#open requests

[deepspacedandelion]

How They Would Talk To You In Bed: Love and Deepspace LI’s

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Warnings: Smut, little cursing, dirty talk, mentions of cum/slightly hinted creampie’s (wrap it ‘fo you tap it yall.”)

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Caleb:

Caleb is a freak, low(high)key, so he’d be very vocal. He likes a little teasing (both giving and receiving) that is mixed with praise. Caleb loves to question you (in an EXTREMELY lewd way) and he wants you, not only to ACTUALLY answer but to question him as-well, not in a doubtful way, but in a reassuring (-ly lewd) way. He just wants to hear a self proclamation of your love and pleasure like he self-proclaims his. Nearing his climax, he’d absolutely LOVE reassurance from you that HE is YOURS—compared to the more commonly used (by male LI's) “you are mine”—, It’d make him cum so hard. HE knows you’re his, YOU know you’re his, and even though HE knows he’s yours, he wants to be told by you over and over again. He wants you to willingly claim him out of your own desire, not just because he claims you. Another thing I think he (his freaky ass) would LOVE is talking to your pussy. He relishes in the way the blush creeps up your cheeks and you get so shy, trying to hide your face from him (which he definitely wouldn't allow). He knows it drives you and her (your pussy) crazy, he can tell by how wet you're getting, how your legs shake subtly. Afterall, he knows his girls so well.

• "Hear that, baby? She's talking to me. She's begging me to fuck her so good, remind her who she belongs to."

• "Look at it, baby. Look how she's taking me so well. Look at how pretty she looks suckin' in my cock? All for you, right? No one else. They can't take it from you, I won't let them."

• "No, no. Don't hide. I want to see your pretty face when I make you cum all over my cock, yeah?"

• "I'm yours, baby, only yours. Let me show you, hm? Let me fuck my cum so deep in you and show you. You'd like that wouldn't you?"

• "So quiet now, are you, Pipsqeak? You were so mouthy earlier, now all I can hear is your pussy swallowing my fingers. How 'bout a few pretty moans for me? Let me know how good I'm making you feel."

Zayne:

Contrary to his seemingly less talkative nature, Zayne is actually quite vocal in bed (in terms of using actual words to express himself). Don’t get me wrong, he LOVES to moan and groan in your ear, your pussy always clenches so tight around him when he does, but he would LOVE to praise you (and receive a little for himself). His reputation as a medical professional requires him to be VERY specific which definitely translates well in the bedroom. His comments are always so specific, making you feel so seen. He tells you EXACTLY what he likes and EXACTLY how and why you’re doing so good. He'll throw in a few questions here and there, genuinely curious on how to make every time even better for you both. One last thing he'd include (mainly in foreplay) is some sexual observations he'd researched (he just wants to make you feel the best he can)

• “You’re taking me so well, My Love, always making me feel so good. Do you like to see me like this? Falling apart right above you?”

• "I love when you clench around me. Do it again and again. Yes~ Like that. You’re always such a good girl for me.”

• "Do you like kissing my neck that much? I like it too.”

• "Is it alright if I kiss you here? I think it could be another erogenous zone for you. Oh~ you must like it. Don’t worry, My Love, I won’t stop.”

• "Deep breaths, My Love, it could make your orgasm more powerful. Would you like to try that? I want you to enjoy yourself.”

Sylus:

Firstly, let me just start off by saying Sylus is EXTREMLY sensitive and reactive to your touch (*cough* Innocent Birdcage *cough*). I just know this man is a TRUE SWITCH but, anyway, anyway, He talks a little here and there, mostly about how good it feels, how close he is, where he wants you to touch him, how he wants you to touch him, and a little praise sprinkled in between, but, overall it’s mostly moans, groans, mewls, whimpers, and pants as he loses himself in the pleasure given to him by you. He can’t help how his head throws back or hangs low and his face scrunches up in ecstasy, eyes closed as he loses himself. He craves your touch all over his body, any and everywhere you can. Truthfully, he cums multiple times (atleast 2-3) every time you two make love. Majority of the time, he's a mewling, moaning mess, but he'll throw in a couple words every now and again. On the rare occasion though, he'd throw in a snide question (which he is genuinely asking, it's not rhetorical lol, so, definitely answer that, *cough* Nightly Rendezvous *cough*).

• "Are you teasing me? That's not very nice of you, Sweetie."

• “Have you forgotten how good I made you feel last time? It’s okay, Kitten. I don’t mind reminding you.”

• “I love being inside you this way. The two of us, becoming one, it’s my favorite thing. After all, we are true kindred spirits.”

• “What a pretty kitten you are. Does it feel good? Is that why you’re purring? My, my, kitten, you look ravishing.”

• “I want to look into your darling eyes when I cum inside you. Do you want that, sweetheart? Tell me you want that. Tell me you want me. Tell me who’s making you feel this good.”

Xavier:

Xavier is quite different from the rest of the bunch; not that he doesn’t talk or moan, but he does prefer to listen to you mostly. You just sound so pretty pinned beneath him. He absolutely LOVES to kiss, (*cough* Nightly Rendezvous *cough*), so his mouth is pretty occupied most of the time. But on occasion, he does enjoy dropping ‘comments’ (for lack of better terms), a little bit of praise, a few questions to reassure him, and lastly, the cherry on top, a few soft commands. Majority of his “bedroom sounds” is just the wet sounds of kissing, and a few pants/deep breaths to keep him grounded in the pleasure. But he is a sucker for eye contact, especially when he’s commenting on how good you feel.

• “Put your legs around my waist. I can get deeper that way.”

• “Oh! Right there~ It feels so good. I don’t think I can hold it much longer.”

• “Don’t stop, I’m almost there. I want to fill you up. I want to fuck it deeper into you. No! Don’t turn away. If you turn away, I’ll stop.”

• “Do you like when I touch you here? Or maybe you prefer… here. Is that why you bite your lip?”

• “You’re doing good, yes, please, more. Just like that and I’ll cum.”

Rafayel:

Oh boy. Rafayel is a bit of a wild card in my opinion, depending on his mood. He’s definitely a switch (from being a bratty sub ( *cough* Gem Affection *cough*) to a crybaby top (*cough* Tailwag Moment *cough*) to a soft dom, (*cough* Tipsy Evasion and Intertidal Zone *cough*), so his sounds do fluctuate, but when he’s a soft dom, they mostly range between: subtle praise, teasing, taunting questions, and snide comments. When he’s a crybaby top, he loves to moan and mewl but he also can’t help apologizing, he doesn’t mean to cum so fast, or grip you too hard, or to be too rough and incontrollable when he loses himself in how good you feel. As for being a bratty sub, oh boy, does he live to tease you. He pokes fun at your methods; how lightly you’re touching him, how you could tie him down tighter, how you could fuck him harder. He comments on your wavering confidence with a cocky smirk, but it’s all in good fun. He’d never actually say anything demeaning or something that would hurt your feelings (he’d cry if he ever did, oh no🥺, poor baby would be in shambles), but he’d poke just enough to see how much rougher you can get. He just wants to build your confidence in yourself, he knows you’re capable of putting him in his place (just the way he likes), and he wants you to know it too.

• (Bratty Sub): “C’mon, Princess, You can fuck me harder than that. I know you can.”

• (Bratty Sub): “Growing bolder, I see. I didn’t expect that from you. Oh? A punishment? Maybe that’s what I wanted in the first place.”

• (Crybaby Top): “I’m sorry, Princess. I didn’t mean to cum so soon. I can’t help it, you just make me feel too good.”

• (Crybaby Top): “I’ve been good, I’ve been so good for you I swear. Please… please let me cum inside you again. Just one more time.”

• (Soft Dom): “You’re getting wetter and wetter, like ocean waves. I like that.”

• (Soft Dom) “Yes, touch me, just like that. Gently, up and down. Ah yes~ So obedient for me. Maybe I should give you a reward. Would you like that? I knew you would, Princess.”

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Kinda debating how much I like this, but yeah, they all freaks lowkey. Next up is probably more ships, but I definitely have some more (smut) ideas brewing😏 as always, feel free to send in any requests!~😌🫶🏽💙

[onlybeeewrites]

Echos

Request: Could I request a one shot where Finnick odair x fem! Reader reunite after the reader is saved from the capital?

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Fem!reader

Word count: 3.2k

Warnings: Mockingjay violence, torture, psychological torture, jabber jays, peeta’s torture in the capital, Johanna’s torture in the capital, PTSD, anxiety, fear, capital manipulation, president snow

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pain. It was all you knew. Every breath, every moment since they dragged you from that godforsaken arena was laced with agony. You never should have left Finnick’s side. You had promised—sworn—that no matter what, you’d stick together. That you’d never risk losing each other again.

But you also remembered what Haymitch had told you before the Games. The plan.

He had pressed a golden bracelet into your hand—almost identical to Finnick’s. A token, a silent promise. A reminder of what you had to do. Keep Katniss and Peeta in the dark. Keep them both alive. But above all else, get Katniss out.

For a while, everything had been going according to plan. The bread had come, the signal was given, and the time had come to put Beetee’s strategy into motion. You had hope. This could work.

And then it all fell apart.

The explosion hit.

A blast of force sent you both you and Peeta flying, slamming you against a tree, knocking the wind from your lungs. The last thing you saw before everything went black was the blinding white light of destruction—debris raining down as the arena shattered.

Pain drags you back to consciousness.

It’s different now—sharp, aching, thrumming through every nerve in your body. Your head is heavy, your thoughts sluggish, and when you try to move, your limbs feel foreign, unresponsive.

The first thing you register is the cold. Not just from the sterile air, but from the hard surface beneath you, unforgiving and clinical. The second is the color. White. Blindingly white. The walls, the ceiling, the floor. Even the flimsy gown draped over your battered body. It’s like you’ve been erased, stripped down to nothing.

A cell.

You try to sit up, but the movement sends a sharp spike of pain through your ribs. Bruised—maybe cracked. Your wrists are raw, red marks circling them, though you don’t remember why. You don’t remember much at all beyond the explosion. Beyond the moment the arena fell apart.

The soft hiss of a door opening snaps you to attention.

Boots echo against the floor, slow and deliberate. You force yourself to look up, and ice coils in your veins.

President Snow stands before you.

He’s composed as ever, dressed in crisp white, his cold blue eyes studying you like you’re an insect pinned beneath glass. A faint, almost amused smile tugs at his lips. In his hands, he cradles a pristine white rose.

You steel yourself, masking the fear clawing at your throat. You don’t speak first. You won’t give him the satisfaction.

Snow takes a slow breath, inhaling the scent of the rose before his gaze locks onto you. “You’re quite the survivor, aren’t you?”

You say nothing.

“I must admit, I was quite disappointed to see you among those extracted from the arena. A shame, really. I had hoped for better from a Victor of District Four.” He tilts his head. “Finnick Odair’s love.”

Your stomach twists at Finnick’s name, but you keep your face blank. You don’t know where he is. If he made it out. If he’s even alive.

