#Can I go to bed now? I have to be up in four hours.

[hottiesforhockey]

mutual pining pt 2 ⎜n.hischier

pairings: nico hischier x reader genre: fluff ⎜ sequel ⎜smut ⎜ warnings: jealous nico ⎜ mentions of drinking ⎜praise as per usual ⎜ rushed sex ⎜ nico being needy and whiny ⎜ p in v ⎜ oral (m!receiving) ⎜nico is a physical touch boy ⎜unprotected sex (wrap it, ladies and gents) synopsis: 3 months after leaving nico behind in Switzerland after your whirlwind romance, you can't help but miss his stupid big brown eyes - maybe a trip to new jersey is in order. word count: 7.5k authors note:  this is the sequel to mutual pining - it's definitely a way to wrap up the original for the people that wanted to see them reunited! I hope everyone enjoys.

(unedited)

“Did everything get there safely?” Your sister’s voice carries through your AirPods as you weave through the crowds in the airport, dragging your oversized luggage behind you. 

“Seems like it — I’ll have to double check it at the hotel but it should be good.” You speak softly sending a quick smile to the security guard pressing the open button to the door. 

“And you got the tickets Luca sent?” Mia asks again, a rustling noise cutting through the phone as Luca’s voice fills your ears. 

“You should have the email with the tickets and the meet and greet pass — they shouldn’t give you any trouble.” Luca says softly, his voice filled with excitement as you let out a soft chuckle. 

“I did, it looks like everything is in order.” You agree, hailing down a taxi as soon as you hit the curb, the driver rushing out of the car to help you place your bags in the trunk and you tell the driver where to take you. 

“He’s not going to be expecting this.” Luca chuckles, the older brother in him bursting with pride at your plan to surprise Nico at one of his games. “He never shuts up about you.” He adds, quickly, the sound of a slap resonating as the phone rustles again your sisters voice coming back to your ears. 

“Everything is going to go fine. Nico will be excited to see you and Luca’s right, he doesn’t shut up about you.” She says teasingly, you can almost see the way she sticks her tongue out at her fiancee. 

“Look, I’m on the way to the hotel now, I’ll let you know how it goes after the game.” 

You lean your head back against the taxi seat, heart racing as you take in the unfamiliar cityscape rushing past your window. The streets of Newark blur by, a patchwork of neon signs, weathered brick buildings, and yellow cabs jostling for space. Everything feels heightened, like the world is holding its breath along with you. You can still hear Mia and Luca’s words echoing in your head — he never shuts up about you. Your heart twists with a mix of nerves and anticipation.

The driver glances at you in the rearview mirror, offering a polite smile.

“First time here?” he asks, his voice friendly.

You nod, barely able to keep your excitement contained. “Yeah, visiting a friend.”

The driver chuckles knowingly. “Lucky person. Visiting for business or pleasure?”

“Definitely pleasure,” you say with a soft laugh, your fingers drumming against your thigh as you glance at your phone. The email with the tickets and meet-and-greet pass sits at the top of your inbox, a glaring reminder of what’s waiting just hours away.

By the time you arrive at the hotel, the sun has dipped low in the sky, casting a warm, golden glow over the city. You thank the driver and pull your suitcase out of the trunk, nerves flaring again as you step into the lobby. Everything feels surreal — the grand chandeliers, the polished marble floors, the hushed conversations of travellers coming and going. You check in quickly, the receptionist handing you your room key with a cheerful smile.

You melt into the bed after placing your suitcase on the chair in the corner in the room - the twenty four hour travelling definitely taking a toll on your body - your back begging from a break as you take out your phone and start scrolling, liking the images from the New Jersey Devils admin on instagram, smiling at the photo of Nico bundled up in his coat and beanie - smiling at something his teammate is saying. 

The doubt creeps in slowly at first and then all at once. 

What if he’s not excited to see me? 

Maybe he wants to keep what happened over the summer a secret? 

Maybe this isn’t a good idea after all. 

You phone dings with a message. 

Luca😇: don’t overthink this… his brain's going to implode when he sees you. 

You smile at the message, your soon to be brother in law already knowing you better then most people. When you had told Luca about your plan to meet back up with Nico he was ecstatic, the older brother going in depth about how devastated Nico was when you left. 

Someday.

You two had agreed upon and it had become a lifeline for you both according to Luca. 

Mia 😈: Wear something sexy.

Your phone dings again the message from your older sister lighting up the screen as you let out a snort of laughter, throwing your phone to the side as you let your eyes close and your body to melt further into the bed. 

Fuck, you’d kill for a nap right now. 

+

+

You don’t remember falling asleep, but the sound of your alarm jolts you awake. It’s already dark outside, the city lights casting a soft glow through the sheer hotel curtains. The nerves settle back in your chest the moment you blink away the sleep, but this time, they’re tangled with excitement. You’re really doing this.

You sit up, stretching your sore muscles before grabbing your phone. There are a few more messages waiting for you.

Mia 😈: Don’t be late!! 

Luca😇: Remember what I said — he’s been waiting for this. Trust me

With a deep breath, you push yourself off the bed and head to the closet, rifling through your suitcase for the outfit you meticulously picked for this moment. Something that would make you feel confident, something that would remind Nico of summer nights and quiet moments shared away from the world

After a quick shower, you stand in front of the mirror, smoothing out your outfit, the skin tight black bodysuit tucked into your denim cargo pants, your trust black converse on your feet. Your heart races as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, giving yourself a small pep talk.

“You’ve got this. He wants to see you. This is what you both wanted.”

The ride to Prudential Center feels like a dream. The city hums with life outside the car window, and you can’t help but imagine Nico somewhere inside that arena, completely unaware of the surprise waiting for him. The thought brings a smile to your lips.

When you arrive, the street is buzzing with fans decked out in Devils gear, laughing and chatting as they make their way inside. You clutch your meet-and-greet pass tightly, your palms slightly sweaty. The staff at the entrance scans your pass - handing you one of the VIP lanyards before directing you toward a section of the stands where fans can watch the players warm up before the game, and explaining how to get to the meet and greet section after the game. The arena feels larger than life, the ice glistening under the bright lights. You find a spot close to the glass, your heart pounding as the players begin to trickle onto the ice. 

Your eyes search for him amongst the bodies —and then you see him.

The black retro jersey’s were one of your favourites from the moment you had seen it during your FaceTime hockey lessons with Luca, the sleek black uniforms standing out on the ice. Nico skates smoothly around the ice, occasionally stopping to read a sign or throw a puck over the glass - finally finding a spot besides his teammates on the other side of the ice, dropping into a kneeling position as he starts stretching. 

“He’s doing that on purpose — look at him putting on a show.” One of the fans besides your squeals as she films Nico on her phone, his stretching routine looking overly sexual as her friend besides her joins in on the squealing. They both turn towards you, taking in your lanyard in surprise, whispering between themselves before turning back to you. 

“How did you get that?” One of them asks pointing down to your lanyard. 

“Umm, a friend got it for me.” You respond quickly, looking down at the lanyard nervously. 

“Do you like know the players or something?” The other asks, your head shaking immediately, their attention quickly stolen as the players begin skating around the ice again, their hands pounding on the glass to try and catch the attention of the players closest to you. 

Your breath catches in your chest as you watch Nico skid to a stop in front of the two girls, taking in their sign with a smile as he reaches down to grab a puck off the ice, preparing to throw it over the glass towards them. His gaze flicks over to your for a second, his attention going back to the two girls before he double takes, his eyes locking with yours as you send him a shy smile. 

Nico’s mouth falls open a little as he takes you in, you hand waving to send him a small wave as he shakes his head, his eyes squeezing shut as he whispers something under his breath before skating straight off the ice, his hand rubbing his eyes as he makes his way back down the tunnel. 

“Well, that didn’t go to plan.” You huff, as you look down at your ticket making quick work of finding your seat amongst the crowds before the game starts. 

The buzz of the crowd fills the arena as you make your way to your seat, your nerves still buzzing, but now with a different kind of energy. You can't help but replay the moment over and over in your mind. Nico's reaction, that brief second of recognition before he skated off... it almost felt like time stood still, like the universe had paused to allow for that one perfect moment.

You settle into your seat, trying to steady your breathing, but your heart is racing. The game is about to start, and the lights dim, plunging the arena into darkness except for the gleaming ice and the spotlights following the players as they prepare for the opening face-off. The energy in the building shifts, becoming a living thing, vibrating with anticipation. Fans are chanting, clapping, and waving signs.

The arena feels alive, the sounds of skates slicing through ice, the thud of pucks against sticks, the roar of the crowd... it all feels so surreal, like you’re in the middle of something you’ve only ever seen from the outside.

A sudden pang of longing hits you — Nico, somewhere out there, likely focused on the game, unaware of your presence, unaware that you’re just a few feet away. You glance down at your meet-and-greet pass again, your thumb grazing the laminate. You can't shake the feeling that maybe he’s still processing the surprise, still trying to make sense of the fact that you’re here, after all these months.

Just before the game begins, you hear a voice over the loudspeaker announcing the start of the first period, and your eyes flick back to the ice. Nico’s already out there, his movements smooth and practiced, but there’s a noticeable energy to him tonight. A sharpness. 

Maybe it's the game. 

Maybe it's the surprise. 

Maybe it's you.

You watch him as he skates across the rink, focused, determined, but every once in a while, your eyes meet, even if only for a fraction of a second, and it feels like something unspoken passes between you. The connection that’s been there all along, even when you were miles apart, seems to hum in the air around you, settling into your chest like it never left.

The game plays on, the tension building as each team fights for dominance. You cheer when the Devils score, feeling your heart swell with the crowd, but your mind is elsewhere, still floating between the excitement of being here and the uncertainty of what comes next.

The final whistle blows, signalling the end of the game, and the arena erupts in cheers. You grab your things, your heartbeat quickening again as you make your way toward the meet-and-greet area. Staff direct you down a narrow hallway that leads to a small lounge area. The walls are lined with photos of past players, some famous moments frozen in time, a shrine to the history of the team. There’s a small group of fans gathered around, all eagerly chatting, waiting for their moment with the players. You stand there, trying to calm your nerves, trying to steady the rapid pace of your heart, but it’s hard. The anticipation is palpable, and you can feel it crawling under your skin, an hour ticking by as you stick close to the walls of the room - watching the fans interact with each other, excited over being able to meet their favourite players. 

And then, the door opens.

The players all trickle in, dressed in casual clothes as they find their space behind the table set up at the front of the room, the rest of the fans quickly falling into a queue as they make their way over to the table. The queue moves quickly, the staff ushering the fans along if their take over five minutes with each player, your gaze flicking over to Nico as you step up to the table, placing the jersey you bought down on the table as you look towards the player in front of you with a smile. 

“First time here?” He asks softly, your head nodding as your gaze flicks back to Nico, the captain conversing with a young fan animatedly, your own smile growing as you watch him. “Our captain does tend to capture the attention of all the pretty girls.” The player in front of you murmurs with a laugh, quickly signing before passing the jersey to the player besides him. 

“Hey, do I know you?” The next player asks, his voice clouded with a slight barely there accent as your gaze is torn away from Nico, looking down at the large player with a tilt of your head. 

“Ummm, I don’t think so.” You say softly. 

“No, I swear I’ve seen you before.” He starts again, his eyebrows furrowing as he looks over you, his eyes lighting up in recognition as he leans against the table shooting a look towards his captain before turning back to you with a knowing smile. “The lock screen.” He whispers before coughing slightly to cover up his words, signing your jersey and passing it down the line again. 

The players leans over whispering into the next mans ear, whose face lights up as he signs your jersey and passes it off again mimicking the movements of the man next to him as he continues the whispers down the line. The speed of the hockey players in surprising as they work hard to fast track you to their captain, each shooting you a shit eating grin until you stand to the left of him, his focus entirely on the young girl in front of him, the girl handing her phone off to a staff member as Nico rounds the table to stand besides her as the staff member snaps the photos, Nico giving the young girl a long hug before leaving her to run off the her parent, sliding back into his seat as he slides your jersey in front of him. 

“Thank you for coming.” Nico says softly as he searches for a spot to sign, “How’s your day been so far?” He questions, his eyes still glued on the fabric as he finds an empty spot on the large ’13’ on the back of the jersey. 

“It’s been pretty good so far, just got off a really long flight earlier today though.” You respond, your heart pounding against your chest as Nico’s pen pauses, his whole body locked tight as he takes in a deep breath, his eyes shooting up to yours as he jolts into a standing position the jersey forgotten on the table. 

“Schatz.” His voice is barely a whisper as he takes you in. 

“Hi Nico.” You smile, Nico’s hands tremble as he rounds the table, his dark eyes wide and disbelieving. For a moment, it seems like he doesn’t know what to do — whether to pull you into a hug or simply keep staring, afraid you might disappear like a dream. His lips part, but no words come out. His teammates glance over, nudging each other with knowing smiles, but the noise of the room fades to the background. It’s just you and him now.

“I can’t believe…” His voice cracks slightly as he steps closer. “You’re actually here.”

You nod, a lump forming in your throat as you take a shaky breath. “Someday came a little sooner then I thought.” You glance around the room, all the attention on the two of you as you send him a small smile and flick your head back towards the crowd. “I think you’ve still got some work to do, captain.” You tease, his eyes moving back to the group with a grimace. 

“You’ll wait?” He questions softly, slowly taking steps back around the table until he sinks in his chair, finishing off his signature before holding his jersey out for you, holding it tight as you try to pull it out of his grip. 

“I’ll wait.” You confirm, Nico only releasing the jersey once he’s sure you’re telling the truth. 

The meet-and-greet eventually winds down, and Nico finishes signing the last few jerseys and taking pictures with the remaining fans. But his eyes keep flicking back to you, checking, making sure you haven’t left. The second the event is officially over, he excuses himself from his teammates and heads straight for you, his hand already reaching for yours before he even thinks twice about it.

“Come with me?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, but there’s something pleading in it, something raw.

You nod, letting him lace his fingers through yours as he tugs you toward a side door. The hallways are dimly lit, the buzz of the arena distant now as he leads you deeper into the private areas of the facility. He doesn’t say much, but his grip is firm, like he’s afraid to let go, afraid that if he does, you might disappear again.

He pushes open a door, revealing a quiet locker room, the air still carrying the faint scent of sweat and cologne. It’s empty, save for the two of you. The moment the door clicks shut behind you, the tension that’s been simmering all night boils over.

Nico turns to you, eyes dark and searching. "I thought I was dreaming when I saw you," he admits, voice husky. "I still can't believe you're here."

You take a step closer, your heart pounding. "I’m here, Nico."

A shaky breath leaves him as he lifts a hand to your face, his fingers ghosting over your cheek before trailing down to your jaw, then to your lips. He’s hesitant at first, like he’s memorising you all over again, but when you tilt your head slightly, leaning into his touch, something in him snaps.

His lips crash into yours, desperate and hungry, years of longing pouring into the kiss. His hands slide down to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you feel the tension in his muscles, the way he’s holding himself back, barely keeping himself in check. Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging slightly, and he groans into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

“God, I missed you,” he murmurs against your lips, his hands roaming your back, pressing you even closer.

You don’t answer with words. Instead, you kiss him again, letting your body tell him everything you can’t quite say yet. The weight of the past few months, the ache of missing each other, the relief of finally being together again—it all melts into this moment, into the way his hands grip your hips, the way your fingers trail down his chest.

When he pulls back, his forehead rests against yours, his breath ragged. "I don’t want to let you go again."

You cup his face, brushing your thumb over his cheek. "Then don’t."

Nico exhales sharply, a small, almost disbelieving smile tugging at his lips. He kisses you again, slower this time, savouring it, like he’s trying to make up for lost time. The world outside the locker room fades away, leaving just the two of you, tangled in each other, in the heat of something that feels like coming home.

“Um… sorry to interrupt but you’re in a public space.” A nervous laugh cuts through the locker room, Nico pulling away from you with a grown - his glare flicking over to his teammate, his fingers digging into your hips in a squeeze before he releases you, tucking you against his side as he turns to face his teammate. 

“Jack —” he acknowledges, “What do you want?” He grits out, the grumpy tone surprising you - Nico was anything but grumpy and it took everything you had to stifle your laugh, Jack’s eyes shooting to yours as a mischievous grin spread on his face before he looks back towards his captain. 

“We were all going to that bar downtown but wanted to know if you would come along?” Jack starts, taking a deep breath before he adds, “we have so many questions for her.” Nico tenses again, your hand slipping into his as you shoot a smile Jack’s way. 

“We would love to meet you there — trust me I’ve got plenty of my own questions.” Jack nods slowly, hesitating until you add, “Would you mind giving us a second, we’ll be there soon.” Jack takes the suggestion with a nod slowly slipping away from the two of you. 

You don’t get a chance to fully turn towards Nico before he’s is kissing you again, deeper this time, his desperation palpable. Your fingers tighten on his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer, as if you can make up for all the lost time in this moment alone.

When he finally breaks away, his forehead presses against yours, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps. His hands remain locked around your waist, thumbs tracing absentminded patterns against the fabric of your shirt.

“I missed you too,” you finally whisper, your voice thick with emotion. “More than you know.” Nico exhales sharply, like he’s been holding in a breath for months, and then he’s wrapping his arms around you, hugging you tightly against his chest. 

“You left,” he murmurs, his voice tinged with something that sounds like heartbreak. “And I didn’t know if someday would ever come.”

Your eyes squeeze shut at the raw honesty in his voice. “I didn’t either,” you admit, gripping the back of his hoodie. “But I’m here now.” Nico pulls back just enough to cup your face in his hands, studying you as if to reassure himself you’re real. His thumb strokes your cheek, and his lips quirk into a soft, almost disbelieving smile.

