#before everyone reassures him it's just a cold

[lesbiansforboromir]

Alright, I was holding off for journalistic integrity but now that I've seen the WotR film I can make posts about it without restraint.

Jesus christ the racial politics of this film are atrocious. Some character might as well just tell Wulf 'not to play the race card'. Wulf is a liberal snowflake who blames racism for all his troubles and can't pull himself up by his bootstraps and he is also brown-skinned and obsessively pursues our PORCLAIN white dainty-drawn female protagonist with both romantic and murderous intent. Oppression of dunlendings by the Rohirrim exists only in Wulf's head apparently, though it can be tasted in every spat 'dunlending' perjorative that comes from Helm or Haleth's mouth. But Hera has absolutely no racism within her of course! She refuses Wulf because she doesnt want to marry anyone and Wulf just assumes it's because his dunlending blood disgusts her, so entitled of him!

But also maybe the racism is '''justified'''? If it exists? Which it doesn't! But IF it did, don't worry because ONCE AGAIN all the dunlendings are just greedy, clutching, unwashed, skull wearing, violent barbarians with no unique culture to speak of and no reasons to be making war on Rohan except to sieze what isn't theirs (ignoring the fact that it totally was theirs until Rohan seized it from them and OH BOY are we ignorin' that) And the only dunlending we see not frothing at the mouth for violence or showing any introspective depth at all is General Targg who is the mouthpiece with which we get to hear 'the girl (Hera) is right' whereupon he is promptly killed by Wulf.

Oh but of course, what else could Helm have done? Freca was some greedy FAT man (boy does everyone love calling him fat, happy to lean into THAT aspect of canon) whose lands were too prosperous for his own good (hang on isn't keeping your lands prosperous the platonic ideal of lordship?) And he called a 'Witan' (no he didn't, he came to one of the regular councils of lords that Helm called himself) just to make a scene about how Helm was going to marry Hera to a lord of gondor which is bad because Gondor has some nebulous hold over Rohan so Hera should marry Wulf instead (literally none of that, Freca simply asked Helm to wed his daughter to Wulf, his son, a completely normal and legitimate political strategy to secure a better relationship with the King's family since Helm already mistrusted him for having dunlending blood. Freca is a lord of Rohan, he is rich, he traces his ancestry back to King Freawine, this could not be a more reasonable suggestion in canon.)

SO OBVIOUSLY Helm had to get angry and call Freca fat again (true he did do that) and THEN claim that Freca only wanted his throne (there was never any suggestion of this in the books, it was just the offer of marriage which insulted Helm) to which Freca answered "Old kings that refuse a proffered staff may fall on their knees," and Helm is like okay lets take this outside.

And now THIS change is actually so important in understanding the extreme nature of the Rohir/Helm favouritism that is the main focus of this film. In the film Helm pretty much immediately takes Freca outside, he reassures Frealaf that Freca just needs to be shown his place, this is the only way to settle the matter, if he doesn't embarass him here then Freca will try to take his crown and slay his family apparently, his hunch ig etc etc. Freca punches Helm three times in full view of the whole of Edoras including Freca's two men who came with him, then Helm punches him back and he is knocked out cold and dead by the time he hits the ground. Film!Helm does not realise he has done this and tells Freca to get up, Wulf realises his father is dead and threatens Helm with revenge, swords are draw against him which he tries to calm before Wulf attacks him. Helm incapacitates Wulf, his sons draw THEIR swords and Helm exiles Wulf for drawing his sword on his king. Messy right? Like not a good thing to do, generally brawling with your lords is a bad idea full stop, but if you fear for the lives of your children then idk maybe it's excusable? And then it's just an unfortunate series of events right? And Freca was rude and insulting to a king in his own halls, heat of the moment etc etc

I feel so comfortable in telling you that Helm murders Freca in cold blood in the books, fully intending that to be the outcome.

He does not take him outside initially, Book!Helm tells Freca that this marriage dispute isn't important and they will deal with it later. And then;

When the council was over, Helm stood up and laid his great hand on Freca’s shoulder, saying: "The king does not permit brawls in his house, but men are freer outside"; and he forced Freca to walk before him out from Edoras into the field. To Freca’s men that came up he said: "Be off ! We need no hearers. We are going to speak of a private matter alone. Go and talk to my men!" And they looked and saw that the king’s men and his friends far outnumbered them, and they drew back. "Now, Dunlending," said the king, "you have only Helm to deal with, alone and unarmed. But you have said much already, and it is my turn to speak. Freca, your folly has grown with your belly. You talk of a staff! If Helm dislikes a crooked staff that is thrust on him, he breaks it. So!" With that he smote Freca such a blow with his fist that he fell back stunned, and died soon after. Helm then proclaimed Freca’s son and near kin the king’s enemies; and they fled, for at once Helm sent many men riding to the west marches.

(Appendices, 'The House of Eorl', emphasis mine)

I think we can all agree that forcing someone out of your city, isolating them away from their fellows with threats of violence, telling them you will break them, killing them in one blow and then proclaiming their kin your enemies and forcing them to flee to escape a murderous pursuit, is pretty clearly premeditated murder. There is not much nuance here, Freca tresspassed over a line with Helm that Dunlendings are not allowed to cross and Helm killed him for it.

And listen like, the description of this whole story within the appendices is barely more than three pages. This is not an obscure missable aspect of the tale, nor is it outside of what rights they had to adapt. The choice was made, actively, ONCE AGAIN by the Warner Bros cinematic universe makers, to drastically alter book events in order to sand down any immorality within Rohan's narrative, especially where the Dunlendings are concerned. And in the end the only 'mistake' Helm is allowed to learn and grow from is some nebulous and trite 'not believing enough in his daughter' schpiel, which needs to be the subject of a whole 'nother post actually.

And what's agonising is they COULD have done it like they were so close, there are multiple moments where me and my friend watching were like struck!! With grief! Over how impactful this moment could have been if only the racism actually existed as an acknowledged theme in the story. If only it was something Hera had to come to terms with, if only IT was the true driver of these horrors to the point where it's Avatar, Hera's father, a man who loves her and whom she has loved all her life, turns into a cold icey ghost of brutality, far more vicious and barbaric than the people he so reviles, and reveals to her the terrible truth of his actions and motivations. It's agony I tell you.

Anyway I did not like the film.

[ninikrumbs]

Christmas love

satoru gojo x reader. for all my girlies spending christmas alone. fluffy fluff fluff. idiots in love. established relationship. ᰍ ׅ ۫ . 🧣 ೀ

The smell of cinnamon and pine wafts through the air, as Satoru and you left the Christmas Market. His hand held yours inside his jacket pocket as you watch him talk animatedly beside you.

“I’m sure my plans can’t compare to yours,sweets!”

Satoru was just about at the end of telling you his plans for the rest of Christmas week; Babbling excitedly about his Christmas dinner with his family, a short ski trip with Suguru and Shoko on the 25th, and even a reunion dinner with some old high school friends.

It wasn’t a surprise to you, Satoru was social, friendly, abundantly popular, and the life of every party so of course everyone wanted him around.

You laugh as genuinely as you could before answering him, “Of course! I’m jam packed, I feel like Christmas caroling is the only thing I’m not doing this week.”

Lies. Well not completely, you did have a few dinners lined up with a couple of close friends, even a birthday party. The only thing was your were gonna spend Christmas Eve and Christmas day alone.

A good few of your friends were married so they spent Christmas with their families or spouses, some where taking out of the country trips and some were working on Christmas day. It was a bit depressing, you weren’t exactly expecting to spend Christmas alone.

But at least you had today, which was your date with Satoru to go around the Christmas Village. You had fun, with the dinner, the ice skating, the slow dancing under the mistletoe with Satoru stealing a kiss, and now holding hands as the both of you walked to his car under the cold winter air. It was perfect.

Satoru’s lips quirk up, “Hmm, maybe we should go caroling next year! Start a new tradition together!”

While it moves your heart to bits that he can see you still being together next year this early into your one month relationship, it still stung that you won’t be spending Christmas with him this year. You honestly thought he would ask you when he started talking about his plans a few days ago, but then he started asking about your amazing plans so you decided to fib.

This connection is new and delicate. You couldn’t ask him to drop his traditions and plans for you; plans that were made before you started dating, that was just selfish and knowing him, he probably would drop everything if he found out about your non existent plans. So you chose not too, it’ll be fine, you’ll be fine.

You playfully roll your eyes at him, “Sure, Toru. You can take some singing lessons while your at it!”

He holds a hand to his heart in offense, gasping so dramatically, “I’ll have you know that I have the voice of an angel!”

“Babe..” You clasp his free hand before exhaling, “Whoever told you that was lying.”

You made a run for it the moment the words left your lips, laughing against the icy breeze.

Barely getting 5 steps away, strong arms capture your waist from behind, lifting you off your feet. Damn his long legs. “Gotcha!”

He places you down for one second before throwing you on his shoulder and starts walking.

“Satoru, put me down!” You grasp the back of his jacket, terrified of falling onto the icy pavement.

“Nope.” He says popping the p.

“I’m gonna fall!”

“You won’t.” Reassuring you by tightening his grasp on your waist.

“At least hold me with two arms!”

“Your man is the strongest, sweets. I only need one arm to carry you.”

You snort before mumbling, “Show off..”

He slaps a hand to your butt making you jump, startled. “I heard that.”

“Good.” Which earned you another soft spank to your butt, “Satoru! stop that and put me down, people are staring.”

Though you were sure they staring at your gorgeous boyfriend.

“Not until you say that your boyfriend is the most handsome man in the world and has a voice can even bring the dead to life!”

He was absolutely ridiculous, “No way!”

“Then your gonna be up there indefinitely.” He was joking you were sure of it, but there was nothing wrong in indulging him sometimes.

“Fine, I give!”

“Yessss!” He whoops in victory.

“Can you at least put me down?” You ask meekly.

He huffs, smoky air puffing out, “So you can run away again? Not happening.”

“Wouldn’t you rather I say it your face?”You say trying to convince him which makes him hum, thinking about it.

After a moment, he gently places you back on your feet but not without pulling you flush to his chest, holding you steady.

You were a little bit dizzy from the change of position, but you could still see Satoru’s bright azure eyes staring at you expectantly.

Once again, he was absolutely ridiculous yet you gaze at him with such exasperated fondness.

You reach up and softly brush his snowy bangs away from his face, your touch creating a light blush to dust his cheeks. “My boyfriend is the most handsome man in the world.”

Its makes his eyes gleam and smug smile curve on his lips. He was so pretty, so where was the lie?

“And..” You breathe out heavily as if it took everything in you say the next few words, “He has a voice that can bring the dead back to life.”

He grins victoriously and leans down to press a peck on your nose the your lips which makes you melt, “See? that wasn’t too hard.”

“You’re lucky I love you.” You grumble but with no real spunk behind it.

He presses another soft kiss to your lips, eyes filled with so much warmth, “The luckiest.”

You were still pouting when Satoru started walking towards the car again. Your gaze landing at your intertwined hands, no longer in his pocket. Your eyes drop when the reminder that you were gonna spend Christmas away from him creeps in your mind once more.

It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine.

—

“Yeah, yeah, I’m all packed.” Satoru grumbles.

Shoko was nagging him about packing correctly for their ski trip. Make sure to bring your actual ski’s idiot. Like he didn’t know that. He forgot that one time. Big deal. He could just buy another pair at the ski resort.

“Hey, Gojo. I’m kinda surprise that your coming with us this year or I at least thought you wouldn’t be coming alone.”

He sighs, throwing himself on his bed with mood dropping instantly. “I didn’t want to pull y/n from her plans.”

The fact that he wasn’t spending Christmas with her made him so depressed, he doubts he was gonna have fun on this ski trip.

He thinks he made a good job at hiding his displeasure from her. Not wanting to come off more childish that he already did. But damn it did he want to see her. The phone call from earlier was barely enough to have his fill of you..

“Huh? What plans?” Shoko’s confused voice rings from the phone.

“Y’know, dinner plans or was it a Christmas girls night with her friends that they planned a whole while ago.”

The line goes quiet for a while, “Satoru..No, she doesn’t.”

Satoru’s heart drops at the certainty on her voice, “What are you talking about?”

—

Familiar tunes of popular Christmas hits floats throughout your apartment along with the scent of newly baked gingerbread muffins cooling down on your kitchen counter.

You took as sip of your hot coco from your ugly Christmas mug as you admired the twinkling lights on your small festive tree. The sound of your fireplace crackling made everything feel more cozy.

Christmas was a holiday you always enjoyed. Especially the traditions that came with it: the pretty lights, the colorful gifts, the white snow covering the pavements and roofs, the Christmas gatherings and how everyone seems to be extra nice this time of year. Ever since you were a kid, Christmas was simply magical.

You didn’t mind spending Christmas alone. You already had the evening filled with plans on baking which you had just finished, reading, and binge watching some cheesy Christmas movies.

Still, you find your mind wandering, even the magic of the fluffy snow falling down your window pane couldn’t fend off the prickle of loneliness dripping down your heart. Not to mention snow only reminded you of a certain someone.

You let out a sad exhale before catching yourself. Shaking your head, you put you mug down your coffee table and proceeded to clap your palms on your cheeks.

It’ll be fine. You’ll be fine. There’s always next year. You can be selfish then.

After pathetically comforting yourself, you sit on the sofa planning to start perusing the dozens of Christmas films on Netflix.

Hmm, The Holidate sounds interesting. Fun and quirky, something that’s not gonna make you bawl your eyes out. Perfect.

The that’s intro comes up on the screen, but a sudden hard knock on your door makes you click pause.

Who could that be? Did you order something? Its probably a neighbor who needs a wine opener.

You make your way to the door, the incessant knocking continues. “I’m coming. jeez.”

You swing the the door open. The sight that greets you makes you take a step back, your heart tumbling over itself.

There he is with his hands on his knees, gasping for air like he ran a marathon to get here. Sweat lines his forehead despite the cold air. He runs a hands through his white strands as he happily grins at you,.

“Satoru, what are you doing here?” You ask skeptically, “Shouldn’t you be on your way to your ski trip?”

You couldn’t let yourself hope that he was here for you, maybe he forgot something in your apartment.

Yet he proves you wrong when he stands up to his actual height. His face flush from the effort, closes the door behind him and tugs you flushed to his warm chest. Your senses fills with his scent and you melt. He smells like home.

He plants a soft kiss to you temple as he buries his hand in you hair, breathing you in, “You didn’t think I was gonna let you spend Christmas alone, did ya?”

Your eyes grew wide before tears start to prickle your eyelids, the gravity of spending Christmas alone somehow finally sunk in at his words, making you clasp his back in distress. You weren’t fine at all. “How did you know..?”

He lets out a breath and pulls back at bit to gaze into your eyes. “It doesn’t matter, what matters is why didn’t you tell me?”

You drop his gaze, not able to form the words. How could you tell him? That you didn’t wanna look so pathetic. That you didn’t make any plans in hindsight of wanting to spend Christmas with him. It was either a Christmas with him or no one at all.

A hand on your chin guides you back to look at him, his face so distraught it made your heart clench. “Baby, I wanted nothing more than to spend Christmas with you.”

“But your plans..”

“Fuck those plans! I don’t care about them. I wanted to cancel every single one of them just so I could spend Christmas week with you.” He cries out.

“What?”

A finger wipes a stray tear from your eyes before cupping your cheek. His starry eyes looks at you with worry and a shed of guilt, “If I made you feel like Id rather spend time with other people than my gorgeous girlfriend, then I’m doing a horrible job as your boyfriend.”

“No! It just-” Despite his assurances you still couldn’t wrap your head around it, “I couldn’t just make you drop your plans, Toru. I’d feel too bad about it.”

He caresses a thumb down your cheek in understanding, “I mean sure we could have eaten dinner with my family, but other than that I would’ve been much happier spending my week with you, pretty.”

You don’t know if you felt relieved or embarrassed. Relieved that he felt the same way or embarrassed that he found out about you non existent plans. Okay, you were both.

You cheeks heat up in embarrassment as you try to explain yourself, “I’m sorry, Toru.. Its just what we have- its just so new and I didn’t know how to go about it and..” You give resigned sigh, “I didn’t want to ruin it.”

“Oh, baby.” He coos, pulling me back to his chest. “There’s no ruining this, that would be next to impossible, especially you. If there’s anyone who has a chance of ruining this, its me. You might get sick or too annoyed with me one of these days.”

He might be joking, but you could hear the insecurity lacing his words.

“No way!” You place a kiss on his chin. “That’s impossible.”

“I’m happy you think so, pretty.”

He pulls away once more and hangs his jacket on your coat rack. Then proceeds to lead you to your living room where you had everything set, from your Christmas decorations, your muffins, the tree, to the fireplace, and the paused movie.

“And to think you were gonna have such a cozy night without me, you must really hate me.”

You roll your eyes at him dramatics, “That’s far from the truth.”

He plops himself on the sofa that were filled with cozy Christmas themed pillows and thick blankets. The image made your stomach feel warm. He was here. Satoru was here. He came for you.

Like he always does.

You feel like an idiot for doubting him. He tilts his head at you just standing there. “Come here.”

And you do. Though before you could sit beside him, he pulls you down to his lap. Your back to his chest, “There you go. Right where you belong.”

You giggle, “There’s enough space for the both of us to sit, Toru.”

“Too much space if it makes you sit away from me.” He pouts childishly, tightening his arms around your waist.

“That’s just..” You shake your head with a fond smile. He nuzzles you neck for a good while, as if trying to make up for the time your weren’t in his arms.

“Sweets, I’m sorry” He murmurs against you neck after a while making you turn your head to look at him. “For what?”

“I should have been honest from the start..” His voice tinge with regret, “I wanted to beg you to cancel your plans from the beginning but I didn’t want to be selfish.”