Snow takes a step closer, watching you carefully. “You see, we know there was a plan. We know the Quarter Quell was never meant to go as intended. The rebels orchestrated this, didn’t they?” He crouches slightly, lowering himself to your level. “Why don’t you save us all some time and tell me what you know?”

You blink at him, forcing your expression into something blank, confused. “Plan?” Your voice is hoarse, barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Snow sighs, shaking his head with mock disappointment. “Lying is beneath you.” He leans in slightly, and you catch the faintest hint of blood beneath the overwhelming scent of roses. “Very well. We have ways of making you talk,”

And you know he’s right.

And the pain he afflicts never left. It simply changed—sometimes sharp and searing, sometimes a dull ache that settled in your bones—but it was always there.

Time blurred in the Capitol. You didn’t know how long it had been since they ripped you from the arena, since the explosion stole you away from Finnick. Days, weeks… it could have been months. You weren’t sure anymore. You weren’t sure of anything anymore.

They never let you rest. The sterile white walls, the blinding overhead lights, the sound of footsteps approaching and retreating—it all became part of your existence. And then there were Peeta and Johanna.

You caught glimpses of them when they dragged you through the halls, when you passed rooms where screams bled through the walls.

Peeta was barely recognizable anymore. The hijacking, the tracker jackers, had shattered him, stolen the light that used to live in his eyes. He couldn’t focus for long, his mind darting from one fleeting thought to the next. His words were broken, a disjointed mess of confusion and hurt. His body trembled constantly, his hands shaking as if they couldn’t hold onto the fragments of his sanity. He would mumble to himself, apologize for things he didn’t understand, and then, in a fit of panic, beg you to stay, to tell him he wasn’t lost. And you would do your best to assure him, sooth him from across the room.

It was unbearable.

Johanna was different. She was quieter, but there was something hollow in her. Her body shook violently from withdrawal, her lips cracked from dehydration. The Capitol had drowned her over and over again, only to pull her back just before she crossed the line between life and death. When she looked at you, there was no spark of rebellion, no fire. Just exhaustion and pure resentment that kept her going.

And then there was you.

They had their own way of breaking you.

At first, they kept it simple—pain, starvation, isolation. Keeping you across the room from your friends. Close enough to talk. Close enough to hear their screaming. But not close enough to comfort.

But then they brought you to that room. The one with the speakers hidden in the walls, where the shadows were deeper, where the air felt heavier. And they made you listen.

Jabberjays.

You had heard them in the arena before, their eerie mimicry of loved ones’ voices meant to torment you. You had seen Finnick fall to them, and Katniss. And it had broken your heart seeing how they were reacting.

But that had been nothing compared to this.

The pain had been your constant companion, gnawing at you, twisting every second into an eternity.

They didn’t just sing—they screeched. The birds were torture incarnate, their calls designed to break the mind, to twist the memories into something ugly. They brought you to the room, the sterile walls designed to keep you isolated, to amplify the terror in your heart. They had programmed the birds to sound like those you loved—those you had failed.

At first, it was a whisper. A voice you thought you recognized, but it was distorted, cracked, like the sound was being pulled through a filter of madness. It came slowly, building, growing louder.

It was impossible. You had never heard that tone from him before. Finnick never spoke like that. But there it was, his voice accusing you, twisting the memory of his care, of his laughter, into something venomous. The birds sang it over and over, forcing you to hear the words that ripped at your very soul.

And then the voice changed again.

The words cut through you like a knife, too sharp, too raw. His voice, so young and full of trust, was unmistakable. But it was a voice that had long since faded from your memory. The bird had twisted it, made it sound like something darker, like something hateful. Your little brother who you did everything to keep safe.

It wasn’t the voice of a child who loved you. It was the voice of a child who felt abandoned, who had been left alone. The bird screamed again, louder this time, its voice shrill and echoing, sending waves of nausea through you.

The birds’ voices layered one on top of the other, drowning out your thoughts, breaking the barrier between reality and the spiraling nightmare that consumed you. It was as though every painful memory, every regret, every mistake you had ever made, was being replayed and twisted into something ugly. Something unforgivable.

The walls seemed to close in as you sank deeper, the birds’ calls surrounding you, clawing at your mind, twisting your thoughts. It was endless. The repetition, the overwhelming weight of their words, started to chip away at you. You could feel your sanity slipping, each scream from the birds tearing a hole inside your chest.

The pain, the guilt, the spiraling madness was too much. You had no defense left. The voices echoed, screamed, whispered, and everything you had held onto was cracking, shattering like glass. Your hands trembled, your heart raced, and you were drowning in the sound of their accusations.

The sound of Finnick’s broken voice, Annie’s hollow sadness, and the desperation in your brother’s cries—each one felt like a new blade slicing into you. Each call, each accusation, only deepened the spiral you were trapped in. Your chest ached with the weight of their pain, your soul shattered from the guilt of it all. The torment was endless, suffocating.

In the haze of madness, time felt like an abstract concept—blurred, stretched beyond recognition. The room seemed to shift around you, but the stillness of it pressed in like a vice. It was as though you were stuck in this moment forever, caught between memories and nightmares. You couldn’t tell when you were moved from one place to another.

Even then as you laid on the cold, white floor of your cell, the sterile walls closing in around you. The trembling never stopped. It was like a constant hum in your body, a fear that never quite left. Your back was pressed against the smooth, unforgiving surface of the wall, your eyes staring blankly at nothing in particular.

Your mind felt detached from reality, a fog clouding every thought. The voices of the Jabberjays still echoed in your head, their cruel distortions of Finnick’s, Annie’s, and your brother’s voices a constant reminder of the horrors they had subjected you to. You couldn’t escape it. You couldn’t escape them.

You barely noticed the sounds at first—footsteps, muffled voices, the faint shuffle of boots on the hard floors. Then the door to your cell opened with a sharp hiss, and for the first time in what felt like ages, you looked up. Someone was standing there, silhouetted in the dim light, their features too blurred to make out. You didn’t know if it was real, if you were dreaming again, or if it was just another cruel trick of the Capitol.

A hand reached out, tentative, like they were unsure of how to approach you. “You’re alright,” a voice said softly, but with a firmness that cracked through the haze in your mind. “We’re here to get you out.”

But the words felt distant, disconnected, as though they were coming from underwater. You couldn’t trust anything. Your heart pounded in your chest, fear bubbling up from deep within. This could be another trap. Another lie. You weren’t sure who this person was, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to know.

Before you could even form a coherent thought, a sharp scent flooded the room, heavy and sickly sweet. The next thing you knew, the room swirled around you—shapes and sounds warping—and the last thing you heard was the voice again, more urgent this time: “It’s okay. We’re getting you out.”

And then, as the smoke thickened and your vision blurred, everything went black.

The first thing you felt when you woke up was confusion. It was disorienting—your senses a blur, your mind fragmented. You were in a room, but it wasn’t your cell, wasn’t the sterile white of the Capitol. The air was thick with the smell of antiseptic, and the soft hum of machines around you was both strange and oddly comforting.

But that didn’t mean you were safe. Not yet. Your heart pounded in your chest as your eyes darted around, trying to make sense of the chaos. Doctors in white coats were moving quickly, their voices a frantic buzz. Someone was touching your arm, their hands too firm, too urgent.

You flinched away, panic surging through your veins as memories of the Jabberjays twisted into your mind. The screams of Finnick, Annie, and your brother—distorted and cruel—ripped through your thoughts again. Was this just another trick? Were they going to use the birds again? Were you being captured all over again?

“Please, just… just stop,” you gasped, your voice raw, barely audible. You scrambled, trying to pull yourself away from their grasp, but your limbs were weak.

“Shh, shh, you’re safe,” one of the doctors whispered, but you didn’t trust it. You couldn’t. Safe didn’t exist anymore.

They tried to hold you down, to reassure you, but the more they touched you, the more your skin crawled. Your breath was coming in ragged gasps as the room closed in, and the walls felt like they were suffocating you. Everything felt too bright, too loud. You wanted to escape, to run, to hide from the chaos.

Then you heard it—his voice.

“Where is she? Where is she?”

Your heart skipped a beat, a raw, desperate sound. Finnick’s voice. But it couldn’t be him. You tensed, a jolt of panic shooting through you. No, no, no—this isn’t real. It’s not real.

The words that came next weren’t comforting—they were the birds, mimicking him, twisting his voice. It was too much. Your pulse raced, your body trembling violently as you backed away from the doctors, too afraid to look.

“Where is she?” Finnick’s voice called again, closer this time. “Please, please, I need to find her.”

You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t move. The memories collided in your mind, his voice and the twisted birds, and you weren’t sure where one began and the other ended.

Then, out of the chaos, a familiar face emerged. Finnick. His face was drawn, haunted, but his eyes—his eyes—they were the same. He was real. The fog in your mind started to clear, the panic slowly ebbing away as you locked onto him. The sight of him, standing there, filled you with a raw, aching relief. But the confusion still clung to you, the terror that this was a trick.

He stepped closer, his hand outstretched. “It’s me, sweetheart” he said softly, his voice full of something gentle, something full of warmth you thought you’d lost forever. “I’m here. You’re safe. It’s over.”

Your body froze, heart hammering in your chest, but then something inside you broke. You couldn’t hold onto the fear anymore, couldn’t push him away. You collapsed into him, falling into his arms, the weight of the months of torture pressing down on you, flooding you with every raw emotion you’d been holding in.

The warmth of Finnick’s embrace is overwhelming, like a beacon in the dark. For a moment, it feels surreal, like you’re still trapped in the nightmare, that you’ll wake up any second and be back in that place, alone and broken. But when his arms tighten around you, when he whispers against your hair, you realize that this—this is real.

Finnick was home. His scent, his touch, the way his body feels against yours—it’s everything you’ve been missing, everything you’ve been longing for. For so long, you thought you would never feel this again. You thought you were going to die there, in that cold, endless nightmare.

“I thought I was going to die there,” you murmur, your voice barely a whisper, a broken sob escaping as you clutch him tighter. The words spill out before you can stop them, the weight of them sinking deep into your chest. “I thought… I thought I’d never make it out. That I’d never see you again.”

Finnick pulls back just enough to look at you, his face full of sorrow, guilt swirling in his eyes. “You’re here now,” he says, his thumb gently brushing across your cheek, wiping away the tears. “You’re safe. You’re with me now, and I’m never leaving you again. I swear it.”

The sound of his voice, steady and unwavering, cracks something deep inside of you. It’s like the world around you shifts—like you’re not alone anymore. Like you’re finally home.

He takes a slow, deep breath and leans his forehead against yours, his hand still cradling your face with gentle care. “I know… I know it’s been hell,” he murmurs, his voice thick with emotion. “But I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere. I’m never leaving you again, sweetheart,”

You nod against him, your breath shaky, but his presence is like an anchor, grounding you, pulling you back from the abyss. Your body trembles, not from the cold or the fear, but from the raw relief that courses through you.