“I have so many things I want to say,” he murmurs, his dark eyes locked onto yours. “But I also don’t want to waste a single second talking.”

A breathless laugh escapes you. “We have time, Nico. We have time now.” 

+

+

The bar is loud and bustling by the time you get there - Nico keeping you tucked closely into his back as he leads you over to the corner booth where his friends already gather - each of them letting out loud hollers as they spot their captain pushing through the crowds, their smiles lighting up as Nico pulls you in front of him, tucking you into the booth. 

“I’ll go get us some drinks.” He says softly, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head as his friends let out low whistles, your neck burning pink as you clear your throat. 

“So…” Jack starts, the smile on his face seeming contagious as it spreads across the group, all of them turning towards you. “Tell us everything — why has cap been such a sad sack since he got back from summer vacation?” Jack starts the rest of the group jumping in. 

“Oh, did he profess his love and you rejected him?” One of the players theorises your throat bobbing as you turn to the next one who speaks. 

“What about his lock screen? Is he your lock screen too?” Another player pipes in, your mouth falling open as you look around at the grown men in confusion. 

“I never knew hockey players were such gossips.” You laugh taking a breath before addressing each question individually. “I think it’s partially my fault Nico been so sad, and I didn’t reject him but I wasn’t as accepting as I should’ve been and he isn’t my lock screen and I had no idea I was his.” You answer the questions with a grimace, the players sitting back with a quick nod, accepting your answers with smiles. 

“I’m glad you’re here.” Jack interjects quickly, “I’ve never seen him so happy before.” 

“I’m glad I’m here too.” You agree as Nico reaches the table, popping your ice cold coke in front of you with a smile.

“No alcohol.” He confirms, looking at each of his teammates with a pinched expression, “I hope they weren’t too hard on you.” He says, you head shaking as you scoot over in the booth, patting the seat besides you for him to sit down. 

“Nope, just curious.” 

Nico slides in next to you, his arm immediately wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer. The warmth of his body against yours feels like coming home after a long journey. His teammates exchange knowing glances, their smiles widening.

"So, mysterious girl," one of them leans forward, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "how did you and our captain here meet?"

You glance at Nico, a silent question in your eyes. He nods, giving you permission to share. "We met last summer," you begin, a soft smile playing on your lips as the memory washes over you. "I was on vacation with my sister and her fiancé, who happens to be Nico's brother.”

"Ah, the infamous Swiss getaway," Jack chimes in, wiggling his eyebrows. "No wonder cap came back all moony-eyed and distracted."

Nico rolls his eyes, but there's no real annoyance behind it. His thumb traces lazy circles on your hip, a constant reminder of his presence. "It wasn't like that," he says, but the soft look he gives you betrays his words.

"Oh really?" another teammate chimes in. "Then why did you spend the first month back staring at your phone like it held the secrets of the universe?" A chorus of laughter erupts from the table, and you can't help but join in. Nico's cheeks flush slightly, but he doesn't deny it. Instead, he pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"Can you blame me?" he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear. The tenderness in his voice makes your heart skip a beat. The conversation flows easily after that, the team's curiosity about you mixing with playful jabs at Nico. You find yourself relaxing, laughing along with their jokes and sharing small anecdotes from your summer together. Nico's hand never leaves your waist, his thumb tracing small circles on your hip, a constant reminder of his presence.

“Hey, I’m just gonna go get another drink, want anything?” You question, sliding yourself over Nico’s lap, his hands holding you steady as you slip out of the booth - Nico shakes his head, motioning to his still half drunk beer he had been nursing for most of the night. You nod as you start to squeeze through the crowd, slipping your way past numerous large groups until you find a spot to brace against the bar, waiting for one of the workers to catch their attention.

As you wait at the bar, you feel the heat of the crowded room pressing in around you. The bartender is busy, so you glance over your shoulder, just barely able to spot Nico at the booth, his eyes tracking your every move. You send him a reassuring smile before turning back to the bar, where a tall man with an easy smile has taken up the space beside you.

"Hey there," the stranger greets, leaning against the bar as he gives you a once-over. "Haven't seen you around here before. You new?"

You offer a polite smile, stepping slightly away without making it obvious. "Just visiting some friends."

"Lucky friends," he says, tilting his head. "Can I buy you a drink?"

"No, thanks," you reply firmly, turning your focus back to the bar, hoping he’ll take the hint. But he doesn’t.

"Come on," he coaxes, stepping closer than necessary. "Just one drink. I don’t bite." You stiffen as his fingers brush your arm, a forced chuckle leaving his lips when you recoil. 

"I said no," you repeat, sharper this time, your patience wearing thin.

His smirk falters for a split second before returning, more insistent now. "Relax, sweetheart. No need to be so uptight. Just trying to be friendly."

"And I’m trying to be clear," you snap, shifting to put more space between you, but he moves with you, blocking your path. "Back off." Before the tension can escalate further, a strong arm wraps securely around your waist, pulling you flush against a solid chest. The scent of cologne and something distinctly Nico floods your senses before you even look up to confirm who it is.

"She’s taken," Nico’s voice is firm, edged with something dark, something possessive. His grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly as he levels the man with a stare that is nothing short of lethal.

The stranger raises his hands in mock surrender, a smirk tugging at his lips. "No offence, man. Just being friendly."

Nico doesn't respond immediately, his jaw set tight. His fingers flex against your hip, a silent claim. "Then be friendly somewhere else."

The tension in the air is thick, but the stranger chuckles, shaking his head before muttering, "Alright, alright, message received." With that, he steps back and disappears into the crowd. You let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, turning in Nico’s arms to face him. His eyes are still stormy, flickering with something unreadable. 

"Nico—"

"I didn’t like that," he admits bluntly, his accent thicker with emotion. "I didn’t like the way he was looking at you."

You soften, reaching up to cup his face, fingers grazing over the sharp edge of his jaw. “I think you’re overthinking things a little bit?” He exhales, his forehead dropping to rest against yours for a brief moment. 

"I know. But that doesn’t mean I have to like other guys thinking they have a chance."

Your lips twitch, amusement dancing in your eyes. "Possessive much?"

He tilts his head, a slow smirk finally breaking through his jealousy. "Maybe a little."

You press a quick kiss to his cheek, feeling the last of the tension melt from his shoulders. "Come on, captain," you tease, nodding toward the table. "Your friends are probably placing bets on whether or not you threw a punch."

“Or…” Nico starts, his gaze shooting over to the table of his teammates before locking back on yours, “We could go home?” 

A shiver runs down your spine at the word 'home'. It's a simple word, yet it carries so much weight when Nico says it. It's not just about a place; it's about the feeling of belonging, of safety, of finally being where you're supposed to be. The thought of leaving the crowded bar, of escaping the prying eyes and the boisterous laughter, and going somewhere private with Nico... it's incredibly tempting. You glance at the table. His teammates are engrossed in their own conversations, oblivious to the silent exchange happening between you and Nico. They'd probably tease him mercilessly if he left so soon, but...

"What about your friends?" you ask, even though you already know what you want.

Nico shrugs, his arm tightening around your waist. "They'll understand. Besides," he adds, a playful glint in his eyes, "they'll have plenty to gossip about tomorrow anyway." You can't help but laugh. He's right. His teammates are probably already compiling a detailed report of every interaction you've had with Nico tonight, ready to dissect it at their next practice.

"Okay," you say, a smile spreading across your face. "Let's go home."

Nico's smile mirrors yours, a mixture of relief and anticipation. He leans down, pressing a quick, lingering kiss to your lips. "Let's go," he whispers, his voice husky.

He takes your hand, and together, you navigate your way through the crowded bar, his body shielding you from the jostling crowd. As you step out into the cool night air, the city lights twinkling around you, a sense of calm washes over you. The noise and the chaos of the bar fade into the background, replaced by the quiet intimacy of being alone with Nico.

The walk back to his apartment is short, but it feels like an eternity. Every step you take brings you closer to being alone with him, closer to finally having some time to yourselves, away from the prying eyes and the curious questions.

As you reach his building, Nico pulls you close, his arm wrapping around your waist. "I've been waiting for this all night," he murmurs, his breath warm against your ear, his lips grazing the side of your neck.

You lean into him, your heart pounding in your chest. "Me too," you whisper back.

The elevator ride up to his apartment is filled with a charged silence. You can feel the anticipation building between you, a tangible energy that crackles in the air. When the doors finally open on his floor, Nico doesn't hesitate. He takes your hand again, leading you down the hallway to his door. The moment the door to Nico's apartment closes behind you, the last of the restraint you've both been holding onto snaps. His hands are on you in an instant, fingers digging into your hips as he presses you against the wall, his lips crashing into yours with a desperation that steals your breath away.

You fingers take tight grip of his shirt, pulling him as close as he can get as his hands leave your body, bracing himself on the wall besides your head as he lets out a choked groan. “You have no idea how many times I’ve pictured this.” He groans into your mouth, his hips trapping yours against the wall, his head pulling back for just long enough to glance down at you, his need for your reassurance gleaming in his eyes as you shoot him a soft smile. 

“I wasn’t lying last time we were together.” Nico whispers, “I would give anything to keep you with me, right here, forever.” Your eyes widen for a second, Nico’s widening as well as the words fall out of his mouth, his mouth pursing shut as he grimaces his face scrunching as the weight of what he says lingers between you. 

“Me too.” You breathe out, your hands releasing his shirt, skimming up his torso until you cup his cheeks, “I would give anything to stay, right here, forever.” You confirm, Nico traps his bottom lip between his teeth as your thumbs stroke his cheeks, his eyes squeeze shut as he drops his head against your shoulder, letting out a shuddered breath. 

“Schatzi.” He whispers as you nods, your hands running gently through his hair as you let out a soft chuckle. 

“I know.” You pulls his head away from your shoulder, gently pushing his body away from yours. “It’s my turn to take care of you this time.” You smile, taking his hand in yours as you pull him behind you down the hallway, the sight of his bedroom speeding up your steps, “clothes off.” you say quickly releasing his hand, watching as he strips the fabric off his body quickly, his cock bobbing against his abdomen as he pulls off his underwear. 

“Sit on the bed, Nico.” You say with a tilt of your head, watching as the large hockey player takes a seat on the edge of the mattress, his eyes widening as you sink to your knees in front of him, flicking your hair over your shoulder. 

“Wait— you don’t hav—” 

“I want to.” You confirm, shuffling forwards until your slip between his legs, your hands bracing on your thighs as you look up at him with a smile. 

You take a moment to admire the sight in front of you, Nico's muscular body tense with anticipation. His cock twitches under your gaze, making you smile. You love the effect you have on him, the way his body responds to your every touch.

Slowly, teasingly, you lean forward, letting your breath ghost over his hard length. Nico shivers, a soft groan escaping his lips.

"Please," he whispers, his voice rough with desire.

You don't make him wait any longer. Leaning in, you press a soft kiss to the tip of his cock, tasting the bead of pre-cum that's gathered there. Nico's hips jerk at the contact, a sharp inhale filling the room.

"So good," he murmurs, his hand coming to rest gently on your head, not pushing, just a reassuring presence. “Please.” He pleads again, “I’ll beg if you want me to.” Ignoring his words you take your time, you lick a stripe up the underside of his cock, savouring the way it throbs under your tongue. Nico's praise continues, spurring you on, making you feel powerful and wanted.

"Your mouth is incredible," he breathes as you finally take him into your mouth, your lips stretching around his girth. "So hot, so tight." His hands move slowly, gathering your hair away from your face, his grip ever so gentle as he stops it from getting in your way.

You moan your approval, the sound vibrating around his cock, and you can feel him shudder. Slowly, you start to move, bobbing your head up and down, taking him deeper with every pass. Your hands find their way to his thighs, feeling the muscles bunch and flex under your touch.

"Fuck, just like that," Nico encourages, his voice strained. "You're doing so well, Schatzi.”

His praise fills you with warmth, making you want to please him even more. You redouble your efforts, using every trick you know to make him feel good. You swirl your tongue around his head, you hollow your cheeks for suction, you even let him slip into your throat, relishing the choked moan it earns you.

“Wait...” He yelps, you mouth pausing on his, Nicos hands slipping under your arms as he pulls you off of him and into a standing position, his pupils blown out as he looks down at you. “I need to be inside of you.” He groans, his hands tucking your hair behind your ears as you nod. 

“I don’t have a condom.” He says quickly as he watches you undo the button on your pants, sliding them down your legs, your eyes flicking back up to his as you take in his panic. “I didn’t think I was going to need one.” He says with a tight laugh, his hand raising to rub at the back of his neck. 

You smile as your raise your brows, kicking your pants away as you raise your hands to the hem of your body suit, pulling it up and over your head once you undo the clasps, your bralette catching all of Nico’s attention, another choked groan leaving his mouth at the sight of you in your underwear. 

“Didn’t you hear me?” He continues, a frown forming on his face as his eyes follow your motions, your hands pulling the bralette over your head, your boobs bouncing free of their confines, your hands slipping down to the edges of your panties next. 

“I heard you.” You confirm, sliding your cotton underwear down your legs, a teasing smile on your face as you add, “I just don’t care.” 

“But we should use protection.” Nico says in confusion, his head tilting as you walk towards his bed, perching down on the edge as you look up at him. 

“We should.” You agree, “But we don’t have any, and I’m not about to tell you to stop.” You confirm, Nico’s mouth falling open in surprise, “I have an IUD, and I assume we’re both clean.” You say, leaning back on your hands as you watching Nico’s gaze trail across your body. He nods quickly at your words, hesitating for another moment as you slide further back onto his mattress, opening your arms to him as you fall onto your back. 

“Then fuck me like you mean it.” You coo, Nico not wasting time in delving onto the mattress on top of you.

Nico's eyes darken with lust at your words, and he doesn't hesitate any longer. He settles himself between your legs, his cock hot and hard against your inner thigh.

"You're sure?" he asks one last time, needing to hear you say it.

In response, you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer. "I've never been more sure of anything," you say, your voice thick with desire. That's all the encouragement he needs. With a groan, he lines himself up with your entrance and pushes inside. You're wet and ready for him, but the stretch still burns. In the best way.

"Oh, Schatzi," Nico breathes, his forehead dropping to yours. "You feel incredible. Just like I remember.” He pulls out slowly, then thrusts back in, making both of you moan.

“Mhm,” you encourage, your hands finding purchase on the muscles of his back. "Just like that. Don't hold back." Nico nods, his hips starting to move with purpose. Each thrust is deep and powerful, his pelvis grinding against your clit just right. It's perfection, and your moans echo around the room, mixing with his.

"More," you beg, your nails digging into his skin. "Harder. I need more."

"So greedy," Nico chuckles, his speed increasing. The bed creaks under the force of his thrusts, and the sound is almost as erotic as the wet slap of flesh against flesh.

"Only for you," you manage to pant out, the coiling tension in your gut making it hard to think, let alone speak.

"Good," Nico growls, his hips moving at a punishing pace now. "You're mine, aren't you? This pussy is all mine."

"Yours," you agree shamelessly. "All yours." It's the truth. In this moment, you are entirely his. 

"This is going to be quick," he warns, his voice guttural. “I’ve been waiting too long.”  You can only nod frantically, your arms shaking as you try to hold yourself up on your elbows, your fingers linking with his as he leans down to catch your lips again. Nico's hands grip yours bruisingly tight, holding you still as he slams into you again and again.

“Come for me, Nico.” You whisper against his mouth, your pussy squeezing so tightly against him, his hips stutter. 

“Fuck.” He curses under his breath, closing his eyes as he drops his head to your shoulder, his hips still moving as he shakes his head, holding off his orgasm. “I think I’m in love with you.” He whispers against the soft skin of your shoulder, his teeth digging into the skin there as he finds his release - one of your hands releasing his as your run your fingers through his hair, whispering soft praise in his ear as you collapse against the mattress, Nico still pressed tightly against you as he lets out a shaky breath. 

“I just said that out loud, didn’t I?” Nico questions brings a bubble of laughter out of your mouth, yours hands still smoothing against his hair as you feels his hips shift, his dick sliding out of you as he rolls off your body, his cheeks flushed a bright red as he throws his arm over his face. 

“You did.” You confirm, letting out another small laugh as you turn on your side to face him, sliding his sheet up and over both your bodies as you tug on his arm, pulling it away from his face with a lot of effort. “I think I’m in love with you too.” You whisper, as you lean forwards to press a soft kiss to his temple before sliding off the mattress, gliding into the bathroom. 

“You can’t just drop that bomb and then leave me here.” He says through a groan, tuning his head against his bed to watch you walk away.  His big brown eyes pleading as you turn in the doorway to his ensuite. 

Those stupid big brown eyes. 

“Then come after me.” You say letting out a soft squeal as Nico launches himself off the mattress after you, the man needing no more of an invitation to follow behind you. 

“I’m grateful for someday.” Nico whispers as he tugs you under the hot spray of the shower, his arms wrapped around your waist as the water drenches your bodies, washing the smell of sex and sweat off both of you. “I want someday to last for as long as it can.” He continues, one arm stay wrapped around you as he reaches for the loofa. 

“Someday starts now.” You confirm - turning in his arms to look up at him, his eyes shining as he catches your lips with his, your bodies pressed impossibly close as you add, “Someday can last for as long as we want it to.” 

[icarusflewsworld]

Rhysand & Cassian & Azriel X OC

Hello, here is the chapter 31 of a fanfiction on the world of Acotar where our three favorite Batboys are the mates of a single woman.

I hope you liked it. Feel free to tell me what you thought about it so I can improve because I don't feel like I write very good smut scenes.

The next chapter is Rhysand's smut and will be published on Wednesday, February 5th.

I send you lots of big kisses and thank you again for all your love. Love, ❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹

! Don't forget to read the previous chapters ! : Here

Chapter 31

"We should get up," Cassian mumbled, stroking the hair of his sleeping soulmate who had landed in Rhysand's arms during the night.