You smile sheepishly at him, “Yet you wanted me to be selfish?”

He blinks, “Of course, your my girlfriend. I love you more than anything.” His voice was lace with so much unfiltered love, it made your eyes sting, “You come above everything else. I want you be selfish with me.”

You furrow your eyebrows, overwhelmed by his dedication, “Toru, that’s too much..”

He merely shakes his head, “Never too much. Not when it come to you. I hope you know that.”

You maneuver yourself in his lap so that your facing him. His sparkling blue eyes twinkling under the lights. He was so pretty it almost hurt. His mere existence overwhelmed you in the best way.

Cupping his face, you move in closer, “Then you should be selfish with me too. Don’t be scared to ask more of me, Toru.”

He stares at you, eyes tracing your face as if committing every feature to memory,

“God, I love you.” He breathes out as he pulls you by the neck and closes the gap between your lips.

Your toes curl as his lips molded with yours, your arms curls around his neck pulling him closer as he angled his head to deepen the kiss.

He groans against your lips as his tongue dances with yours and you could hear the sound of your lips echoing around the living room.

He tasted like candy and cinnamon. It made your head spin and heart pound a mile a minute , your hand crawled down touch his chest to feel his heart racing as fast as yours.

Its like he couldn’t get enough as he kissed you like a man starved again, again and again.

You didn’t want it to ever stop, but there was one more thing you needed to tell him.

You pull away with his lips chasing yours, eyes in a daze making you giggle, “Toru, before I forget.”

“What?” He says, bright blue eyes still focusing on your kiss bitten lips.

You pinch his nose, hoping to make him focus. “Merry Christmas, Toru.”

He blinks and scrunches his nose, a bit of clarity seeping into him as he smiles tenderly at you, “Merry Christmas, baby. On every list I ever sent. You’re the gift I love the best.”

Merry Christmas to everyone around the world!

[monster-disaster]

https://www.tumblr.com/monster-disaster/760344475674542080/i-need-a-part-2-of-your-dragon-fic-where-he-fucks?source=share

He's a dragon, I'm sure he can find some kind of potion or spell to shrink down his size for even just a few hours (I need him)

dragon!Diman x human!Reader Good to know: smut

Previous request: [dragon] Diman

-

You sit on the cold, unforgiving ground, your legs crossed awkwardly beneath you as you stare intently at the small jar before you. The liquid inside shimmers faintly in the dim light, and you can’t help but scowl as you blink at it, convinced it looks suspiciously like water.

“Are you sure it’s not just water?” you call out, your voice echoing slightly in the stillness. You don’t even bother to glance at the large dragon a few meters away behind you. You know he is there. His presence fills the cave even when he says and does nothing.

The male huffs in response. “Do you really think someone would dare to scam me?” His voice rumbles like distant thunder.

You shrug, feeling a mixture of uncertainty and defiance. “Well, everyone can be stupid at least once,” you reason.

“Sure they can,” Diman scoffs again.

A moment of silence stretches between you before you break it again. “And what if something goes wrong?” you ask. “I don’t want you to get hurt just because-”

When your sentence trails off and you glance at him over your shoulder, Diman’s large mouth splits into a wolfish grin. His sharp teeth gleam under the candlelight's orange glow. “Just because you want my cock?” The teasing lilt in his voice sends a rush of warmth through you.

You’ve lived with Diman for almost a year now, and in that time, he’s pushed you to the brink of ecstasy more times than you can count. Some days, it’s almost a competition to him to see just how many times you can reach your climax, yet, despite the familiarity of his teasing, you still feel your cheeks heat up at his words.

“Come now,” he purrs. His voice is smooth as silk and dripping with playful seduction. “You can’t tell me that you don’t want it.”

You can’t deny the truth in his words. The longing that has built inside you each day has become maddening. No matter how close you feel to Diman, there’s an unmistakable barrier created by the vast difference in size between you.

“Of course I want it,” you reply steadily despite the flutter of nerves in your stomach. “I want you, but not at all costs.”

You hear him rising to his feet, the powerful thud of his clawed paws against the ground reverberating through the silence. He moves gracefully, as if the weight of his massive body is a mere afterthought, and settles down beside you with a gentle thump that stirs the earth beneath you. His head lowers, resting next to your body, and you can’t help but admire the contrast between his imposing form and your own.

Diman’s large eyes soften as he gazes at you, a flicker of understanding shining in the depths of his golden irises. He leans into your offered hand, rubbing his nose against your palm, the warmth of his breath sending shivers up your arm. “It’s safe,” he assures you, his voice deep and reassuring. “The worst that can happen is nothing.” There’s a calm certainty in his words that soothes your worries, but still, a part of you hesitates.

“And what if you stay that size? What then?”

His expression shifts to teasing in an instant, that signature glint returning to his eyes. “What? You won’t love me anymore?” He laughs.

You elbow him playfully, though you can’t shake the feeling that he feels it less than you do. “I don’t want you to change. Would you really be happy if you stayed my size?” The question hangs in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken truths.

Diman’s large mouth opens, and for a moment, it seems he’s ready to respond, but then his voice falters, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features.

“See?” you point out, a small smile playing on your lips. “You would hate it. You like being this scary dragon who can burn down anything.” The words come out more playful than accusatory.

He locks his gaze with you, a knowing look passing between you. “You love that too,” he counters. “And my offer still stands.”

“You won’t burn down my ex-village,” you tell him firmly, your brow furrowing slightly. The thought of it doesn’t stir any deep feelings within you; the village holds no charm or attachment. They had cast you aside, throwing you into the dragon's arms as if your life were a mere game, an expendable pawn in their fears. Even though Diman is the best thing that ever happened to you, the villagers didn’t know that. They had always seen him as a monstrous threat, and now, they likely think you already died at his claws. You are sure they had already forgotten you even existed.

He huffs in mock disappointment, but you can see the spark of mischief in his eyes as he glances back at the small vial still sitting on the ground. The shimmering liquid inside catches the light, glinting like a treasure waiting to be uncovered.

“So?” he asks, tilting his head slightly. “Do you want me to drink it?”

“You won’t leave me alone until I say yes anyway,” you reply, attempting to suppress the flicker of worry that still lingers in the back of your mind.

“You’re right,” he nods, his golden eyes alight with mischief. Stubborn as ever, and not even trying to hide it.

You sigh, relenting. “Then drink it.”

Diman gives a satisfied rumble, rising to his feet and approaching the small vial on the ground with a careful slowness. He lowers his massive snout until it hovers just above the tiny glass container, his eyes narrowing with annoyance.

Then, after a long pause, he glances up. “Could you… open it?”

The request sounds so awkward, so endearingly out of place, that you can’t help yourself, you lean back, bursting into laughter. “Oh, you beast!” Your voice echoes off the mountain walls.

“Har-har-har,” he grunts, rolling his eyes but staying completely still, clearly waiting for you to help.

Shaking your head with a grin, you finally stand and walk over to the vial. Reaching out, you pop it open. The glass feels cool and smooth beneath your fingers as you twist the tiny cap, releasing a faint, fragrant aroma that drifts up to your nose. It doesn't smell familiar, and it only makes you more worried.

Diman’s eyes remain locked on yours, his gaze intense and unwavering, as you hold out the open vial. For a brief moment, time seems to stand still, the air thick with anticipation, and then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he parts his jaws, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth that glint in the dim light. You carefully reach over the intimidating barrier of fangs, and tilt the vial.

The moment the liquid touches his tongue, the two of you hold your breath, eyes locked on one another as you pull back, watching him intently. You wait, bracing for some shift, some sign of transformation, but the seconds drag on, stretching into a long, tense silence. Diman’s form remains unchanged.

“Do you feel anything?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

“Nothing,” he replies.

You raise an eyebrow. “How did it taste?”

Diman gives a small shake of his head, his expression unreadable. “Didn’t feel that either,” he mutters, glancing down at the vial with an annoyed huff.

“So… you think they really scammed you?” you ask cautiously, watching his expression closely. Though a part of you feels relieved that nothing bad happened, you can sense Diman’s disappointment like a wave radiating off him. The excitement in his eyes has faded, replaced with a quiet frustration that’s hard to ignore.

“Not necessarily,” he says, shaking his large head slowly, his gaze lingering on the empty vial. “These things… Magic isn’t something you can predict.” His voice is low and thoughtful, as though he’s trying to reason through his own expectations.

More seconds pass, each one dragging with anticipation. Finally, Diman lets out a deep, frustrated huff, the sound echoing off the rough mountain walls. “I’ll still be asking for my gold back,” he mutters, tinged with irritation as he turns, flicking his tail dismissively.

You can’t help it. Your jaw clenches, stifling a laugh as you watch him stalk toward the nest you’ve built together. The sight of a massive dragon sulking over a failed potion is so absurdly endearing that a warm amusement bubbles up in your chest. You know you should feel some disappointment, at least to some extent, but the truth is, your fears had outweighed your hopes all along. A part of you braced for the worst, imagining scenarios where the magic might have gone wrong, and relief floods you. Diman, however, had believed in this wholeheartedly, his hopes stretching far beyond your cautious expectations. As he lies there, huffing quietly to himself, you can feel the lingering frustration radiating from him. For him, the vial had promised something grand, a spark of magic that could have changed everything. Something that could have brought you closer together. And now, that possibility sits hollow between you.

With a sigh, you settle into the nest beside him, pressing yourself close to his hard, scaly skin, feeling the familiar warmth seep through. Blankets and layers of fabric cocoon you, but it’s his presence that truly wraps you in comfort. Reaching out, you let your fingers trail slowly over his scales, each ridge grounding you with its solid, reassuring warmth.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work,” you murmur, resting your hand on his muzzle, feeling his steady breaths rise and fall. “I know how much you wanted it.”

Diman lets out a soft sigh, his eyes drifting shut, the weight of his disappointment evident in the subtle slump of his shoulders. “I suppose… magic can’t fix everything,” he says, a note of reluctant acceptance in his voice.

You scowl, the words prickling at something within you. “We didn’t need fixing,” you correct him firmly, your voice resolute. “We just needed a little help, that’s all.”

His eyes flick open, absorbing the certainty in your tone. “Careful,” he teases, the edge of a smirk tugging at his lips. “If you get any angrier, you just might breathe fire.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully. “Please. Like that wouldn’t turn you on.”

A rumbling laugh escapes him, deep and rich, reverberating through his chest and into you, filling the entire nest with his amusement. “Without question.”

Soon, a comfortable silence settles between you, wrapping around you as gently as Diman’s scales. The dim light casts soft shadows across the nest, and the warmth of his body radiates through the blankets, lulling you into a calm, drowsy state until you both fall asleep.

The morning feels like it comes too soon as you awaken to the sensation of something, or someone, touching you. A large hand grips your hips roughly, and something warm and demanding grinds against your backside from behind, and your instinct kicks in almost immediately. You jolt up, adrenaline flooding your system, a mix of fear and anger igniting within you.

“Who-” you start to threaten, ready to defend yourself, but your words falter as your gaze settles on Diman. The dragon, though still large and dominating, is much smaller than last night.

He looks at you, an excited grin spreading across his muzzle, and those familiar golden eyes sparkle with mischief. “Good morning,” he rumbles. The low growl of his voice reverberates through the air, sending a thrill through you despite the surprise.

You blink in confusion. “What happened to you?” you ask, your heart racing as you process the changes. The potion actually worked.

Diman shifts slightly, his movements graceful even in this smaller form, and he chuckles softly. “Seems like the potion had a bit of an effect after all,” he replies with a playful gleam in his eye. “I suppose it decided to play a trick on me.”

"You are smaller!" you exclaim, still shocked.

Diman huffs with a playful mockery in his tone. “Yeah, every male loves to hear that.”

You can’t help but laugh, nearly throwing yourself at him as you eagerly scan his new form over and over again. “No, really! Look! I can cup your face!” With that, you do just that, cradling his still-large head in your palms, marveling at how you can finally reach him so easily. Though he’s undeniably still big and powerful, the change is strikingly evident.

The dragon lets out a deep, rumbling laugh. “Yes, you can.” His fingers curl gently around your wrists, holding you steady as you settle over his torso, your heart racing with the thrill of exploration. “And you know what else you can?”

“What?” you ask, curiosity piqued by the teasing lilt in his voice.

“You can kiss me too.”

Your breath hitches in your throat as you process his words, a flutter of excitement mixed with nervousness unfurling in your stomach. Though you’ve shared many intimate moments, the size difference has always kept you from kissing. Now, with Diman smaller and more accessible, it feels like a significant milestone. A first kiss with the male you love. You stare into his warm, golden eyes, seeing a playful invitation and a deep sincerity in his gaze. The moment stretches between you, heavy with anticipation. Everything you feel for him swells, memories of your shared experiences flooding your mind, and you realize how much you’ve longed for this simple, yet profound act.

Bracing yourself on his broad chest, you lean in, closing the distance with a racing heart and burning anticipation. The moment your lips meet his, his arms curl around you, holding you tight as he captures you in a searing kiss that feels both exhilarating and surreal.

It is a little awkward, his snout makes things difficult, creating a strange angle, but you don’t care about anything. As his tongue slips into your mouth, a thrill runs through you, sending shivers down your spine. You respond instinctively, matching his intensity. Your own tongue shyly dances with his as the world around you fades into a blissful haze. Every worry and every lingering doubt dissipates in the wake of this kiss. You grip his scales, feeling the power beneath your fingertips, and you can’t help but smile against his mouth, exhilaration bubbling up inside you. Diman’s hold tightens, his powerful form radiating safety and warmth, and you revel in the delicious contrast between his strength and the tenderness he holds.

Soon, your kiss turns even more heated. The world outside is completely forgotten as you lose yourselves in each other. Diman’s hands move with a surprising gentleness, yet there’s a firm intent behind them as they find your hips, guiding you across the length of his cock that juts out from the sheath of his scales.

You gasp against his mouth, the sensation sending a rush of heat through your body, amplifying the electric tension that fills the air between you. His touch is both exhilarating and overwhelming, the sheer size of him a reminder of the powerful creature he is, even in this smaller form.

The friction between your bodies ignites a primal instinct within you, a desire that has been simmering just beneath the surface for far too long. As he guides you, the reality of the moment washes over you, filling you with a mix of excitement and need.

“Fuck me,” you hum against his mouth, the words spilling out in a breathy whisper. “Fuck me, please,” you plead, desperation creeping into your voice as the heat of the moment grows inside you.

“As you wish,” he replies, his tone low and filled with a teasing promise.

With quick, deliberate movements, he tugs your nightgown off your body, the fabric sliding away to leave you bare and vulnerable atop him. The cool air kisses your skin, contrasting sharply with the warmth of his body beneath you.

Diman’s eyes darken with desire as he takes in your exposed form. His hands roam across your skin, exploring the curves of your body as he takes his time, savoring the moment. Each caress sends shivers down your spine, igniting every nerve ending as you arch against him, hungry for more. Your hips grind down on him in a restless motion, each movement filled with desire, and your lips part with a silent whine when one of his hands cups your breast, the hard pad of his thumb brushing over your nipple with just the right amount of pressure.

“Perfect,” the dragon groans, the sound rumbling deep within his chest as he pulls you closer, just enough so he can take your breast into his mouth. His warm breath sends another wave of tingling pleasure through you, and you gasp, your body instinctively arching toward him as he swipes his tongue over the hard bud again and again, sending sparks of electricity shooting through your core. Diman’s mouth is a warm haven, his skilled tongue teasing and exploring in ways that leave you breathless. You can feel the heat pooling low in your belly, the need for him growing with each passing moment.

He responds to your silent plea, his other hand sliding down your body, fingers trailing along your waist before finding their way between your legs. You shiver as he brushes against your most sensitive area. “You’re so responsive,” he murmurs, his voice thick with lust. “I could stay here forever.”

You feel your body respond eagerly to his touch. Diman’s fingers find your most sensitive spot, teasing you with a gentle caress that sends waves of pleasure coursing through you. The heat pooling in your belly intensifies as he continues to explore, each movement deliberate and intoxicating.

“Please,” you gasp, the word slipping from your lips as you lose yourself in the sensations. You can’t get enough of him, of the way he touches you, the way he makes you feel utterly desired. Your hips rock against his hand, chasing the pleasure he offers, and you can feel your body tightening, coiling with need.

Diman’s gaze is locked on you, filled with a mixture of hunger and adoration as he watches your reactions. “You’re beautiful like this,” he growls, the timbre of his voice sending another rush of warmth across your heated skin. “So responsive, so ready.”

His fingers begin to work in earnest, sliding through your slickness, exploring your heat with a confidence that sends you spiraling further into bliss. You arch your back, gasping as he finds the perfect rhythm, his touch sending you closer to the edge with every passing second.

“Diman, I-” you start, but the words fade into a soft moan as he applies just the right pressure, his thumb circling your sensitive nub while his fingers plunge deeper into your pussy. You can feel the tension building, a delicious wave of pleasure that threatens to wash over you.

“Let go,” he urges, his voice low and sultry as he leans in to capture your lips again. The taste of him, of warmth and desire, fills your senses, pushing you closer to the precipice.

With every thrust of his fingers and every flick of his tongue, you feel the world around you dissolve, leaving only the two of you caught in this moment.

“Diman, I’m so close,” you breathe against his mouth, your body trembling with the effort of holding back. His eyes gleam with anticipation, and you know he wants to see you come undone for him.

“Then let it happen,” he whispers with a raw need that matches your own. “I want to feel you fall apart.”

With his encouragement, you surrender to the pleasure, letting it wash over you in powerful waves. You cry out, the sound escaping your lips as you feel the release crash over you, your body shaking with the force of it. Diman holds you close, his hands steadying you as you ride the waves of ecstasy, feeling utterly consumed in his protective arms.

