in the mirror (I'm a girl btw, forgot to script I don't have insane hair genes) and told me she's been following me around for some weeks and desired to get back into work since her last partner had retired, and that my path that I was on was the exact one she wanted to follow as well. It took a while for me, her, and Ajax to form a WELL functioning trio since Ajax is very prone to mistakes while in the heat of the moment and she's very picky, and very peculiar about how she wants things done, and I just trying to keep us all functioning properly enough to get the job done lmao. However!!! Again, through struggle and errors made together, we grew to be a solid group and they're both now my most trusted souls among a few others as a section general under the queen today. Yippie!!!

(forgot to answer the other questions before I posted this so here's the answers for them that I made on Tik Tok, SORRY!)