It had been hours since all three of them had been awake while the sun was now high in the sky. But they couldn't bring themselves to leave their soulmate to get up and didn't have the heart to wake her up to take her with them while she was sleeping peacefully.

They just passed her around every hour so they could hold their soul mate close to them equally.

Rhysand, still in the same spot in the bed, turned on his side, his back to Cassian, while taking his soulmate with him. "No, we're good here." He tightened his grip a little more around Luxiana, placing his nose on the top of her head. "The world can wait."

Feeling the blonde's bare chest on his, the lord frowned as he cast a narrowed glance over his shoulder at his brothers. "Wasn't she in a nightie last night?"

Azriel on the other side of the bed smirked. He had his hands behind his head and his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "Yes, but tonight she wanted cookies. I had to keep her busy while they baked."

Cassian, understanding his brother's words, gasped in offense. "You, you bastard. Without us?"

Azriel burst out laughing, "I don't regret anything, it was the best sex of my entire life."

A bitter taste of jealousy electrocuted the other two Illyrians but at the same time, the joy their brother felt was so contagious that they couldn't help but feel happy and smile.

Suddenly, the bedroom door opened with such violence that it smashed against the wall that held it.

All four of them sat up in surprise. Even Luxiana had her eyes wide open and were now fully awake.

"Amren," Rhysand cried, glaring at the fae who had just woken his soulmate again. "That's twice, there won't be a third, I warn you."

“Like you could stop me from doing anything,” Amren replied nonchalantly, not even a little intimidated. “Besides, it wasn’t my idea this time.”

Luxiana looked around. How had she ended up in Rhysand's arms? It didn't matter. She lay back down, dragging the high lord with her to wiggle in his arms while repositioning herself properly.

"It's mine!" Mor shouted at the top of her lungs as she entered the room, smiling. "You must get up!" she demanded, bending down to grab the Illyrians' clothes from the ground and throwing them in their faces. "You have things to do, duties and obligations to fulfill."

Cassian sighed loudly as he lay back down while Azriel groaned as he reluctantly got up to get dressed.

“Where is the book? I have to translate it,” Amren asked, looking around the room.

Rhysand pointed to the leather square on the bedside table before planting his face in Luxiana's neck to breathe in the scent of his soulmate deeply.

“Rhys, I said get up,” Mor demanded, grabbing the high lord by the ankle and jerking him out of bed.

He let out a sort of grunt of refusal as he struggled with all his weight to stay in his place.

Luxiana whimpered a sort of sob "Oh no, I don't want to get up."

Rhys' cousin let out a small laugh. "Oh but you can keep sleeping," she assured, "but not them. They have work to do!"

“Oh!” Luxiana said in realization. “Yessssss,” she finally cried out in joy. “I’m going to have the bed all to myself.”

She extracted herself from Rhysand's arms to pass over him and arrive between the lord and Cassian. Then she got on her knees to push the two Illyrians with her hands trying to roll them to the edge but they were too heavy. "Aren’t you ashamed?" she teased them all smiles. "Come on, get up, you have work to do."

Cassian laughed as Luxiana tried with all her might to make him move. He looked her up and down, savoring his soulmate's naked body next to him. Which, of course, awoke his erection even more - which never slept in the presence of the blonde, by the way...

Luxiana, following his gaze, realized that she was naked. She gasped in surprise, covering her breasts with her arms and squeezing her thighs.

She glared accusingly at Azriel -who was smirking- before turning her gaze back to Mor. A wide grin spread across Luxiana’s face as she turned around to stand on the bed, stopping hiding. She put one hand on her hip and the other on the back of her head. "How do you like me, Mor?" she asked, raising her eyebrows repeatedly in a perverted manner. "Please, stroke my ego. Do you find me hot?"

The three Illyrians tensed, freezing and widening their eyes at once, but Mor could see enough before they realize and react. She looked her up and down hungrily, nodding. "You're really hot."

“Luxiana!” Azriel cried sharply, running to the bed and erecting a wall of black shadow between herself and Mor.

"Mor!" Rhysand growled at the same time, leaping onto his two feet to glare at his cousin.

Cassian threw himself at Luxiana to grab her by the hips and pull her towards the bed, pinning her to the mattress in his arms but giving her a dark look.

Luxiana was dying of laughter as the army commander began to wrap her in the bed blanket like a sausage.

Rhysand walked over to his cousin and Amren, pushing them by the shoulders and getting them out of the room. "We're coming, it's okay," he growled before slamming the door in their faces.

Luxiana was still laughing, wrapped in her blanket but she was so warm and comfortable that she eventually calmed down. Her eyelids grew heavy again. "Have a nice day," she said vaguely with a big smile before falling back to sleep.

***

A few hours later, and as Luxiana had woken up alone in bed with a feeling of emptiness and coldness in her heart, realizing that she already missed the three Illyrians. She had then gotten up, showered and dressed in a pretty long dark blue dress with silver sequins.

She had braided her hair, blushing at the memory of the punishment Azriel had given her that night. Although a part of her had been dying to walk around with her hair down every day to receive the Illyrian's punishments, another part of her had been so exhausted by that night -despite the incredible final orgasm- that she wasn't ready to do it again just yet.

She went down the stairs and reached the dining room where she was surprised to see the three Illyrians around the table with serious and worried faces.

Rhysand sat at the head of the table facing an open brown wooden box in front of him and a cold, dull look on his face. Cassian sat next to him with his arms crossed and Azriel was on the other side of Rhys but standing. They all three looked up at her.

“You look like you’ve seen a dead person,” she mocked as she approached. “What is that?” She pointed at the box with her chin as she sat down next to Rhys and Az, facing Cassian.

Rhysand turned the box towards her. "These are Blood Rubies sent by Tarquin declaring us mortal enemies of his court."

Cassian gritted his teeth. "There's five of them, one for each of us. I guess they found out about the book eventually."

Luxiana burst out laughing. "Tarquin sends rubies to his enemies?" She shakes her head, pouting fondly. "He's so adorably cute, I'm dreaming."

The three Illyrians stared at her with dark looks and narrowed eyes.

Luxiana gradually lost her smile as she flicked her pupils between the three. She grimaced. "Ah yes, bad audience, my fault."

Azriel huffed, closing his eyes wearily as he grabbed the bridge of his nose. "That's not cute, that's a death threat. If we set foot in his yard or if he finds us, we're dead. We're in danger now. YOU are in danger now."

Luxiana rolled her eyes with a smile. Was that why they were so worried? They were so cute too. "Oh if you knew the number of death threats I've received or the number of places I risk being executed if I set foot there... I even think there's a price on my head in the Winter Court and that I'm public enemy number 1 in the Autumn Court. Yet, no one has ever sent me a ruby. I assure you, it's cute."

The three of them widened their eyes as their lower jaws nearly dropped. Cassian laughed, "damn, I'll never get used to it."

Luxiana smiled before reaching out for a ruby. She wanted to grab one to study it. It just seemed surreal to her to send a precious stone to his enemies. Was Tarquin so intent on showing off his wealth? She was going to grab one but Azriel grabbed her wrist to stop her as Rhys slammed the box shut with a burst of his power.

“Don’t touch them,” the spymaster ordered, releasing his hand.

“They might be trapped,” Rhys explained, pulling the box back towards him.

Luxiana's heart was beating erratically and forcefully in her chest. "Own, you're too sweet, stop," she whined, placing her palms on her face to hide her blush.

The three males laughed tenderly, but Rhysand suddenly became serious again. "Besides," he hesitated, clearing his throat and casting quick, fearful glances at his two brothers who returned them. "Cass, Az and I were wondering if you might want to stay with us a little longer," he said in a serious voice.

Azriel clenched his teeth and fists as he eyed his soulmate with apprehension and even fear. She was his. She no longer had the right to leave. Not after giving herself to him entirely. She had no right but he was so afraid that she would want to.

Cassian swallowed hard as he looked up at the ceiling. He didn't want to see this and he was forcing himself not to put his hands over his ears and prevent himself from hearing an answer that could break his heart. What would he do if she wanted to leave? He couldn't even breathe properly if she wasn't near him.

Luxiana dropped her arms to her sides, taking on a serious look. She frowned in thought. Stay? What does he mean by 'stay'? They wanted her to stay? Forever? Did she want to stay? But what about Feyre ?

Sensing his confusion, a flash of panic shot through Rhysand. "Until Amren translates the book, I mean. That way we can come up with a plan and tell Feyre everything in one go," he improvised, waving his hands around.

Cassian was tense all over. He uncrossed his arms to rub his palms on his pants. His hands were sweaty. Since when did his hands get sweaty? "We'll take good care of you," he assured her, trying to sound confident with a smirk and winking at her.

Luxiana relaxed a notch as she couldn't help but blush and smile slightly. "Oh," she simply breathed. Was she disappointed? Did she wish they'd asked her to stay longer?

Azriel's jaw was clenched so tightly it hurt as a sort of disappointment and fear washed over him. He could have trembled if he hadn't focused on tensing all his muscles. "So what do you say?" he asked in a dry voice, despite himself.

Luxiana looked down, pursing her lips to think. She shouldn't stay. She was already too attached to them but they made her feel so good. It wouldn't hurt anyone if she stayed a little longer, right? Besides, she was dying to. She raised her pupils shining with determination towards them, "If you still want me, then I'm willing to stay a little longer."

Rhysand closed his eyes, breathing an almost imperceptible sigh of relief.

Cassian took a deep breath, relieved. This woman had too much impact on him.

Azriel leaned toward Luxiana, placing his index finger under her chin and holding her head up toward him. “We will always want you, Luxi. When we tell you that we are yours and you are ours, we mean it.”

Luxiana blushed even more as she smiled at the wave of pleasure that washed over her but Azriel eyed her lips and dimples. His erection woke up in his pants at the memory of what that mouth had done to him that night.

He ran his thumb over his soulmate's bottom lip, growling. He was about to say something, but Rhysand - sensing his brother's excitement - stood up and pushed him by the shoulder. "Okay, no, not now, we have things to do."

The lord took his brother's place in front of Luxiana. "Az and I have... obligations..."

"Like what?" the blonde interrupted him with a curious and innocent face.

Azriel smirked, "Things," he said mysteriously.

“Huuum,” Luxiana complained slowly, almost pouting.

Rhysand laughed as he gave in. With that face, he could tell her anything. "I have some boring high lord stuff to do and Azriel has to check on Hybern's movements with his spies. We'll be back tonight for dinner. In the meantime, you'll spend the afternoon with Cassian, is that okay?"

Luxiana nodded vigorously as she turned to the red siphons Illyrian. "What are we going to do?" she asked in a slow voice with a perverse air.

Cassian raised an eyebrow, smirking. "Oh whatever you want, sweetheart, but know that I have a preference for what you're thinking about."

"No," Rhysand stopped them authoritatively, casting a dark look at Cassian before turning him towards his soulmate. "You're going to spend the afternoon training with him. We need to gauge your fighting skills and know what you're capable of. We need to make sure you can defend yourself."

Luxiana tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. "Why?" Why did he want to make sure she could fight?

Rhysand looked down. "Because it's dangerous to be close to us."

Luxiana tilted her head to the other side, accentuating her expression. "Am I close to you?"

Rhysand only gave a small smile as he leaned down to the blonde and placed a soft kiss on her lips. "You have no idea how much," he whispered before kissing her again. "See you tonight," he straightened up and walked away.

Luxiana was frozen, her mouth hanging open as her heart slammed against her ribs, but Azriel, smirking at the sight, leaned down to kiss her just as chastely as Rhysand. He groaned, closing his eyes. How he loved kissing her. "Have a good afternoon and be careful, princess!"

He smiled even wider at the sight of his soulmate confused and lost then walked away with Rhys.

"Um, I..." Luxiana stuttered, blinking her eyes several times quickly to try to get her thoughts back in order. "What do these kisses mean?" she asked, placing her fingers on her lips, but the two Illyrians didn't stop walking towards the exit of the room. "What are we?"

The three of them burst out laughing but didn't answer and the two continued to walk away.

“But,” Luxiana begged for an answer she didn’t get.

She knelt down on her chair, grabbed the top of it with her hands and shouted to them, blushing and stuttering. "Uh, good afternoon to you too! Good luck! See you tonight!" her whole body and especially her cheeks heated with embarrassment.

"Fuck, she's so cute," Ariel growled through gritted teeth and turned around in order to go back to kissing her soulmate, unable to resist any longer.

But Rhysand grabbed his arm to stop him and pull him with him. "No," he forbade him. "And the sooner we leave, the sooner we come back."

"But look at her!" Azriel shouted, pointing at her. "She's so cute."

Rhysand shook his head. He wasn't going to look at her because if he did, he knew that, like Azriel, he wouldn't be able to resist his soulmate. "I know, I know," he breathed almost in exasperation before teleporting him and his brother away to make things easier, but reluctantly nonetheless.

Luxiana was breathing quickly and her lips were pursed, trying to calm the pleasure that was overwhelming her.

Cassian behind her was dying of laughter and even had to hold his sore abs. He hadn't seen Rhysand and Azriel this close in a long time and it was all thanks to her. And she had wanted to stay with them. She had chosen them for a few more days. She had chosen them instead of her best friend and they were so happy about it.

All three of them were bubbling with such joy that they couldn't help but smile even though they felt like jumping around.

***

Cassian and Luxiana were on the roof of a building called House of Wind where Cassian had flown him and where a training ground was located. The Illyrian was facing his soulmate with narrowed eyes and crossed arms. "I insist, you should change. Put on pants and armor," he said for the eighteenth time since they had decided to come here and Luxiana had refused to change.

The blonde rolled her eyes. She had only answered : 'No' and 'I don't need it' to Cassian but her answers didn't seem to be enough for the Illyrian. "I prefer to fight in dresses," she explained, hoping that it would be enough for him. "Long dresses, like this one, are a bit more problematic, though, they allow me to move my legs more freely than pants. Besides, my mercenary outfit is a short, flared skirt. And for armor..." She smirked pretentiously as she leaned towards Cassian. "I don't need protection. It's not like anyone could manage to reach me. Besides, I'm not afraid of injuries anyway."

Cassian tilted his chin up with a smirk. "One, as much as I'd like to see you in your mercenary outfit, I refuse to let anyone but the three of us see your little pantie while you fight them, even if you kill them afterwards."

Luxiana straightened up with a frown but Cassian grabbed her chin in his hand. "And two, I fear you have injuries."

Luxiana could barely contain her blush. She smiled. "So? What do you propose to protect me, oh my hero?" She raised her hands to the Illyrian's head to pinch both of his cheeks. "You're going to show your beautiful face to my enemies to dissuade them from harming me?" She ran her fingers down his muscular arms to feel them as her hands were barely half the size of his biceps. "Although, your muscles alone could surely deter any enemy."

She licked her lips as she looked him over in one go with lust. “Could you, um,” she cleared her dry throat as she searched for words, “take off your armor real quick, so I can, um, analyze your musculature more closely. You know, to, um, make sure everything’s in its proper place.”

Cassian laughed proudly, his ego hurting right in the heart.

He brought his soulmate's face closer to his but gritted his teeth as he held back from kissing her at the last moment. If he gave in to his urge now and kissed her, he wouldn't be able to stop and he'd want more.

He growled as he pulled away and released her. "You, evil creature who does everything to lead me astray. But I've seen through your little game, you won't escape training that easily."

Luxiana laughed in a soft mockery but Cassian took a step back, his expression serious. "I think Azriel is already working on it but we're going to build you an armor like ours so you'll be better protected. You'll have to wear it all the time."

Luxiana crossed her arms. "All the time? And why would you do that for me?"

Cassian smirked. “You should stop asking questions like that.”

Luxiana pouted. "It's not my fault you treat me like…," she froze, blushing. "Like…," Their girlfriend. Their words, their attentions, their kisses. It was like she was their girlfriend. But that wasn't it, was it? It couldn't be that, not to the three of them… She was probably imagining things.

“As our precious little treasure?” Cassian completed, placing his large hand on her cheek. “Because that’s what you are to us.”

She wanted to ask him 'Why?' but Cassian cut her off by leaning down to place a kiss on her nose. “Stop wondering, Lu.”

Then he straightened up and took a step back to get into a fighting stance, his legs spread on his foot and his fists raised in front of him. "Come on, let's fight. I need to know what you're capable of."

Luxiana was tired of blushing almost every time she was there with them and her heart was exhausted from beating madly like that because of them. She then did not seek more answers to her questions by shaking her head and trying to pull herself together. She smirked as she detailed Cassian's position almost with contempt. She was going to break him in two. She grimaced. "I don't want to hurt you."

Cassian raised an eyebrow at first before bursting into laughter. "I can't wait to see it then, show me."

Luxiana could see that he didn't believe her for a second and that he was even making fun of her. "Are you sure? Because I'm going to tear you to pieces."

Cassian continued to laugh as he motioned for her to come towards him and attack him by opening his hand and moving his fingers back and forth. "Show me, baby. Don't worry I'll go slow."

Luxiana shrugged. "Not me."

She spun around to deliver a spinning kick to his face, which the Illyrian dodged just in time by leaning back.

Cassian's eyes widened as he realized with surprise that she was really fast. She threw several punches and kicks at him that the Illyrian dodged with great difficulty. "You're doing well," he exclaimed a little in astonishment.

"I'm waiting for you to feel confident enough to hit me back," Luxiana chanted pretentiously. "I'm not even at a quarter of my abilities. Fight seriously, and I'll do the same."

Cassian was even more surprised by the serious and cold air filled with confidence and power that remained behind the playful and provocative pupils of his soulmate. He decided to trust him. "Very well."

Without warning, he threw his fist at her ribs - slowly so as not to hurt her too much if she didn't dodge it. He didn't want to hurt her. But Luxiana stopped his fist by catching his wrist with only two fingers.