For the first time in what feels like an eternity, you feel safe, or at least the illusion of it. Either way, you didn’t care. And for the first time since the reaping, maybe you can properly start to breathe.

[howdymrfinch]

🍎-ˏˋ⋆ forgiveness...! ⋆ˊˎ-🍒

✎ . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ repost sorry! requested via ask box! i was absolutely thrilled with this request and i just had to draw it as soon as possible! i hope this is adjacent to what you wanted! this is a favourite affirmation of mine.. ⋆ˊˎ-

🍈 . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ links/requests/comms info in pinned! ⋆ˊˎ-

| my work is not to be reposted without permission, reblogs are always encouraged! |

[ferrari55lover]

Fake Texts- him saying 'what are you wearing?'

𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕞𝕒𝕪 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕔𝕝𝕚𝕔𝕜 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕨𝕙𝕠𝕝𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘. ℙ𝕃𝔼𝔸𝕊𝔼 𝔻𝕆ℕ𝕋 𝕊𝕋𝔼𝔸𝕃 𝕄𝕐 𝕎𝕆ℝ𝕂. 𝕀𝕗 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕞𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕠 𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕕𝕣𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕤 𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕒𝕤𝕖 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝 𝕗𝕣𝕖𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕞𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕒𝕘𝕖 𝕞𝕖 𝕠𝕣 𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕖𝕟𝕥

[dreamwavesexploringreality]

A life worth living:

Niragi x reader

Requested: Before Borderlands, Y/N and Niragi were close, but during the King of Spades' attack, the reader is gravely injured.

----

"If only everything had stayed as it was. If we were still at The Beach, or back home. Yes. I wish we were home. Or at school. Maybe we could still be at school. That's where everything began to unravel, wasn’t it? When those boys first harassed him in that alley behind the school. When they attacked him with baseball bats for the first time. Or maybe it was when they took his textbooks and rolled them through the mud. I couldn't even remember... If only... if only everything had stayed the same..."

Y/N felt the searing pain in her abdomen long before she heard the gunshot. By then, the blood was already flowing freely from the wound, threatening to end her life. She had collapsed to the ground when her legs gave way, scraping her knees against the rough asphalt. She hadn’t even noticed it, and now, lying there on the cold ground, her hands pressed desperately against her abdomen, all she could think of was him.

Niragi had been her confidant, her friend, her refuge. He had been everything to her, and in her selfishness, she liked to believe she had been everything to him, too.

She gazed up at the blue sky, not a cloud in sight. She squinted against the blinding sunlight, its heat warming her skin, though perhaps it was the blood that was bathing her body in warmth.

Niragi had been with her in her darkest moments, and she had been with him in his. By fate, or perhaps coincidence, they had found a shoulder to lean on during the bleakest chapters of their lives. And then, when life finally began to smile on them again, they were hesitant to sever that bond. They had stayed in touch during the early months of their university years. Maybe it was the distance, or their conflicting schedules, but inevitably, their connection had cooled. Though... upon reflection, perhaps it was also because of Chishiya. But that was much later, wasn’t it?

Y/N brought one bloodstained hand to her forehead, attempting to rearrange the fragments of her memories. Thick red liquid trailed down her cheek.

Yes, Chishiya came later, after arriving to Borderlands.

The day the people of Tokyo vanished, the day she played the deadliest game of hide-and-seek of her life, was the day she met him. That man with white hair and a hood, more intelligent than the rest, with an aura of mystery that stirred something deep within her. Oh! It was also the day she ran into Niragi again. She remembered it as it was yesterday, though weeks had passed. Months? Perhaps even years? Yet, it was all so vivid, so clear. He was so... different.

He was no longer the Niragi she had left behind years ago in high school. This one wore piercings and had a sharp tongue. Of course, he melted when he saw her.

Y/N stifled a small laugh at the memory, which was quickly drowned by a cough and a sharp, stabbing pain in her stomach.

Niragi had stared at her as if seeing a ghost. She recalled how he grabbed her wrist, nearly dragging her without hesitation to his room, and there… there, he embraced her. A hug she had waited years for, one reserved only for someone very special.

She closed her eyes. She could still feel that embrace, still remember the sensation, his scent... she could almost feel it again now.

"Y/N! Y/N! No, no, no—don’t fall asleep! Don’t close your eyes!"

She could even hear his voice.

"Y/N, damn it! Look at me! Look at me!"

It was so cruel, so perversely cruel of fate, that in what she was certain was her deathbed, her thoughts uncontrollably turned to him. To his voice, his scent, his very essence.

A smile tugged at her lips, and suddenly, the pain in her abdomen seemed almost insignificant. Was this what it felt like to die? If Niragi were here, he’d call her stupid. He would say it in that irritable, frustrated tone of his, the same one he used when explaining math homework in high school and she couldn’t understand a thing. But wait, why would he call her stupid? She didn’t want to die, not willingly… So why had she jumped in front of that bullet? No. She hadn’t jumped. She had run. She had run and pushed someone else aside. She… she had thrown herself in the path of the bullet. In the path of the bullet… meant for whom?

"Y/N, I swear, if you die now, I will never forgive you. Do you hear me? Never!"

Niragi.

It was almost as if some otherworldly force compelled her to open her eyes, and there, eclipsing the sun, was a face, contorted in anguish, backlit by its harsh light.

“That’s it, Y/N. Open your eyes. Open them! I’m here, I’m with you… You’re so stupid, do you know that? What the hell were you doing jumping in front of that bullet? It was meant for me! You are so damn stupid!"

Y/N stretched out one trembling hand, trying to touch the face that hovered over her. Her arm felt weak, as though it could hardly bear the effort, but she needed to touch him, to feel him, to be sure that it was truly him and not her imagination playing tricks.

"N-Niragi," she heard herself whisper, her voice low and cracked, rougher than she remembered.

"Shh, shh, don’t talk. Just stay calm. I’m here," he said, taking her hand and guiding it back to her abdomen, pressing down to try to staunch the bleeding. Y/N writhed in pain as another wave surged through her body.

"Where’s your idiot boyfriend when you need him, huh? Isn’t he a doctor? I told you he wasn’t good for you, that I didn’t like him, but you just had to go after him anyway, didn’t you? When do you ever listen to me, huh? Not even when we were kids, and I swore up and down that six times nine was fifty-four! That’s why you failed math!" He kept ranting, but Y/N had stopped listening.

Her eyes remained fixed on him, on the figure leaning over her. She could barely make out his features, swallowed by the backlight that surrounded him like a halo. Her vision was growing blurry, and as her eyelids grew too heavy to keep open, and a high-pitched ringing filled her ears, another voice entered the mix.

"Were you looking for me?"

© 2024 [@dreamwavesexploringreality]

----

I hope you enjoy it, and to the person who requested it, I really hope it’s exactly what you were hoping for... or even better!✨

[simplygojo]

You Have To Earn It

Author's Note: Hi lovely people!! I hope everyone is having a good October so far!! We are halfway through it now!! Anywho, this is a mash up of a few Megumi Kimnktober requests I've recieved! I HOPE YOU ENJOY PLS LMK IF YOU LIKE IT!!

The only requests I am accepting for the Month of October are from my Kinktober Prompt List, thank you <33

Pairing: College AU!Megumi Fushiguro x f!reader

Kinks: Edging, Overstimulation & Brat Taming

Word Count: 3K

Kinktober Taglist: @nanamisrighthand; @simplyyyuji; @megumisdivinedogs; @lovleyredheadfairy

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, MDNI, fingering, oral (f receiving), name calling (brat & baby), light spanking, physical overstimulation, aggressive sex.

The Halloween party was packed, the heavy bass of the music pulsing through the walls, mingling with the sound of laughter and chatter. 

You made your way through the throng of partygoers, dressed in a skin-tight Catwoman costume that left little to the imagination. 

The leather bodysuit hugged your curves perfectly, every step making the black fabric stretch and gleam under the dim lights. The zipper was pulled down just enough to reveal the curve of your cleavage, teasing anyone who dared to look too closely.

But there was only one person you were interested in teasing tonight—your boyfriend, Megumi Fushiguro.

You caught sight of him across the room, leaning against the wall in that effortlessly cool way of his. 

He wasn’t one for extravagant costumes, so he’d settled for a simple yet striking look: a black t-shirt and jeans, with a Batman mask pushed up slightly on his head, resting just above his sharp blue eyes. 

Even from a distance, you could feel the intensity of his gaze as it followed you around the room, even through his usual grumpy appearance.

And you had every intention of pushing him to his limit tonight.

You slid past him, brushing your fingers lightly across his chest as you moved to grab a drink. 

“Oops,” you said with a smirk, glancing over your shoulder at him. Megumi's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing beneath the mask.

“Y/n,” he murmured in a low voice that sent shivers down your spine, “stop being a brat.”

But you didn’t stop. You were far from done. 

Throughout the night, you made sure to find him, to get close enough that your body brushed against his. 

A hand resting on his thigh for just a moment too long, your fingers grazing his waist as you passed by, the occasional press of your hips into his when the crowd forced you together. 

Each time, you felt the tension in his body build, the way his muscles tightened beneath your touch.

“Y/n,” Megumi growled softly after the fifth or sixth time you ‘accidentally’ bumped into him. His voice was deeper now, rougher with frustration. 

“You’re pushing it.”

You shot him a playful grin, biting your lip. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

His eyes darkened, and you knew you had him right where you wanted him. But instead of backing off, you pushed a little more. 

The next time you passed by, you ran your fingers up his chest, your touch lingering on his collarbone before you turned away with a teasing sway of your hips.

That was the last straw.

Megumi’s hand shot out, grabbing your wrist in a firm grip. 

“We’re leaving,” he said, his voice low and commanding. 

The low hum of the party music faded as he led you down a quiet hallway, away from the eyes of the crowd. 

His heart pounded against his ribs, not from nervousness but from the tightly coiled tension of wanting to punish you for making him wait this long. 

His restraint was razor-thin, and he knew it. With every step closer to the bedroom, Megumi could feel the thrill of dominance rising in his chest, the anticipation building to a point where it almost made him dizzy.

She’s been a brat all night. Teasing me in front of everyone like that... He couldn’t help the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as his grip on you tightened. 

She has no idea what she’s in for.

Megumi pushed open the door with more force than necessary, his hand still locked around your wrist as he pulled you inside. 

The quiet click of the door behind you felt like the final signal—the game was over.

And now, it was his turn.

He pushed you up against the cold door, pinning you there with his body.

“You’ve been acting like a fucking brat all night,” he growled, his face inches from yours, the heat of his breath fanning over your lips. 

His hand slid up to your throat, not squeezing, but just enough to remind you who was in control. 

“You think you can tease me and get away with it?”

You swallowed hard, feeling a delicious mix of excitement and nerves coil in your stomach. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” you said, as you looked up at him through your eyelashes despite your pulse quickening under his intense gaze.

Megumi’s lips curled into a wicked smirk as he leaned in closer, his voice a low, dangerous whisper. “Ohh, you’re going to regret all of that.”