The day passes by in a hazy heat, the cave echoing with your moans and the wet sounds of your bodies meeting over and over again. Each moment feels intoxicating, a blur of pleasure that leaves you half-delirious. You lose track of time, lost in the warmth of Diman’s body and the fierce kisses you share.

But soon, a low growl emanates from your stomach. Diman’s keen ears perk up at the noise, and he pauses, his gaze shifting from the heat of the moment to your flushed face. “You need to eat,” he says firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Before you can protest, he rises from beneath you, his large frame casting a shadow over your body as he retrieves a sizable plate piled high with fruits and leftover meat from yesterday. The sight is mouthwatering, but your legs feel so shaky from your recent orgasms that you can’t even attempt to stand.

Diman sets the plate down beside you, his eyes softening as he looks at you. “You need your strength, little one,” he murmurs, concern threading through his voice.

As you nibble on the fruit, you feel a mix of satisfaction and frustration. The sweetness of the berries bursts in your mouth, refreshing and filling, but it’s difficult to focus on anything other than the ache of longing still lingering inside you. Even this brief pause to eat seems too long without him inside you, all over you.

There’s a playful glint in his gaze as the dragon watches you, one that makes your heart race in anticipation. “Do I need to remind you how to eat properly?” he teases, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

You roll your eyes, unable to suppress a laugh. “I think I remember how to eat, thank you very much,” you reply, your voice teasing back. But as you finish the last of the fruit, the lingering heat from earlier starts to settle back in, pooling low in your belly once more.

“Good. Now, what do you want next?” he asks, his voice dropping to a low rumble that sends a thrill through you.

You meet his gaze, the air thick with unspoken desire. “I want you,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. “I want you again.”

His smirk widens, revealing sharp teeth that glint in the dim light of the cave. “Then I suppose we should get back to it, shouldn’t we?” he replies, his tone dripping with mischief.

Your heart leaps at the promise in his words, and you eagerly nod, ready to lose yourself once more in the heat of his embrace.

Even though your body has adjusted to his large size, you can still feel every inch of him penetrating your drenched heat as Diman pounds into you restlessly. Each thrust sends a wave of pleasure rippling through you, igniting the fire that smolders in your core. Your fingers grip the soft fabrics of the nest beneath you, desperately trying to anchor yourself as you keep your shaking legs spread wide open, moving against him with each powerful thrust.

His grip is bruisingly tight on your hips, holding you firmly in place as he drives into you with a primal intensity that leaves you gasping for breath. The sounds of your bodies meeting, skin against skin, and the wet squelch of your pleasure, echo in the cave, mingling with your moans and his deep growls of satisfaction. It’s a wild symphony of desire that fills the air around you.

You can feel the heat radiating from him, the raw power of his body as he claims you over and over again. The slickness between your legs becomes a glistening mess, a testament of the last several hours. Your juices mix with his cum, dripping down your thighs and smearing across your skin.

With each thrust, the pressure builds within you, a delicious tension that teeters on the edge of release. “Diman,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need. “I’m so close… Please.”

He responds with a low, rumbling growl that vibrates through your body as he quickens his pace. “Then let go, little one,” he urges. His voice is a sultry whisper against your ear. “I want to feel you come around me.”

The way he says it, filled with longing and authority, sends you spiraling closer to that edge. You can feel your body tightening, the pleasure pooling and building until it feels almost unbearable. You arch your back, pushing against him, urging him deeper, craving the sweet release that hovers just out of reach.

With one final, powerful thrust, Diman hits that perfect spot deep inside you, sending you over the edge. Your body quakes with the force of your climax, a wave of ecstasy crashing through you as you cry out his name. It echoes in the cave.

The dragon growls, his grip on your hips tightening as he thrusts into you a few more times, riding out your release with you. You can feel him swell inside you, the heat of his body overwhelming as he spills into you, filling you completely. It’s a sensation that makes your heart race and your body sing, leaving you breathless and utterly consumed in the afterglow.

The dragon settles down beside you, both of you weak and breathless, the air heavy with the lingering scent of your shared passion. “There are not enough positions for how much I want you,” he says, low and raspy.

You can’t help but laugh, a light sound that echoes softly in the cave. Turning around to face him, you meet with the warmth of his gaze. The golden hue of his eyes is still filled with need and affection. Your muscles shake slightly from the exertion, and you can feel the delicious sensitivity radiating from your core. Even the lightest rub of your thighs together sends tremors through your body, making you keenly aware of just how much he’s awakened every nerve.

“Careful,” you tease, a playful smile dancing on your lips. “I might take that as an invitation for round-” Your words halt, caught in the air as you lock eyes with him.

Diman shakes his head, amusement sparkling in his golden gaze. “I lost count,” he replies, the corners of his mouth curling up in a sly grin. “But I know I’m not done yet.”

The playful banter hangs between you, thick with a tension that electrifies the space. You can feel your heart racing, anticipation bubbling up inside you. His confidence is intoxicating, and the warmth of his body against yours only heightens your own, never-easing hunger.

“Maybe we should start again from the beginning,” you suggest, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper as you lean in closer. “Explore every position until we can’t move anymore.”

A low growl rumbles in Diman’s chest at your words, sending a thrill of excitement across your spine. “Oh, I like the sound of that,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “But you might need to hold on tight. I have a feeling this will be one wild ride.”

You grin, the challenge igniting a spark of mischief in your eyes. “Bring it on,” you reply boldly, pushing against him playfully.

With a quick movement, Diman rolls you onto your back, his weight settling over you, strong and powerful yet careful not to crush you. The playful glint in his eyes mirrors your own excitement, and you can’t help but laugh as he leans down, his snout hovering inches from your face.

“Let’s see just how many ways I can make you feel good again,” he says, thick with promise.

Without saying a word, you arch your back against him, craving his touch once more, and Diman, with a wicked smile, lowers his head. His warm breath fans across your skin as he presses soft kisses along your collarbone. Each gentle caress of his lips sends tingling shivers cascading down your spine, awakening every nerve ending in your body. “I hope you’re ready."

Your heart races in anticipation, and you nod, breathless and eager. “I am.” Your reply is barely louder than a whisper. “I want you, Diman.”

His eyes flare with heat at your words, and he responds with a deep, possessive growl that vibrates through your chest. With newfound urgency, he captures your lips with his. You melt into him, your body arching against his as he explores your mouth with a hungry fervor.

With each kiss, Diman’s hands wander, tracing the curves of your body and igniting flames of desire with every gentle touch. His fingers find your waist, gripping you tightly as he pulls you closer, their strength both grounding and exhilarating. You can feel the heat radiating from him, overwhelming yet comforting, as he deepens the kiss, his tongue sliding against yours with a sultry dance that leaves you breathless.

As he pulls away slightly, his gaze locks onto yours, intense and full of promise. “Tell me what you want,” he urges.

You can’t help but let out a soft moan, feeling the delicious heat pooling in your core. “I want to feel you inside me,” you confess, trembling slightly with excitement.

A predatory smile spreads across Diman’s face, and he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “As you wish.”

With that, he positions himself above you, his powerful frame eclipsing the dim light of the cave. The anticipation hangs heavy in the air as he slowly begins to guide himself to your entrance. Your breath hitches at the sensation, the fullness of him hovering just at the brink, teasing you with every passing second.

“Please,” you urge, the need in your tone is undeniable.

Diman’s gaze darkens with lust as he pushes into you, filling you completely in one smooth motion. You both gasp at the sensation, the exquisite pressure and warmth engulfing you as he stretches you to your limits. It’s overwhelming, exhilarating, and utterly perfect.

“Just like that,” you encourage, your hips instinctively rolling against him, urging him to move deeper. “Don’t hold back.”

He grins with a wicked glint in his eyes as he responds to your plea. With powerful, deliberate thrusts, he begins to move inside you. Each stroke of his cock in your drenched pussy causes a mix of pleasure and pain to throb through your body. You are oversensitive and tired, but the burning knot in your stomach doesn't let you rest. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air, mingling with your gasps and moans.

Diman’s powerful frame shifts and molds against yours, finding that perfect rhythm that leaves you breathless. The world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you, lost in each other, consumed by the fire of your lust for each other.

“You feel so good,” the dragon growls, his breath hot against your skin as he leans down to capture your lips once more. The kiss is fervent, filled with raw passion and impatience.

“Don’t stop,” you plead. Your voice trembles with desperation as you cling to him, your nails digging into his scales as you move with him, wanting more, craving everything he has to give.

Diman responds with a primal roar, his movements becoming more frantic and more intense as he drives deeper into you. The air between you becomes electric, each thrust bringing you closer to that delicious peak of your orgasm.

“Let go with me,” he commands.

And then, just as you reach another climax, the world explodes around you in a blinding rush of pleasure. You cry out his name, the sound echoing through the cave as waves of ecstasy crash over you, pulling you down into the depths of bliss as Diman follows you, his body shuddering against yours, filling you completely with the heat of his release.

The morning comes, and you aren't sure how. You’re convinced you simply lost your consciousness at some point, overwhelmed by the intensity of the night. As you turn around, the warmth of your shared body heat lingers in the air, but you are met with the familiar sight of Diman in his original form.

He’s large and imposing, his scales shimmering in the soft light filtering through the cave. His tail curls around you possessively, an instinctive gesture that makes your heart flutter. Diman opens his eyes slowly, blinking at you sleepily, a low rumble of contentment emanating from his chest.

“Good morning,” he rumbles, his voice still thick with sleep yet filled with an undertone of affection that sends warmth spreading through you. You can’t help but smile at the sight of him, a mix of fierce power and undeniable gentleness.

"You are back in your form," you tell him quietly, reaching out to caress his snout, your fingers gliding over the smooth, cool scales.

"I am back," he replies, his golden eyes sparkling with mischief as he leans into your touch, savoring your closeness.

Though yesterday was amazing and mind-blowing, and you can still feel the lingering sensation of him between your sore thighs and the warmth of his body enveloping you, you’re just as happy to see him back in his original form as you were to experience his smaller size. “I’m happy to see you,” you confess, your voice filled with sincerity.

Diman’s eyes soften at your words, and he lifts his massive head slightly. “I’m glad you are,” he murmurs, and you can sense the warmth of his emotions radiating from him.

For a while, you both lay in your nest, snuggled close, the world outside forgotten in the comfort of each other’s presence. The rhythm of his breath lulls you into a peaceful state until Diman breaks the silence. "Now, how about burning down your village?"

You blink, taken aback by his sudden shift in tone. "Would you really have the power to leave the mountain?" you ask, curiosity piqued despite the absurdity of the idea.

He hums in amusement, the sound deep and rumbling. "Not even the nest," he admits with a playful smirk curling his lips. "But I can go and get more of that potion if you want."

You shake your head, curling yourself against his massive, warm head, already half-asleep. "No," you sigh, closing your eyes and sinking deeper into the comfort of his presence. "Let’s sleep for a whole week."

[itwasmegan03]

18th December - sae itoshi x fem!reader

This year sae couldn't spend Christmas break with his gf, since the football tournament would have kept him busy for all the holiday. Or at least that was what y/n thought. 

It was the 11th November and y/n was taking to the airport, her boyfriend, Sae Itoshi, for his Football tournament in Spain that would have lasted some weeks, including the Christmas holidays ones. 

"Do you really have to go?" y/n whined childishly while pushing away sae's luggage that was in the way between them, she wanted to hug him and fill him with kisses. 

"Yes, mi amor*. I'm sorry. Pero voy a dedicarte un gol*" sae winked at her, pulling her close to his chest, to hold her tightly and comfort her with gentle strokes and kisses on the head. Y/n loved that type of comforting, especially now that she was struggling to hold her tears. Feeling sae's arms wrapped around her made her feel safe and comfortable to cry without being judged. But she was still sad that she wouldn't be able to get that care anymore for the next "few", as sae says, weeks.

His manager, Giraud Dabadie, called him one more time, saying that they were already late. Sae rolled his eyes from frustration and while he was pushing away y/n, or at least trying to, she gripped her arms around his torso even more, to not let him go. 

“mhm no!” she whined and started shaking her head. Sae patted her head one more last time and slowly pushed her away. “hey, mi vida*. You’re gonna be okay, we are gonna call each other every day” he reassured her and smiled. Y/n was a bit doubtful about the “every day”. It has already happened that sae didn’t end up calling her for almost a week because of his football practices and matches. She didn't want that to happen again. That thing caused so much pain and argues. But the way he was looking at her, made her believe him once again, so she just nodded and slightly smiled back. Y/n gave sae one last hug and kiss then waved goodbye, “a-adiós m-mi vida*” she added shyly. Sae couldn’t help but smirk and blush too, “hasta pronto, MI vida*”.

One month passed. It was the worst month ever. They did calls yeah, but mostly where they would scream to each other and cry. Sae was stressed for the practices and couldn't handle y/n that much, so he used to be more cold, dry and careless. Like he used to be with his little brother back then. Indeed, Rin comforted her by watching his brother's matches together on the tv and smile and cheer every time sae did a goal. That helped a bit. But everyday got worse. She understood that it wasn’t sae’s fault, it was just the pressure of being a footballer. But she just missed him so much. Y/n tried to do anything that distracted herself and made her happy but she realised that her happiness was found by being with sae. Everything she tried to do wasn't as nice as doing it together with him, her boyfriend, her favourite footballer, her baby, her amor, her vida, her corazòn*, just her everything.

More days passed. Y/n was kinda getting better because in the meanwhile it started snowing and the Christmas atmosphere was showing, so she felt a little happier. 

The 18th of December, y/n was invited to a small party. It was organised by the Blue Lock to celebrate the ending of the football tournaments before the Christmas holidays. The party, however, was held at Aiku's house, center back of the Japan U-20 team, the team where sae used to play. 

It was hard choosing a good dress, but y/n opted for a dress that sae gifted her for her birthday. Of course, everyone complimented her on how stunning she was. But she just thanked them coldly. We all knew from whom she wanted the compliments. Anyways, they were all having a great time, so did y/n for a little time.  But then a slow started to play. Precisely “Margaret” by Lana del Rey was playing.  Everyone partnered up, besides Aiku that saw how y/n stopped and admired all those lovely and cute couples that reminded her, sae and her, the first time they danced together even if sae wasn’t good at slow dancing; but instead he had some quite good skills for bachata and salsa thanks to some of his spanish and latinos friends.

Aiku, seeing y/n motionless, decided to approach her and asked her to dance. At first, she was still deep in thought but when she heard him the second time, she blinked a few times to realize what was happening, then politely rejected him. She left the room where the people were dancing, and headed towards the door to go outside and get some fresh air. But while she was getting close to the door, someone rang the doorbell. She stopped and startled, but at the end opened the door.

Outside there was sae who was slightly shaking from the cold. He was wearing a formal and classy black suit with a white shirt with some small embroidered details. 

They looked at each other mesmerised and embarrassed, like the first time they met or had a date. Y/n couldn't believe it. She ran to him and hugged him bursting into tears. “I… I missed you… So much…” y/n spelled those words that were barely audible, but only sae could understand them. Of course, he hugged her back tightly so she wouldn't catch a cold. It started to snow. Little snowflakes were surrounding them and when y/n released the hug and looked up to her handsome boyfriend she chuckled. “Your hair is getting white” she cupped her hands around his face, which was red from embarrassment and cold. He laughed “yours too, mi vida” he added and caressed her hair to brush off the snowflakes. Y/n couldn’t help but turn into a red tomato. Hearing sae saying “mi vida” to her was heartwarming. 

“I missed you, mi vida” she put her hands on his shoulder and stared at his captivating teal eyes. Sae smiled and thought how cute she was. “Huh? You aren’t saying it back!!” she pouted and gave him a little push. He laughed loudly “I missed you too, y/n” he added while giving her his most warming smile. Y/n was almost melting and bursting into tears again, it has been a while since he saw a warming smile and not a lukewarm one. Sae, seeing his gf like that, so pretty and adorable, made his heart warmer; all he could do was hold her, smile at her and admire her. He was getting lost in her again, it seemed like the first time he fell in love with her. 

“A-achoo!” she sneezed and sae got a bit surprised and laughed. He pulled out, from his pocket, a tissue and started to clean her nose. “Are you okay, torpecita*? he chuckled. “Hey! What’s that!?” y/n was intrigued and offended at the same time by that strange new spanish word. Sae laughed and smiled, teasing her. She kept pouting all cutely and when she wanted to hide her embarrassed face in his slightly soft but muscular chest, a mistletoe on top of them sprouted.

They both looked up, realized what just happened and then locked their eyes to each other, slightly blushing. Y/n was trying to not care at all but failed miserably, she was turning all red. In the other side, sae was smirking “Aww, look at you, all rosie red” he leaned towards her, teasing her more. “It’s just the cold temperature!!” she tried to find an excuse, but of course sae wouldn’t fall for that. He chuckled, then wrapped one hand around her waist and with the other one rested it on her back to support her. Y/n was taken aback “What are you doi-” she couldn’t finish her sentence that sae kissed her. He gave her a soft and sweet short kiss. She blushed but then drew him back into the kiss. She was giving him a slightly passionate one.

He was enjoying it but then someone opened the door, it was Aiku, who was looking for y/n. They pulled away from the kiss and straightened up. "Ah- Sae! You’re back, was I interrupting something?” Aiku chuckled and stroked the back of his neck from the awkwardness.