She gave him a bored, half-lidded look. "Please, make a little effort."

Cassian smirked as he retrieved his arm. Then he started throwing punches at his soulmate again, which she dodged all of them. He was going faster and faster, harder and harder, and his smile became admiring as he began to run out of breath but his soulmate didn't even have a drop of sweat on his forehead.

The Illyrian punched him as fast as he could in the throat and Luxiana dodged it this time narrowly with her forearms, taking the fist there. She smiled at the pain. "Here we are. We're finally going to be able to fight properly."

She began to hit him back and threw punches and kicks at him, dodging the ones the Illyrian threw at her.

As the minutes passed, Cassian's smile grew more and more amazed. She was strong. They were evenly matched.

But they weren’t really. She was much stronger than him. She smiled as she noticed an opening. She grabbed Cassian’s fist to go under his wing and behind his back while taking his arm with her to put him in an armlock. “On your knees,” she ordered in his ear as she stood on her tiptoes. She tapped both creases of his legs with the tip of one of her feet, forcing Cassian to fall heavily onto his shins. She ran her index finger over his throat to mime slicing it. “Boom, you’re dead. I win.”

Cassian's eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and awe as he used all his strength to try and get his arm back but couldn't.

Luxiana leaned over his shoulder to see his face, still not letting go of his arm. "Don't force yourself too hard. I'm turning your strength against you in this position. If you keep struggling, you might break your arm."

Cassian looked up at his soulmate with a bright gaze of adoration and wonder as he stopped struggling. He didn't want to hurt her but he had still given it his all. Yet, she had brought him to his knees. And that, without even hurting him, which told Cassian that she too, had not given her all. If he had been an enemy, he would be dead.

Luxiana, seeing him stop moving, smirked as she ran her index finger under his chin. "Good boy," she congratulated him dominantly.

Cassian raised an eyebrow before raising his free hand to grab her throat and pull her forward, lifting himself up a little to sweep her with his leg.

Luxiana, not wanting to drag Cassian's arm with her and break it, released him with a cry of surprise as she landed on the ground. Cassian's hand was on her throat and he pinned her to the ground with it loosely.

The Illyrian mounted Luxiana, straddling her hips, while immobilizing the blonde's thighs with his shins.

Luxiana grabbed his arm that was holding her throat but Cassian, with his other hand, grabbed both of her wrists and pinned them above her head. "So," he smiled pretentiously, "you can't do anything now?"

Luxiana laughed despite herself as she felt a wave of excitement run through her at their positions. "Oh, I could escape but," she looked him up and down, licking her lips. "I'm quite comfortable here."

The tension between them became palpable. A glow of desire lit in Cassian's eyes as he brought them to his soulmate's lips. He let out a guttural sound as he dropped onto her to kiss her.

She responded to the kiss with her entire body, intertwining her tongue with the Illyrian's. She moaned at the heat of excitement that settled in her lower abdomen and Cassian groaned in response.

Electrified and disturbed by the kiss, he loosened his grip on the blonde's wrists a little, which allowed Luxiana to roll her hands and escape his grip. With a blow of her knuckles in the commander's armpit, she hit a nerve in his arm that made him numb, forcing him to release her.

Cassian groaned in pain as he pulled away from the blonde's mouth to look at her and see what was wrong with her but she gave him another quick jab in the hip that forced him to release his grip on her legs.

She was then able to wrap her shins around the Illyrian's thighs and with a skillful pelvic thrust, made them turn to exchange their position.

Cassian, pleasantly surprised, found himself under Luxiana.

The blonde smiled haughtily at him. "I changed my mind eventually."

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🚫THERE IS A SMUT SCENE AFTER THOSE WORDS ! DO NOT READ IT IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO, IF YOU ARE UNDER THE LEGAL AGE OR IF YOU ARE JUST NOT ALLOWED TO -> PASS DIRECTLY TO THE FOLLOWING CHAPTER !🚫

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She ran her hands down the Illyrian's torso to the base of his pants that hid his erection, which she could feel pressing between his legs.

Cassian then possessively grabbed the sides of her throat, his thumbs on her cheeks, to pull the blonde's head towards him and press his mouth to hers.

She returned the kiss with a moan as Cassian dug his fingers into her braid and pressed on the back of her head to deepen the kiss.

With her hands, she hastily undid the laces of the Illyrian's pants. And he released her face to slide his hands under her dress, place them on her thighs and caress them up to her hips.

She lowered his pants and Cassian helped her by lifting his hips. Luxiana lowered his leather to the middle of his thighs and the Illyrian's erection jumped to press against the blonde's crotch, making her shudder.

She stroked Cassian's chest and cursed his armor full of straps that looked like it would be hell to remove. She groaned in frustration but didn't even try before lowering her rest to Cassian's cock to grab it. She began to move her hand back and forth, which tore a raspy breath from the Illyrian, who closed his eyes and opened his mouth, enjoying the feeling of pleasure that spread through his body.

Damn, he couldn't already take it anymore. He grabbed her to switch places and pin her on her stomach, her cheek on the cold floor.

Luxiana moaned at the contrast in temperature of her skin to the ground and the arousal that made her tremble as Cassian hastily pulled her dress up over her buttocks.

He placed the bottom of her dress on her back and put his fingers right in the middle of her wet panties to rip them savagely and make a hole in them.

He positioned himself astride the blonde's thighs, grabbing his cock to position it at his soulmate's entrance.

Luxiana moaned impatiently as she moved her hips as Cassian rubbed his cock up and down her slit to lubricate it with her wetness.

From his knees, Cassian squeezed Luxiana's thighs together and then he inserted himself inside her slowly.

The blonde let out a long sigh as she felt the Illyrian's thick cock stretch her to the end. Cassian swore in a grunt as he closed his eyes. Then without waiting, he began to thrust his pelvis, slowly penetrating Luxiana at first, rolling his hips in such a way and taking his cock so deep, that she felt like she could feel it to her throat.

Luxiana slammed her hands onto the ground trying to hold on to something as she drowned in the molten lava that was pouring into her from her belly.

Cassian lay down fully on top of her, his weight on her back. "Do you like that?" he asked, giving her a rough, deep thrust.

Luxiana let out a small cry of surprise before nodding vigorously. "Yes."

He began to give even more violent and sharp blows, making the blonde jump with each blow. He caught her earlobe between his lips, sucking on it before biting it gently.

But he wanted so much more. He pulled out of her, hooked an arm under her pelvis, and lifted her so that her hips, knees, and breasts formed a triangle with the floor. He was still knelt behind her.

He slid between her legs, spreading them with his knees. He placed his hand on the small of her back, sliding his palm along the blonde's spine. "Arch your back."

Luxiana obey, perfectly revealing her open part to Cassian who groaned at the sight.

He grabbed her hips with both hands and entered her fully and deeply in one go, starting to move in and out of her as fast and deep as he could.

Luxiana could hardly breathe anymore. Her belly was on fire and electrified her entire body, hardening her nipples against the fabric of her dress and making all her skin tingle.

Cassian grabbed his soulmate's braid to wrap it around his fist, gripping it and pulling to raise Luxiana's head.

With her head raised, she moaned even louder, feeling Cassian's cock slide in, out, and deep inside her.

Cassian had his cock throbbing and his heart pounding hard to get pleasure back into his muscles and body.

He growled as he leaned over Luxiana to wrap his arms around her stomach and hold her in place as he pounded into her hard and fast.

He placed his mouth on his soulmate's ear. "Touch yourself, my treasure, make yourself come for me. Cum on my cock, fuck," he demanded in a trembling voice.

Luxiana was almost sobbing under Cassian's powerful hip thrusts that were drowning her in too much pleasure while her heart felt like it was spinning in her chest. She obeyed him without thinking. She slipped her hand under her to touch her clitoris, rubbing it impatiently under the excitement.

The more ecstasy rose within her, the more she arched her back and spread her legs, accentuating the depth of the penetration.

Cassian's cock hit the bottom hard. The pleasure Luxiana felt exploded first from her belly to spread throughout her body and contract her muscles and tightening her walls around Cassian's member as she had a powerful orgasm.

The Illyrian, feeling his cock tightened completely, gave two powerful thrusts before cumming in his soul mate while biting her neck to avoid moaning as he came inside her.

Luxiana's muscles relaxed, letting her slide completely belly down under Cassian's weight on top of her.

The Illyrian released the skin of the blonde's neck from between his teeth to catch his breath but smiled with all his might when he saw the mark of his jaws in her skin. He placed a kiss on the mark before taking his cock out from his soulmate to stand up, dragging her with him. "What an incredible fight," he sneered.

But Luxiana couldn't stand on her feet, her muscles numb. Cassian smiled proudly as he kept her upright and held her close with one hand while he straightened her dress with the other.

Luxiana nodded with a smile. "Indeed, we should fight like this more often," she muttered a little more into the gas.

Cassian groaned. "Fuck, yeah," and he placed his large, warm hand on the blonde's cheek, tilting her head up and looking at her lovingly. He gritted his teeth. He wanted to scream that he was in love with her.

[witchygagirlwrites]

Greg "Mouse" Gerwitz x Reader

Part 2 of Dynasty

Can a broken heart still beat?

Warnings: Character death, depression, drug use, suicide, reading of a suicide note, true love not letting death get in the way? Idk where this came from, no wait I do! blame @desimarie12

Mouse sat in the chair next to your bed, eyes never leaving your face. The solid sound of the machine helping your lungs push air through your body was the only sound in the room. Every moment that ticked by and you clung to life was a moment he managed to draw a breath. Twenty four hours, that was what the doctor told them. You were closing in on eighteen hours and still holding on. 

The door cracked open and he didn’t have to look up to know it was Erin and Jay. They hadn’t left the hospital either but they’d stayed in the waiting room throughout the night until visiting hours rolled back into effect or well until Sergeant Benson called in a favor and suddenly it didn’t matter if the three of them were all in your room or not as long as they stayed out of the way. “She’s still holding on man” Jay spoke softly, putting a hand on his shoulder. 

He nodded slowly “Holding on is a lot different than waking up Jay. She’s strong, she’s so damn strong but what if her body can’t handle this?” even simply giving voice to the thought was enough to force another round of tears from his eyes, they slid silently down his face. Erin stepped up next to him, slipping her hand down in his and squeezing it gently “If there’s any way for her to find her way back to you she will. She loves you so much” 

He squeezed her hand back, wishing he could offer her some word of comfort. You would want him to, that was your best friend but any word fell flat on his lips. He didn’t blame her by no means, he would never do that simply because he knew you. If an innocent person was in danger around you, especially a kid? Nothing would’ve stopped you from saving them. Even at the expense of yourself.  “This isn’t your fault Erin” he whispered, his voice shaking slightly and he could hear her inhale sharply before she said “I called her to this task force Mouse” 

He cut his eyes up at her and saw tears sliding down her face “Don’t mourn her yet Erin, please. I can’t…I can’t handle that” she nodded, wiping at her eyes “I’m sorry” and turned to walk out. Jay looked back at him then at the door “I’ll go check on her. If you need anything man, just yell.I’ll be right outside” 

Mouse listened to Jay leave and thought to himself, how would Jay ever give him what he needed? What he needed was for you to wake up. For those beautiful eyes to be looking back at him, that smile you had anytime you were hurt and trying to hide it plastered on your face and you joking about the fact that you wanted a vacation to New York City but maybe not like this. That was what he needed.  

He leaned up to let his hand brush against yours, fingers curling around yours “Baby, I don’t know if you can hear me but I’m here. Jay’s here too and Erin. The moment Erin called me and Jay got on a plane. I haven’t left your side. I’m not leaving your side. You are everything to me, you hear me? Everything. So I really need you to wake up. Whatever you want is yours. Every argument the rest of our lives you’ve now won before they ever start. You want to steal my coffee every day? It’s yours. Hog the blankets? Please take em. Have the water so hot in the shower I swear it’s gonna scald us both? It’ll be fine, we know plenty of good doctors. I just need you to wake up..Please baby wake up” he could feel the tears flowing down his face but he didn’t care you were still holding on for something, he was praying for the first time in his life that the something was him.He was praying that you were fighting to come back to him. He couldn’t do this without you. He didn’t want to.

When the twenty four hour mark hit, doctors swarmed your room. It seemed like you shocked most of the hospital by making it that long. Mouse stood back with Erin and Jay watching as the doctors went over your injuries with each other, talking about running more tests and further treatments.

“What now?” Jay asked, breaking their conversation because so far he’d been the one out the three of them to talk to the medical team the most. He had no choice but to hold it together, for Mouse and Erin both. “Detective Halstead, we’re doing everything we can for her” the doctor assured them but about that time your hand twitched.

“She moved,” Mouse whispered and stepped forward. The doctors all turned towards you but to Mouse’s horror you started to seize, he could see red stains start to seep through the bandages covering your body and something started coming out of the tube down your throat “Get them out of here” the doctor told Jay nodded towards Mouse and Erin. 

“Fuck you, I’m not leaving her” Mouse fought, struggling against Jay who was trying to grab his arm. He’d promised you he wouldn’t leave your side. “Officer Gerwitz you don’t want to see this” a nurse assured him, grabbing his other arm he turned to look at her and saw the tears in her eyes and this time when his legs went out from under him no one was there to catch him. His knees buckled and he hit the floor on them, watching as the doctors and nurses moved around your bed.

He was helpless to move, hell he couldn’t form a thought as he watched them shock your body, it jolting off the bed. “Greg, come on man. Don’t be in here for this” Jay tried, choking back a sob as his wide eyes landed on the bed as well. “I’m not leaving her” he whispered, even as the movements of the medical team ceased and they called the words that stopped his own heart beating in his chest “Time of death one eleven p.m.”

Mouse sat on the front pew of the church in his dress uniform, staring at your casket that was covered in the CPD flag. The unit was sitting around him, Erin was on his left side and Jay was on his right. He could’ve cared less. He was alone. You were gone.

He gripped his dogtags in his hand, the ring he’d never given you now rested on the chain. He had planned to slip it on your finger the moment you got home from New York. He’d never dreamt you getting home would’ve been in a body bag. The little girl you’d saved, Clarissa. She’d gotten her parents to fly her out for the funeral. She’d spoken with his blessing. 

She’d hugged him and told him she was so sorry you were gone. He’d tried to act like anything she said mattered, Erin had given him a small nod so maybe it had seemed like it did to him. He was glad the little girl was safe, that much was true. These niceties, the apologies they wouldn’t bring you back. They wouldn’t fix the gaping hole in his chest. They wouldn’t give him a reason to get up every day.

Hank stood at the front of the church and nodded to the unit. They would carry you out to the hearse then carry you to your grave. The last time Mouse would have you in his arms in any way would be helping to carry you to your grave. They’d wanted him to not help but what kind of man would he be if he couldn’t carry the woman he loved to the end? 

He stood with his team, positioning his cover on his head, tears streaming down his face as they all took their positions on your casket. Him and Erin were in front. They lifted you up and walked as one out of the church. Nothing had ever felt heavier than the weight of that casket, knowing it carried you inside.

_________________

At the cemetery they spoke of you. How you lived, how you loved. How you died being a hero. Mouse stood to the side, blue eyes glued to the light grey casket. One by one those of your unit were allowed to place a photo or something inside. Erin placed a photo of you, her and Nadia. Jay put his lucky keychain, Adam put a coin Makayla had asked him to give you, Kim had a stuffed animal from their niece. Kevin had three red roses. One from him, one from his brother and one from his sister.

When Hank looked over at him he walked over to the casket, footsteps slowing when he got near it. The dress Erin and your aunt picked looked exactly like something you’d wear and the funeral home had done a good job. You almost looked like you were asleep. Almost. He laid the dogtags across your chest “I’m sorry you never got this ring. I’m sorry I never made you my wife. I love you and always will” he whispered then slowly closed the casket, staring at your face until the last moment possible.

Mouse sat on the bed, photos of you scattered around him. Your smiling face looking back at him from every one. Your pillow still vaguely smelled of your shampoo, your coffee mug was still in the strainer, the last load of laundry you’d asked him to get out of the dryer and he’d forgotten still sat in the machine. The candle you loved sat half burnt next to the bed, the movie you and him planned to finish when you got home was still saved on the dvr.

He tried. He tried for weeks, he tried. The pain was ripping him apart more and more every day. He found a new dealer, it was fairly easy.  He was high more days than sober now. The very thing you’d always feared, he’d gone back to his old ways but who was there to care? He’d lost the only reason he had for breathing, the very air in his lungs. He clicked his laptop, watching the video of you and him Jay had taken at the halloween party a few months before. You were laughing, arms around his waist and looking at him like he was the most important thing “Forever and a day Gerwitz?”  just hearing your voice over the video made tears hit his eyes as he heard his own voice reply “Forever and a day love”

He stared at the bottle in his hand. It was enough, he’d made sure of it. He couldn’t do this anymore. He had to be with you. The pain was too much. He’d considered just using his gun but he knew Jay would find him and he couldn’t do that to him. This way he’d just go to sleep and wouldn’t wake up. A lot less for Jay to find.

He sat the envelope with Jay’s name on the laptop and opened the bottle along with the bourbon. He’d see you again and the pain would stop. That was all that mattered.

Jay walked slowly into the apartment, calling Mouse’s name out. He knew something was wrong but he hadn’t expected what awaited him either.

______________________

Jay and Erin sat together between yours and Mouse’s graves. Hank had pulled some strings, his death had been ruled a heart attack so he’d gotten a proper CPD burial and they’d made sure it was right next to you where he belonged. Hank had even footed the bill for your headstones to read “Loving Husband” and “Loving Wife” ; it was only suitable. Not even death stopped the love you two had for each other.