His hand moved from your throat down to the zipper of your bodysuit, yanking it down in one swift motion. 

The cold air hit your exposed skin, making you shiver as he pulled the fabric over your shoulders, letting it fall to your waist. 

His hands were rough as they grabbed your breasts, squeezing them as his mouth crashed against yours in a heated, possessive kiss.

Your body arched into him, desperate for more, but Megumi wasn’t going to give it to you that easily. 

He pulled away from the kiss, spinning you around and pressing your chest against the door. 

His hands moved to your hips, yanking down the rest of your bodysuit until it pooled around your ankles, leaving you bare in front of him except for the tiny black thong you wore underneath.

“You want to act like a slut?” Megumi’s voice was dark and commanding as he pressed his hips against your ass, letting you feel how hard he was. 

“Then I’m gunna fuckin’ treat you like one.”

Before you could respond, his fingers slipped between your legs, brushing over the thin fabric of your panties. 

You were soaked, and he knew it. 

His touch was teasing, barely there, and you whimpered as your hips pushed back, silently begging for more.

But Megumi wasn’t going to give you what you wanted—not yet.

“Look at you,” he murmured, his breath hot against your neck as his fingers continued their slow, torturous teasing. 

“So desperate already.” He pushed your panties to the side, his fingers sliding through your slick folds but never giving you the pressure you needed. 

"You're going to be begging to cum when I'm done with you"

Your body trembled under his touch, the frustration mounting as he continued to edge you closer and closer to the brink, only to pull back before you could fall over the edge. 

“Megumi, please,” you whimpered, your voice desperate, your hips grinding back against him as your arousal soaked his fingers.

But he just chuckled darkly, pulling his hand away completely, leaving you trembling and aching. 

“Not yet,” he muttered, his tone laced with dark satisfaction. “You have to earned it.”

Before you could protest, you felt his strong arm hook around your waist, effortlessly lifting you off the ground like you weighed nothing. 

The sudden movement made you gasp, your hands instinctively grabbing onto his shoulders for balance as he carried you across the room with ease, his fingers digging into your skin possessively.

Megumi’s grip was firm, his muscles taut beneath his black t-shirt as he lowered you onto the bed with deliberate care, like a predator positioning his prey. 

The rough fabric of his jeans brushed against your bare legs as he stood over you, his blue eyes dark with lust, the Batman mask now casting shadows across his sharp features.

His blue eyes were dark with desire as he spread your legs apart, his touch commanding, every movement making your pulse race. 

The anticipation built within you, a knot of heat twisting tighter with every second that passed. 

You were already desperate for him, but you knew that was exactly what he wanted—your need driving you to the brink.

His hand slid between your legs again, this time teasing your swollen clit with the lightest of touches. It wasn’t enough, but it sent a spark of pleasure shooting through you, leaving you arching off the bed.

“Megumi, please,” you whimpered, your hips bucking against his hand in search of more pressure. 

But he pulled back, his touch retreating just when you thought he’d finally give you what you craved.

“No,” he murmured darkly, his lips curling into a smirk as he leaned down, brushing them over the sensitive skin of your neck, leaving a trail of soft, teasing kisses. 

“This is your punishment for misbehaving tonight.”

Your body trembled under him, the frustration mounting as he moved lower, his mouth trailing down your chest, sucking lightly on the sensitive spot between your breasts. 

His hands were everywhere—one moment gripping your waist, the next tracing soft circles on your thighs. 

Every touch set your nerves on fire, but none of it was enough to push you over the edge. 

He was toying with you, edging you, making you feel like you were about to come, only to stop before you could find release.

Megumi’s fingers slid back between your legs, this time stroking you with a maddeningly slow rhythm. 

Each brush of his thumb over your clit sent shocks of pleasure through you, building you up only to pull back again. 

Your breath came in ragged gasps, your hips grinding against his hand, desperate for more, but he was relentless in keeping you right on the edge.

“Look at you,” he whispered against your skin, his voice filled with dark amusement. 

“So needy—so desperate. You’ve been fuckin’ begging for it all night, haven’t you?”

You whimpered and nodded in response, your body trembling with the overwhelming need for him. 

His hand left your clit, instead running his fingers up your inner thigh, feather-light touches that sent you spiraling. 

He moved to your breasts, squeezing and kneading before his fingers found your nipples, pinching them just hard enough to make you gasp.

Your body felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending buzzing with sensitivity as he overstimulated you with the constant teasing touches, never letting you rest, never giving you enough. 

The pleasure was intense, almost too much, your head spinning as you moaned beneath him.

“Megumi, please,” you begged again, your voice trembling, barely able to get the words out. 

“I can’t—”

“Oh, you can,” he interrupted, his voice low and dark as his mouth found your neck again, biting down hard enough to leave a mark, provoking a small yelp from your lips. 

He kept you right there, on the brink, overstimulating you with the relentless teasing, the way he touched you everywhere—your thighs, your breasts, your neck, your clit—keeping your body trembling and overwhelmed with pleasure.

“You’re going to come when I tell you to, not a second sooner.”

His fingers returned to your clit, and this time, the pressure was more firm, more direct. 

Tears pricked at your eyes from the intensity, your body shaking as you writhed beneath him, desperate for release but helpless against the way he controlled every inch of you. 

He reveled in it, in the power he had over you, his dark gaze drinking in the way you trembled, the way you whimpered his name like a broken plea.

“Y’know baby you really can be a fuckin’ brat sometimes, this is just necessary,” he growled against your ear, his hand sliding back to your clit, his fingers rubbing slow, torturous circles that had your body tightening again, so close yet so far from release. 

“And I’m not done yet.”

Your mind was a haze of pleasure and frustration, every inch of your body sensitive to his touch as he kept pushing you to the edge, only to pull back again. 

“Megumi,” you gasped, your voice breaking, “I need you—please.”

He chuckled darkly, his mouth hot against your skin. “Beg for it.”

“I’m begging,” you whimpered, tears slipping down your cheeks as your hips bucked against his hand. “Please, please, let me come.”

He kissed down your body, his mouth hot and slow as he made his way lower, his fingers never stopping their torturous teasing against your clit. 

Your hips bucked involuntarily, chasing the release he kept denying you, the need almost painful now. 

You were trembling, tears of frustration pricking your eyes, but he was relentless, refusing to give you what you so desperately craved.

And then, without warning, his mouth was on you.

You gasped as his tongue slid through your slick folds, lapping at you with a hunger that made your whole body quake. 

His tongue was skilled, teasing your clit with soft, deliberate strokes before pulling away just enough to keep you on the edge. 

Every time you felt yourself getting close, he’d change the pace, edging you with a precision that left you breathless and desperate.

Your hands flew to his hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands as your hips bucked against his face, but he held you firmly in place, his grip on your thighs tightening. 

“Can you just be paitent,” he growled, pulling back just enough to speak before diving back in, his tongue swirling around your clit in maddening circles.

His fingers joined the assault, sliding into you, pumping slowly as his mouth worked on your clit, his thumb pressing against the sensitive bundle of nerves in sync with his tongue. 

The overstimulation was overwhelming—pleasure surged through you in waves, but he kept you right on the brink, never letting you fall over the edge.

“Megumi, please,” you whimpered, your voice broken, your body trembling under his relentless touch. 

Tears slid down your cheeks, your need for release so intense it hurt, but Megumi only smirked against your skin, his fingers and tongue switching positions as he sucked hard on your throbbing clit.

“You’re going to come when I say,” he murmured between strokes of his tongue, his voice low and rough with dark satisfaction. “Not before.”

His fingers curled inside you, hitting that perfect spot that made your back arch off the bed. 

His tongue flicked faster against your clit, but still, he kept you from coming, pulling back just enough each time to keep you on the edge, teasing you until you were shaking beneath him, barely able to hold on.

And then, just when you thought you couldn’t take any more, he gave you exactly what you wanted.

His mouth latched onto your clit, sucking hard as his fingers drove into you, and the pleasure that ripped through you was unlike anything you’d ever felt before. 

You cried out his name, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you clawed at the sheets beneath you.

But Megumi didn’t stop.

His mouth and fingers kept working, overstimulating you, until you were gasping, writhing beneath him.

“Too much,” you whimpered, but your plea fell on deaf ears. 

By the time he finally pulled away, you were a trembling mess, barely able to catch your breath. But he wasn’t done with you yet. 

He stood up, his gaze dark and filled with hunger as he undid his pants, yanking them down in one swift motion. 

His cock was hard and thick, the tip already glistening with precum as he stroked himself, his eyes scanning your naked body.

“You think I’m done with you?” Megumi growled, positioning himself between your legs. 

“I’m just getting started.”

Before you could respond, he grabbed your hips, flipping you onto your stomach with a rough tug. 

You barely had time to adjust before he pulled you up onto your hands and knees, gripping your waist as he lined himself up with your entrance.

Without warning, he slammed into you, his cock stretching you in one brutal thrust. 

You cried out, the sudden fullness almost too much after everything he’d already put you through, but the sharp sting quickly gave way to intense pleasure as he started to move, his hips snapping against yours with a punishing pace.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he growled, his hands gripping your hips so tightly you knew you’d bruise. 

He was rough, relentless, fucking you like he was punishing you for teasing him all night. 

Each thrust sent shockwaves through your body, the overstimulation making everything feel more intense, more overwhelming.

You were seeing stars at this point, your body trembling as he fucked you, his cock driving deep with every thrust. 

His hand slid around your waist, finding your clit again, and you nearly screamed as he started rubbing slow, torturous circles, pushing you toward another orgasm even though your body was already wrecked from the previous ones.

“Megumi,” you gasped, your voice breaking as your legs trembled beneath you, but he didn’t let up, fucking you harder, deeper, his thumb pressing against your clit with just enough pressure to make you lose your mind.

But just as you felt the familiar coil of pleasure tightening in your stomach, he pulled out, leaving you empty and whining. 

“Megumi!” you gasped, your body trembling with frustration. “Please, I’m so close—”

“Not yet,” he growled, his hand coming down on your ass with a sharp smack that made you yelp. 

“You don’t get to come until I say so.”

He drove into you again, rough and relentless, his hand tangling in your hair as he yanked your head back, forcing you to look at him. 

Tears of frustration welled in your eyes, your body trembling with the overwhelming need to cum. 

“Megumi, please,” you begged, your voice broken and desperate. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, just—please—”

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of teasing and edging, he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, 

Now you can come,” he whispered, thrusting into you again with a force that sent you spiraling into your release. 

Your body convulsed beneath him, your orgasm hitting you with such intensity that you couldn’t even form words, only gasping and moaning his name as you clenched around him.

Megumi followed soon after, his pace quickening as he chased his own release, spilling inside you with a low, guttural groan. 

He held you there, buried deep inside, as you both caught your breath, the room filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing.

After a moment, he pulled out, his hands sliding gently down your back, his touch soft now.