Y/n looked at sae whose face was its usual: his lukewarm and nonchalant face, which y/n of course finds attractive. “You interrupted us, yes. What do you want?” sae asked coldly and rotated his eyes. “Not even a hello, cold as always, genius huh?” Aiku chuckled “Well, I was looking forward to dancing with y/n” he added. Sae looked at his girlfriend “well… And I wasn’t looking forward to dancing with you or any of the other guys of the U-20 team” she referred to Sendou who was stalking them and making a face to sae through the window. “I’ll be delighted to have a dance with my unique and cool boyfriend, Sae Itoshi” she said proudly and smiled, looking at her vida. “Ahh you guys are a thing. I see, I see” Aiku said while putting his hands in his pants pocket since he took off his jacket and stayed in shirt and suspenders. “Well, then shall you two dance inside and not here, that is freezing?” he smirked at the cute couple. “Don’t tell us what to do, plus we were liking it here, all for us” Sae nonchalantly said and then gently took y/n’s arm and went inside to the dancing room.

They paired up and started swaying. Seeing Sendou looking at his girl, sae tightened his hold on y/n as if to say “she's only mine”. Y/n was a bit surprised but then hugged him happily, continuing to dance gently. She started patting and caressing his back, he suddenly stopped glaring murderously at Sendou and calmed down, hugging her more tightly. She was so small and cute, that’s what sae was thinking.

He then adjusted himself and leaned towards her ear “Te amo, mi vida*” he whispered and kissed her. While they were kissing, y/n smiled and wrapped his arms around his neck. Sae then took her from her waist and lifted her up and spun her around. She was a bit startled, but she clung tightly to him and smiled, having fun.

In all of this, the song faded and turned into a waltz. They began to dance with more passion and happiness, as if no one was around them, but just the two of them.

Needless to say that, that night, it was as if they had fallen in love again and ended up loving each other more and more. 

VOCABULARY mi amor: my love Pero voy a dedicarte un gol: But I'm going to dedicate you a goal mi vida: my life a-adiós m-mi vida: b-bye m-my life hasta pronto, MI vida: see you soon, MY life her amor, her vida, her corazòn: her love, her life, her heart torpecita: clumsy Te amo, mi vida: I love you, my life

A/N Haii guys! This is my first time posting on tumblr, I hope I'm doing correctly ^^'. This is also my first time writing a story in English! I hope you liked it, let me know!! <3

Please I kindly ask you to not repost and copy any of this. Or at least give me credits, if you want a translation I could translate it in Italian, since it's my native language! Reblogs are appreciated!

[bitebitekxll]

Sfw ask:

Genshin men with a sick reader headcanons

Diluc, Kaeya, Kazuha, Ayato, can remove or add if you’d like

What they do when you’re sick

៚ Diluc ✧ Kaeya ✧ Kazuha ✧ Ayato ✧ Childe

Notes: FIRST FIC ASK LETS GOOO!! Also happy holidays everyone <3

For a character I am the least sure about characterising, Ayato’s somehow became the longest?? Fingers crossed I did him justice. Also couldn’t resist spreading my malewife Childe agenda so he’s in this too. Hope you enjoy ~

𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐔𝐂 ᥫ᭡

Even if Dawn Winery has a whole set staff on hand, he will insist on taking care of you himself; making sure you take your medicine on time, cooking you meals, doing anything he can to ensure your work doesn’t suffer in your absence. The only way to convince him to let Adelinde handle it, is to remind him he can’t hold you if he’s running around. He’s quiet. Not his usual comfortable silence, but one that adds a weighted air to all actions as he stays vigil at your side. Diluc doesn’t like feeling helpless and hates when you’re uncomfortable so you can bet he’ll be extra fussy over you when you’re sick.

(Not to mention vigilant to ensure you don’t get sick in the first place. Going out in the rain? Not without his umbrella you’re not. Venturing into Dragonspine? What a coincidence, he happens to have business there. Yes, really. But, oh it seems they cancelled last minute so now he will of course accompany you. His pyro vision can provide better warmth than whatever few seelies you come across, so it’s only reasonable he tag along.)

You might need to literally thwack him a couple of times to get him to stop being overbearing, but you can guarantee you’ll be taken care of with all your needs attended to.

𝐊𝐀𝐄𝐘𝐀 ᥫ᭡

He won’t let you lift a finger the whole time you’re recovering. It doesn’t matter if you only have a bit of a cold, he will physically pick you up over his shoulder and drag you away from work/chores/any responsibility. If someone even dares to suggest you do something while unwell— even if you make it clear you can handle it —he will mercilessly cut them down with that little bastard smile of his playing on his lips.

“You can’t possibly be suggesting our dear Y/N take care of that in this condition. After everything they’ve done for us, no one would be selfish enough to deprive them of some well-earned rest, hm?”

This man will convince the whole of Mond that you need to be spoiled when sick. Good luck doing anything without people rushing to help you with that, no no sit down, you should rest, actually why don’t we just call Sir Kaeya, I’m sure I saw him around—

He does make sure not to annoy you too much with his antics, letting you be independent when it seems like you’re reaching your limit (as long as the task isn’t too taxing) and he’ll be sure to keep you company while you’re stuck at his home.

If you do get bored of being inside he’ll take you out, but don’t expect to set a foot on the ground as long as he’s there.

𝐊𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐇𝐀 ᥫ᭡

Though he’s no physician, Kazuha is excellent at dealing with illness and injuries. He had to take care of his own by himself before joining the Crux, after all. And even now, he’s often sought out by the crew during voyages when someone needs medical attention. His calm and reassuring demeanour only further makes him the perfect candidate to be at your bedside.

After doing whatever he can to ease your symptoms, he lets you rest your head in his lap. Expect to be lulled to sleep by nimble fingers carding through your hair, and the sweet whistling tones of a leaf as Kazuha plays it for you— and you still can’t figure out how he manages to do that. He presses kisses to your forehead, your knuckles, your lips: you can remind him that your illness is contagious, but he’ll just smile and kiss you again softly.

“There is no greater honour, nor privilege I can imagine, than sharing the burdens of the one you love. Don’t fret, my dear. Let me hold the weight of all your troubles, and let me hold you, for as long as you will grant me that pleasure.”

𝐀𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐎 ᥫ᭡

For a man who is so powerful, so composed in public, he is a complete kid with you. He would mope and whine when you tell him you’re not getting out of bed that day. He’s always so bored when you leave him on his lonesome, and even if he can’t be by your side every second he still loves knowing there’s a chance of running into you around the estate or Inazuma itself. So of course he’ll try to goad you into getting up, wanting the two of you to start the day together.

But he changes his tune the moment he realises you’re truly unwell.

Ayato doesn’t hesitate to wrap you up in his arms for the duration of your illness. It’s not like Diluc where he insists on doing the work himself, he gets the staff to bring you whatever you need according to the doctor, but only so he can dedicate all his time showering you in love and affection. You get even more attention from him while you’re sick than you usually do (a feat that should be impossible). He’s a clingy bastard and is fully prepared to let the commission suffer until you’re better, unwilling to part for even a moment while you’re in this state. (He’s lucky Ayaka and Thoma keep things running in the meantime, but you can bet he’s in for a scolding from his sister when he returns to his duties).

If you don’t like being touched while sick, he’ll just stay by your side and keep you company. But if you give him the okay? Prepare for him to take advantage of you being stuck in bed to love on you ‘til his heart’s content.

“You know… some say the best way to recover from a cold is to pass it to someone else…”

By the time you’re feeling better, the idiot’s gotten himself sick. You can lecture him about being careless all you want, he just gives you a pleased grin as he looks up at you adoringly. Naturally, he never learns his lesson.

𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐄 ᥫ᭡

Will immediately panic when he sees you’re in bad shape. He’s equal parts alarmed and enraged, ready to seek vengeance on your behalf. Once he realises you’re just sick and not recovering from an attack, he’s more in his element. As a Snezhnayan, Childe is no stranger to illness. Young children, especially, are less tolerant to the cold, so he’s had plenty of experience looking after his younger siblings in that regard. He extends the same care to you: keeping a cooled wet towel on your forehead to settle your fever, cleaning your home with a frenzied determination, never allowing dust to settle and irritate your lungs.

Don’t even bother trying to eat yourself, he will feed you while you recline back on the mountain of pillows he fluffed up minutes prior. He makes the warm soup himself, but instead of the usual seafood concoctions he’s known for, it’s a much simpler, pleasant dish.

“My mother’s cure-all recipe; there’s nothing better for when you’re sick! The kids love it. In fact, Teucer’s even faked sick before just so she would make it for him, the little rascal. Try a bite, I promise you’ll be fighting fit in no time!”

Big malewife energy the whole time he’s taking care of you. He’s concerned about your health, of course, but because he’s done this before for his family he doesn’t feel panicked. Instead, he’s all warm smiles and attentive affection, making jokes to cheer you up while he keeps an eye on your condition. If you need anything from him, anything at all, don’t hesitate to ask.

[lay-z]

tw: self-shipping; self-indulgent; cnc; dark/possessive!Simon (I guess); unprotected sex

The air is thick and stuffy in the small bedroom, though it's more a storage room than anything, really. There's just a worn-out cot with a thin mattress and a pillow, and a bedside table, right below the small, dirty, and curtainless window.

And I'm both grateful and pissed that my teammates urged me to take the only room with a functional bed in the whole, shabby safe house while they're forced to be content with the dirty floor in the living room again. Pissed that they keep prioritising my comfort over theirs, simply because I'm the only woman on the squad.

And grateful, because now I can at least pretend they can't hear me getting pounded into oblivion by our Lieutenant.

"Gotta keep it down, hm? Sweet girl, shhh " His voice isn't soft, isn't reassuring. I know he's smiling smugly underneath his mask, holding all the power in this moment, still fully clothed and in full gear while the only patch of exposed skin is currently balls deep inside my quivering cunt, no barrier between us.

Ghost had me undressed within a minute after slipping into the small bedroom with me; the withered door had barely creaked before it was closed again, and then, his dooming shadow was looming over me.

"Jus' a quick one, sweet'eart," he'd purred against my temple, voice muffled by his skull balaclava while he pulled my tac shirt off. "Need to feel ya. Jus' the tip, promise."

A blatant lie, that one.

As much as Ghost tried and succeeded in sneaking away from our teammates and slipping into my small safe haven of privacy, it does feel like he is currently making sure that everyone understands what is going on in here.

He lets out the most whorish, guttural groan when his thick cock sinks into my sopping cunt and bottoms out after letting me adjust while I'm presented all prettily for him on all fours.

I feel feverish, flushed. I'm sweating, hair sticking to the nape of my neck while I'm dripping with sticky arousal between my thighs.

The cot squeaks and creaks dangerously underneath our weight with each powerful thrust of his hips. My body jolts, my inner walls ripple around his fat cock while his balls slap against my wet flash, and I'm forced down on my elbows, barely able to muffle my cry of pleasure as I bury my face into the old pillow below me, eyes squeezing shut with ragged breaths.

He huffs a low chuckle behind me while one of his gloved hands releases its grip on my waist to trace the bowed arch of my back with his knuckles instead, all while he keeps rocking his hips in a slow yet harsh pace that leaves the fat of my plump ass jiggling with each thrust, thick cockhead nudging too deeply against my cervix.

"Fuckin' hell," Ghost curses sharply, chest rumbling with a low groan as he grips the nape of my neck and pushes my face further down into the pillow. "Wha' did I say, huh?" He grabs one of my ass cheeks and squeezes hard. "Keep those sweet fuckin' noises down. They're only f'me."

I whimper into the pillow when he smacks my ass cheek; cold leather leaving my skin stinging while my body quakes with mounting pleasure. I'm barely able to breathe and my face gets hotter while I'm trying to get enough air in, though I'm struggling like I'm doing breaststroke in a pool.

"Touch yerself f'me. Wanna feel ya squeeze my fuckin' cock, bunny." His hand around my nape tightens and my blood starts rushing in my ears; it gets even harder to breath.

I slip a hand between my thighs and squeeze my sticky flesh with a high-pitched whimper before rubbing my swollen clit while he keeps up his languid pace.

It's too hot, too much, and I'm getting lightheaded while the pleasure intensifies and tightens inside my lower belly; licking up my spine tauntingly and making my toes curl as my wanton moans and dumb gibberish are muffled by the pillow. Thank God.

Ghost doesn't need to hear me moan his name; doesn't need to hear me begging him to let me come.

"Fuck, tha's right," he grunts, his pace picking up as his mammoth hands find purchase on my plush hips again; strong fingers digging into the fat. "Gonna cum 'nd'm not gonna pull out."

I cry out and bite into the tattered pillow, drool soaking into the flimsy fabric as my climax sneaks up on me, mind numbing and intense, and I push back into his thrusts while my pussy clenches and flutters, triggering his own release.

Ghost is nearly silent when he comes, but his breath stutters and catches in his buff chest and his fingers dig painfully before his warm, thick cum paints my velvety walls full enough to dribble out and onto the sheets while he keeps grinding his hips, milking both our orgasms for all they're worth.

His large hands start roaming, caressing, groping whatever they can reach as I collapse onto the squeaky mattress, breathing heavily while my heart rate and body temperature normalise again.

He gives my ass a few gentle pats before he pulls out, making me whine at the sudden loss of his softening prick. "Good girl," he praises gruffly as he tucks himself back into his cargo pants. "My sweet girl."

A dopey grin tugs on my lips, one that I'm keen to hide from him as I slump onto the mattress and nuzzle my face back into the pillow.

His hands keep roaming, fingertips trailing along my flushed skin. "Not gonna ask me to stay, eh?" Ghost taunts quietly, though there is no bite to his words, more longing than nothing, actually. We both know he can't stay.

A sudden sharp knock at the door cuts through the tranquility.

[spotaus]

Sighh. Trying to figure out if I'm going to project onto Night again for this next drabble....

[deathbxnny]

Arcane characters when someone flirts with you. | Viktor, Jayce, Vi, Caitlyn, Jinx, Sevika x Gn!Reader

I am the brain rot. The brain rot is me.✨️

Content: pre season 2 Viktor/Jayce!, Jealousy, pitfighter Vi, established romantic relationships, angst, threats of violence/death threats, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》VIKTOR

He always struggled with self-esteem issues, mainly due to his sickness and disability that made it difficult for him to do much. A part of him forever will believe that you could easily do better than him, yet that doesn't stop him from getting terribly jealous anytime someone gets too friendly with you. Especially when they can see him standing next to you clearly being your partner as well.

But despite his insecurities, he doesn't allow anyone to harass you either on his watch. He lets you defend yourself for the most part until he has enough and lets his more sassy side handle the flirtatious person for you. He may not be able to do anything in a physical way, something he very much would rather avoid. But his tongue is sharp, and it takes little to make them quickly scurry away with a nervous apology for the disturbance.

He'll never admit to being jealous, however, and denies any teasing accusations you send his way. But he'll secretly ask for reassurance as he starts feeling embarrassed over his insecurities rather quickly after. A couple of hugs and kisses from your side will fix that right up, though.

》JAYCE

He has a reputation to keep up. And so, technically, he should always handle things professionally no matter what. People are watching him after all, and his public image can not be tarnished under any circumstance... or so he says. Things change in his mind when they are about you. In general, people know who you are and who you belong to since he rarely shuts up about it.

But every now and then, someone who is somehow unfamiliar with this concept will come up to you and attempt to woo you right in front of his very eyes. Now, Jayce tries to let you handle yourself, but doesn't hesitate to step in either if the person doesn't get the hint. His rather intimidating frame and position as a councilor help him out Immensely with this. He chases them away with a tight smile and a kiss to your head, as he casually asks how he can oh so graciously help them.

Once they leave, he'll pretend not to hear you, of you teasingly asking him if he was jealous. Him? Jealous? Hah! Impossible... okay, maybe a little. But don't tell anyone that.

》VI

As a pitfighter, Vi doesn't hesitate to get violent with anyone who comes close to the only good thing she has left in her life, which happens to be you. She's extremely protective and makes sure everyone gets the hint regarding who you belong to. But alas, there are always the couple strays that refuse to comprehend that fact and therefore attempt to "steal" you away from her. Something that never ends well for anyone.

Her temper is shorter than it used to be, and that becomes quite clear when she's quick to loom over the person that was pestering you. She knows that you can handle yourself just fine, too. But that doesn't stop her from grabbing their shoulder and asking them if she can help them out instead. Or maybe they want to talk it out in the pit? All the same to her, but the message is clear. She'll win if it comes to you every time, and that's enough to make the person scurry away in terror.

You'll definitely have to calm her down and reassure that you had everything handled. She's just looking out for you, though, and doesn't want you to get hurt, too, like everyone else in her life. The last thing she wants is to mess up again, so her overprotective tendencies will probably never lessen. Not that you kind anyways.

》CAITLYN

Your role as her partner is crystal clear to absolutely everyone in Piltover, especially after she takes over the troops as their new ruler. She's much more cutthroat and cold than she used to be before her mothers death, which made her extremely overprotective of you and your safety. She may even be suffocating at times with her security measures, but she finds it absolutely necessary. This also means, however, that those who try becoming a bit too friendly with you are always at risk of facing her wrath.

She doesn't hold back with her dismay and is quick to stand before you with a dark, stern glare directed at whoever was flirting with you beforehand. Caitlyn doesn't care if you can take care of yourself or not either. She'll take full advantage of her new position and power too, not hesitating to give the person that was pestering you a professionally worded threat that leaves them as pale as a ghost.

Admittedly, it's hard to tell if she's jealous or just worried in her own way. Before her mother's death, it may very well just be her being a bit jealous... but with her current position, she may also just be afraid to lose you too deep down. And she couldn't handle that.

》JINX

After Silco's death, Jinx's temper is milder than before due to her deteriorating mental health (if there was anything left of it to begin with). She's a lot calmer when handling situations and seeming more calculated than before, but that certainly doesn't quell the extreme abandonment issues in her at any rate. If anything, they've become much worse than before. This means that she'll cling to you and snap at anyone who nears you. No one is allowed to steal your attention away from her. No one can take you away from her. She just won't allow it when you're all she has left.