“Have you read his letter yet?” she asked and he shook his head and fished it out then held it out to her “Here, you do it” she took it then cleared her throat: 

Jay, I’m sorry that I know you’ll be the one to find me. I wished there was someone else but we both know with her gone there isn’t. I’ve tried man, I really have. I can’t continue to live in a world she’s not in. She was always the air in my lungs and every day without her I suffocate more and more.When I met her I found my reason to keep going and the day I lost her I lost that reason. If there’s a life after this I will find her in it and love her it it, if there isn’t at least the pain will stop. Please don’t hold onto guilt over me and don’t let Erin hold onto guilt over her. We both knew our best friends loved us. Be happy man, if you find love don’t wait for anything. See you in the next life brother, Mouse

They were both crying by the time Erin was through reading. Jay slipped an arm around her and pulled her over onto his shoulder “I just hope they’re together” she whispered. “Me too” he replied, the wind catching their words as it blew past your graves maybe carrying that message on.

One moment Mouse was swallowing a handful of pills and not fighting against the urge to close his eyes, the next he was laying on a patch of grass. Grass? How did he get outside? “Wake up Greg” he heard your voice and felt your hand on his face and for a moment thought he was hallucinating, the pills hadn’t worked. They’d just caused this.

He felt the air move around him then your other hand went to the opposite side of his face and he heard your light laughter “I swear if you don’t open those gorgeous blue eyes Gerwitz” he slowly opened his eyes and you were kneeled in front of him, real as day. Your hair was in a braid like you always wore it during summer, you were wearing a light blue shirt with cut off shorts and sneakers. You looked happy and healthy.

“Sweetheart? Is that really you?”  you nodded, tears shining in your eyes “It’s really me Greg” he pulled you into his arms and you laughed, letting him wrap both arms around you. “How? Baby, where are we? What happened?” when he rolled so he was holding his weight on his arms and you were under him in the grass you smiled sadly up at him, running your fingers up into his hair and he closed his eyes, feeling tears threaten at feeling your touch “Why are you here so soon? You had so much life left” you whispered and he opened his eyes, looking down at you. 

His girl. Whole and here with him. Wherever here was, it didn’t matter. He had you in his arms. “No I didn’t love. My life ended the day you left” you smiled “I love you Greg” then pulled him down to you. The moment your lips met his both of you let tears slip free. When you pulled away from his lips he leaned his forehead against yours “I love you so much” you grinned “Forever and a day Gerwitz?” he nodded “Forever and a day baby” 

[iratempestatis]

Saw you asking for Xiao requests and thought I could send some!

This might be a little odd one, but... A self-aware Xiao finding out that he has fans like us who love him kinda romantically? It could be fun!

Xiao Waxes Poetic About Fandom

Xiao x gn!reader, 1.5k words. Anon I'm so sorry but I had actually no idea how to write this adgvhfcdcb. I tried my best but I kept giggling about lost 50/50s and and my 80 cr Xiao never critting without Motivation (crit food). I actually considered making hcs instead but I kept writing drabbles instead. Then I tried to write a fic, but kept writing... hcs... Perhaps if inspiration strikes me I'll revisit this idea someday, but! For now, allow me to present you with what feels like a raccoon in a tiara and a feather duster dress-

If Xiao could control player summons, he’d be yours already.

Unfortunately, he cannot- ergo you’ve made a hundred and forty pulls with not a Xiao in sight.

You've never hated Diluc more in your life, he can tell. Poor Diluc.

There are twenty minutes left for his banner to disappear for Devs know how long. He knows your luck is decidedly not his fault, but feels guilty nonetheless. What if he’s treated the same as Ganyu? Or, Devs forbid, Eula? 

You really did look forward to getting him, building him. He was so startled by your devotion- seated on that banner, he could see you anxiously open your inventory, check if you had enough primogems. You pre-farmed for him. You made silly little rituals for him(he winced when they failed). It was absurd. He was a high investment hyper carry. Why bother?

But you pulled Furina, and you pulled Faruzan. You don't have Xianyun (yet, he thinks, in both awe and alarm as he sees her ascension and talent materials in your inventory.)

He cannot fathom it. 

Perhaps you wanted Xianyun for herself- but then you also have Faruzan with all of her constellations lit up. And you also have Furina- and god, nevermind, you really did want him. The set you intend to put on Xianyun is the Song of Days Past. Four piece. With energy recharge substats.

You’re so close. Seventy. You get Layla. He echoes you when he mutters “but you’re not even on the banner!”

Twenty minutes left. You caress the screen. (That's a bit much.) Your brows are pinched together, lower lip worried by your teeth.

“I might have to break my free to play status,” you whisper.

It's not worth it! He wants to scream. Don't do it!

You bite your lip again as you find a chest. Primogem count: 159.

Oh dear.

“It’s fine,” you whisper. “It’s fine. This is fine.”

Xiao wishes he could make you go to bed somehow. You’ve been awake for hours. It’s fine even if you don’t pull him now, he returns like clockwork every lantern rite- hm? What are you pulling your Tighnari out for?

He knows you never really bothered to build him prior, purely because farming those fungi was a pain. He watches as you make Yelan rush up to the cliffs of the very Chasm before switching to Tighnari. When he realises what you’re doing, he buries his face in his palms. Your party members groan. Xiao wonders if you’re serious- you want to hit a bird in flight? With your aim?

“FOOL!” Faruzan shrieks. “Attack the ruin guard at Stormbearer instead! That achievement is much easier to get- Hat Guy, do something-“

“Too late.” He smacks his forehead with the back of his hand. “It’s started.”

Shing! Nothing Special, Just Practice.

What-?

You whoop, then cough and fall silent, anxiously peeking out of your room. Your fingers shake with trepidation as they land on the screen.

Wish x1.

Xiao feels a familiar tug as he hurtles through the air.

✦—————————————✦

Much to his immense surprise, this is an incredibly familiar story. Every time his banner rolls around there’s people that want him- spend for him, run amok collecting primogems for him. Farming for him. Giving him increasingly prettier and stronger polearms. Thrusting the Staff of Homa in his hands (sorry, Hu Tao).

He’s always a bit baffled, unless the person is someone already inclined to spend. He’s not a good choice for anyone’s account. He’s incredibly unflexible. A bit niche even. He doesn’t even do what his element is meant for.

Yet somehow you seem to enjoy running around with him. Making him special little layouts in the teapot. Insisting he collects your rewards every time. Making him speak to Katheryne every day (it’s so awkward every time, and she keeps laughing when your back is turned).

He remembers doing the Chasm quest with you. When it had begun, you were nothing short of gleeful, which brought him only anguish- he knew in part what had transpired and what was about to- and he knew you’d only be heartbroken by the end of this story.

And you were. You somehow managed to contain yourself till the very end- refusing to move to have even a sip of water until the quest concluded. You were patient- absorbing every every dialogue, every inch of text you could get your hands on.

To be loved is to be known, he thinks amusedly as you sniffle at the conclusion, then immediately open the wiki to confirm some tiny wretched detail. He can’t help but smile to himself a little as you angrily mutter profanities at the advertisements jumping out at you.

✦—————————————✦

“Is she SERIOUS.”

Xiao exhales softly as the Wanderer paces around the teapot. He hasn’t shut up since you logged in- because as soon as you finished your dailies, you occupied yourself straight away with painstakingly modifying the teapot (and crying over changes you accidentally forgot to save), all to welcome home the newest limited anemo five star. He’s been furious since he heard of her and ergo his potentially impending powercreep, much to the amusement of literally everyone besides Barbara, who feels sorry for him and Qiqi, who keeps forgetting who he even is. Xiao wishes he could tell you- he’s sure you’d laugh to no end, but even if he could you probably wouldn’t hear him right now since you’re currently occupied with one of your wretched rituals. This one involves Chongyun and- OH dear, no-

Furina grits her teeth as the glacial greatsword slams into the ground, straight through her neck. Chongyun looks like he really wishes the teapot had a bathroom. Xiao sighs.

Tiny fingers tug on his sleeve. Xiao blinks and turns around to face Sayu, her face puffy, her eyes crusty and glued shut. Eugh. Children really are something sometimes. Xiao considers wiping at her face with his sleeve, but… no. The Wanderer barks a laugh.

“What’s going on?” Sayu yawns. “Who are we pulling for?”

“Chasca,” Xiao says as the Wanderer hisses like a cat. “I wonder if she’ll need Faruzan too?”

They turn to Faruzan, sprawled like a corpse across the grass. You need to touch some too, Xiao thinks. You’ve wasted nearly an hour on the game today, and today has barely begun. He suspects you just like the thrill of gacha and are desperate for a five star. Weren’t you saving up for Xianyun? No matter.

Xiao knows you’ll never stop using him. You love him too dearly and sunk cost fallacy has effectively reeled you in, stored you away in a grimy little box. You’ve invested too much into Xiao to cast him aside now. But the Wanderer…

Barbara trots out the house just as the sky darkens, a cloudy depression opening up in the heavens. The Wanderer finally stops ranting, something about loyalty and actually amusing gameplay. Barbara puts the Tome of Eternal Flow away with a gasp upon noticing the giant HOLE in the sky (how did she just notice? Why is she gasping at the wishing screen when you open it thrice a day?) and gently nudges Faruzan out of her dysania to welcome home the newest anemo dps. Faruzan sniffles. Poor woman. It can’t be easy, dealing with him and the (thankfully, now quiet) ex Fatuus.

You pull. Xiao doesn’t bother holding his breath. It might as well be Bennett pulling, really because recently you’ve been getting exactly nothing of value. Another Faruzan, a Gorou for some godforsaken reason, four rainslashers, and so forth.

“Perhaps you’ll avoid your fourth betrayal,” Xiao muses. The Wanderer shoots him a startled glare, then laughs.

“Perhaps. You’re lucky, twink- NO!”

“Chasca, Flower-Feather Clan. Any disputes you need me to end for you? Depending on the situation, it could cost you a little di-“

✦—————————————✦

All things considered, it’s been a strange few years for Xiao. Since the game’s inception, he’s known he would be consigned to a solitary fate. He’s not a straightforward person, or particularly honest. He’s troublesome to play and troublesome to speak with. His chronicles are drenched in blood and anguish, quietly nestled away in softly murmured dialogue, artifact descriptions and optional adventures. Whatever love he was once showered with had long since washed away by the years that came after. And yet...

People continued to bother reaching past his exterior, reaching about with tender fingers. Wanting to know. Wanting to learn. They spoke of him. They took soft little bunches of their finite time and spun it into stories of him, art of him, words and adoration whispered and passed among one another in the communities they formed- that came together all because of their love for him.

It never failed to astonish him, fill him with gratitude so copious it was difficult to contain at times. It always drove him a bit insane- people loved him enough to painstakingly learn about him, strengthen him. That he was significant enough to sow the seeds of friendship formed by the common love felt for him.

Thinking about it makes him feel a bit silly. He’s just a character. He wonders if the others think about this as well (not Qiqi for sure) but he’s glad to have brought people someone real comfort after his fictional atrocities. Mortals… humans. He snorts a bit. He’ll try a bit harder to crit for you tomorrow.

[voskhodart]

Scratching at the lid of my coffin to bring you yet another CHAPTERRR.

6.1 is a bit of a long one, and I strongly advise you to read the content warning before diving in.

Tapas

Webtoon

Neocities

[b4kuch1n]

fuck it sk8 sketches from da sketchbook. get sk8ed idiot

[xxplastic-cubexx]

what 93 clip are we talking abt..

Its that scene from the last episode of 92 where jeans all How Much Do You Love Charles Xavier and eriks blows up all How Dare You Ask Such A Question I Owe That Man My LIFE or w/e

[whatthefuckisasweep]

cant sleep … plagued with thoughts.. overstimmed… also starving… time to scroll tumblr till i have to go to class :,((

[dragons-and-yellow-roses]

On Day 4 of my No Napping streak 😊

[retiredteabag]

Sukuna assimilating to you

Synopsis: After discovering that Sukuna has been wide awake every time you nap together, you become embarrassed around him.

〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰〰・♡・〰

It is a scientific fact that when we are around people we love and trust, while in a healthy relationship, the release of oxytocin makes us sleepy.

Sukuna does not need sleep. He is the king of curses, able to continuously use his technique without ever becoming exhausted. When you first suggested that his chambers were "perfect for napping", he had simply raised a brow and considered what that could possibly mean.

You are like a weak creature to him. A kitten or perhaps a rabbit. And since you are never safer than when you are in his presence, you frequently find yourself growing sleepy when you are around him.

Throughout your strange relationship with the king, something that you loved most, is that there never needs to be words exchanged between the two of you. You were both contented to sit in silence. Frequently dozing off together, or so you thought.

You caught on eventually, that he was always awake before you. That his breathing pattern never really changed. That his face never relaxed more than it would if he had simply been sitting with his eyes closed.

One morning, after having stayed the night sleeping, you mumbled to him, "How is it you're always awake before I?"

He rose a brow at you, his upper set of eyes were looking into yours, the lower staring at how you lay across his bed sheets.

"I do not know your meaning." He grumbled out.

You huffed, rolling your eyes. "You never sleep in longer than I do, one day I would like to wake up before you."

"I never sleep at all." He stated before you had even really finished your sentace.

"What?" Your breathy outburst echoed slightly in his bed chamber, "What do you mean you don't sleep?"

"I do not require such things." He turned his torso now toward you, all four eyes studying your face, you had quickly sprung up, seemingly miffed.

"So... so all this time, you've just been... laying there while I've been sleeping?"

"I suppose I have, I do not see how this matters in the slightest." "It matters because I've been... It's just been a big waste of time for you. Sukuna you should have said something." You're upset, he can tell. Your face is scrunched up, your blood is pounding in your veins. Sukuna, however, does not know what to say in this situation.

In all honesty, he figured you knew and were just including him. Did you really think he was that weak? Or could you simply not conceive of a restless existence? Whatever the answer, he had no response for you, expecting a shrug of the shoulders- you he would discover, would not so easily let go of things.

And how humiliated you were. How many HOURS had you spent sleeping with him, within his grasp, in his space for him to have been conscious the whole time? You tried thinking back, attempting to recall a time you had requested a nap when he was uninterested.

He had never uttered a word about it. Never turned you down. Sukuna was not a kind king, he rarely ever did things that were not out of necessity, and he certainly did not do things he didn't like. That, at least, was consolation. You knew he had not been suffering for your sake, but even so, it was embarrassing.

Sukuna, still, could not understand your sheepishness about the subject. He did not care to explain that time works differently for him, that his mind is not so simple as yours and does not require entertainment all the time, that he could sit still for years and not be bothered, and frequently did before you came along.

He assumed you would get over it quickly. In your time as well as his. But days passed and he rarely saw you. You took your dinner with other people of the palace and spoke with him in the most cordial manner. One night, he informed Uraume that they needed to prepare a dish suited for you, something that would entice you, and serve it to him.

He figured this would bring you crawling back to him, tail between your legs. Yet, you did not budge.

Odd.

You were wallowing. You knew it. He did not care to spend time, what? Watching you sleep? Of course, he wouldn't, but it hurt your pride, to know you had been taking up such huge chunks of time lazing about in his presence. Well, not anymore. You slept in your chamber and your chamber alone. Gone were the days of blankets on the engawa, gone were the days of resting beneath the kotatsu while laying your head in his lap, gone were the days of sharing his bed.

If ever he wished for someone to share his bed, he had a whole cast of concubines, though you knew they were never of any use to him, they were mostly just house staff with a fancy title.

The evening he finally decided enough was enough, you were in the washhouse doing laundry.

Your back was arched over a bin full of soapy water. Your hands working tirelessly on some cloth.

"Have you not circumvented me enough?" He spoke in a low and slow tone.

"Lord Sukuna." You bowed, clothing in your hands, suds up your forearms, you bent your neck as to not look at him.

"You will reply now." He raised a brow, watching your hands quietly splash in the washbin.

"Was there something you would like me to assist to?" You questioned. Your head was full of possible reasons for what the king meant by seeking you out personally.

"Do you believe that by not sleeping in my presence I would come to believe you do not require rest?" He spoke in an unserious tone, eyes unblinking.

"No, my lord." Now what was he playing at? Of course that wasn't your intention.

"Then you hide yourself from me because you no longer have time for your king, I suppose." He mused.

Oh, for heaven's sake, "No, my lord."

"I see," He bent down to look you dead in the eyes, "So, you must no longer crave my occupancy of your space. You must not desire my hand running through your hair? I suppose you have tired of staying in my chambers?" His tone remained deep but his eyes were dead serious now.

"I-" You began, but suddenly you felt the urge to cough, swallowing you tried again, "I wished not to preoccupy so much of your time."

"And you made this decision without enlightening your king."

You said nothing.

"You will eat with me tonight, you shall stay in my chambers henceforth." He rose in record speed, turning without a second glance your way, maids were staring wide-eyed at the king of curses as he halted at the entrance of the washhouse. You could not see, but there was finality in his voice.

"I wish not to waste-" You were cut off by Sukunas voice, his broad back still facing you.

"Your wishes do not interest me now, so it seems. It is my wish for you to spend your time with me." His steps resounded through the compound, your face slack.

The maids smirked, and with shocked faces, side-eyed one another. A couple entered the washhouse giving you big open-mouthed smiles, and patted your shoulder as they passed.

That night Uraume made something you would go on to beg them to make for years to come. And when Sukuna pulled you prone from your seated position on his bed, he took a firm fingertip and stroked the space between your eyes, one of his enormous hands encircling your skull and massaging your temples with his thumb and ring fingers. He traced the bridge of your nose to your forehead, the way you would stroke a cat.

Perhaps he thought this would induce drowsiness but all it did was make you feel all floaty inside at his silliness.

And for the first time since that night, you slept alongside him. Within his embrace, and when you awoke, Sukuna's eyes were closed.