He leaned down to press a kiss to your shoulder, his voice low and teasing. 

“Next time, maybe you’ll think twice before teasing me.”

You smiled, even as you lay there completely spent, your body still tingling from the aftermath. 

“Worth it,” you whispered, and Megumi let out a quiet laugh, brushing your hair away from your face as he kissed the back of your neck.

[skyeistrying]

Hihi!! I just read your Sevika HCs and I absolutely love them!! I wanted to know if you could (please) write HCs for Sevika and Vi after an argument with their partner? :) Whether it’s an argument the reader started or they started can be completely up to you! Or you could even do both scenarios if you prefer! 💕

Thank you and I hope you have a nice day/evening 💖

🖤Sevika and Vi after an Argument🖤

men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni men dni

🤎Sevika🤎

I don’t think arguments would be common in a relationship with Sevika.

When she locks into a serious relationship, she means serious. She covers all the important bases for a healthy relationship; communication, loyalty, respect, trust, and so much more.

Covering these bases, especially communication, helps to avoid frequent arguments.

It won’t completely cut out the occasional argument though.

When you two do argue, it’s almost always about bigger things. For example, her working so much and not taking much time for herself, or maybe her drinking and smoking.

Post-argument time usually has as “how can we avoid this in the future” moment where you guys have a heart to heart about whatever started the argument.

If you start an argument:

Be prepared to apologize first. And only apologize if you’re really sorry.

You should always finish what you start, after all.

Your apology may be met with an affectionate an eye roll and a huff.

She never stays mad at you for long.

Once you apologize she usually makes space for you wherever she’s sitting and wraps her arm around just to let you know it’s really okay.

If you’re just apologizing because you feel like you need to, don’t. She can see right through you if you’re bullshitting her.

If you’re stubborn like her, sometimes apologizing can genuinely be difficult. She gets that. Which is why her patience with you is a blessing.

Again, when you’re ready to apologize , she’s affectionate and accepts it.

If she starts an argument:

This woman is stubborn. For her to apologize, it just doesn’t feel right.

She’s only ever been truly sorry a few times in her life. In the Undercity, living a life like hers, she never had time to be sorry.

Being sorry gets you hurt. It gets you killed.

But…

It’s obviously different when it’s you. You aren’t a big bad wolf waiting around the corner. You’re her partner, her ride-or-die.

In the heat of the moment, what she said felt right. It felt like something you needed to hear.

The thought of you feeling hurt by something she said just eats her alive.

She comes to you first.

It isn’t anything crazy, usually just a simple, gruff “I’m sorry.”

She’s awkward and stiff about it, but completely genuine.

Asks what she can do to make it up to you, if anything.

❤️Vi❤️

Violet runs hot. She isn’t a loose cannon but someday’s it can be hard trying to keep all of her emotions under wraps.

This has definitely lead to arguments over petty things like dishes in the sink or eating the last of her favorite snack.

It’s also lead to arguments about very serious things. Her pit fighting, drinking, and her occasional impulsivity.

Arguments always hit her hard, even the petty ones. No matter how old she gets, arguments always make her feel like a little kid, just waiting for the ball to drop. The ball being losing you.

That feeling of dread, like this argument could be the last, if that makes sense.

Physical touch is usually present in the make up process after an argument. It helps ground her.

The good news is, the two of you always make up very quickly.

If you start an argument:

If the argument is a petty spat about dishes or snacks, she still apologizes first, albeit rather begrudgingly.

This links back to her feeling like this argument could be the last. What if she never hears “You promised you’d take out the trash this week” ever again?

You, however, shut that down. “It’s my fault, I should be the one apologizing.” You tell her.

These arguments are extremely easy to come back from because you two are always on the same level. Two halves to make a whole, equals

There isn’t a point in staying hung up on petty nonsense for long.

If you start a big argument, you apologize first.

She distances herself and you have to go to her.

You’ll usually find her someplace where she shouldn’t be, like a bar. Or, you might find her someplace safe, like with Loris or another friend she feels comfortable around.

Not only should you apologize, but it would also be a good chance to thoroughly explain why you’re upset or might think something is a bad idea.

Once you do that, she’ll open her arms up to you and usually things can be resolved somewhat easily after that.

If she starts an argument:

Again, she apologizes first.

If she starts an argument, big or small, the dread of possibly losing you over this hits her like bricks.

For smaller arguments, she approaches you casually. If you let her, she’ll wrap her arms around you. An apology hug, if you will.

Says, “I’m sorry, baby,” in the softest voice she can muster.

These smaller arguments are always easier to come back from just because she’s so sweet. How can you ever stay upset when she’s such a sweetie?

Big arguments are something else though.

After she’s said whatever it is that she’s said, the weight of it all is suffocating.

If she said something really stupid and hurtful in the heat of the moment, she might need some space for a bit. Things like that take her back to that day.

But she’ll come to you when she’s ready.

May or may not have a little gift for you for extra measure. Usually it’s something simple like your favorite candy bar.

She tells you she’s sorry and explains why she got so worked up. Usually this leads to a steady and warm embrace and you let her know it’s okay.

hello!!! thank you for the request ♥️ please let me know if you enjoyed it or not. i had so much fun writing these. i kind of got carried away with vi’s headcanons 🙈. . i was purposefully vague about what started the argument so you can sort of imagine your own scenario for why the argument started!🎠

ask box is open for multiple fandoms and nearly every arcane character! check my pinned for rules, fandoms, and characters. i write headcanons, reactions, drabbles, and more!

[angelfragil]

📔❤︎💮 forever a #𝚕𝚞𝚌𝚔𝚢 ✿ 𝚐𝚒𝚛𝚕 🍏 ͙⃜

硝子の靴が割れて、ドレスも破れた

午前0時、飛び出した、扉を蹴飛ばして

[hederasgarden]

Can I get "Don't be shy now, sit on my face" with the cowboy himself, Mr. Tyler Owens?

BESTIE. The scream I scrumpt.  Thanks to @a-reader-and-a-writer for the mechanical bull idea. This is long because I am incapable of responding to a request in 100 words apparently.

Pairing: Tyler Owens x F!Reader Word Count: 569 Warnings: Explicit sexual content, 18+ only. Oral (female receiving) and face sitting. Please comment or reblog if you enjoyed this and want to see more. Or scream at me in my inbox. That always makes my day.

Masterlist ♡ Glen Powell Character Masterlist

"And this is supposed to help me ride the mechanical bull how exactly?" you question with your knees planted on either side of Tyler's chest.

"Just trust me, sweetheart."

“That's not an answer," you tell him archly. 

He tilts his head back to look up at you. "Have I ever steered you wrong?"

"No...I'm just a bit nervous,” you admit.

He gazes steadily at you, and the way he rubs his hands up and down your thighs is both soothing and reassuring. "Well, you know what I like to say....you don't face your fears, you ride them."

You stare down at him, unamused. He grins back at you.

"Come on little lady, belly up to the bar," he encourages, cupping your ass and yanking you forward until the most intimate part of you is only inches away from his face. 

Embarrassment burns under your skin, and you fight the urge to shift away. This close, Tyler's bound to see every little imperfection, and it’s made worse by the fact that he’s practically perfect himself. Sometimes just looking at him could overwhelm you, not to mention what happened when he took his shirt off.

"Come on," he encourages softly.

Hesitantly, you lower yourself over him until he can nose at your folds. You grip the headboard and shift experimentally, inhaling sharply when Tyler drags the flat of his tongue through your center. Your thighs tense and he does it again, letting out a low, satisfied little hum that has you clenching around nothing. 

For a few minutes, Tyler seems content just to taste and tease you with soft, sweeping motions.  Slowly, you feel yourself begin to relax, some of the tension leaving your thighs. When you settle more firmly against him, he groans in response, his fingers flexing against your skin. You close your eyes and rock your hips forward, the world narrowing to the feel of his tongue in your cunt and his nose brushing against your clit. 

"Tyler," you moan. 

He groans in response, fingertips digging into your skin as his tongue spears into you. The messy way he eats you out is so loud that you’d be embarrassed if it weren’t for how good it makes you feel. Gone is any hesitation on your part as you ride his face in earnest. You grasp his hair and pull, desperate to have him even closer.

The beginning of your orgasm sparks to life in your belly, the rough drag of his tongue over your clit fanning the embers. Your hips move of their own accord, your body chasing what it needs. When your orgasm washes over you Tyler doesn’t stop, holding you still as he drinks greedily from your cunt. By the time he’s done with you, your thighs are trembling, and your breath comes in quick, uneven gasps.

“Oh my god.”

“It’s Tyler,” he reminds you with a smirk. You watch him wipe his mouth with the back of his hand, his chest heaving as he catches his breath. He’s flush and his hair is tousled from your grip. But above all, he looks satisfied. 

“That was good, sweetheart. Real good.”

All you can manage is a thumbs up in response, your head hanging forward. “So,” you begin, “are you going to tell me now what that had to do with bull riding.”

“Not a goddamn thing,” he says with the biggest grin you’ve seen.

Send me a request

[mxstly-melancholy]

Protective!Logan who..

Will constantly check in on you.

Always has an eye on you.

Stands behind you when you talk to people.

Makes sure you’re okay, emotionally and physically.

Holds you tightly at night.

Makes it known that he will protect you at all costs.

Doesn’t let people disrespect you.

Stands outside the bathroom door in public when you’re inside it.

Watches your drinks at bars.

If someone threatens you, he moves to stand in front of you.

Makes sure your wounds are tended to immediately.

Listens to you vent with no interruptions.

[bimbodolllll]

may a request Mitsuya x reader where she is his girlfriend but he didn't tell Toman about her and his friends just suspect that he has one and basically they are secretly watching him and trying to guess who the girl is with whom they saw him

۶ৎ Guess Who.

۶ৎ auth: 3/3, how you enjoy <3

۶ৎ Summary: He been acting different, his friends are getting suspicious and assuming he’s dating someone and now they determined to find out who you are.

۶ৎ: oneshot | female reader

۶ৎ Characters Included: Mitsuya Takashi

Toman was known for handling gang wars, throwing hands, and protecting their own. But when it came to Takashi Mitsuya’s love life?

They were absolutely useless.

It all started with a whisper.

“Oi, Chifuyu.”

Chifuyu glanced up from his drink, only to be met with Baji’s mischievous smirk. They were lounging around after school, killing time before another Toman meeting.

“Hmm?”

“Have you noticed… Mitsuya’s been acting weird lately?” Baji leaned in, his tone dripping with suspicion.

Chifuyu blinked, looking over at Mitsuya, who was sitting across from them, casually scrolling through his phone. Nothing about him seemed out of the ordinary—calm, collected, and cool as always.

“Weird how?”

“He’s been smiling more.”

Chifuyu raised a brow. “And that’s… bad?”

“Not that kind of smile,” Baji whispered dramatically, leaning closer like he was about to share classified information. “It’s a different smile. Like… a girl smile.”