And so, she won't hesitate to use her gun on anyone who is pestering you. A death threat or two usually gets the point across anyway. Jinx will also let you handle yourself first, however though, knowing you can easily do that. But if things do get out of hand, she will step right to scare them away at best. She'd never kill anyone infront of you after all. She doesn't want to scare you away.

You'll have to reassure her of your loyalty a lot afterward, however, as her insecurities and issues can make her spiral fairly easily. Giving her a lot of attention and love makes everything go away, though, luckily.

》SEVIKA

She's very secure in your relationship and trusts you perfectly fine, which is why she rarely ever gets jealous. Why should she, anyway, when you'll always come back to her at the end of the day? Besides, people in the lanes know who you are and who you belong to, and most importantly, what will happen to their faces once she bashes them in if they ever harass you too much.

With that said, though, she typically lets you do your own thing and chase the person away yourself first before bothering to step in. If things get out of hand, then she'll suddenly be right behind you and tower over whoever it is that's not getting the hint. Blowing smoke right into their faces, she'll ask them if they have a problem, and if yes, then they should take it up with her outside. Although everyone knows she's the only one back afterwards. This usually does the trick.

Don't expect her to ever say that she is jealous, though, and hopes you know better, too. She knows you're loyal, as she certainly is for life and therefore doesn't worry about a thing regarding the strength of your relationship.

No one is better than her anyway.

[lale-txt]

❥ falling asleep besides you for the first time ↳ w/ Toji, Naoya, Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Higuruma, Sukuna & Choso

a/n: this came over me like a fever dream during another episode of insomnia. some of those drabbles are a little sad, i apologize. it's what you get with all those tragics characters. reader is gn!

word count: 1.4k

𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈 doesn’t even want to fall asleep; it’s not like he had a good night of rest ever since… well. He tells himself he’s just gonna close his eyes for a bit, stretched out on the couch next to you, his weary head in your lap. There’s still blood on his hands and on the side of his face, he’s gonna get cleaned up in just a bit, he mumbles, but the words come out heavy and drowsy, and your fingers are tangled in his hair now and your voice is this sweet whisper, baby, I love you anyway, and Toji–Toji just gives in. For the first time, sleep doesn’t come over him as a heavy veil, as if he’s drowning; for once it’s something peaceful, something quiet. Something he welcomes. Next to you, you with your fingers woven between his, you who loves even the broken parts of him, you with quiet love and reassurance that you’re still gonna be there when he wakes up again.

𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐔𝐌𝐀 hasn’t had another warm body next to him under the covers in a long time. He doesn’t realize how much he missed this until your body melts into his, one leg swung over his thighs, your arm sneaking around his waist and your head finding its spot in the crook of his neck. His cheek falls softly against your forehead when he pulls you closer, breathing in the scent of you that’s the closest to home he ever felt, pressing kisses on the crown of your head. It’s not just lust–oh, he wants to devour you, but there’ll be time in the morning–it’s the absence of loneliness and unspoken confessions. Higuruma can tell when he’s falling in love and in this moment he’s wading deep, deeper through his feelings for you, biting his tongue so they don’t spill out all over the pillows and into you. You already know anyway, and when the sun comes up again, you’ll lick them from the cave of his mouth like a prayer.

𝐍𝐀𝐎𝐘𝐀 can’t fall asleep, not on his wedding night, not when your mouth is whispering all those words he’s demanding from you. His cheek is pressed against your palm while he’s pinning you down, almost nuzzling into it like a touch-starved stray, golden eyes lingering on you. Say you’re mine. Again. Say who you belong to. Mine. Mine. All mine. He isn’t aware how pleading he sounds, how raspy his voice gets the more you obey, every time you sigh his name so softly into his open mouth. Naoya doesn’t care if you’re lying, as long as you wear your wedding band on your ring finger for everyone to see. You’re his to keep now, and if he could have it his way, you would be forbidden to leave this bed forever; he wasn’t aware just how much he had craved the presence of another being by his side at night, one who doesn’t leave once he had his share of pleasure. No, you’re his now, and before sleep eventually finds him, he’ll make sure to sink his teeth into you till his name rolls off your tongue like a lullaby. 

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 doesn’t let go of your hand; he’s afraid it’ll go cold if he allows himself to let his guard down even for one second. This isn’t how he had imagined spending the first night with you. Not under the fluorescent lights of the infirmary, not with your body wrapped in gauze and machinery monitoring your heart rate. It dawns on him as he’s sitting on your bedside–how attached he’s gotten to you, then: How he had almost lost you today. He squeezes your hand tighter and sighs, his weary head sinking down on the mattress. Your fingers twitch and find their way into his hair, combing through it weakly. As if they say, it’s okay, I’m alive, you’re not to blame. So please don’t leave and take all your love with you. And Nanami takes your hand once again and kisses your fingertips, pressing promises against your skin, promises of a future where you and him can just be, one where he can finally put all of these feelings down, down in your open and gentle palms for you to keep.

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐒𝐎 is clingy throughout the day, but even more so at night. He doesn’t like the eerie quiet that settles in once the sun has sunken, not when he can listen to your steady breathing next to him instead, so naturally he feels a rush of joy when you push your futons together for the first time. His heart is beating way too fast to find sleep now, his eyes taking in everything about your sleeping figure, from the way your chest rises and falls to how your nose scrunches slightly for a moment. Choso wants to know what you’re dreaming about, what colors your dreams are, and if he’s ever in them. He wants to engrave himself into your being, wants to keep you wrapped in his arms forever. His kisses feel light against your skin, careful not to wake you but enough to fill his desire. Choso loves you with his entire being, and sleep is merely an obstacle, cutting away from your time spent together–though he must admit, his eyes flutter shut quite easily in your embrace.

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 realizes that his idea of ‘sweets in bed’ now has a double meaning, seeing you sprawled out in his sheets with candy wrapping paper clenched between your fist and more of it lying on the floor. Cute, he can’t help but murmur as he lays down next to you on his side, mustering you with an amused smile on his lips. When he told you to knock yourself out on the sweet souvenirs he brought, he didn’t assume you would take it that literally. His thumb brushes over the corner of your mouth, collecting some of the powdered sugar that’s still stuck there, and Gojo could swear he never tasted anything sweeter than this when he brings it to his tongue. He gently replaces the trash you hold onto in your sleep with his fingers, woven between yours, and pulls you close to him, his tall figure embracing you; and for the first time in a long time, Gojo feels a wave of calm wash over him, allowing him to exhale and sink into a dream almost as sweet as you.

𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐔𝐍𝐀 doesn’t know why he keeps entertaining your antics. Sharing a bed, sleeping together side by side? How utterly foolish, but as to be expected from a mere human; they’ve always been like this, seeking comfort and warmth when they’re the most vulnerable. Of course a predator like Sukuna wouldn’t have to worry about sleeping safe and sound. Yet still; he can’t help but let his gaze linger on you, wrapped up in his embrace, four arms holding you in place on top of him. Everyone else would freeze in fear, but you? You snore quietly without a single worry in the world, knowing you have a king watching over you in your slumber. Sukuna huffs but still brushes a strand of hair out of your face. Maybe he’ll tell Uraume that you’re off the menu, for now. As long as you know your place–in his embrace, wearing his marks with pride, providing a sense of comfort Sukuna had never known before. Fool, he mutters and rests his chin on top of your head, not sure if those words were for him or you. 

𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎 doesn’t question when you knock on the door of his dorm room, asking for shelter after a particular nightmare. He hasn’t found any sleep yet anyway. When he lifts up the covers for you to slip under, he’s surprised that you don’t even hesitate to do so, wrapping yourself around his body as if it was molded for that only. Geto can tell that you’re trying not to tremble, but the nightmare still lingers. He knows it all too well. His fingers brush through your hair when he pulls you closer to his chest, as if this could prevent you from falling apart–though deep down he’s aware that he might be the one on the verge of breaking. You know it too, don’t you? Geto is tired, oh, so tired. The kind of tired sleep can’t fix, and he can’t help but wonder if this would also be the last time that you’re in his arms, clinging onto someone who is long gone; a version of him that he shed together with his dream of letting himself love you.

[lovelyyys]

the reader is a mutant like logan but more cat like which everyone thinks that they would hate each other which is proven wrong by the marks logan leaves on her neck after a wild night

ok i went a little wild with this so uh, enjoy!

(female reader, enemies to lovers? 18+!!!)

For the most part you two were alike. Well. For the most part. You were like him, although your claws didn’t retract from your knuckles. Instead they came from your nails. Just like a cat: People had expected the two of you to get along well knowing the fact that you were similar. When you two first met he simply introduced himself as, “Hi I’m Logan.” As if that would suffice. You didn’t know why he was so lukewarm towards you, almost as if he felt threatened by you. Ego problem maybe?

The team along with you were in the lounge area, everybody talking and drinking after a mission. You stood off to the side minding your own business. Drinking a beer, you didn’t know why. You couldn’t even get drunk since your body filtered alcohol out as poison so maybe you could get tipsy for a millisecond but that was it. You had been looking at a painting in the room, not before feeling the presence of somebody behind you. “How come you don’t drink hard? Like whiskey.” A gruff voice said from behind you that you had immediately recognized as that egotistical jerk. “I don’t like the taste.” You had answered, turning to face him. You looked up at him, staring into his eyes. “That’s a shame.” You didn’t answer, looking at his facial features and such. He took his own cup pressing it to his lips. Downing his drink, before slamming it on the table next to you.

“You know I’m sorry if we got off on the wrong hand. It was just a little weird meeting somebody like me.” Ah. So it was because he has an ego problem. “Yeah I thought so.” You said, not before finishing off your beer and putting it next to his empty glass. “You can’t get drunk right?” He asked you suddenly. You shook your head, “No my healing factor doesn’t allow it.”

“So we’re more alike than I thought.” He laughed, you smiled. Maybe you two were more alike than you two thought. “Uh, you know we’re on the same mission tomorrow.” Why was he even talking to you? “Yeah I saw on the board earlier.” That was the whole conversation.

After the mission you got a nasty cut on your thigh, your suit being cut open. Your leg bleeding. You had gotten back to the mansion. Logan offering to help clean you up. Why not? What could be the worse that could happen? He was just trying to break the ice after all…

He brought you to the medbay, grabbing a bit of gauze and rubbing alcohol. You sat down on the bed, watching him prep the materials. You took off the pants of your suit so he could clean it better. “Come closer.” He said, curling his finger towards you. You shuffled over to him. His breath warm against your body. “This is going to hurt.” He warned, pressing the cold cotton pad onto your skin. The alcohol stinging. His jaw was locked, eyes hardening as he watched your expression as you hissed at the pain. He held his hand on your shoulder to reassure you — not before you muffled your cry’s of pain into his neck. Holding onto his back. Your nails digging in.

The pain was a 10. Possibly an 11. You started panting a bit, whimpering into his neck. In an instant he moved his hand down from your shoulder to your hip in order to steady you. He cleared his throat, his voice a bit hesitant. “Stop moving like that.”

“It hurts.” You cried out. “Just stop.” He whispered in your ear. How were you supposed to? Oh. Oh…

You looked up at him, his eyes meeting yours as he bit his cheek. As if he was trying to hold back from saying more. “Fuck it.” He growled. Tossing the cotton pad in the trash. Moving your legs up onto the table. Getting right in between your thighs, his hands snaking down towards your panties. Tugging them right off as he gripped your legs once more. Putting them to rest on his muscular shoulders. He pushed you down onto the table, going into kiss you roughly. His hands holding your face. “You know I always liked you in a way.” You smirked.

“Well now you know in what way.” He laughed, panting a bit before kissing you again. His tounge exploring your mouth. His hands went to his pants pulling them along with his boxers down. His hard dick jumping out, ready to be inside of you. Ready to fill you up with his cum. Over and over again. So much for introductions.

He grabbed his thick member, pushing it up against your dripping wet pussy. You looked up at him, his face had a smirk on it. You nodded, letting him push up into you, he didn’t take it slow. Wasting no time, rolling his hips before pulling out and thrusting into you as he held your jaw. Forcing you to look at him. You let out a moan. Staring into his eyes. “You like this?”

“Harder. Harder!” You moaned suddenly, his eyes darkening as he fucked up into your sopping wet cunt at a brutal pace. Groaning with every single fucking thrust. He pulled the zipper down from your suit. Your breasts there on display for him to see. He hummed in approval, squeezing on one of your breasts as he continued ramming into you. His cock kissing your cervix, the pleasure overwhelming. The familiar tightening in your stomach building up. “You close?” He asked you. You simply nodded, your breasts jiggling up and down with every thrust. “Me too. Want me to cum inside this pussy?” “Mhm.” He grinned. His pace somehow getting faster as if the pace before wasn’t enough for him. “Cum with me.” He whined. Kissing you once more.

You quickly clenched around him, milking him for all his worth. His hot cum filling inside you quickly. He continued fucking you, the cum leaking out. The overstimulation quickly spreading. “Logan!”

“Be good for me you can take it.” He moaned, sucking on your neck his hips never slowing as he drew out another orgasm from you. Again and again.

His hairy base tickled against your clit, stimulating it. He reached his thumb down rubbing on the bud. “Logan please.”

“Please what? What do you want?”

“It’s too much-.” You whined grabbing onto his dog tags with all the strength you had left. You read it. “Wolverine eh?” You laughed a bit. Moaning. “Shut up. You’re a fucking kitty cat.” He snarled. His thrusts never faltering.

It’s safe to say you didn’t sleep at all that night.

In the morning you were in the kitchen making yourself a coffee to wake up from the nights events. The team there as well making themselves breakfast. You hadn’t noticed the hickey Logan left on your neck until somebody had pointed it out. “Hey what’s that on your neck?” Scott peeped up. You raised your brows a bit looking in the reflection of the coffee machine. “Uh.”

“Something I left for her to remember me by.” A gruff voice said.

That egotistical jerk.

hope you enjoyed !! more to come, xoxo!

[writingangst]

Russian Roulette

Summary: Simon Riley takes notice that the reader has a specific way of reloading her gun, which results in him being paranoid to the point he misreads the situation.

Simon Ghost Riley x Reader

Warnings: violence, angst, cursing, torture, hurt/no comfort.

Words: 2.3K

This was a prompt from Character.AI by user @/kstzii and I had to make this account to post because it really hit the angst spot for me. Hopefully, it does the same for you.

The echo from your sniper rifle was stifled by its silencer as you scored another bullseye. You felt someone's gaze burn into the back of your head. But once you turned, you couldn't see anyone. Must've been my imagination. You reassured yourself as you went back to attempt another shot. No bullets. You quickly reload and reposition yourself to fire off another round.

“What the hell was that?” Your lieutenant's voice called out. You swiftly turned to him. “Reload again.”

“What?” You were caught off guard, the slight hint of a Russian accent slipping out. Shit. You instantly clear your throat to switch back to your usual British accent.

“Are you deaf? I said reload again!” He repeats, his voice booming.

You rearange yourself from your position lying on your stomach, onto your knees, the head of your riffle touching the dirt beneath you. You look at him through slightly narrowed eyes. “Now, why would I reload when I just switched to a perfectly good mag?”

His jaw clenched. You noticied how he was trying to hold himself back. He did this often. You were sharp with your tongue and tended to use it on him often. In more ways than one. Though this time, he didn’t quite seem like he was enjoying it.

“You know exactly what I mean. That was a Russian reload,” he crossed his arms over his chest, the veins in his arms were prominent. It brought you back… No. This was serious.

You laughed it off, seeming unbothered. You were cool. Calm. Collected. Everyone knew you weren’t one to be thrown off your game easily. But this certainley was doing just that. You weren’t about to let him see that though.

With a scoff, you turn your back to him to get a better hold of your gun. “I reckon you haven’t slept, Lieutenant. Could be playing tricks on your sight.”

“I know exactly what I saw,” his tone was cold, but with his clenched fists you knew this was a ticking time bomb. “Do. It. Again.” He ordered in a firm tone. It left no room for any arguments.

You’re stagnant only slightly. There was uneasiness in your stomach at what this could mean. You knew Simon, and you knew Ghost. This was the latter, but you weren’t going to let this play out the way he wanted it to.

“And if not?” You challenge as you turned towards him, eyes sincere as you looked deep into his conflicted ones. “This gonna end in friendly fire?”

In long strides he stepped forward, coming to a halt right in front of you. He pulled you up by your elbow, but you never lost your grip on your weapon. With him being 6’4, you had to crane your neck to look him in the eye. His towering frame was imposing, making you feel small.

He leaned closer, just like he had so many times before. His body only a few inches from yours, but instead of it having the burning effect it usually did, now you were just feeling uncomfortable with the interaction. He was doing this on purpose. He was trying to intimidate you.

“What do you have to lose?” He countered, his voice low, a rumble to his chest.

You took it as a challenge.

With a clenched jaw, you took a step back from him as he severed his grip on your skin. You rid of the magazine wedged within your sniper and your eyes never leave his as you do so. Taking another mag from your tactical gear, you shift to do a simple tactical reload.

He watched you intently, his eyes glued to your every move. You didn’t break a single swet. And even though it seemed like something inherently intimate, you knew it was everything but. Once you finished and kept your straight face on him, he stepped towards you again.

He looked pissed as his eyes flickered to the mag that you just placed into your gun.

“That…” he stated through gritted teeth, gripping your chin with force between his thumb and his forefinger. You were forced to look at him head on. “…isn’t a British reload. Now tell me, who are you really?”

“I’m a simple sniper, sir,” you reply without skipping so much as a beat. “I was chosen for this task because of my outstanding sniper skills.”

Silence ensued.

Then you continued. “But you knew that already. You read my file,” you hissed back at him. “And you’ve trained with me for months, been in my bed, so what exactly are we implying here, Lieutenant?”