[spurbleu]

neighbor!simon x reader. longer read.

you’re neighbor is a homebody. sort of.

he’s either never home or always home. you aren’t sure what he does, but whatever it is leaves his flat vacant for months at a time, not so much as a mouse breath breaching the thin popcorn walls that separate your rooms.

and when he is in the complex, you’d never know it. a shut in, the only give away is the muffled news channel that burrows through your moldings, or smithed footfall at ungodly hours.

the first time you caught him moving in while off to work. big bloke- and when you waved to him he stared, before lumbering into his complex. given, he was holding a large cardboard box, so you weren’t expecting him to return the greeting. but a hello would’ve been nice.

it was 4 months until you got a good look at him.

you were awake at a time you shouldn’t have been for a reason you had long forgotten. you do remember thinking you might as well do your laundry.

when you went down to the mat, there he was.

tracker fed shoulders taking up half the space, and on an inhale they took two thirds. clothes looked as though they had been dyed in pen ink and left to dry in hail. mud boots, thick legs, and the silhouette of a cauliflower ear against the fabric of his balaclava.

he glared at you like you weren’t supposed to be there. an anomaly, disturbed his routine. steel face, stone eyes, swear you’d seen the same look in your history books on the shields of greek soldiers.

it all scared you shitless, so you turned on your heel and didn’t go back until the morning. you make it a point to hustle past his door after that.

but you tend to take more than you can handle. swaddling your groceries as you wobble up the stairs, just barely there before your foot catches on the last step. produce among some of the other fragile items scattered across the tiles, and you curse under your breath.

you wouldn’t characterize yourself as a klutz, but it scrambling to collect your groceries feet from your door isn’t helping your case. the paper bags struggle against your grip, and it feels like you’re just biding your time until they all rip apart.

“you need help.”

its said more like an observation than it is a question. you turn slowly, and a goliath stands 6 feet and something over you. he sports a medical mask and a ballcap, which reveals new features- sun bleached skin that peels from the bridge of his nose to between his brows, which are thick and blonde. the left is cut in half by scar tissue and spite. if you squint you see freckles.

the night he scared you, you remembered his eyes as pitch. crow feather. under your bed.

you now see they’re the deepest shade of brown.

“i- no its fine i..” your arms do a dance with the bags, trying to keep them steady.

he grabs them both from you, and suddenly they still. its like handing squealing pigs to a farmer. built for holding them. it makes you feel weird that you like it.

“unlock the door.”

you do as you’re told and find your keys in your back pocket. fumble at the lock before opening the door and standing to the side to let him in. he nods.

sets your groceries down before gently tipping the brim of his cap. he doesn’t say anything before leaving.

and this started the strangest routine.

every week you’d get groceries, he’d be there.

the first time he was on the second flight of stairs. when you questioned how he knew you’d been shopping, he rolled his shoulders and scoffed.

“your huffin n puffin gave you away.”

he was there for four more trips. each time, you had gotten more words out of him. found out he had the driest sense of humor and a plethora of knock-knock jokes that you painfully laughed at.

he even kept up with the occasional flirt.

“yknow, you could start charging for your manual labor.”

“you rich?” he returned.

you laughed. “far from it. but this is a service, and you haven’t started making demands so…”

he stopped and stared at your back before you turned around. “so what?”

“i have to assume you just like me.”

he rolled his eyes, but you caught the way his cheek twitched under his eyes. although it was hidden by the mask, you had made him smile.

“don’t get your hopes up.”

all of it was enough for you to get comfortable. and then he wasn’t there.

the absence was strange enough to make your pace stutter when you reached the second floor, but you recovered and trekked to your room.

not without glancing at his door, though.

he must be back at work. surely he isn’t…well. he couldn’t have moved out without telling you. you aren’t close but maybe you are?

you thought so hard about it for so long that you placed your ear to the wall separating your flats.

after a few moments, you heard nothing. not even a mouse breath.

you felt foolish for being so relieved. and you kept feeling foolish for hoping he’d be there with every errand, and disappointed when he wasn’t.

it was 4 more groceries trips before you saw him again.

waiting at the entrance of the complex, crossed arms and black attire stood out like a sore thumb in the winter blight that bit at your nose with snow and temperatures below freezing. you picked up the pace.

when you got to the cement steps, you sorely regretted your decision to jog. not because it winded you, or it amplified the struggle you had with your bags, but because of the smug smile you could see crinkling the bastards cheeks under his mask.

“you missed me.”

you handed him a bag. “i missed your arms. carry that.”

you could hear the grin from behind you.

“whatever you say, sweet’eart.”

[tonycries]

I Lasted Ten Rounds!

Synopsis. Marathons - they’re better in bed.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, marathon séx, major overstím, pússydrunk boys, CÚMPLAY, creampíes, mean Geto, squírting, innappropríate use of jujutsu (Gojo and Sukuna), pússy-slappíng, best friend!Choso, aphrodísiacs, true form Sukuna, dp, spítting, BRÉEDING, making them cry, full nélson, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Hope y’all have a good leak day mwah <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - 5 rounds

“Raw.” he breathes, and there’s a strained - almost whiny - shudder being wrenched out of Toji’s hulking body when he sinks inch after long, hefty inch into your plush cunt. Bullying past the barely-there resistance of that first ring of muscle with such a harsh tug of your pliant body down his swollen cock. “R-raw. You- fuck- you finally let me–”

No, it wasn’t the first time you let Toji fuck you into these silken bedsheets without a condom - that was a few hours ago. But that didn’t stop him from spitting out that same, strained accusation, the same greedy little push and pull of his toned hips smacking sloppily against your clingy pussy. 

He was addicted. 

“O-oh, Toji–” you’re babbling, swollen lips glossed with tears, thighs burning at just how long he’s been pounding into you like this. “S’already the- the third? Fourth? Or-”

“Fifth.” he’s cutting you off, with a hoarse chuckle - voice shot already. “Fifth n’-” Head lolling drunkenly into the crook of your neck, it’s all he can do to bite out brokenly, “-oh, my girl- hope y’know m’not hahhh- letting you go until I physically can’t anymore.”

Fifth, huh?

Oh, it was setting in - fuck, was he feeling it. You were so pretty underneath him, sweat-slicked body splayed out all shamefully for him, slurring words barely coherently. And Toji couldn’t even keep his eyes open, stars popping up behind his lids at every one of your velvety clenches, abs burning with each ravaged mash of his overworked, weepy head against your ravaged g-spot.

Fingers jittery where he’s hauling your body desperately to his muscled one. Clinging onto you so close - like a lifeline - that you could hear every tremoringly quiet ah! ah ah! following those long, solid glides, feel his happy trail scratching against your sluttily arched back. 

It almost hurt - but it hurt so good, that even after painting your gluey, sloshing insides white four times tonight already, Toji wanted more more more-

A bludgeoning knee comes down to shove your thighs spread even wider, spreading your puffy pussy lips so gapingly around his thick shaft. 

“Oh sh-shit.” he’s hissing. And Toji Fushiguro never stutters, he never throws his head back to let out such pained whimper like this.“Such a f-filthy pussy.” His pretty pink lips purse to spit a languid wad of his spit down on the bullseye of your slobbering cunt. The chilling dredges oozing a slow trail down your split-open pussy. “The fifth time- n’ y’pretend like this cute cunt of yours can’t handle more of me.”

“Ngh-” your teeth are clamping around one of the cushiony pillows, trembly fingers scrambling jerkily at the headboard, the plush mattress, anything- “You’re in s-so deep- feels like m’gonna pass out. How the hell are you still going?”

Toji rolls his eyes, acting for all the world like those whiny little words of yours don’t have his red, angry tip painting your insides with another honeyed coat of his sweltering precum. “Told ya not to hah- test me doll- just had to run that pretty mouth, huh?”

You’re keening when all five of his calloused fingers come up to smush your cheeks together embarrassingly, “Saying m’not gonna last going in raw- look where ya are now.” Toji’s craning his head to leave wet little kisses up your spine, your jaw, your forehead. Fully bending you in half to meet his lips, angling his riotous hips to graze his sensitive slit right against the swollen, bruised divots on your cervix. “Look where I am- I can’t stop.” 

And your hypnotized hips can only manage to give a last sticky heave meeting Toji’s drunken staccato before splaying limply down on the bed. Moaning around the lewd sucking of his lips around your heavy tongue. 

“No- no come back- shit, m’not-” He’s slowly losing control of those lingering thrusts, desperation bleeding into the way his big arms frantically circle around your weakening waist. Dragging you up, up, up like some glorified ragdoll, “How are ya n-not able to keep up when you hah- came up with the idea, ma.” And for all how gentle he’s being suckling on your pouty lower lip, one hand of his glides down easily to cup at your bulging pussy. Smearing in another quick, branding stream of saliva on your struggling, swollen folds spread so lewdly open around his thick hilt, “Ohhh, gonna make a man lose his sanity with a pussy this heavenly. Doesn’t seem so fair now, does it?”

That delirious little shake of your head makes him bare his canines in a grin, smiling at how utterly fucked-out you were on his mean cock. There’s a lazy, glistening trail of drool at the corner of your lips that Toji idles out his hot tongue to lick away, “Now now. Why don’t you- ah- use those words like a big girl, huh?” 

“Hah- didn’t-” those wet gurgles bubble at your throat, dying down after each harsh clash into your most sensitive spot. He’s reaching every nook and cranny inside of you - drilling cock expanding even girthier with each heady second. “Didn’t think you’d get so-” Another pretty glob of spit onto your cunt, “-addicted!”

“Well, what can I- hah- say?” Each taunting word is pushing you further and further up the bed, Toji’s tense hips hammering into you with no rhythm and rhyme now. Just lingering, mindless grinds chasing that painfully good smack! of his heavy, cum-filled balls at your ass, “When- ngh- when life gives you a wife this cute-”

You think he’s cumming - you think you’re cumming. But you can’t even be fully sure at this point, your own high nothing more than a few white-hot tingles, Toji’s overwhelmed cock straining to squeeze out a few more wispy strings of his milky seed. Until you were drenched in a silky coating down your inner thighs, beading pearly drops of his seed and your sweet sweet juices. To stuff you full even more.“-fuck her at least five times.”

“At- at least?”

Toji grins, “At least.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - As many as you can take (and a lil’ more!)

“My love.” Two soft pads of Nanami’s long fingers tap gently on your cheek, lingering when he lovingly cups your glossy pout. “My love.”

Biting your lip, you whine at his heated intrusion at your pretty cunt. Free hand thumbing open your soppingly wet slit to spread even wider around his thick hilt, scratching up so rawly against those neat tufts of blond at his sharp pelvis. “N’nothing, s’just that- hahh–” cocking your head to nuzzle his large palm, “You’re not- not tired, Ken?”

“Doesn’t matter.” he breathes, minty hot breath fanning your face when he leans in. And you think he’s going to kiss you - to maybe mouth away those big fat, overstimulated tears rolling down your face - but instead, Nanami’s stern lips wrap around your lolling tongue. Sucking. Moaning so depravedly. “All that matters is that- hngh- that–” Splaying out all five fingers on your stomach, pressing down hard where he can feel the divot of his very head, “-the mother of my future kids s’doing alright.”

He can feel that rotund clenching of your snug channel, the way your pussy grows increasingly more soaked with every stuttering nudge at your g-spot. 

When the heady bedroom air is only punctuated with a few sticky squelches from your cunt Nanami has to grit out - to force himself to speak. “Please-” hissing at the velvety silk or his seed swirling around your hole, it makes his toes curl, overworked balls squeeze achingly. Shit. “Give me an answer- please, darling, your cunt s’driving me insane. Fuck- I’ve- I’ve lost count at this point how many times I-”

At this, you can’t help but giggle. Reaching up to lick at the stray, glistening tear falling down his sharp cheekbone, “Are- are you crying, Ken?” The heels of your trembly feet curl tightly against the sinful dimples at the end of his spine, plunging him even deeper into the gloopy bottom of your pussy. “Can’t take any more?”

“No!” Nanami’s usually steady voice just cracks pitifully at the end. “No no no- just- hngh! I can take it- can give y’more. Anything for you, ma.”

Each of his hammering thrusts are slowly getting meaner. Slowly losing control. They’re haphazardly alternating between long, thorough slams of his entirely swollen length to mere jutting, half-thrusts - as if it just pained him to part with your clingy pussy more than that. 

And, shit, he’s so thick - so jaw-slackingly hefty when he twitches animalistically against all your sensitive spots. Gliding in solid, wet smears of his leaky tip against your cervix reminding you of the sheer strength he held. Fucking you so mean, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it - tired, fatigued body moving on animal instinct.

“Darling–” Nanami’s wet croon has you blinking away the lusty haze in your pupils, locking them with his own blown-out ones. “Eyes on me- have to make sure you can- ngh-” You can hear his jaw click with strain when you’re giving an experimental squeeze of your velvety cunt, “-m-me. Hafta make sure you can take it- you can take it, right?”

You’re gasping out brokenly, nodding in response to his question - thighs jittery and you don’t know whether you want to run or fuck yourself back down for more more more-

“Then why are you running, ma?”

Just as those billowing words leave his mouth, Nanami’s falling back onto his thick thighs, grabbing your body right along to seat you prettily down his brutal dick. It was devastating. It was sloppy how silky, stringy ropes of cum were rushing down in a glossy coat. Smacking so sluggishly down below.

“Wh-what?” you’re batting your teary lashes, jaw hanging open at just how much this didn’t sound like your usually gentle husband. Deep voice jagged, gutturally dangerous - he was talking to you in a steady, hard tone as if you were some prey. Setting his lewd sights on you to mash up even harder into your pretty cunt. 

He’s breathing out shakily in a way that told you he was getting close, thighs aching, red tip so angry and flinching in such a dizzy way. “Why- are- you-” The metal band of his gold wedding ring burns into your heated skin, digging possessively when he hauls you close. “-running away? Don’t- don’t think you can escape, darling.”

Those drenched silk sheets bunch up messily behind you at just how firmly he was halting your escape. “S’jus’-” you’re whining, in that syrupy sweet tone that makes him only grow painfully harder. Stiffening his back to drill copious inches, he’s tracing his fingertips back across your stomach. “-you’re in so deep. Think m’- hah, think m’getting close.”

“A-ah– of course you are.” he whimpers, tone lilting upwards at the end. It was just so stimulating how you were taking him so well despite being stuffed to the brim, overflowing in a creamy sheen. “Gotta- gotta get my pretty lady to cum- ngh! Breed her pussy full.” And oh, despite how composed Nanami seemed on the outside you could sense the waver in his words, the way his ruthless pace was evening out to something more messy. Untamed. “Make her the most beautiful momma.”

Brows knitting deeper and deeper every, it hurt - fuck, but it hurt more to not stuff you full until you were round and glowing. To leave even the tiniest chance of you being carried out of this bedroom without carrying his future kid. 

“You can do it- cum f’me.” It’s almost like he’s whispering to himself at this point, stamina withering. One hand of his guides your other own down from your searing grip on his unkept strands, down past his tear-slicked cheeks, down past his wobbly plump lips. Wrapping your fingers tightly around Nanami’s pale neck, forcing your nails to dig into the sweat-beaded skin. “Cum f’me- jus this once, because after this time m’not gonna be playing nice, my love.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - 7 rounds

“Shhh, gorgeous.” Geto’s hushed, smooth voice in your ear would almost be soothing, his large thumb gliding against the very peak of your puffed-up clit almost distracting- “S’all part of your special initiation.”

If it wasn’t for the rest of the cult standing behind those semi-sheer watching all of this happen to you, that is. 

Ah, you didn’t know whether that syrupy sweet idea of a special initiation - a rite of passage “just for you” - had you joining Geto’s religious association even sooner.  

Because here you were - your thighs burning with the relentless stretch of Geto’s forearms hooked underneath them, spreading you so fucking shamelessly towards where the countless others in the group were stood behind the covering around the creaky bed. A barely-there sense of privacy while he just ravaged you into the meanest full nelson possible. 

“Oh- fuuuck–” Geto’s groaning at your drunken little squirms on his cock, mouth salivating at the wet squelches being wrenched out with each pressurized thrust. “Just one more round now- come on, seven’s my lucky number. And y’wanna hngh- finish the initiation- right, pretty girl?”

His two strong legs plant even more vice-like on the absolutely drenched sheets, seeping into the creamy puddle of cum and honeyed slick spreading further and further each obscene second. 

That lolling nod of your delirious head has him crashing his sensitive, throbbing tip against your spongy g-spot, already so branded with the bruises of his divot. Holding back each whine after whine threatening to drag out from his throat when your swollen lips meet his in a sloppy graze of a kiss.

Shit, you were so cute - no wonder he had the fucking brilliant idea of fucking you like this. Even if it hurt - even if his achy cock was rubbing raw, over and over and-

“Aww, my pretty baby wants a kiss?” Geto’s leering grin only grows when he glides a dripping coat of wispy precum right across the back of your cervix, it’s so hot inside you - and you feel drunk off of every ooze of his cum from before, sloshing down in a milky white sheen. “Well not until you hngh-” He’s moving to bite down onto your earlobe, pussydrunk mind wondering whether your gummy walls were shaping around every ridge and vein of his shaft by now. “-cum f’me once more.”

“S-Sugu–” your eyes are rolling to the back of your head at the warm, wet cascade of his juices down your thighs, slipping and sliding you easily down his girthy length. “Don’t know if I- if I can cum- hah-” That admonishing smack! on your achy clit is taken in stride, gaping your gummy entrance even wider to swallow his every fucking inch greedily. “But- but I wanna. Wanna cum f’you so badly.”

There’s a muted shuffling from behind the curtains that have Geto’s darkened eyes narrowing in hostility, and he’s possessively turning his head to take in that sinful view of you down below. 