Chifuyu’s eyes narrowed as he glanced back at Mitsuya, watching as his fingers typed out something on his phone, a small—barely noticeable—grin tugging at the corner of his lips.

“…He’s right,” Draken muttered from the side, crossing his arms as he joined the conversation. “I caught him sneaking out after our last meeting. And when I asked where he was going…” Draken’s eyes darkened.

“What did he say?” Chifuyu whispered, leaning in as if they were plotting a heist.

Draken’s face was unreadable. “Home.”

“Home?” Chifuyu echoed, blinking.

“Home?” Baji’s jaw dropped. “Bro… Mitsuya never lies. But he’s been going somewhere. And I know damn well he wasn’t going home.”

“Exactly.” Draken nodded.

Silence fell over them as they processed this earth-shattering revelation.

“…Mitsuya’s got a girl,” Baji declared, eyes wide with realization.

“Wait, wait, wait…” Chifuyu’s voice was barely above a whisper. “You’re telling me Mitsuya… Takashi Mitsuya… has a girlfriend and didn’t tell any of us?”

“Tch.” Draken clicked his tongue. “If he’s hiding her… it’s serious.”

“Which means…” Baji’s grin returned, more devious than ever. “We gotta find out who she is.”

—

Phase One: Surveillance—as Baji called it.

The next few days were filled with chaos.

“Okay, okay, okay!” Baji whispered harshly, ducking behind a tree as Mitsuya walked out of class. “He’s on the move.”

“Why are we whispering?” Chifuyu hissed, crouching beside him.

“Because it’s a stealth mission, duh.”

“Will you two shut up?” Draken muttered, standing behind them with his arms crossed. “We look like idiots.”

But the moment Mitsuya turned the corner, the three of them silently followed—keeping a “safe” distance but staying close enough to watch his every move.

It didn’t take long for Mitsuya to run into someone—a girl.

“Target acquired,” Baji whispered dramatically.

“Is that her?” Chifuyu squinted, trying to get a better look.

The girl was cute—short hair, bright smile, and she seemed to be talking animatedly about something. Mitsuya looked… interested, but his expression remained neutral.

“Maybe…” Draken murmured, watching closely.

But then—

Mitsuya bowed politely, waved, and walked away.

“Nope.” Baji groaned, smacking his forehead. “False alarm.”

“Damn,” Chifuyu sighed.

—

Phase Two: Process of Elimination

“Okay, so it’s not the girl from class 3-A,” Chifuyu muttered, crossing her off the list.

“Or the girl from the sewing club,” Baji added.

“Not that one chick who asked him for notes, either,” Draken murmured.

They had been at this for days. And despite their best efforts, they were getting nowhere. Every time they thought they had figured it out, Mitsuya would deny it with a straight face.

“Who, her?” Mitsuya had blinked, confused. “Nah. We were just talking about fabrics.”

“Her?” He tilted his head. “She needed help with her homework.”

“Eh? No.” He laughed softly. “I don’t even know her name.”

They were going crazy.

“Maybe… maybe he doesn’t have a girlfriend,” Chifuyu said one afternoon, his tone almost defeated.

“He does,” Baji insisted. “I feel it in my bones.”

“Then why hasn’t he told us?”

“Because,” Draken muttered, his eyes narrowing, “he doesn’t want us to mess it up.”

They all paused.

“…That’s fair,” Baji admitted.

“Very fair,” Chifuyu nodded.

—

Phase Three: Accidental Discovery

They had given up.

After weeks of failed attempts, they decided it wasn’t worth the headache. If Mitsuya wanted to keep it a secret, fine. Let him be.

But fate had other plans.

It happened after a Toman meeting one afternoon. Mitsuya had left early, as usual, giving his usual “gotta take care of my sisters” excuse. Nothing suspicious.

But as they were walking down the street, they spotted him.

And he wasn’t alone.

Mitsuya was walking beside her. And this time…

There was no denying it.

She was laughing softly, her hand brushing lightly against his as they walked, and Mitsuya—their Mitsuya—was looking at her with the softest expression they had ever seen.

“Holy…” Baji whispered, his jaw practically on the floor.

Chifuyu blinked. “That’s… definitely her.”

“She’s… cute,” Draken murmured, brows raised.

But it wasn’t just that.

It was the way Mitsuya looked at her—like she was the only person in the world.

“Damn,” Baji whistled lowly. “Our boy’s smitten.”

They watched as Mitsuya walked her to her door, saying something that made her giggle before she leaned up and kissed his cheek.

Mitsuya’s face turned a shade of pink none of them had ever seen before.

“He’s blushing,” Chifuyu whispered, eyes wide.

“Bro,” Baji blinked. “Mitsuya blushes?”

“Apparently.” Draken’s lips twitched, barely holding back a smirk.

As Mitsuya turned to leave, his gaze lifted slightly—only for his lavender eyes to lock onto them.

The trio froze.

Mitsuya’s eyes narrowed.

“Shit.”

“RUN!”

—

Mitsuya was pissed.

“Why were you guys following me?” he demanded, arms crossed, giving them all a look that could kill.

“We weren’t following you,” Baji lied, poorly.

“Then why were you hiding behind a vending machine?”

“…Coincidence?”

“Baji.”

“Okay, fine!” Baji threw his hands up. “We were curious!”

“Yeah,” Chifuyu muttered, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. “You’ve been acting… different. We just… wanted to know who she was.”

Draken, ever the reasonable one, sighed. “We just didn’t expect you to keep it from us, Mitsuya.”

Mitsuya’s expression softened slightly at that, but he still looked mildly annoyed.

“I wasn’t keeping it from you guys…” he mumbled. “I just… didn’t want you messing it up.”

“Fair,” Baji muttered.

“Very fair,” Chifuyu echoed.

“So…” Baji’s grin slowly returned, eyes glinting with mischief. “When do we meet her?”

“No.” Mitsuya’s answer was immediate.

“C’monnnn,” Baji groaned.

“No.”

“But we’re like family,” Chifuyu added.

“No.”

“You’re gonna have to introduce us eventually,” Draken said calmly, but Mitsuya could see the tiniest hint of amusement behind his words.

“Eventually.” Mitsuya stressed, rubbing his temples. “Not now.”

“Fine,” Baji smirked. “But just so you know…”

Mitsuya raised a brow. “What?”

“We’re definitely watching your back now.”

“Literally.” Chifuyu snickered.

Mitsuya groaned, but despite his frustration, he couldn’t stop the small smile that tugged at his lips.

Because as annoying as they were…

They really did have his back.

Even when they were absolute idiots.

[onlybeeewrites]

Finding Magic

Request: May I request a hunger games request Haymitch x wife reader, she is a district 12 victor from the laye 50's games. She is around 4-8 years younger than him. It is set in district 13, we see him with their young daughter named after his fellow 50th game tribute and just fluff, please Pairing: Haymitch Abernathy x Fem!reader

Pairing: Haymitch Abernathy x wife!reader

Word count: 1.7k

Warnings: SUNRISE ON THE REAPING SPOILERS, characters mentioned

A/N: the first of many Haymitch requests UGH I loved this and seeing soft Haymitch. Enjoy!! <3 ~~~~~~~~

The quarters in District 13 weren’t much—gray walls, stiff bedding, and a distinct lack of anything that could be called personal. Everything was practical, assigned, and strictly regulated, from the meals to the uniforms to the way time itself seemed to tick by in rigid blocks.

But somehow, you had made it feel like home. Haymitch wasn’t sure how she did it. Maybe it was the warmth she carried with her, the way she never let the weight of their reality smother the small joys you still managed to carve out of the days. Or maybe it was the way you saw things—not just for what they were, but for what they could be.

Even here, underground, you made the world seem bigger.

Your ten year old daughter, Louella was sprawled out on the cold floor, utterly lost in the book she held, her small fingers gripping the worn pages as if they contained the secrets of the universe.

Haymitch could see the crease between her brows, the slight parting of her lips as she whispered words under her breath, tasting them as she read. Whatever world she had discovered in those pages had its hooks in her now, and nothing short of an emergency would pull her out of it.

And you sat nearby, your head bent over a needle and thread, patching up yet another hole in your daughter’s jumpsuit. It wasn’t the first tear she’d fixed this week, and it sure as hell wouldn’t be the last.

Louella was always running, climbing, sneaking into places she wasn’t supposed to be. She had the boundless energy of someone who had never known anything but motion.

Haymitch liked to pretend he didn’t know where she got that rebellious streak from, but between your quiet defiance and his own tendency to do exactly the opposite of what people expected, the girl hadn’t stood a chance.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, watching them for a moment before speaking. “What’s she reading this time?”

You didn’t look up, but there was a small smile on her lips. “Poetry. About magic.”

Haymitch raised a brow and pushed off the wall, making his way over before flopping down beside Louella. “Magic, huh? Didn’t think District 13 allowed that kind of thing.”

Louella shot him an unimpressed look over the top of her book. “It’s poetry, Papa. Not spells.”

Haymitch smirked, leaning in as if she had just admitted to something scandalous. “Still sounds like nonsense.”

Louella let out a dramatic sigh and held up the book. “Just listen.”

She cleared her throat, straightened her back, and read aloud:

“The wind hums secrets through the trees,

The river sings to passing bees.

The sky bends low to kiss the land,

And leaves spell stories in the sand.”

She closed the book with a decisive little snap and looked up expectantly, waiting for his reaction.

Haymitch tilted his head. “Huh. Not bad.”

Louella beamed, victorious, and turned to her mother. “See? Even he likes it.”

You chuckled, tying off the stitch with practiced ease. “Took him long enough.”

Haymitch rolled his eyes but turned back to Louella. “So, you really think there’s magic in all that?”

Louella nodded eagerly. “Mama says magic is just seeing things the right way. Like when the sun looks like melted gold, or when the air smells different before a storm.”

You take a pause, setting down the sewing, stretching your fingers before smiling at your daughter. “My family always believed in magic,” you said, voice soft with nostalgia,

“We grew up in the fields, and we saw it in everything—the way fireflies danced like little stars, the hush of the earth before the first snowfall, the way seeds always knew how to find the sun.”

Louella’s eyes widened in that way only a child’s could, full of wonder and longing for things just out of reach. “I wish I could’ve seen all that.”

You smiled fondly, brushing a curl from Louella’s face. “You still can, sweetheart. Magic’s in the little things. You just have to know how to look.”

Haymitch snorted, shaking his head. “That why people used to call your family wild?”

That caused you to smirked at him, the corners of her eyes crinkling with amusement. “Of course. You’d know that. You’d also remember that people often said we were odd for believing in things you couldn’t hold in your hands. But it takes special people to see the magic in little things.”

Louella grinned. “Good thing I’m special, then.”

Haymitch hummed, “yes you are, sweetheart,” he said glancing between the two of them—you, his wife, with your quiet strength and stubborn belief in things bigger than themselves, and his daughter, practically glowing with excitement at the idea of unseen wonders hiding in the world around her.

Louella yawned, rubbing at her eyes but still stubbornly gripping her book. “Can I read one more?”