He kept his grip on your chin, his fingers digging into your skin. You noticed how he continued to get frustrated that nothing was out in the open like he previously thought it was. He expected you to be defiant, not secretive. A piece was missing and he was paranoid. Something wasn’t right.

Suddently, you’re smashed against the closest tree and your rifle was hitting the ground. You wince as a gruff pained noise falls from your lips once the air is knocked out of you. His vast hand squeezed your neck. Not enough to cut your air supply. Yet. But enough for it to be uncomfortable to breath. There was a sense of betrayal in his eyes and you knew he had assumed the worst.

“You’re a lying Russian spy,” he murmured into your ear with such force you thought you’d faint.

You struggled against him. “I am not Russian, nor am I a spy,” you rasp out as best you can, but you feel him crushing your windpipe. You wouldn’t lie to yourself. You feel hurt. He was one of the closest people you had since joining the 141 task force. Which made you angry. That’s when hurt vacated to make room for the feeling of deception. “But I will not explain myself to you when I have a job to do.”

You attempted to push him off but he was stronger and bulkier than you, making it almost impossible. You understood there that there would be no reasoning with him. Sleep deprivation and high stress levels were obvious indicators of this. You both had been on the field for days, and he had been the one doing most of the lookouts in order for you to get a bit of shuteye. You won’t be a good shot with heavy lids, sweetheart. He once said to you.

“What were you sent to do, huh?” He asked, his voice had lost its edge and now he just sounded distant. “Spy? Assassinate me?”

“Paranoid motherfucker,” you hissed, holding onto his forearm to steady yourself against his grip. “Screw you.”

His eyes narrowed, his grip loosening only slightly. “You sound surprised. You can’t honestly tell me that you expected me to not investigate the mysterious sniper with a Russian reload and accent?”

“And I’m almost certain you couldn’t find a Goddamn thing about anything and that’s why you got me cornered,” you stated as a matter of fact. “I’m not whoever the hell you think I am, and this paranoia is serving to have this mission go south if you don’t let me get to my gun.”

He laughed this time. Honestly, laughed.

You scrunched up your nose. Fuck you, Ghost.

“You don’t think I have dirt on you, sweetheart? I have files on you, more than you can count. I know you, better than you think,” he paused for a second. “I know your weaknesses, likes, dislikes. Everything.”

You laugh bitterly. “I don’t doubt that. Hey, I even had a hand in the shit you know because I trusted you. That still doesn’t mean you know jack shit about what happened in Russia. You’re so inclined? Ask Price!”

“I asked Price!” His hand gave your neck a quick squeeze and you saw how his body trembled. “He didn’t know a damn thing. Said your file was locked and he was denied access. Now why the hell would that be, huh?”

You snorted. “He said that to protect me. I had the whole record wiped. None of this concerns you, Lieutenant. We all went through shit, and you think you’re the only one that’s allowed to be a ghost? Fuck you!”

His eyes narrowed at your words. “Why would he protect you if you have nothing to hide? That makes no sense and you know it.”

“Because my trauma is my trauma! And you have no business budding into it!” 

“And if it’s something that could jeopardize the entire task force?” He muttered, his patience wearing thin. “If it could get everyone killed?”

“You’re an idiot if you think Price would let me anywhere near this damn task force if he considered me a risk,” your voice was cool, but your heart was thumping in your chest. You attempting one last shove that surprisingly caused him to let go. You wheezed when the pressure was off your trachea and you coughed to catch your breath. 

He watched you silently.

Once you composed yourself, you looked back at him as you held your neck. “I thought we were fucking friends, Ghost.”

“Friends?!” He spat exasperatedly. “You really think I would consider you my friend when I know you’re lying? You think I make friends with people I don’t trust?” His eyes were cold, his tone cruel and bitter. “Tell me why I shouldn’t put a bullet between your eyes for the simple deceit.”

Aside from the pain emitting from your neck, there was a hollow ache in your chest that was capturing your attention as well. You would relive the trauma if that would mean getting the job done. But when it came to Simon Riley, he was as good as dead to you.

“I was held hostage by Russian forces for 18 months.”

His stance faltered at that. You don’t think you had ever seen him lose his footing like he had in that instance. And his eyes… Christ, he had never changed his expression so fast. What the hell was that? Pity? He could go screw himself.

You continued. “Anything you can think of in torture, triple that. What kept me alive for so long was the fact they wanted to use me. The only way I got out of the constant abuse was the training. So excuse me if I picked up on a thing or two. Even the Godawful accent that creeps into the British one,” you cleared your throat. “I’m not your enemy, Ghost. But you’re right. I’m not your damn friend either.”

As you explained your past, his eyes never left yours as he listened carefully. He expected many things, but he hadn’t taken into consideration you being a literal prisoner to Russian forces. For once in his life, he was speechless. The thought that you had lived through a year and a half of torture at the hands of the Russians was something he could barely imagine.

His gaze had softened, but he hardened again when something wasn’t clicking for him. “Doesn’t explain why your file is locked.”

You snorted humorlessly. “Ever heard of Price’s little sister?”

His eyes widened at the mention of her. The captain was hush hush about the matter, but it was a well known fact he had family within the military. And that she was KIA some time ago. “What about her?”

“You’re looking at her.”

Those were the last words he expected to come out of your mouth. Shock and surprise flashed behind his mask as he finally realized what this meant.

“You’re…” He paused, trying to process the bomb that just exploded in his face. “You’re Price’s sister?”

“In the flesh,” you replied with the same cold tone he had been using earlier with you. “You’re not the only one trying to be ghost. You’ve just never been questioned by the task force on it like you just did to me.” 

What could he say to that?

“I took a bullet for you, Lieutenant,” you reminded him. “What fucking spy does that for the opposite team?”

His jaw clenched and you saw how his mask flexed due to it. His eyes showed how he replayed that memory in his head. It was something he thought about constantly. You had saved him, and he hadn’t seen it coming. He had been so focused on you being a spy that he hadn’t stopped to consider that you were actually on his side.

“I never should have questioned you,” he admitted, his voice quiet as he met your gaze again.

Your hand shot up to stop him from saying anything else on the matter. “It’s done. We’re done here.”

He watched as you walked away to pick up your gun, his mind racing with thoughts but they were too fast for his tongue. He knew he had messed up. He had completely misjudged the situation with the accusations thrown at you when in reality your connection to the task force was stronger than even his.

The irony in the situation wasn’t lost on him, but he didn’t find it funny.

“Wait,” He sighed, taking strides to catch up to you.

“This is unprofessional, Lieutenant,” you stated, dusting off your weapon as you checked for any malfunctions. “We’re in the middle of an active operation. I’m done talking.”

He exhaled a frustrated sigh as you dismissed his attempt at talking to you. He knew you were right, that the mission was what mattered now. But he couldn’t help the feeling that he needed to apologize. It was clawing at his chest, the emotion raw in his throat, asking to be let out in word vomit.

“You can’t honestly expect us to just ignore what happened and continue on like normal?”

Silence followed.

You didn’t even look at him.

“Go back to being Ghost, because Simon Riley is fucking dead to me.”

[wife-of-all-dilfs]

Hii! I love love love all of your finnick fics! Could I please request a fic where reader is also a victor from an earlier game and she is in an established relationship with Finnick. They both get reaped (not the same district) for the 75th games and reader gets critically hurt in the part where the cornucopia spins. Like she falls into the water after maybe being injured and she can’t swim, so Finnick has to risk everything to save her life.

I’m really looking for like a hurt/comfort with a seriously injured reader and Finnick going through hell to save her because he cannot imagine a life without her in it.

Thank you so much if you’re willing to write this or something like it, feel free of course to change anything to your liking!

two souls, one heart | f. odair

masterlist

summary: finnick refuses to lose the love of his life. your inability to swim complicates things, especially when the cornucopia begins spinning.

pairing: finnick odair x fem!reader

warnings: pre-established relationship, heavy angst, drowning, death, bone fracture

notes: thank you so much!!! i really enjoyed writing this, shed a few tears but still enjoyed it lmao. listen to 'beginning of the end movement v' by the newton brothers on repeat for the full experience <3

A quiet nursery rhyme was being sung by the water's edge.

The calm waves around the Cornucopia lapped at the rocks, the blistering sun causing the surface to sparkle. Wiress' voice interrupted Peeta as he mapped out the arena's clock-like wedges in the dirt. Everyone was focused on the map; you should have been too.

Dark blue ripples had your eyes captivated. So tranquil. So hauntingly beautiful. Loving the sea was in your blood, as your District Four was your home. You would think coming from a fishing district would mean your swimming abilities were mastered. In reality, they were practically non-existent. No matter how many times Finnick had attempted to give you lessons, they never stuck.

Neither of you seemed to care though, always too enraptured by simply being in each other's company—feeling Finnick's hands support your body as you floated on the surface...

"Don't you let go of me, Finnick Odair, or I swear to god I'll drown you."

"Will that be before or after you drown first?" he chuckled, though ultimately tightening his grip on your body in an attempt to reassure you.

....hysterically laughing when he got wiped out by a sudden wave...

"No way! I can't—" You broke into a fit of laughter— "I can't believe that just happened!"

"Are you laughing at me, sweetheart?" Finnick asked, trudging through the water towards you, his hair drenched and swept across his forehead.

"Yes!"

You doubled over, knees buckling as you struggled to contain your laughter. Despite trying to put up a serious front, Finnick too let a few chuckles slip at the hysterical sight of you.

"Oh really?"

Just like that, his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you down into the cold water, earning him a squeal just before you crashed together below the surface.

...and washing up on the sandy shore in each other's arms, salty lips capturing one another.

"I'm covered in sand," you murmured against Finnick's lips.

He gave you another kiss before pulling away. "It's okay," he said, pecking your lips again. "I'll help you wash off in the shower when we get back." And then sent you a stomach-flipping grin.

Even though you wouldn't trade those memories for the world, if you had known your life would soon depend on the ability to swim, you would have paid much more attention to the lessons.

Finnick stood closely beside you, his trident digging into the dirt as he gripped it tightly in case of an attack. He had noticed your drifted attention, observing the way your eyes stared at the rippling water, like death was lurking just beneath the surface waiting to drag you down to the murky depths.

He could protect you from most things in the arena, but fear was something entirely different. A trident couldn't defeat the darkness in your mind.

A hand slid onto your lower back, rubbing gentle strokes to gain your attention. Your gaze tore from the blinding blue and settled onto Finnick's face beside you, watching his mouth curve into a light smile. You knew the silent words he was trying to convey: 'You're okay, sweetheart. I've got you.'

For a fleeting moment, the anxiety had disappeared. How could anything ever go wrong with Finnick by your side? The corners of your mouth quirked, preparing to send him a smile in response. But it never came. Something new had caught your attention. The woman by the water was no longer singing.

Wiress had been murdered.

The second Katniss let her arrow fly into Gloss' chest, everything around you seemed to explode into action. Anything that could go wrong would go wrong—Murphy's Law. And it did.

The Careers had initiated an attack.

Charging forward from the waterside was Cashmere, determined to avenge her brother's death. Instinct quickly kicked in and the spear in your hand was sent barrelling through the air and into her chest. As you watched her body slump to the ground, an enraged yell came from the side.

Finnick was fighting Brutus.

With your only weapon lodged within Cashmere's chest, aiding Finnick was impossible. Enobaria revealed herself beside Brutus, displaying her vicious fangs and throwing a dagger that sliced a small cut across Finnick's shoulder. Though the wound was minor, your heart lurched as he cried out in pain.

Before a single thought in your brain could form, your legs were moving. Not towards Finnick, but after Enobaria. Remember who the real enemy is—screw that. Finnick could have died. Your Finnick. He called out your name, his voice hoarse and frayed, but you continued on, hatred fuelling each step. It seemed Katniss and Johanna had the same idea, following behind you with their weapons bared.

Salt water sprayed onto your face, but you paid it no attention. Nor did you notice as the jungle surrounding the island began to blur into one overwhelming hue of green. Only when your body was thrown to the harsh rocky terrain did you realise what was happening.

The Cornucopia had started to spin.

Nothing could compare to the terror you felt as gravity's merciless force dragged your body toward the violent waves surging against the rocks. Just as your lower legs breached the edge, a hand grabbed onto your own. Katniss. She too was hanging onto Johanna whose only lifeline was an axe buried in the rocks.

A moment—that was all you were given to scan your surroundings. Supplies and sharp-edged weapons were flying everywhere. White water was spraying into the air. Finnick, who was thirty feet away, was gripping onto a rock ledge whilst keeping Beetee from sliding into the furious waves. His head turned to the side and even from a great distance, your eyes met.

It was at that moment you knew, you just knew the odds weren't going to be in your favour. God forbid you lived a simple happy life with the man you loved, days spent together on a calm beach. God forbid the Gamemakers gave you one last chance to be in his arms. God forbid you survived.

And with that sudden realisation, the universe, sick as it was, decided it was time.

Your hand began slipping from Katniss's; an unseen tear fell from your eye, and you smiled. A smile of goodbye sent to the love of your life. His face contorted into one of agony, lips moving but you couldn't hear his voice over the roaring waves. Still, you knew exactly what he was shouting.

"NO! NO!"

There was nothing he could do but watch your body disappear into the waves, repeating over and over "no, no, no," and praying his cruel eyes had deceived him. They hadn't.

Dark blue was in every direction you looked. The undertow tossed and rolled your body like a ragdoll in a washing machine and despite your attempts to swim, the surface only seemed to be slipping further and further out of your reach. Darkness engulfed you, so thick that you couldn't tell which way was up or down. That was when the panic set in.

Your arms and legs thrashed frantically, struggling against the water's force, desperate to reach safety or an air pocket. Cold water flooded your throat as you gasped uncontrollably. You screamed as every attempt at breathing felt like fire burning in your lungs. Finnick. Where was he? Where were you? What was happening? Why wouldn't it stop?

Thoughts submerged your mind in terror, and you were powerless to stop them. All you could do was feel. Pain. Fire. Burning

At some point, the Cornucopia had ceased its spinning and your body came to a rest in the water. An eerie calm suddenly washed over you; a sense of clarity stilled your wild movements. This was the end. There was no future. No hope. The world above wasn't yours to call home anymore. You now belonged to the sea.

Of course, your water-logged mind had forgotten that home was where the heart was, and your heart was still beating... above the surface, in the aching chest of another.

Tendrils of hair floated around your face like fronds of seaweed. Rays of sunlight penetrated the surface, turning the surroundings a vibrant sparkly blue. As you sank further down, the water, now a comfortable lukewarm, cradled you in its embrace. It felt safe, like being in Finnick's arms again. Like home.

You gazed at the sun's rays; they looked beautiful. You felt beautiful. But time was running out and the bright light soon began shrouding your entire vision, though not before you witnessed a dark figure dive beneath the waves.

**********

Finnick loved the ocean. He spent most days in District Four down by the beach, swimming, spearfishing, and watching the sun rise and set on the blue horizon. If he believed in reincarnation, he would have imagined himself to be a lionfish or dolphin in his past life, living in an underwater world, free from tyranny and oppression. He loved the ocean.

But that love was incomparable to what he felt for you. So, when he dove into the rocky waters to save you and felt the currents fighting against him, he determined there was nothing he hated more than the ocean. Not as he watched its strong grip drag your motionless body further down below him.

Your back had just touched the soft seabed when he swam far enough down to envelope you in his embrace. He should have swum you back to the surface immediately, but in his distressed state, he couldn't help but foolishly stare at your lifeless appearance. Your skin was blue. It's just the water's colour, he told himself. Your eyes were closed. She's just asleep. Your neck didn't pulse under his touch. She's... She's...

He had no justification for that. Feet planted firmly on the sandy floor, he propelled both himself and you back up to the surface. As Finnick paddled back to the Cornucopia, the others reached down and helped lift your limp body onto the rocks.

"Is she...?"

"Peeta," Katniss quietly reprimanded him.

Finnick paid them no attention. He said nothing but trauma screamed in his eyes. His breathing was ragged and his hands were trembling as he frantically checked your pulse again—in both your wrists and your neck; he even pressed his ear to your chest. All he heard was the waves lapping against the rocks.

"No," he whispered again.

It seemed to be all he could say anymore. No. No, this couldn't be happening. You were just standing beside him a few minutes ago; your eyes were just looking into his. However much he tried to deny reality, it didn't seem to make it any less true. You were gone.

He choked out a rough determined breath, interlocked his hands over your chest, and began pressing repeatedly over your heart. Wet strands of tangled hair were strewn across the rocks like dead seaweed. The usual soft pink accompanying your cheeks was nowhere to be seen, devoid of any life.

"Come on, sweetheart," he muttered before pulling down your chin to blow air into your lungs. The kiss of life. And when nothing happened as he pulled away, he restarted the chest compressions. "Oh, don't do this to me," he begged, voice breaking. "Don't do this. Breathe."

Any moment now. Any moment, your eyes would flutter open, the colour would return to your glowing skin, and your heart would beat with life beneath his hands. Your lips would whisper his name and he would pull you into his arms, where he would keep you safe until the end of time.

"Breathe."

Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Nothing. He did it again. Thirty compressions. Two breaths. Silence. Maybe he should've just ripped his heart out and replaced yours with his own. Death would come for him within seconds but hearing something beating inside your chest would've made the sacrifice worth it.

Life would flash before his eyes and your beaming smile would be the last thing he'd get to see. His last thought would be of relief that you were alive.

Johanna rested a tentative hand on Finnick's shoulder. "Finnick, she's—"

"No, she's not!" he exclaimed, continuing his movements. "She's fine. Aren't you, baby? You're fine." He cupped your jaw, his thumb stroking your soft skin before he pressed his lips to yours and blew twice. "You're fine."