Shit- he could’ve almost came from just the sheer sight. The sight of your glisteningly puffy folds stretched to their limits around the creamy translucent ring around his thick hilt. Velvety walls contorting to massage his attritioning veins, grinding in thorough, purposeful gyrations against his heavily twitching balls. 

You were taking him so good.

And Geto’s never been more happy you couldn’t see the full plane of his face. Eyes rolling to the back of his head at the mere sight, teeth biting down on his plump lower lip as if to draw blood. 

“Then do it.” Geto’s biceps just bulge against the small of your waist when they dig into a restraining loop around your body, pinning you down so helplessly to his sculpted front. “Cum f’me like a good girl then. Show me, show them-” The hand not rolling over your sensitive clit dips upwards to angle your face towards the still-watching crowd. His lips are drag so slowly at your heated ear, “-show them what a good girl you are f’me.”

Your cute, wobbly lips cry out in a broken little whine - and then your slutty cunt is just gushing down the entirety of Geto’s furious front. Slobbering a glossy, glossy sheen that coats his milky skin, syrupy and sticking - meshing your bodies so close together he doesn’t know where you begin and where he ends. 

”Good girl- good- hah- good girl.” Geto’s gritting out, trying for all the world to not sound as wrecked as he feels right now. Fuck, ignoring the spiking sensitivity, the stars behind his eyes to chase every little suck of your sopping wet walls, thighs trembly, eyes crinkling with such pathetically big tears. Shit, he’s pussydrunk. Only babbling out, “Ohhh- so perfect f’me, right? Even squirting- too generous f’me, gorgeous.”

It only takes a few more gasps from his ragged chest - heaves even. Delicately pink tip stuffing you so wholly full it’s like you’re about to explode, and Geto’s not too far behind. 

Not at all, in fact, with the way a final, harsh nudge against your springy cervix has him spurting out ribbons of creamy white cum. Oozing out in a thick, viscous polish that drools out of your bulging slit. Leaving a lewd trail of evidence where Geto’s fat cock was rummaging your poor insides. Over and over until he’s shooting nothing but blanks.

And it’s so hot, that you can almost feel it in your lungs. Limbs twitching mindlessly, he’s finding it easy to pull out - to display the gloopy filling lazily trickling out of you. Those slender fingers of his on your clit dance just downwards to circle the ring of your sloppy hole, swirling around that messy gloss. He coats his fingers until they just gleam in the dim lighting. Around and around. 

With a look of pure, unfiltered pride Geto clears his throat authoritatively. Jolting, you realize he’s not addressing you this time, “Everyone, say hello to your new second-in-command.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - 6 rounds

Choso thinks he’s cumming - Choso thinks he’s crying, begging out such broken little pleas in your open mouth. He’s wrapping five pale, jittery fingers of his around the furiously red base of his cock, angling the bulbous head of his fat tip just right to press deeply into your greedy entrance. 

“Oh!” you’re smirking down at your best friend, biting back a wrecked moan at just how much he was stretching you, barely even reeling back at the brief resistance. His shredded patience can only wait a beat - two - more watching the snug channel of your cunt gush down in thick, hot streams of his seed from earlier, before bucking his hips up, up up- “Even five times wasn’t enough for you? What did I hah- tell ya about th-the-”

“I know I know, m’sorry, baby–” Choso cries, dark lashes batting at his cheeks when his eyes scrunch up into a pathetic bawl. “M’sorry I accidentally ate your- your ‘special chocolate’ but I fuck- it feels like m’burning all over. Like m’gonna die if I don’t fuck your cute cunt.”

And yet his bruising grip on your hips don’t waver, he’s still prying down your sticky body onto his, strong arms wrenching open your thighs to straddle him even wider. Still so needy - so hot all over with the itching greed to fuck you until one of you breaks.

Truly, it was a surprise to come home and find out your sweet best friend had raided that joke stash of aphrodisiac chocolate gifted by your coworkers last week - a welcome surprise. 

Because here he was - splayed out on your drenched silken sheets, big fat tears glistening across his cheekbones, toned body jolting so harshly at each one of your touches. So pussydrunk that you almost wondered whether it hurt, how his poor, overworked cock wasn’t fucking seizing at this point.

And even if it did, Choso wouldn’t complain - not one bit. 

“Please-” his breath comes out in a feverish puff, as wild as the fingers now toying with your swollen clit. Smearing the creamy dredges of his seed all over your puffed-up folds in tight little circles over and over and- 

Slam!

In a split-second, Choso’s hands are being pinned above his head. It would’ve looked almost comical - your much smaller ones restraining his own, fingers twitching animalistically with every sloppy drag down his pulsingly needy length - but oh, was Choso letting you. Letting himself be used like your favorite toy. 

“You’re being real greedy, Cho–” your teasing voice sends shivers wracking down his entire body. Powerful thighs bucking up in pressurized ruts up into your squelching cunt. “First you ate my- hah- secret stash, n’ now you’re being so hasty makin’ me cum.”

Each one of your words are punctuated by a sticky slam down onto his slowly-reddening pelvis, the fat of your ass being smacked with his sharp hipbones. You were riding him to insanity. 

“Yes!” Choso’s jaw hangs deliriously open, rosy red lips forming around your name again and again like a mantra. “M’so greedy- so greedy for your pretty pussy.” He whines, and just the feeling of your velvety walls milking his fat length for so long has his syrupy mess of a mind thrown into such a primal frenzy. “Can’t help it when you’re so heavenly, baby– K-keep wantin’ to fuck this cunt forever.”

The painful pull of your fingers weaving into his dark strands have him keening, latching onto the very tips of your sensitive nipples bouncing temptingly onto his face. “Can’t help it.” he echoes, swirling his hot tongue around your sweet areola, looking up at you with his gorgeously glassy, dark eyes. “Really can’t help it.”

There’s such a sickly, syrupy sweet staccato of Choso’s probing tip pressing deep into the drippingly wet g-spot inside you. And slowly - but steadily - your deft fingers find themselves dancing a path down to wrap around Choso’s heavily gulping throat. Breath hitching when they squeeze-

“Cum f’me, Cho-” he raises his lolling head up to meet yours, meshing back into a messy excuse of a kiss. Your teeth sink down to tug on his pouty bottom lip, fingers tightening, “Cum f’me- s’all to cure you of this chocolate after a-all, right?” 

At the reminder of that, his wrists try to wrench useless in your other hand’s vice-like hold. And honestly, Choso doesn’t know if he wants to cum again - he doesn’t know if he can. But the soft clingy feeling of your walls against his girthy shaft have him gasping, poor, overworked balls so raw. Tight and clenching painfully with every crashing push into your g-spot. He’s absolutely ruined. 

And both of you know it.

Oh, his head was so light now - your fingers vice-like around his pale throat. The only thing that Choso can seem to urgently choke out right about now is a honeyed, dragged-out drawl of, “Spit-” His wild cock leaking hot precum in another drippingly saturated wave everywhere, “Spit in my mouth, baby–”

And you do - that translucent wad of saliva barely hitting right in the middle of Choso’s lolling-out tongue before he cums. That ravaged divot on the very tip of his fat head stuttering out only one, two tiny beads of milky seed before he’s riding out such an addictively dry orgasm. 

Dewy eyes rolling to the back of his head, body sweat-slicked and clinging onto yours with creamy strings of cum and spit. So desperate when he’s fucking into you so filthy, pummelling you along the curve of his length like he was trying to drag out another milky stream of seed. Again and again and-

It takes only a split-second to break out of your hold - of course, it does - and you’re barely even registering it when Choso pins you back onto the sloppy mess of your soaked sheets. Hips still relentless, voice still ragged- “Think we’re gonna hafta hah- skip the dating n’ go straight to marriage after this, baby.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - 8 (and a half) rounds

If there was ever a time that the infamous king of curses would let out raspy little whimpers of his baritone voice - muscled just heaving deep gasps, looking at you all four eyes glistening with wet tears, hearts in his gaze - it would be right now. 

When the day sitting around his throne had been too long, when there’d been just a few too many scum curses groveling at his feet. 

When you were sprawled all prettily on his muscular, manspread thighs, your expensive robes pulled up just enough for that gummy cunt of yours to stretch open gapingly around his two matchingly rock-hard cocks. The plush of your ass on full, obscene display for him, limbs twitching with each swallowed-up inch down his fat, throbbing lengths. 

“Fuuck- take it easy, woman.” he’s hissing, powerful hip rutting upwards to skim his sensitive tip over the ends of your slobbering pussy. 

That has you pouty tearily, huffing out a low, “W-well- jus’ want you to hngh- be right-” Skittish fingers fluttering over to where you could feel him coating every hidden spot of your insides in his potent seed, angry cockhead bruising your taut channel more and more open around him. It was such a delicious stretch. And you’re pressing down where you can feel the divot of his head knock feverishly on your womb, splattering around milky dredges inside you, “-here.” 

Sukuna’s hips just surge forwards, like he didn’t even realize what he was doing. 

“Kuna- wh-wha-” you’re barely able to get out, whirling your head half-lucidly over your shoulder. But you don’t get very far - because one domineering palm hastily turns your face right back. “What are you-”

“No.” he’s letting out a strangled moan, leaving neat little indentations of his black, sharpened fingernails on your skin. “No you don’t get to- oh–” In a flash, sharp canines are digging menacingly right above the pulsepoint on your throat, and his hot breath fans over your ear. “Ah- y’don’t get to see me hngh- like this- fuckin’ embarrassing. I can’t even-” 

Sukuna’s cutting himself off by getting up onto two unsteady feet, holding you plastered so close onto his bowed body. The position is so precarious that for a second you’re worried, wondering how the hell the two of you haven’t broken any bones these past eight rounds. 

It’s his reversed curse technique, you later learn - but for now all you can do is gasp at your legs dangling in midair, spine arched back against his bulging pecs in a perfect arch, raising your head up, up, up and oh-

His eyes are aflame, glowing through the hypnotically dim lighting. Teeth bared into such a vicious grin one which only curls wider when you ask, “C-can’t even what, Kuna?”

He hisses down at the absolutely sultry look on your face - kiss-bitten lips falling slack into a soft oh! eyes half-lidded and miles away, your moans ringing through his ears like his favorite melody. “Heh- the fuckin- ah-” Another staggering push past your clingy sopping walls have him spitting out little swears, vision blurring dangerously at the corners. “-the fuckin’ audacity t-to ask me that, knowing what yer doing to me. S’pposed to help me relax but you’re hngh- driving me insane.”

You swear, you could feel his bulbous heads grow even thicker, expanding their way into contorting your gripping walls around his very shape. The even deeper intrusion has him throwing his head back, Adam’s apple bobbing with a dragged out moan of your name. 

A limp hand of yours dares to thread its way into Sukuna’s, tugging - pulling, “Look at me, please–?” And when he finally does - though, not before punishing the curve of your ass with such a stinging smack - you smirk, “Look so- ngh! pretty when you’re ruined like this, Kuna.”

That makes him falter - it makes his eyes grow just a bit wider, the insides of your elastic cunt being inflated open with another fresh wave of his furiously leaking precum. 

“Don’t-” Sukuna clears his throat of any traitorous dredges of a whimper, “Don’t push your- your luck, brat.”

But he couldn’t hide the fondness in his tone, that tiny little drawl of a whimper in his words. Heavy, pink lashes clumping up together with his overstimulating tears. It only takes a few more solid rams into your sweet hole - milking the bloated ends of his lengths for something delicious - a few more sharp, branding slams of his curving balls against your cunt. So large and aching for release that when they do, the sheer volume of Sukuna’s cum makes you dizzy.

Double the amount. It overspills, splattering half the thick, silky contents onto the decadent throne room floor. Soiling a sinful little puddle that he just can’t help but smile at, tutting mockingly, “Now now, look what you’ve done- making things even- hngh! even more stressful f’me now with this to clean up.” 

Out of his four beefy arms, two of them pin your own easily behind your back, the other dipping down to roll your puffed-up clit between his thick index and thumb. And the last one- fuck, the last one was pooling all the milky white ribbons of cum slobbering out of your stretched-out entrance. Velvety spurts dousing your walls once more - and he’s having so much fun, molding out your gummy cunt around to squeeze his fingers right in-between his two cocks. 

Still rutting into you - still cumming from both heads - every jackhammering thrust sparks stars behind his eyes. Back muscles curving deeper and deeper into you when he replaces every dredge of cum oozing down your saturated slit with a new one. The thrumming hum of his jujutsu making you keen-

“So messy. Such a filthy cunt my woman has-” he sighs, in a dark little way you knew meant he was just seconds away from tearing you apart. “Hmmm…wonder if it’ll be more relaxing. if I cum dry?”

♡ GOJO SATORU - RIP.

The strongest looks up at you with big, teary blue eyes, long lashes twinkling his pretty cheekbones every time he’s batting them. “Please. Just the tip-”

“Toru-”

“Please.” Gojo whimpers out, two of his massive hands laying at rest on the curving globes of your ass. Squeezing. Kneading you desperately in shallow, lazy grinds up and down his furiously leaky cock, “Please, sweetheart, don’t think I can handle cockwarming.” His abds are aching when they flex upwards towards you, “Haven’t had my hngh- fill just yet.”

You’re gasping when he has the audacity to give your plump clit a sharp smack! the pressurized buzz of his jujutsu from earlier sending white-hot electricity running down your arched spine. Splaying your cunt so deliciously to massage against your bulging g-spot. “N-nice try.” you grit out, legs trembling at the feeling of his thick, potent cum sliding out of your surprised entrance. “But I don’t think you’re ready- you’ve already set the lights off with your jujutsu being overstimulated, Toru.”

“Jus’ the tip- m’kay? Just the tip, I swear-” If you were of a clearer state of mind maybe you’d have pointed out that Gojo was well past the tip at this point. Feeling his fat head curve at your womb, knocking in a merciless, methodical pace. “Just missed you so much today- hah- gotta make up for lost time.”

He flashes you a devilish grin - one you’re somewhat ashamed to admit has your sopping cunt drip down a fresh sheen of your sweet sweet juices down his curvaceous length. Pooling at his frantically, painfully squeezing balls. 

And Gojo notices - of course, he does - even with his six eyes getting a bit too bleary right about the eighth? ninth? round. Ah, fuck, it didn’t matter anyway- 

“Then- then that’s good, isn’t it? Lights out- across all of hah- Tokyo, I bet.” His wretchedly strained tone is so different from the incessant pace of his bullying cock. Bludgeoning deep into your most secure spots, he’s nudging apart every velvety crevice of your walls, making such a mess of the creamy white seed of his dripping from the inside. Gliding his nose up the sweat-slicked column of your throat, “So really- we have nothing better to do. How about you- hngh- let me paint this pretty pussy white all over again?”

Of course, you wanted him to - but it was so fun how your barest tease makes Gojo fall apart. Pouty lips running a mile a minute.

His words are almost sleepy, and both of you aren’t even lucid enough to do anything about the ever-spreading puddle of cum and slick right below you. Meshing your lips drunkenly in an intoxicatingly sloppy kiss, “Come onnnn–” he’s babbling at your pointed silence. “One more? M’begging- begging, sweetheart. You got the strongest on his ah- knees n’ unable to use his powers.”

You knew so many people - so many curses - would kill to have Satoru Gojo all helpless like this. His lips moving faster than his overstimulated mind right now, drool dripping down the side of his rosy red mouth. So sensitive right now - unable to fight back. The only show of his previous prowess of strength being a stray flicker of blue lightning at his eyes when you’re cushioning his fat length with your clingy walls just a bit too hard, 

He’s heaving now - gasping deep, lungfuls of air every time his bruising grip is just bouncing your pliant body erratically down onto his. Wreckless, lunging slams that have your knees weak, stars flickering behind your lids. 

“Come on- come onnn–” He spits so syrupy sweetly into your panting, open mouth. Slender fingers wrapping around your clit, and it just throbs with the steady hum of his reversed curse technique. Stopping the two of you from breaking bones - because shit, how the hell is Gojo going to fuck up into you like an animal. Desperate little pleas of yes! yes! yes! wrenching from you at the stimulation. “Give it t’me, missed so much when you were gone out today. Please-”

“Hngh! S’too- too-” you’re drawling out incoherent sentences to match his. “Yeah- fuck yes- jus’ like that, Toru–” 

It’s only because of Gojo’s ungodly stamina that he was even able to last this long - the fact that he hadn’t fucked himself into a stupor at this point. And that’s the only thing, along with a few fumes of his reversed curse technique that have him careening smacking away your pathetic attempts to meet his thrusts.

The sensitivity too much, that he’s bawling - unable to handle the saturated drags of your slobbering pussy down his raw shaft. Mouth lolling open when you feel two big arms circle around your waist, mumbling tearily, “Wait- fuck hold that- think m’-” Like something snaps in the air.

Because then he’s cumming - at least, Gojo can feel himself cumming. This time, there’s no shattering of lightbulbs, no gleaming power in his pupils, because his poor body was too fucked-out for this. Too tired to do anything but have his heavy, strained-out balls just clench, shooting up wispy blanks into your readily swallowing pussy. 

“Oh!” he’s throwing his head back at the sheer overwhelming pleasure, beading out only a few, pearly little beads of sticky seed. But fuck, was Gojo riding out his high - riding out yours. Fucking you through each convulsing little clench of your silky cum-slicked walls, a high you’ve barely even registered still. “I don’t- I don’t know if I-”

“Don’t, Toru.” you warn, but it’s too late - only one, fleeting glance at your prettily stuffed pussy, the creamy little outer ring on your entrance, the way your puffy folds are just quivering like you’re in need of more - has Gojo intaking a sharp gasp. 

His wrecked eyes widen, looking almost afraid. Breath hitching, his words are shrill - barely audible, “Think- think we haven’t made up for lost time yet, sweetheart.”