You glanced at the clock on the wall—lights-out was soon, and rules were strict here. But sighed, a small, indulgent smile on your lips. “Just one more.” How could you deny one of the few pleasures you were able to indulge in?

Louella grinned and flipped through the pages, searching for the perfect poem. Haymitch, meanwhile, leaned his head back against the wall, one arm draped lazily over your shoulders.

He wasn’t much for poetry, but he liked the sound of Louella’s voice as she read, soft and full of belief. Reminding him so much of you.

“The stars will shine beyond the dark,

Their light will never wane.

A whispered wish, a hopeful heart,

And magic stays the same.”

Luella looked up, blinking sleepily. “That means magic is always there, right? Even when we can’t see it?”

You ran her fingers through Louella’s hair. “That’s right.”

Haymitch huffed. “Poetry’s got a lot of nerve making promises like that.”

Louella giggled, pressing her face into his side. “You just don’t get it, Dad.”

He smirked, pulling the blanket up over her. “Guess not.”

She let out another small yawn, and this time, her eyes didn’t open again. Haymitch exhaled, shifting to pick her up. She made a sleepy sound of protest as he scooped her into his arms, but she didn’t fight it, just curled against his chest like she’d done since she was little.

You stood and followed as he carried Louella to the small cot she called a bed. He tucked her in, smoothing down the blanket while you brushed her hair back, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

Haymitch stayed there a moment longer, watching as Louella breathed slow and deep, already lost in dreams. He reached out, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “Sleep tight, wild thing.”

She didn’t stir. You slipped your hand into his, lacing their fingers together as they stepped back from the bed.

Haymitch pressed a kiss to you temple as they settled onto their own bed. “You’re gonna turn her into a dreamer.”

You smiled against his shoulder. “Good. The world needs more of them.”

Haymitch didn’t answer right away. He just held you a little tighter, his fingers absently tracing slow, idle patterns against your arm.

Even after all these years, it still felt surreal sometimes—having this family, having you.

He thought back to the first time he saw you, standing on that stage at seventeen, trying to keep your face blank as your name was called. He’d been your mentor then, five years after winning himself. And he had been forced to watch 10 kids die since then. He was sure you would be the 12th.

And so he was forced to watch as you stepped into the arena, as you fought. But this time you proved everyone wrong as you won.

He had known, back then, what kind of person would walk out of that place. What it took to survive.

But you had come back still you, against all odds. You had come back stubborn and sharp and kind in ways the Capitol couldn’t kill. You still held onto who you were. And that alone was the perfect act of rebellion.

And somehow, in the years that followed, through nightmares and rebellion and the slow, aching process of trying to be something more than just survivors—you had found your way to each other eventually. And then became more.

Then two, became three. You had sobbed in his arms when you found out, fearing the day that she too would have to be reaped from the bowl of names. With a high chance of her dying in that god forsaken arena. The guilt, Haymitch remembered, took such a toll on you.

“How could I do this? Bring a child into this world?” You had once said. But after some time you had come to terms with the baby—Luella. Light in the dark. And a memorial name after the one of the tributes from Haymitch’s games. A sweet little girl you remembered from the Seam.

But now, you all were here, in a dimly lit room beneath the earth, with the most incredible daughter who believed in poetry and magic, in a place where hope was hard to hold on to.

And yet, somehow, you still did.

Haymitch exhaled, pressing his forehead against your hair. “You know,” he muttered, “I always knew you were trouble.”

You laughed softly, shifting closer. “Oh? Since when?”

“Since you looked me in the eye after they called your name and didn’t cry.” His voice was quiet, thoughtful. “Since you gave me an attitude that first day on the train. And especially afterward,”

Your fingers brushed against his hand, lacing together. “Guess that means you didn’t do a terrible job as a mentor.”

Haymitch huffed a small, dry laugh. “Didn’t do a great one, either.”

You squeezed his hand, tilting her head at him. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”

He didn’t answer, just pulled you against him, pressing a kiss to your hair.

You were here. You were still you. Even after everything you both had gone through.

Maybe that was magic too.

[ellieslittleburrow]

Summary : John Winchester, your father, is protective of you

Warnings : swearing and cute John

A/N : should we write more John Winchester?

-----

John Winchester, a man of many flaws. Sammy can attest to that, he suffered the most from John's decisions. Dean would stand against that, he's been John's boy since the day he was born. Dad this, dad that; That doesn't mean it isn't complicated, though.

You on the other hand.....umm....not suuuure where you stand really, where do you stand?

Everything felt different for you with John. Everything. His love for you was established since the beginning. He got a spark in his eyes whenever you were around that neither of his two boys ever got the chance to see, even Dean.

You were his baby girl.

There were the times where he stood up for you. The bullies??? Never stood a chance. There was that one time in particular when you got h-

"Hey! What did i tell you about slamming doors?" A scolding growl sounded, one that would usually....send shivers down your spine. This time it left you unbothered, or maybe fueled your anger even more.

In an attempt to not cry in front of the Great Winchester, you hurried to the bed assigned to you and threw yourself into a sleeping position, your back facing him.

"HEY" his growl grew angrier and you just hugged yourself. You didn't need him exploding your eardrums on top of everything else that had happened that day. His steps closed in on you and soon enough, your waist was gently being pulled back- you were facing him.

As his eyes navigated around your face, his features simultaniously softened. The creases shaped by the frown on your eyebrows, the sucked in lower lip, the damp eyelashes, all signs of-

"You were crying?" A stupid question that John needed no answer to. He somehow knew why, too. But he asked anyway. "Was it the kids at school?"

With that-you force yourself back on your side. "I told you not to force me into a new school."

Your mumble is muffled but John already knew what you were going to say-you've had this conversation many a times before.

"Come on" Your father tapped your butt before heading towards the door. And your curiosity itched your brain and you turned around, sitting up.

"Where are you going?" You asked and he glanced at you over his own shoulder, a mischivious smile embellishing his face.

"Just get your ass up."

Over in the car, John turned to you. "Do you know where this kid lives?"

You took your damn time to respond, both of you will get into trouble buuuuuuut.... A smirk ghosted your lips. "Yeaaaah?"

"Good, that saves us a lot of time."

You nervously chuckled. "A lot of time for what, dad?" The Impala roared as silence followed your question. You sort of understood. And as you directed him towards the bully's house, your stomach tightened in a mixture of excitement and anxiety.

"Right there, the Cayenne, his father's." You pointed at the car and your dad shamelessly parked his own only a few couples of meters away.

Another nervous chuckle left your lips as your head popped forward. Your eyes followed your dad as he jumped out of the car and headed for the trunk. The hood popped up for a minute and then your dad reappeared with what seemed to be a....BAT?

You jumped out of the car and distress shot through your veins. "Dad" You called for him but he'd already made up his mind and as you stressfullly walked behind him, he casually headed for the car, the bat vibrating in his hands. "Dad, you're gonna get us into trouble." You whispered as if whispering would make the crime your father is about to commit any less obvious.

But John totally ignored you and he swung the bat before sending it into the Cayenne's back window-the glass instantly chattered. You flinched and before you were even able to process the first hit, a second one echoed through the quiet neighborhood.

You flinched again. "Dad, st-"

"I'm only doing this for you, honey." John rounded the car and stopped at the front of the car. "If it were up to me, i'd slice the boy AND his father." The third swing hit harder, more violent. And the alarm continues blaring. "All he had to do was teach his son some manners. But since he can't do that, i'll teach 'em both a good lesson."

There's that story, and there's another one. Where you're being you, and for you, emotions have a like, a giant gravitational pull on your life-just like this time.

You and dad have been on the road for almost two days-stupid shapeshifters and it's that week of the month that's the most chaoti-- and this stupid fucking booth is weird and squishy and-

Your cheeks grew hot and wetness suddenly streamed down your face. When John noticed, he blew out a long sigh. He shut his eyes slowly, bringing his index and thumb to the opposite sides of his face, rubbing roughly.

Not fucking cool, dad. This shit's tiring enough. 'You know what-" You stop midsentence, rushing off to the bathroom but a sudden strain pulled you back.

"No-no, i'm sorry, honey, i'm sor-"

"I'm already tired enough." Your voice came out full and rough, heavy with the build up of saliva in your throat. "don't need you making fun of m-" You were about to yank your wrist away when he held it tighter.

"Come on that's not what's happening here." John swiftly got up and faced you. "I just-i'm tired too, kid. I-" He sighed again, and you wiped away your tears.

"Coooome here." Too slow but too sweet-and not a question either, your dad reached for the back of your head and brought it to his chest. He planted a kiss over your hair and gently swayed both of your bodies left and right. "Dad's here." His tone might've been gentle, but it still bore a hint of annoyance.

He doesn't mean-he "You don't mean that-you're just saying it because i'm-"

"Noo i do mean it, baby, i do-" he sighed once more. "I'm just tired. That's why i sound like this." He planted a second kiss on your forehead before boaring into your eyes. You dropped your gaze down in the process, too-

"I'm sorry." His thick eyebrows softened back to their normal position. And his bunny teeth appeared. Amused, he hesitated to speak for a few seconds. "You know you're too old for this right?"

You pinched his waist, causing him to jerk back, choking on a chuckle.

You sniffed, throwing embarassed glances his way. "Shut up."

"I'm sorry, honey."

What the hell is wrong with me? Is the first thought that comes to mind. There sure are many more stories to tell about the great John Winchester. But to sum it all up, you are indeed on his fucking side.

-----

@marvelfanfn2187a113

----

WOO WOO, i hope yall made it to the end. See ya next time 🖤🖤🖤🥀🥀🥀

[dreamwavesexploringreality]

THE MAN YOU FELL IN LOVE WITH:

Chishiya x Reader

Request: Based on EPIC: The Musical “Would You Fall In Love With Me Again”.

—

The night had already fallen when Chishiya returned to The Beach. The blood beneath his soles seeped into the earth, vanishing as though it had never been there. He inhaled deeply before crossing the threshold, securing the hood over his head as he entered the hotel.

He moved through the crowd like a ghost, unnoticed. With his head lowered, he ascended the stairs automatically, letting his legs take him to the only place he wanted to go. When he reached the mahogany door, he raised his bloodstained fist and calmly knocked twice. He waited, and the door opened. He lifted his head, his eyes still hidden beneath the white hood. He sensed the distress in the girl’s face, though she said nothing, merely stepped aside to let him pass, closing the door behind him.

Chishiya calmly sat in the chair beside the door, tilting his head back with his eyes closed, allowing the hood to slip off, revealing his face. He listened to the water running in the bathroom and opened his eyes. He looked at his fists, distractedly scratching some of the blood from his skin. Footsteps. He looked up. He saw her.

With almost careless grace, Y/N knelt before him with a bucket of water and a white towel, which quickly turned red as she began to rub the blood from his knuckles. The silence in the room felt thick, and Chishiya thought he might drown in it. His heart clenched when he realized how mechanical her movements were, almost robotic. He had made her like this.