The golden bangle around his wrist glimmered in the sunshine as he pressed on your ribcage. All he had to do was keep you alive until Plutarch rescued everyone. One simple task and he failed.

"Finnick, we have to go," someone said. Who? He didn't know nor care.

Leave me, he wanted to say. Leave me here to die. Let the Careers mutilate my body, take my life, my last breath, but let it be by her side.

Something cracked beneath his palms and he knew one of your ribs had fractured. His arms stilled, half-expecting you to cry out in pain but then he remembered. And with that sickening crack came a devastating realisation—you really were gone.

A sob erupted from his throat and his head fell to your chest, drenching your already-soaked wetsuit with hot tears. Everything else seemed to disappear. The arena, the Careers who could attack again at any moment, the spectators who were avidly watching. Everything.

It was just him and you. He didn't care that his screams and deafening sobs could bring unwanted attention or jeopardise the group's safety. Any tribute with half a mind would know crossing him in such a state would be a fatal flaw. Even if they did, it wouldn't matter. Nothing mattered. Life no longer had meaning.

Finnick pulled your lifeless body onto his lap and cradled you protectively in his arms, lightly rocking back and forth. His forehead rested against your own, cold and damp. You always were the cold one, needing his touch to light a fire beneath your skin. He loved having you rely on him for warmth, but not like this.

"Come back to me, baby, please," he begged almost inaudibly. Tears were running down his cheeks as he brushed pieces of hair away from your face. His lips were on yours once more, heartbroken and painfully delicate; not to fill your lungs with air, but to fill your heart with his love in the hopes it would be enough to bring it back to life. "Don't leave me."

Pleas, prayers, begs, and wishes flew past his lips, over and over. And then they stopped and Finnick simply stared. Silence fell across the entire arena. The birds didn't chirp, the other tributes remained quiet, and the trees stood still. Even the water had calmed, resembling a perfectly flat mirror.

Finnick only had three words left on his tongue. Three final words to give you, wherever it was that you were. He slowly leaned down, squeezed his stinging eyes shut, and pressed a long farewell kiss to your forehead. His eyes remained closed as he parted from your skin, unable to take another look as he whispered his final goodbye.

"I love you."

And then, for the first time since he had rescued you from the blue depths, he felt his heart beating again. Just like yours was.

**********

There was a voice, distant yet reassuring—a lifeline to consciousness. Black was all there was. Coldness was all that was felt. It was desolate. But that voice... that voice was so anguished yet so familiar and encouraging that it lit a fire inside your chest, warming you from the inside out.

In the distance of the dark void was a figure, their body made entirely out of a pulsating golden light. Each word the voice spoke enhanced the light's brightness. "Come... me, please..." Brighter. "Don't leave..." And brighter.

The light was warm and comforting, just like the voice attached to it. Whoever's voice it was that brought the light resonated deep in your mind, tugging at the strings within your heart.

Your heart.

The thumping in your chest was weak, almost non-existent, but it was still there. Though it seemed time was running out. Pitch-black darkness outweighed the golden light ten-to-one; you could feel its cold breath creeping onto your back. So, you started running towards the figure. Sprinting. Until all that surrounded you was golden.

"I love you."

Water. At first, it came trickling out in two fluid streams from the sides of your mouth. Then suddenly, it was spraying into the air as choked coughs forced the liquid from your burning lungs. Light flooded your vision—not golden and inviting, but vivid and overwhelming.

There was something warm beneath your legs, against your arm, rubbing at your back, holding you in an upright position. While you heaved, dry-retched, and gasped, that soothing warmth remained.

As your airways began to clear and the expulsion of water ceased, your half-lidded eyes rolled around the area. Still dazed and disoriented, you struggled to make out what surrounded you. There was immense rippling blue, vibrant hues of green in the distance, dark rough grey beneath you, and elongated blobs of colour that stood a few feet away.

"Just–just keep breathing, sweetheart." That voice. The one belonging to the figure of light that brought you back. It was madly repeating the same words over and over. "You're okay", "Deep breaths", and "You're alive."

Shaky fingers brushed the stray wet strands of hair from your face. So warm. With the little energy you had, your head turned to seek out the golden light again. And you found it.

The blinding sun shining down reflected off his bronze hair, turning it a divine golden hue. His brows were raised and scrunched together as though he couldn't possibly believe what he was seeing. Deep lines were etched into his tear-streaked skin, evidence of his previous turmoil. Those sea-green eyes stared at you, afraid that if he so much as blinked, you would fall lifeless in his arms once more.

"You're here," he whispered.

Finnick. YourFinnick. Your light.

When your eyes met, a splitting grin lit up his face, made up of an inconceivable amount of raw emotion. You weren't sure what to do—smile, laugh, cry, kiss him? Your mind was scrambled, overwhelmed with love for the beautiful golden-haired man in front of you.

Without warning, your face scrunched up and the tears began flowing. You weren't sure why you were crying. Maybe it was because you had just been brought back from the brink of death; maybe it was because you couldn't believe someone actually cared so deeply about you.

Finnick cradled your face in his hand. "It's okay," his voice trembled, tears now cascading down his cheeks. His smile, however, never disappeared. "You're okay. You're safe now. I'm not letting you go."

He took your face into two large hands, brought you to his lips, and pressed a tender kiss to each tear that rolled over your skin. One of your hands rested over his; the other was placed against his chest, feeling it rise and fall so you could synchronise your breaths.

His arms moved to pull you tightly against him, almost like he was trying to merge your body with his. Or perhaps, it was your soul. You didn't care about the pain aching in one of your ribs. You wanted to tell him that his soul was already intertwined with your own, but words couldn't describe the sentiment as profoundly as you felt it.

In the simplest of terms your water-logged brain could muster, you whispered, "You're my light, Finnick."

Brows scrunched together, he looked down at you, fighting back the urge to start sobbing in your arms. If he had been anywhere else, if there wasn't an entire country watching, he would've gone on for hours, explaining how stupidly, selfishly, and incredibly in love with you he was.

But he couldn't do that. Not now. So, he placed his hand over the one you had resting on his chest and readjusted its position. He could feel the thumping, even through your palm.

Your eyes were full of emotion as you stared up into his. You already knew what his next words were going to be and for the first time since you were thrown into the water from the Cornucopia, you smiled.

Rhythmically, your hand and his pulsed together. Finnick's gaze flickered across your face and he grinned. "You're my heart."

[hoshifighting]

hi sweetie!<3, hope you are doing fine.

can i request svt angry sex?, idk, it has been on my mind lately, that's the thing.

angry sex with seventeen

WARNINGS: face slapping, slighty anal, fingering, clit stimulation, overstimulation, edging, deepthroat, chocking, slut/bitch shamming, crying, fight, begging, overwhelming...

seungcheol’s anger is real. he’s not one for degrading names, but he makes you kneel and beg for your orgasm, clasping your hands together. “beg,” he commands, you do, and when he finally takes you to the bed, it’s rough, almost careless. he spits for lubrication, sliding into you without preamble. you gasp, desperate to hold in any sounds as he thrusts relentlessly.

jeonghan tries to solve fights with angry sex. it’s a chaotic mess of slaps to your face, your pussy, and overstimulation until you’re begging for him to stop. “you’ll take it,” he snarls, pushing you to your limits. the aftermath is quiet, with him waiting for your egos to cool down before apologizing. “you need to learn your place,” he murmurs, his hands firm on your hips.

joshua’s gentle nature disappears in bed. he holds you down when you squirm, slaps your face when you scream, and bites you when you cry. his cock is pressed to the brim inside you as he demands you to say sorry, slapping you until you get it right. “say it properly,” he hisses, his eyes cold.

junhui feels conflicted, his actions alternating between slapping you and asking if you’re okay. reassured, he continues, surprising you with sex toys. “you’re okay, right?” he checks, even as he’s rough and relentless, ensuring you leave the sex marked and satisfied.

soonyoung’s anger translates into an exhaustive session of every position imaginable, circling your clit until you think it will fall off. your apartment fills with your combined screams, the fight forgotten. later, he cries, regretting solving things this way. “i didn’t want to do this,” he sobs, holding you tightly.

wonwoo is a ticking time bomb. when he finally explodes, there’s no time for preamble. he presses your face against the wall, fucking you roughly. “you’re such a slut,” he growls, his degradation only stopping when you collapse, unable to hold yourself up. afterwards, he’s full of whispered apologies, remorseful for his outburst.

woozi is methodical in his anger. he locks you in a headlock, fucking you from behind while his fingers torment your clit. “you’re such a brat, you never learn” he scolds, relentless until you’re crying after your orgasm. his heart shatters at your tears, but his anger needed an outlet.

minghao dislikes angry sex but knows everyone has limits. when you push him, he denies you the pleasure you seek, edging you without letting you cum. his quiet intensity leaves you desperate and frustrated. “go to sleep,” he says coldly, turning away. the next morning, he wakes you with oral, finally letting you cum as you apologize. “good girl,” he praises softly.

mingyu uses his size to his advantage, throwing you around like a rag doll. he calls you names he’d never use otherwise. “you’re such a bitch,” he snarls, slapping your ass until it’s red. when you’re exhausted and dirty, he kisses you, soothing the sting of his words with tenderness.

seokmin refuses to let you kiss or touch him, only allowing you to cry, moan, and whimper. “just cry for me,” he fucks you in all fours, his nails marking your hips as he slides a finger into your other hole, knowing you love it but are shy about it. he loves seeing you sheepish after saying so many angry things to him. “look at you now,” he taunts, a smirk on his lips.

seungkwan overstimulates you to show how easily he can make you cum, finding your clit in seconds and pistoning your g-spot with talented accuracy. he doesn’t stop until you’re soft in his arms, your sharp answers replaced by soft n' tired whimpers. “remember why you’re like this,” he says, his voice firm.

vernon is quiet, his actions speaking for his rage. he grips your ass brutally, chokes you until you’re slapping his arm for breath, and makes you deepthroat him until your spit is dripping down your face. “take it,” he commands, his eyes dark with anger, something veryrare to see.

chan is a little shit, continuing to bicker even during sex. “you think you’re so smart,” he loves seeing you angry, giving sharp answers until he thrusts so deeply you’re left speechless. “i’m talking now,” he says, a smug grin on his face. “you’ve talked enough.”

[rafedarling]

omg could write abt when readers pregnant with rustyn, just everyone fawning over her baby bump and drew being the sweetest 😭😭

𝐱𝐦𝐚𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐦𝐩

pairing: drew starkey x fem!reader

summary: seven months pregnant with your son rustyn, you and drew spend christmas night with the starkey family. everyone is excited about your baby bump, showering you with attention and love. drew is the sweetest, constantly fawning over you and your pregnancy, proud and protective as he talks about your journey.

warning(s): english is not my native language. fluff, pregnancy, family bonding, holiday themes, mentions of food, and a whole lot of love, drew’s parents does not divorce in this scenario.

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rafeyslamb @tracymbcm @enjoymyloves @akobx @rubixgsworld @xoxohoneymoongirl @mileyraes @maybankslover @noobmazter69 @littlelamy @wearemadeofstardust0 @xoxosblogsblog @saviorcomplexrry @bisexualcvnt @stuffyownswrld @anamiad00msday @httpsdrewstarkey

The cold December air nips at your skin as you and Drew walk up the driveway of the Starkey family home. It’s Christmas night, and the house is covered in a warm glow from the twinkling lights that outline the roof. You can’t help but smile as you take in the holiday cheer. There’s something special about Christmas this year—maybe it’s because of how close you are to meeting your baby, or maybe it’s just the warmth of family that makes everything feel a little more magical.

Your hand instinctively goes to your belly, where your son, Rustyn, is nestled safe and sound. At seven months pregnant, you’re definitely feeling the weight of the third trimester, but every little kick and flutter from Rustyn makes the heaviness worth it. Drew, ever attentive, is right by your side, one arm protectively wrapped around your waist as he guides you up the walkway.

“You doing okay?” Drew asks, his voice soft as he glances down at you with those familiar, caring eyes. He’s been extra cautious lately, always checking in, always making sure you’re comfortable.

“I’m good,” you reassure him with a smile, though you can’t help but feel your heart swell at how sweet he’s been throughout the entire pregnancy. “Excited to see your family.”

Drew grins, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead before opening the front door. The warmth of the Starkey home envelops you immediately, and the sounds of laughter and conversation spill out from the living room. Inside, the house is a vision of Christmas cheer—decorated to the nines with twinkling lights, garlands, and the smell of freshly baked gingerbread cookies wafting from the kitchen.

As soon as you step inside, you’re greeted by Jodi, Drew’s mom, whose face lights up the moment she sees you.

“Oh my goodness, you’re glowing!” she exclaims, rushing over to wrap you in a gentle hug, mindful of your pregnant belly. Her hands, warm and soft, come to rest on your bump, and her smile widens even more. “Look at that belly! Rustyn’s going to be here so soon, I can’t believe it.”

You laugh softly, patting her hand affectionately. “Only two more months and few days to go.”

Jodi practically beams, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “You’re carrying so beautifully. I bet you can’t wait to meet him.”

You nod, feeling the familiar flutter of Rustyn’s movements as if he knows everyone is talking about him. “We’re both really excited,” you say, glancing over at Drew, who is standing proudly beside you, his hand instinctively resting on the small of your back.

“I can’t wait either,” Drew says, his voice full of warmth as he looks at you, his eyes softening with every word. “It feels like we’ve been waiting forever.”

Jodi chuckles, giving him a knowing look. “The wait is always the hardest part. But it’s worth it, trust me.”

As if on cue, Drew’s sister appears, Brooke, her eyes going wide as she spots your belly. “Oh my God, look at you!” she gushes, hurrying over to join her mom. “Can I feel him kick?”

“Of course,” you say with a smile, gently guiding her hand to the side of your belly where Rustyn has been particularly active tonight.

She grins in awe, her face lighting up when she feels a firm little nudge. “Oh! He kicked! That’s amazing!” she squeals, clapping her hands together in delight.

“Strong little guy, huh?” Drew says, his chest puffing up with pride. You can’t help but smile at the way he’s been throughout the pregnancy, always so proud of every little movement, every milestone.

You laugh softly, resting a hand on your belly as Rustyn shifts again. “He’s definitely active.”

Drew’s dad joins the group, his usually serious face softening as he takes in the sight of you and your growing belly. “You look wonderful,” he says, giving Drew a firm pat on the back. “You’re gonna be a great dad, son. Your mom and I are so proud of you.”

Drew’s expression brightens even more, and you feel his hand squeeze your waist affectionately. “Thanks, Dad. We’re both really excited for this next step.”

The evening progresses, you’re ushered into the living room, where the Starkey family gathers around the Christmas tree. The house is filled with the sounds of holiday music, laughter, and the crackling of the fireplace. The room is warm, both in temperature and in the way the Starkey family makes you feel—completely at home.

You find yourself settled into a plush armchair, a pillow tucked behind your back for extra support. Drew, ever attentive, hovers near you, making sure you’re comfortable before he sits down beside you. His hand, as always, finds its way to your belly, resting there as if it’s second nature by now.

“You sure you don’t need anything? Water? Another blanket? Pillow?” Drew asks, his voice full of concern as he rubs gentle circles on your belly.

“I’m good,” you reassure him, leaning into his touch. “I’m just happy to be here.”

Drew smiles, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “I’m happy you’re here too. Rustyn and I are both lucky.”

The two of you sit quietly for a moment, watching as the rest of the family chatters and jokes around the room. Every now and then, someone will come by to check on you or ask how you’re feeling. It’s clear that Drew’s family is just as excited about the baby as the two of you are.

At one point, McKayla plops down on the couch next to you, her eyes bright with curiosity. “So, have you guys decided on the nursery theme yet?”

You smile, thinking about the nursery you and Drew have been working on together. “We’re thinking of a woodland theme,” you say. “Something soft and cozy, with lots of little animals.”

“That’s perfect,” she says with a grin. “I’ll have to come over and help you decorate.”

“You’re welcome anytime,” Drew says, smiling as he leans back in his chair, his hand still resting on your belly. “We’ve got most of the basics done, but we could use some help with the finishing touches.”

“Absolutely,” she says excitedly. “I’m so ready to be an aunt.”

After a while, dinner is announced, and Drew helps you up from your chair, always making sure you’re steady on your feet. You appreciate how attentive he’s been—he never lets you lift a finger if he can help it, and he’s always right there to offer you support when you need it.

The dining room is a sight to behold. The long table is set with elegant Christmas decorations with candles, holly, and sparkling ornaments lining the center—and the smell of roasted turkey, mashed potatoes, and fresh bread fills the air. Plates of food are spread out across the table, and everyone takes their seats with excited chatter.

As soon as you sit down, Drew’s mom is at your side, serving you a generous portion of all your favorite dishes. “You need to eat, sweetheart,” she says kindly, her eyes full of warmth. “You’re eating for two now.”

You chuckle softly, feeling grateful for the way she’s been so attentive all evening. “Thank you,” you say, feeling Rustyn shift again as if he knows you’re about to eat.

Drew sits down beside you, immediately reaching for your hand under the table. “Make sure you don’t overstuff yourself,” he murmurs, his voice gentle as he gives your hand a squeeze. “I don’t want you feeling sick later.”

“I’ll be fine,” you assure him with a smile, appreciating how much he cares. “I know my limits.”

The dinner conversation flows naturally, with Drew’s family sharing stories and laughter as they pass around plates of food. You find yourself at the center of much of the discussion, with everyone asking questions about the pregnancy, how you’re feeling, and what you and Drew are most excited about once Rustyn arrives.

Drew is quick to jump in anytime someone mentions the pregnancy, his face lighting up with pride as he talks about you and how incredible he thinks you’ve been. “She’s been amazing,” he says at one point, his voice full of admiration. “I don’t know how she does it, but she’s handling everything so well. I’m in awe of her every day.”