"Your eyes look tired," she suddenly said. Instinctively, his eyes met hers. He quickly turned away. It had been eight days since he had looked at her.

He didn’t respond. She sighed. He shuddered.

After tending to his hands, the girl brought the towel to his face. He pulled away before she could touch him, standing abruptly and moving away from her.

"Chishiya..." she whispered, still kneeling on the floor.

Her voice echoed in his whole body, and as if it were some kind of shield, he pulled the hood back over his head, moving toward the window. From there, he could see people laughing and drinking by the pool. He shuddered when a hand wrapped around his wrist, but he didn’t have the strength to pull away, allowing himself to enjoy the warmth he had missed for the past week.

Chishiya saw his reflection in the window, feeling incapable of turning around. He took a deep breath, listening to his heart pounding in his chest before he spoke.

"He's dead," he said, looking at his reflection in the window.

"Who’s dead?" she asked.

"Ren." He could almost see the gears turning in Y/N's head.

Ren was a resident of The Beach, someone Chishiya had gone out with that night to play one of those deadly games. Y/N tried to remember. He was the bartender by the pool, but she couldn’t recall speaking to him beyond ordering drinks. She didn’t remember Chishiya having any interaction with him either. Why was he so important?

"The bartender," she stated, unsure.

He nodded.

"Was... was he your friend?" she asked, realizing the absurdity of the question as it left her mouth.

"No," he replied shortly.

Y/N felt trapped. Her boyfriend hadn’t looked her in the eye for over a week and had been acting strange around her, avoiding her in public and coming up with ridiculous excuses to dodge her. She was tired. She tightened her grip on his wrist, trying to get him to turn, urging him to look at her, hoping to find answers in his gaze that he didn’t seem capable of giving her.

"Please..." she whispered, her voice breaking, shattering his heart even more.

He had to turn, even if just to stop the pain in his chest, which grew more intense with every word she spoke. Even with the hood on, he lifted his head to meet her gaze. Contrary to what he expected, the pain in his heart grew sharper when he saw the girl’s face, streaked with tears. He didn’t know when she had started crying. He raised his trembling hands and gently placed them on her cheeks, using his thumbs to wipe away the tears that still fell.

"Don’t cry..." he spoke. More like a plea.

"I just want you to talk to me... You’re so different... What’s wrong?" she said, her words broken and uneven from crying.

Chishiya looked at her in silence for a few moments. He couldn’t keep making her suffer like this.

"I’m not the man you fell in love with," the words tore through his throat like knives, confronting him with a reality he had foolishly thought he was prepared to face.

"What are you saying?" she whispered, raising her hands to press against his still-pressed hands on her face, afraid he might disappear.

"I killed Ren. Him and many others since we arrived here." He spoke, the words flowing from his tongue without being able to stop once his confession began. "Every night, every game… I lie, I betray, and I kill, directly or indirectly, just to survive… just to come back here… to come back to you."

He tried to pull away from her as if his skin were burning. She let him remove his hands from her face, and she intertwined her fingers with his, despite his frantic movements to push her away.

"Let me go, Y/N. What do you think you’re doing?" The man was on the offensive now. He had to distance himself from her, even if it meant hurting her one last time.

A dry laugh escaped from Y/N’s mouth. Chishiya looked at her, confused. She laughed once more, her cheeks soaked with new tears, and for a moment, he feared that Borderlands had finally driven her mad.

She didn’t pull away when she wrapped her arms around his torso, burying her face in his neck. Instinctively, his arms went around her waist, and with his eyes closed, he inhaled that familiar scent in her hair that he had denied himself for the past week.

"Y/N..." he spoke, more calmly now, the girl still in his arms. "I’m not the man you once adored," he whispered, trying to make her understand.

He felt the girl shift a little in his neck.

"If you knew everything I’ve done..." he continued, falling silent abruptly when she lifted her head to look at him, her eyes filled with intensity.

Her brow was furrowed, and she seemed deep in thought.

"I don’t want to know. I don’t care," she finally spoke, not breaking eye contact with him, as if she wanted her words to be seared into his memory. "Everything you’ve done… You did it to come back here, to come back to me..."

Chishiya tried to process her words, his mind working slowly as he immersed himself in the glow of her gaze. How he had missed her.

"I’m not the man you knew before," he whispered, trying to make her see, before she interrupted him, her voice firm.

"I will fall for you over and over again, I don’t care how, where, or when, no matter what you’ve done. Don’t tell me you’re not the same person, it’s you, you can’t lie to me. Only you would do all that to come back to me, only you would throw this stupid tantrum because only you care about me like this” She shook her head “It’s you..." She finished speaking, tears flowing down her cheeks again, but a smile lighting up her face, her gaze full of hope as if she was seeing him for the first time.

Chishiya didn’t know how to respond, and it didn’t matter. The girl hid her face in his shoulder again and tightened her grip on his torso. He lifted his arm and, gently stroking her hair, let his mind wander back to that little box in the drawer of his nightstand in their Tokyo apartment. He sighed. "Just a little longer," he thought. He raised her face with his hand to look into her eyes. "Hold on just a little longer..."

© 2025 [@dreamwavesexploringreality]

[ghostbustting]

hiiii, can you please please please do slash x Guns N’ Roses assistant?

╰┈➤ “𝑶𝑵𝑬 𝑻𝑰𝑴𝑬„ ๋࣭⭑

Saul “Slash” Hudson x Reader

Contains Smut

“This is a one time thing.”

Slash’s voice and grunts along with the sound of skin meeting skin in repeat are the only thing that fills my ears as I lay underneath him on what’s supposed to be my work desk, trying to control my breath while the pressure of his member that pushed in and out of me in repeat like an endless loop takes control of every sense I have, my chest heaving up and down.

I couldn’t help but chuckle between breathy moans, “You’ll be saying that again for the next few years I work here.” I say with a tired smirk.

He only sigh and glance down to where we are connected perfectly well like two missing pieces of a puzzle, he moved his rough fingers, which I figured were from his guitar playing, to wrap around my throat, the pressure his hand had earned a short gasp from my red lips which are swollen from all the interaction with his own lips.

“Shut up..” He grunted and I swore I could die in his arms by the time his other hand met my hips and held it tightly as his hips’ movement starts to accelerate, causing my eyes to roll to the back of my head.

Fuck, how is this man real?..

My moans only went louder when the hand he had around my throat went to one of my breasts that’s been slipped past my bra and unbuttoned shirt and he leaned down to wrap his oh so beautiful lips around my nipple, his soft yet hot tongue coating my skin with his saliva.

One of my hand reached up to hold onto his hair, my fingers getting tangled in his gorgeous curly hair.

A small whimper leave my lips, “F-fuck..” My legs shifts to wrap around him, locking his still moving hips against mine, while my other hand also shifts to place the lollipop I held between my lips.

“How can you-” He cut himself off with his own groan as he pick up his pace, “How can you eat a lollipop right now?” His breath

I slip the stick out again and let out yet another breathy moan, ”How can I not?” My lips became glossy and sweet from the lollipop when he leaned down to kiss me yet again, my lips too numb at this point to even understand how to move against his.

This feels wrong.. No, not the lollipop. What cringed me is the whole ‘fucking the guitarist of the band I work for’ shenanigan, god that sentence is a mouthful. Not only that, It’s the fact that I actually enjoy the way his fucking cock fits well and hits every right spots in me.

The way his grunts will harmonize together along with my small whimpers and breathy moans. The way his eyes holds an intense gaze all the way to my own.

He pull back from the kiss and grab my lollipop, I watch with hazy eyes as he bite the red candy off the stick, throwing the plastic stick away. I roll my eyes and mumble, “Party pooper..”

Just then, the phone I had on my desk rings. Slash’s eyes meets mine in a sharp gaze, almost threatening me from answering, all while still thrusting into me. I smirk and grab the phone from the receiver, bringing it up to my ear. “Hello, this is Alan Niven’s assistant speaking, how may I help you?” I manage to voice out without any hint of filth in my voice.

I can hear him grunt as he speed up his thrusts, trying to break the steadiness of my voice with how hard and fast he’s thrusting into me.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I hummed into the phone at whatever the fuck the person was saying, I wasn’t even paying full attention. My eyes stays fixated on Slash’s, still in the same intense eye contact.

“You sent a mail?” I ask to the person, my other hand reach around my desk for where the pile of mails are supposed to be, covering the phone a little so I can let out a heavy breath without the person hearing it.

I manage to take the mail and open it with one hand, quickly reading through it while I feel my walls clenching around Slash’s cock. Taking deep breaths, I spoke to the phone again. “So.. you want… Guns N’ Roses to open for your new band?..”

Before the person can even answer, Slash took the phone and yelled into it, “We’re not interested, thanks!” Then he slammed it back onto the receiver, making me groan in annoyance.

“What the fuck—”

I was cut off short when he took two of his fingers and shoved them past my swollen lips, “Focus. On. Me.” He demanded, “Fucking tease..” He grunted.

I tried to speak around his fingers but they ended up muffled as he’s the one that’s chuckling now. “You whore.. fucking around with the band guitarist..” He spat, his other hand moving to rub circles gently on my clit, my moans became more desperate and loud yet muffled by his fingers.

A small chuckle leave his lips, seeing my vulnerable position, my work outfit looking rather filthy with how it now exposes what’s supposed to be private parts of me to him. “You know, the groupies out there don’t got shit on your sweet little pussy..” He said, slowly slipping his fingers out of my mouth.

His fingers slides out with a strand of saliva connecting from my glossy lips and the tip of his fingers. I cough and whimper, “I know. I’m that great.” I manage to utter out.

“You’ve got a big ego for an assistant.”

I let out a small scoff and arch my back from the desk as I feel my walls tightening around his girth even more, small whines leaving my lips as I look down at how his cock thrust in and out of my hole, feeling slightly dizzy.

I look up to see him smirking down at me, “You’re close aren’t you?” His voice was filled with playfulness, clearly enjoying how I’m squirming underneath him.

I nod, humming a little as my mouth struggles to utter out a word.

“C’mon, cum for me, baby.” He tapped on my thigh, accelerating his hips movement to encourage the urge in me to release.

With deep breaths, I throw my head back and let myself relax before my pussy clench even tighter around him and one more loud moan made it’s way out of me while I had the most intense release ever, my legs shaking. "Fuck fuck fuck..!" I cried out.

Not long, the guitarist follow close and fill his seeds right in my throbbing slick hole, making me feel full with his cum and my own that slowly drips down onto my desk when pulls out of me.

While I try to recover from the intense sex we had, Slash took the moment to look down at my pathetic position laying on the desk, my sweaty chest heaving up and down, my hair disheveled, my desk messy, and cum dripping down my thighs.

He sighs and run a hand through his curls, “Yea alright, I guess this won’t be a one time thing..”

[heartfall-syndrome]

i saw that you were taking requests for transformers to draw!! may i humbly suggest knockout the icon he is

He truly is an icon