You blush at his words, feeling the love and warmth radiating from him. It’s moments like these that remind you just how lucky you are to have him by your side.

As the meal winds down, the conversation turns to the future—what next Christmas will be like with a baby in the house, how excited everyone is to meet Rustyn, and all the little things Drew and his family are looking forward to once he arrives.

“Just think,” Jodi says with a smile. “Next year, we’ll have a little one crawling around under the tree. It’s going to be magical.”

“I can’t wait,” Drew says, his hand still firmly holding yours. “It’s going to be the best Christmas ever.”

After dinner, you and Drew retreat back to the living room, where the fire is still crackling softly and the Christmas lights twinkle in the dim light. You’re settled back into your comfortable armchair, and Drew is right beside you wih his hand rests on your belly, gently rubbing soothing circles as the two of you sit in peaceful silence.

You sip on a cup of hot cocoa, savoring the warmth of it as you lean back into the chair, feeling Rustyn move inside you. It’s moments like these, surrounded by love and warmth, that make you realize just how special this Christmas is. It’s your last Christmas before Rustyn arrives, and while you’re excited for all the Christmases to come, there’s something undeniably magical about this one.

Drew looks at you, his blue eyes soft in the firelight. “You good?” he asks, his voice gentle as he watches you with concern. “You need anything?”

You smile at him, feeling your heart swell with love. “I’m perfect,” you say softly. “This has been the best night.”

Drew’s face brightens, and he shifts slightly so he’s facing you fully. “I’m glad,” he says, his hand still resting on your belly. “I just want you to be happy and comfortable. You and Rustyn.”

“We are,” you assure him, reaching down to thread your fingers through his hair. “We couldn’t be happier.”

Drew leans into your touch, his eyes closing briefly as he takes in the moment. “I can’t believe he’s almost here,” he whispers, his voice full of awe. “Two more months, and we’ll be holding him in our arms.”

You nod, feeling your throat tighten with emotion. “I know. It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?”

Drew smiles, his eyes full of love as he looks up at you. “It’s going to be perfect. You’re going to be the best mom.”

“And you’re going to be the best dad,” you say softly, brushing a hand through his hair. “Rustyn is so lucky to have you.”

Drew’s face softens even more, and he leans down to press a gentle kiss to your belly. “Hey, little guy,” he murmurs, his voice so full of love it makes your heart ache. “We’re all here waiting for you. But take your time, okay? We’ll be ready whenever you are.”

Rustyn gives a little kick in response, and Drew grins, his eyes lighting up. “Did you feel that?”

“I did,” you say with a laugh, resting your hand on your belly. “I think he heard you.”

Drew laughs softly, leaning his head against your belly again. “He knows his daddy’s voice.”

The rest of the evening passes in a peaceful blur of laughter, warmth, and holiday magic. As the night winds down and the rest of the family heads off to bed, you and Drew find yourselves alone in front of the Christmas tree, the house quiet and still.

Drew pulls you close, wrapping his arm around your shoulders as the two of you sit in the soft glow of the Christmas lights. “Next Christmas, we’ll have a little one with us,” he says softly, his voice full of wonder. “Can you believe it?”

You smile, resting your head on his shoulder as you feel Rustyn shift inside you. “It’s kind of perfect, isn’t it?”

“More than perfect,” Drew whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. “You’ve given me everything I could ever want.”

Your heart swells at his words, and as you sit there, wrapped in each other’s warmth, you realize just how much love you have in your life—and how much more love is on the way with Rustyn’s arrival.

[madaqueue]

SUCK HIS...GLOCK?!

the sensationalized bullshit around some dangerous serial killer tormenting the city is honestly pathetic. so no, you don't see the point in changing your routine, because you aren't a coward like everyone else. that is, until one wrong turn brings you face to face with him.

pairing: serial killer!toji x f!reader

themes/content: dark content (gunplay, dubcon). smut. petnames (pretty, doll, slut), mentions of past murders, teasing, reader is kind of mean to toji lmao, begging, licking/deepthroating a gun, oral (m!receiving). 18+, MDNI (wk: 2.0k)

a/n: i would match his freak (he would literally kill me) (also sorry this title is so stupid but it made me laugh hahahaha)

quintober masterlist | sign up form

“There’s a serial killer on the loose!”

Everyday for the past week the message had been drilled into your mind - every news station, every text from your parents, every thought from the general public seemed to vibrate in sheer terror at the mere idea of some illusive murderer. And yet, you can’t help but roll your eyes at the theatrics.

A serial killer, seriously?

You thought everyone outgrew this overdramatic bullshit when they turned thirteen or something. The fact that not even fully grown adults dared to go outside out of fear just solidified how truly pathetic everyone had become.

So, you take the opportunity for what it is, boots echoing along the empty streets as you enjoy a barren town. Dead leaves blow along the sidewalk in front of you, scurrying out of your path. It’s a nice day, you think, the breeze tickling your skin and the sun warm despite the autumn chill settling in. Of course you weren’t going to miss it, your footsteps falling louder and more determined with each step.

Because you weren’t a coward.

A particularly cold wind brushes past you, the muscles in your legs shivering on instinct. Reaching into your jacket to check the time, you find your pockets empty save for a few hair ties and a small wad of cash. The image of your phone resting on your kitchen counter flashes across your memory for a moment as you silently grumble at your own forgetfulness.

But it’s no matter, you’ll just head straight home. Everything will be fine, you reassure yourself in an effort to shove down the growing nervousness in your stomach.

Rounding the corner, your vision catches an alleyway you’ve seen a few times on walks home with friends. Surely, that would get you home even faster, a real stroke of fate. Your feet stall for a second as you gaze down it, the darkness of surrounding buildings casting a haunting shadow. Taking a steadying breath, you will yourself forward.

Because you aren’t a coward.

Shoving your hands further into the worn material of your pockets, your shoes land heavily on the uneven cobblestone. A water droplet falls on your shoulder from one of the broken pipes overhead, and you grimace. This town gets shittier every year. That pit in your stomach is back, but sheer determination carries you onward.

Because you aren’t afraid.

In an instant, the sigh that had been building in your lungs is forced out as your cheek is shoved into the crumbling brick lining the alley.

Rough hands encircle your wrists, pinning them against your back.

The weight of someone much larger presses into you from behind.

“What’s a pretty little thing like you doin’ walkin’ all by yourself?” His voice is almost impossibly low, carrying the teasing lilt of thunder before lightning. “Haven’t you heard there’s a serial killer running around?”

The rock in your stomach lodges in your throat as he laughs, hot puffs of air hitting your neck.

Trying to gauge your odds, you crane your head to get a view of him, roughly scraping your skin against the reddened clay. Just as your eyes manage to catch the dark cloth of his shirt, something presses to your forehead.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you, doll,” he preempts. The gun in his hand trails lower, landing between your eyes, the cool metal making you shudder. “I would hate to have to hurt ya.”

Your mouth is dry as ideas course through your mind, running through scenarios to escape this fucked up situation you’ve found yourself in. “I-I have money! You can have it, if you let me go!”

He just chuckles again, and you swear you see a glimpse of a scar at the corner of his lips, adding it to a mental note of anything to help you identify him later. “Oh sweetheart, you can’t actually think I’m doing this for the money, do you?”

Your thoughts stall for a moment. “B-but…but why then…?”

Leaning towards you, his face is now only inches from your own. The scent of tobacco lingers on his breath. “Because I like to see the fear in someone’s eyes when they know they’re gonna die.”

You can’t stop the smirk spreading across your lips. You know it’s stupid - you shouldn’t taunt the fucking murderer holding a gun to your head - but you almost want to laugh.

“Seriously?” Your throat is scratchy as you stifle a chuckle. “That’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

This time, he doesn’t stop you when you turn to face him.

“What, are you making eye contact with every single person you kill? You have a fucking gun, dude - are you really sitting there, this close, waiting for them to die? Or is that just some line you say to make people afraid, to try and make them beg for mercy?”

That scar shifts as his mouth twitches. Just as he inhales to respond, you continue.

“Oh, I get it! I bet that’s what you get off on, right? The begging?”

His eyebrows quirk, adjusting his position so green eyes stare back at you, mischief dancing behind them. “What if it is? Are you gonna beg me not to kill you if I tell ya that’s what it takes?”

The silver of his gun catches in the flickering sun as your gaze falls upon it. You look to it, then to him, then back to it.

Now, you know what it really takes to get you out of this. Because at the end of the day, he’s just some guy who got a weapon and a bit too much confidence. Sure, maybe he killed those people, but it’s only because they were too stupid to figure it out.

Men like him don’t want some pathetic little bug to crush under their shoe. If he did, he would’ve shot you already.

He wants someone to tell him ‘no,’ to shove around his ego a little. Someone to play with him.

Oh, and you’ll play.

Because you, unlike all those other scared little babies, aren’t a coward.

“I don’t have to fucking beg.”

Green eyes shine like poison as they watch your movements - your neck tilting, lips parting, tongue poking between them. Licking a slow stripe up the barrel of his gun, the taste of metal and dirt coats your senses.

When you reach the top, he lets out a groan, one that morphs into a breathy laugh.

“Well, isn’t today just my lucky day.” His scar delves into the creases of his mouth as he smirks. “Wonder what good deed I did to be rewarded with such a pretty little slut.”

Fucking pathetic.

You want to laugh at him, the predictability - it’s almost overused at this point, you think. The scary serial killer who just wants to get his dick wet, you’re practically quaking in your boots.

But instead of pointing out how boring his whole cliche is, you allow your eyelashes to flutter closed, taking the chamber further past your lips.

It’s cool against the heat of your mouth, tracing the crevices of it with your tongue.

You wonder if this is actually what he used to kill all those people - it almost tastes too clean to be a true murder weapon. Like he ran it through the mud on his way here to try and make his little act seem all the more convincing. Clearly, it didn’t work.

From behind, you feel something poke into your ass. Something hard. Using his weight to push you further into the bricks, his hips grind against you, his growing cock dragging along the curves of your body.

You gasp reflexively at the sensation, eyes shooting open only to be met with his locked on your face, dark hair falling over his forehead.

“Some fuckin’ mouth on you, heh.” It’s like you can watch the gears turning in his mind. “Let’s see what else it can do.”

Sensation begins returning to your wrists when they’re released from his bruising grip. It takes nothing more than a heavy palm on your head for you to land on your knees, rubble shifting beneath your jeans.

All too predictable.

With your newly freed hands, you make quick work of undoing his belt, tugging his waistband down to reveal his cock. It’s thick, flushed and hot in the cold autumn air.

From this angle, you can see the way he sparkles against the sky. Excitement vibrates his nerves as he leans forward, resting a forearm along the brick above your head. The muzzle’s cold metal presses into your temple, but it barely even phases you at this point, melting into the warmth of your skin.

You lick your lips at the way he twitches, watching you drag your palms up his thighs. One hand slowly wraps around his base as you place his tip between your lips, and the man above you moans.

You almost, almost, let a giggle slip.

Isn’t he supposed to be the one threatening to kill you?

And now, you’ve literally got his balls in one hand, the pistol in his fist dropped to his side.

Fucking hell, is this really all it took?

Some serial killer.

You continue pumping his length as you lightly lick the precum pooling along his slit, letting the salty taste linger on your tastebuds. Whatever, you’ll do what you have to do to get out of this.

But it’s not a crime to have a little fun with him, right?

Your tongue swirls around his tip before you take him further, pushing past the ring of muscles lining your throat. He lets out a choked gasp of, “Fuck,” and the rasp in his voice almost makes your pussy clench. Almost.

Taking him deeper and deeper, you can tell he’s getting close from the way he’s starting to thrust his hips forward, little by little.

But now, it’s your turn to play with him.

Pulling your mouth away, you admire the way his cock bounces as he whines at the loss of your warmth.

This time, you don’t stifle your smirk.

The palm wrapped around his base continues stroking him slowly, almost too slowly.

“W-what the fuck do you think yer-”

“Beg.”

His parted lips nearly fold into a frown, eyebrows furrowed in some mix of confusion and frustration. But you didn’t stutter.

“C’mon now, mister ‘serial killer.’ If you wanna cum, you know what you’ve gotta do.”

Sliding up and down his base, you pump him in pace with his ragged breaths.

Between his ribs, his heart races. “Y’know I could fucking kill you.”

And your eyes glimmer, your pace slowing. A silent challenge.

But you won’t.

He tosses his head back, the muscles in his thick neck contracting as he swallows.

“F-fucking - fine. Jesus, fine, whatever.”

Shifting your weight, your thighs rub together in excitement. The silver of his gun flashes as he raises it to his head, scratching the back of his scalp with the muzzle in an attempt to diffuse the growing tension inside him.

“Make me finish already, doll.”

“Aww,” you coo, squeezing his heavy balls in your free hand. A shiver runs up his spine. “That’s not exactly asking, now is it?”

He hides his pleasure behind annoyance as he groans. “Just - fucking, make me cum already.” You bat your eyelashes at him, and he grumbles something under his breath. “Please.”

“See, was that so hard?” you hum, pleased. “Even serial killers can have some manners.”

Taking him back into your mouth, you trace the veins of his shaft with your tongue, just as you did with the barrel of his gun. Each ridge, following its path up and down.

Something metal clammors onto the ground behind you, but you pay it little mind. Two hands wrap around your head, holding you in place.

“Fuck, just like that,” he moans. “Fuckin’ take it.”

His balls twitch as he releases into you, hot liquid pouring down your throat.

As you swallow, the palms on your scalp release their tension. Looking up at him with wide eyes, you wipe the spit from the corners of your mouth.

He rubs his face with his forearm, a smirk plastered across his lips, that cute little scar decorating the corner. Beside you, something reflective catches your eye - his gun, laying abandoned on the ground.

Some fucking serial killer.

[seraphmeraph]

Hur hur hurhur hur hurhurhurhurhur

How they’d be with pregnant reader - Headcanons

MK1 semi NSFW headcanons with Lin Kuei brothers aka Kuai Liang, Tomas Vrbada, and Bi Han

TW: sex(+18), oral sex (f receiving), conventional sex, pregnancy, afab reader

A/N: this was actually a request of Pregnant reader and Kuai Liang that I lost LEAVE ME ALONE OKAY IM DYING. AHHHHH.

Tomas Vrbada • Smoke

Tomas is so attentive and loving towards you, not saying the others aren't, but he will never leave your side if he has a choice. He’ll cook, and clean, everything, all you need to do is rest and relax. 

You’ll often find him being touchy with you, especially in public, wrapping his arms around your waist, and touching your pregnant belly.

He talks about how when the baby is born he won't let any harm come to you both. “I promise he won't end up like me.”

When it comes to pregnant sex with you two, he is so worried he might hurt you. He’s so gentle and slow despite you begging him to go harder or faster.

“Are you sure you’re okay, I don’t want to-” Tomas spoke before you cut him off. 

“I’ll be okay,” You reassured him. You were laid on your back, his dick positioned right at your entrance.

He took a deep breath, slowly slipping inside you. He began to give slow deliberate thrusts into you, watching your face intently to make sure you were okay. He lowered his face to yours, letting out small moans and peppering your face with kisses.

Kuai Liang • Scorpion

Kuai Liang is the perfect baby daddy. He’ll spoil you with whatever you want and show you affection whenever. You will be SMOTHERED.

He’ll make it clear to everybody that he’s the father, whether it be rubbing your belly in public, keeping his hands all over you, or even just straight up telling people how proud he is of you for carrying his baby.

He often goes on missions so he always leaves you with Liu Kang or another Lin Kuei ninja, he wants to make sure you’re safe.

When you both are lying in bed, he’ll often massage or place his warm hands on you to help you feel better. He’s practically a heating pad.

Pregnant sex with you and Kuai Liang is amazing, you’ll hear praises, and he’d basically worship your body. He’s careful not to hurt you, but a little more confident in pleasuring you.

His head was buried in between your thighs, lapping away at your pussy. “Mm, doing good for me sweetheart,” He pulled away, just to insert a finger into you. His other hand rested on your pregnant belly, slowly caressing it as he ate you out.

His hair was out of his bun, your fingers tangling in between his hair.

He groaned into your pussy, sending shivers through you, enjoying the feeling of your fingers brushing his scalp. His calloused warm fingers ran over your belly. 

Bi Han • Sub Zero

When Bi Han found out you were pregnant, he didn’t show much emotion. Only rested his hand on your head and kissed you. 

You assumed he didn’t care at first and he noticed you were a bit distant so he would do little things to try to cheer you up. Whether it be taking you out, buying you gifts, or even cuddling you as you two lay in bed. 

Out of all the brothers, Bi Han is actually the most concerned for you. When going out on missions, he would either leave one of his brothers with you or a Lin Kuei ninja. 

You’ll never be alone if Bi Han could help it. In public his hand will always be on your hip, pulling you close to him. Literally, everyone will know he’s the father. 

As much as Bi Han only trusts himself to protect you, he’s secretly mortified of being around you. He has so much self-control, he’ll watch his words, his actions, etc. 

He’s kind of like Kuai Liang, where he’ll be like a cold compress. Breats tend to get sore during pregnancy so he’ll cup your breasts for ours with his cold hands. Whenever you complain about any pain Bi Han has to be extra and call you a physician who’ll just tell you it’s pregnancy cramps or something.

Bi Han lives for pregnant sex with you. He’s gentler than usual, yes, but just the aspect that you were bred by him gets him going. Breeding Kink? Maybe.

He gave gentle thrusts, his cool hand resting on your stomach. “So beautiful, carrying my child,” He groaned. His hand retreated back to your clit, rubbing it with his thumb gaining louder moans for you. 

He would definitely make you scream that you want all his babies.