“Toru, I was gone for five hours.”

“And?”

A/N. Gojo nation will we get a comeback today plsplspls?!

Plagiarism not authorized.

[luveline]

𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐢𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

Spencer gets a bad bout of amnesia. Or, your boyfriend forgets he’s your boyfriend, but he still has a crush on you. [3k]

c: fem, bombshell!reader, head injury, hospitals, amnesia, fluff, spencer can’t believe he bagged you, requested here 

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

Spencer wakes to an empty room. 

He lays on a pillow too flat, neck twinging, the back of his eyes throbbing when he moves.

He struggles to breathe through his nose and lets his mouth open for a few achy breaths, his mouth dry like he’s been sucking on cotton balls. 

Spencer’s alarmed, without a clue what it is he’s done. He wonders where Gideon is, if the older man has come to see him yet. He hopes somebody told his mom he’s okay. 

Maybe Hotch will come. He and Hotch have grown closer while Gideon was on his mandated recovery time; Gideon spends far less time in the office, sticking to lectures, seminars and consults, while Hotch, Morgan and Spencer handle the away cases. Spencer might go as far as to say Hotch likes him. And Morgan can tolerate him now, less grudging when Spencer offers a random fact or statistic to further the case. 

A stab of pain at the back of his head makes itself known sharply.

Spencer doesn’t want to move, but he needs to assess things. He frowns at his arms, naked as they are. His silver watch is missing. A t-shirt that he doesn’t remember buying stretches over his chest. What state are they in, and who dressed him? 

He’s scowling at the window with it’s wide-open blinds and all the sun when the door opens. 

You’re looking at the bags on your arm as you come in. Spencer startles in his blankets —what are you doing here? Agent L/N, Morgan’s friend and a candidate for the open position on the BAU team. You’re from the Sex Crimes Unit, like Greenaway. 

Spencer flusters every time he sees you, not just because of how kind you’d been the first time you met, or even the easy flirtation you send his way when you cross paths. It’s because you’re the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. He’s not talking about the golden ratio or statistical beauty, you’re just stunning. You stop him in his tracks whenever you steal into the office. It’s better when you notice he’s awake and light up like he’s the winning numbers for tonight’s lottery pull. Everything about you illuminates. 

“Hey, babe!” you say, not not yelling as you drop your bags in the seat by the bed and reach for him.

He doesn’t think to move away as you take his face into your hands.

“I’m so glad you’re finally awake, you almost slept for the full twenty four hours.” Your hands are soft. They smell like neroli. When you stroke his cheek and lean down to give him a chaste peck, he almost passes out there and then. “It's a good thing, obviously,” you say, and then kiss him again distractedly. Spencer squeezes his eyes closed. “You heal more when you’re asleep. Or so I’ve heard.” 

You pull away, Spencer blinking for his life. You have such a nice mouth, but Spencer’s never thought about what it might feel like on his. He doesn’t have the audacity: in what world would you ever kiss him? That’s the joke, right, when you flirt with him in the office?

“How are you feeling?” you ask, losing some of your pep. “How’s your head, handsome? You know, there are easier ways to get a haircut.” 

“They cut my hair?” he croaks. 

“Shaved it at the back to stitch you up. Not much, don’t worry. They were pushing for a buzz cut but I put my foot down on that one,” you joke. You nudge his legs aside without worrying about sitting on him as you get comfortable. “It’s not much. You can’t tell.”

“I…” 

“You feeling okay?” you ask softly. Your nice mouth purses. Your eyebrows pinch. They’re cute eyebrows. 

“You look different than the last time I saw you.” 

He doesn’t mean to say it aloud. He’s noticing things now. You’re wearing less powder under your eyes than you used to. You seem to have gained a little weight, and you look good. You didn’t look bad before, but this is different. Your hair isn’t too different, nor your brows, but you’ve begun lining your lips in a new way. Your blush is a subtler hue. Spencer doesn’t claim to know everything about you, but he can say that you look neatly the same each time you visit. Why the sudden change?

“It’s hard to sleep when your favourite person in the world gets his head cut open,” you say, taking his hand where he’d left it loose in the blankets. 

Your fingers slip into his with ease. 

“Can I tell you something?” he asks, attempting to swallow his nerves. 

“Of course you can.” 

He licks his lips. “Uh, I think I’m confused. I don’t– I don’t remember what happened, and…” 

“Oh, right. They told me this might happen.” You draw yourself up with a breath. He’s fascinated by the movement, an air of heat around him as you begin rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb. “You got hit in the back of the head with a cinder block, honey. Went down like a lead balloon.” You turn your face to show your cheek. “We’re even now on good scares, yeah?” 

You have a scar on your face he’d missed, carefully concealed but yet not invisible. Your hand in his feels so alien he holds it wrong, fingers twined but palms apart. 

“What happened to you?” he asks. 

Your brow crinkles. You go very still. “My cheek?” you ask. 

“What…” 

“Spencer, what’s the last thing you can remember, honey?” you ask, all the horror in the world to be found in your eyes. 

“Uh…” He feels sick to his stomach.

“Spencer?” 

Without having to be told, you slip off of the bed with two taps of your shoes and reach for the bedpan, thrusting it into his lap. 

His mouth fills with spit. “I’m fine,” he says. 

“No, I don’t think so. Let me get a doctor.” 

“Wait,” he says, clutching the bedpan and pushing his wave of nausea as far down as he can. “Please don’t go.” 

“My face was months ago, honey. I got hit in the face with a hammer by a UnSub, you don’t remember?” you ask incredulously. 

“Why do you keep calling me honey?” he asks. He knows the answer, but it’s not computing. 

Your face drains of any happiness. “I’m going to get a doctor,” you say, shoulders rigidly tight as you exit the room, leaving Spencer in your wake wishing he’d just pretended he knew who you were, just until you kissed him again. 

—

“And he really can’t remember you at all?” Morgan asks. 

You’re a little less startled than you had been, and you’re trying not to punish poor Spencer, but realising your boyfriend forgot years of flirting, and yearning, and friendship —years of kissing in secret and otherwise, years of holding hands, and staying at each other’s places to get that extra time together, even if it was just getting to sleep in the same bed between cases— was a slap. 

“He remembers me,” you say, leg crossed over the other, arm over the railing of Spencer’s bed to hold his hand. “He just doesn’t remember a thing after Gideon came back, after Boston.” 

“I remember when you had hair,” Spencer says to Derek. 

Derek glares at him, “This Spencer doesn’t get to sass me.” 

“But I do eventually?” 

“How come you’re holding hands if he doesn’t know who you are?” Derek asks pointedly. 

You shrug. “We talked about it, didn’t we?” you ask Spencer, who perks up every time you talk, which isn’t unlike your usual Spencer. Whenever he catches himself doing it he flusters. Every time you call him baby he loses his mind. “He doesn’t remember me, but he wants to. And I remember him.” 

“This must be pretty weird for you, kid,” Derek says. 

“Sort of,” Spencer says. 

It’s funny. Now you know Spencer thinks he’s twenty three again, you can’t not notice his shyness and his awkward tries at casualness. You’d forgotten what he was like back then. 

“Wait, does that mean you don’t remember Emily?” Derek asks. 

Spencer frowns. “Uh, no?” 

You sit up in your chair. “Emily’s one of your best friends, honey. She joined the BAU when Greenaway left.”

“Not you?” he asks. 

You dramatise your pain as Derek laughs. “Not me. I didn’t transfer for a long time, unfairly. It’s okay, though, you’ll remember Emily eventually.” 

When you realised Spencer wasn’t as okay as you’d thought, you gathered a gaggle of agitated doctors to assess him. He knew his name and birthday. He was wrong about the date, the president, and the state. You’re in Arizona where he’d thought Indiana. Your bag talks to the heat: Spencer’s fan, his sunblock, his antihistamines. He couldn’t believe it when he asked where his stuff was and you passed him your handbag. 

You’re trying to drive home to him that you’re not just dating, you're common-law partners, Spence. He adores you. You’d spend life in his lap if you could afford it. 

“How’d she get you to believe her?” Derek asks Spencer. 

“Uh.” 

“I kissed him a couple of times before he came clean about the amnesia,” you say. “So I didn’t have to explain.” 

“I didn’t mean to lie,” Spencer says. 

He’s looking less haggard now you’ve brushed his hair. It was sweet to watch his shoulders relax. He shuddered when you tucked a strand behind his ears, and didn’t flinch when you asked if you could kiss his cheek. It’s hard to have him vulnerable here and not be allowed to lick his wounds for him. You feel better the better he feels. You’ve fluffed his pillow, wrapped him tighter in blankets. When he got up to pee and you offered to help, he gave a resolute No Thank You, which in hindsight is hilarious but at the time made you wanna squeeze your eyes out. 

“It’s okay,” you say softly, “I don’t mind kissing him, even if he doesn’t remember me. Just so long as he doesn’t mind it back.”

Spencer manages to squeeze your hand. It’s a soft one, but it’s real. “I don’t mind.” 

“You dog,” Derek says. 

“Stop, stop. He’s not doing anything wrong, is he?” you ask. “I’m the evil one, forcing kisses on him when he doesn’t know me.” 

“I do know you,” Spencer says. 

“What’s it like to have a crush on your own girlfriend?” Derek asks, unwilling to quit his teasing where he’s crossing his arms in the chair opposite, his cup of coffee drained on the side table. 

Spencer swallows. “Uh, nerve-wracking.” 

“Believe it or not, that’s not so different to now,” Derek says. 

Spencer looks to you for confirmation, which you love. You slide your chair closer to him and clasp his wrist with your free hand. “Sometimes you're still a little shy, but it’s not so bad. Full of myself I may be, Spencer Reid, but you do love me. It’s easy with us.” 

“Do we really live together?” he asks. “You said common-law.” 

“Not technically. I stay at your place four nights a week. You stay with me for the weekends.” 

“Every week?” he asks.

“Yeah.” 

“We’re never apart?” he asks. 

His face is turning pink. You could kiss every bit of colour on his cheeks. 

“Derek, would you get Spencer something to eat from the cafeteria? Please?” you ask, levelling your friend with a pleading gaze. 

Derek gathers himself up. “Sure. We gotta feed the string bean something, don’t we?” he asks. 

Alone again, you draw lines up and down Spencer’s arm with your nails. You’re going to be indulgent in yourself, and ask him everything you’d ever wanted to know. And then a little extra, too. 

“You’re not as skinny anymore, have you noticed? You’re quite lean.” You stand to sit where you’d put yourself before he confessed. Your hand falls to his knee. “Solid, sometimes. You and Derek go for walks occasionally.” 

“We do?” 

“Mm-hm. And me and you do yoga in the living room when we can summon the energy. We tried couples Pilates, but Pilates is hard.” 

“We did?”

You smile warmly. “It’s nice to be in love with someone who loves in the same way.” 

“How do you love?” 

His ears are bitten-red. “Oh, you know. I’m too affectionate. It’s hard not to be with you. Everyone used to think we were… I don’t know, playing a game.” You slide your hand up his thigh, leaning on him to watch his pupils blow. “But I love you for far more than your constant propensity to blush. You get me flowers every time you see my favourites, and you never let me go to sleep without a kiss. Usually here.” You poke the skin beside your eye. “But sometimes you’ll surprise me and kiss my nose.” You're going lax with love, remembering things he’s done, and does every day.  “On a Saturday morning we make tea and I put my hands in your t-shirt. You do the crosswords for fun. Sometimes we time them.” 

“That’s not how you love, that’s what you love,” Spencer says. 

“Oh, you want a play by play of things?” He ducks his chin, but he smiles when you laugh. 

“I just can’t believe this is happening.”

You try to think of things you don’t think about anymore. “You love my sugar lip gloss, so I always wear it.” 

He reaches out tentatively. Shy as a wren in a hedgerow. You let him curl a hand over your elbow, feel the crook of it with his index finger. 

“I buy you stamps, and t-shirts for bed, and stupid stuff you wouldn’t get yourself. We’re… it’s like, it doesn’t feel like gift giving anymore because we’re always getting stuff for each other. You’re just as sweet, you know? When I first started sleeping over you bought me this huge pack of socks ‘cos yours are all odd,” you laugh. “I knew I loved you already, but…”

It’s a little sad, actually. He can’t remember all the stuff that makes you the couple you are. It’s not what you’d meant to get into. 

“Can I ask you something?” you ask. 

“Anything.” 

He’s slept-in and breathless, like he ran laps in his dreams. 

“What do you think of me now? I always wondered if you liked me back then, or if I just caught you off guard.” 

“Who wouldn’t like you?” 

“But did you?” 

He looks away hurriedly, his hand dropping from your elbow. “I guess so. But it’s not– not real. I have a crush on you.” His mumbling is sweet. “I have no idea why I’m telling you that.” 

“I had a crush on you, too, back then. It wasn’t anything serious, but it wasn’t a joke. And the more time we spent together, the more I thought we could fall in love,” —you take his hand and put it back on your arm— “and we did.” 

You toy with his fingers. Without looking, ashamed of your own self-indulgence, you ask another question. “What do you think of me now?” 

“I can’t remember,” he says sorrily. 

“What do you think?” 

“You feel like a dream.” He shakes his head. “You’re the most beautiful girl in the world. I don’t really get how this is real.” 

You shouldn’t be surprised that he’d say it, you practically begged for it, but you can’t stop yourself from sitting up to kiss his forehead gently. “It’s real. Promise. And for the record, you’re handsome. They stopped saying ‘aged like fine wine’ a while ago. Now they just say ‘aged like Spencer Reid’.”

He gives a choky laugh. 

The door opens again. You lift your head expecting Derek and find a weather worm Hotch in the doorway. “Reid, you’re awake,” he says, not bothering with a smile. “Morgan said you have amnesia?” He directs it at both of you. 

Spencer’s looking at Hotch in clear shock. 

“He hasn’t aged that badly,” you chastise teasingly. 

“Hotch, you’re– I thought you would’ve– You’re still–?”

Hotch squints. “You didn’t think I had the stamina for it?” 

Spencer squirms under his gaze. “No, sir, it’s not that–”

“Sir,” Hotch says, and then he smiles. “I forgot when you both used to respect me.” 

“I have the utmost respect for you, sir,” you say through your own smile. 

“Has she been kind to you, Reid?” 

“Uh, yes? Is she not usually?” 

Hotch presses his lips together rather than answer. There’s a sympathy in his expression you resent.

—

It’s a thankfully quick bout of amnesia. The memories start to draw in like a dusting of powdered sugar, his head finely silted, one particle at a time. He finds that the more you talk, the quicker his memory is jogged. You tell him about your first kiss —I tried to kiss your cheek but you moved, it was the funniest thing— and your second. You spin stories of cases, the worst ones and the best, all the times you held hands without people knowing, the times you’d been caught. He can’t imagine it, goes hot with the memory, picturing kissing you as you’d described and the mortification of being walked in on. 

You tell him about your vacation to Nevada a few months ago and he thinks about how you’d fallen asleep on the plane. Your nose in his arm, your unhappy sigh at the tight leg space. 

Remembering you is more than half of remembering himself.

Your hands —his hands. Your smile —his laugh. The way you fold his hands in your lap —the urge to catch your chin for a kiss. 

He doesn’t know how to deal with it, and then suddenly he feels like Spencer. Your partner, your love, his proudest title for years. You’re standing at the end of the hospital bed in pajamas folding your clothes, allowed to stay the night while he’s so urgently confused and upset, you can’t make him stay here alone, please, I know you guys have those little cots for the kids ward, and he just knows you completely. 

Hours of diligent if embezzled storytelling gives it all back to him. 

“I like the lipgloss because you used to wear that perfume that smelled like sugar donuts,” he says, scratching a hand through limp hair. “And every time I crossed the square by the station–”

You let out a surprising squeal of joy. “Spencer!” you say, racing to take his hands, “Yes! The donut truck!” 

You go in for a kiss he gladly returns. “Oh, you remember,” you say, softening as he takes your neck into his hand. “I was getting worried.” 

“Some of it’s still hazy, but not so much you.” 

You wrap your arms around him for a hug, careful of his sore head. “I missed you, Spencer. I still loved you when you couldn’t remember me, but I missed you. Do you remember you?” 

He traces the scar on your lower cheek with his thumb. He’s genuinely relieved to be able to say he does. He’s not scared of what you think of him anymore, ‘cos he knows that everything he feels for you is mutual. “I remember you telling me my bad feeling was just a case of the heebies.” 

You bend into his touch. “Honey, I’m sorry. How was I supposed to know you’d get your skull whacked with a cinder block? It was a bakery. I thought the worst that could happen was getting a face full of red velvet or something.” You kiss his nose quickly. “I’m so glad you’re you. Now I can sleep in the bed with you, and not that collapsible camping cot.” 

He shushes you. “Don’t give us away. They’re not gonna let you stay if they think I’m fine.” 

You giggle excitedly, arms around him again for another squeeze. “I missed you so much. You’re so devious now.” 

He rubs your back. “I missed you too. And I still have a crush on you, I swear.”

“Thank you, honey, that means a lot to me.” 

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚⋆

thanks for reading!

[fatherbrat]

ONE LAST TIME, R. SUNA

sum. two months into your relationship with your current boyfriend, your ex-fwb finally sends you a voicenote to let you know exactly how he feels about it.

feat. rintaro suna

cw. ex-fwb!suna, cheating, mutual masturbation (kinda lol), jealousy, dirty talk, anal mention, pillow humping, possessiveness, degradation

wc. 1.2k

When you posted your first official pictures of you and your new boyfriend, you had expected Suna to react…negatively. You basically braced for impact the moment you hit post, but all you got from him was an Instagram notification and two texts.

sunarin liked your post.

rin ;)

lmk if you want me to delete our pics.  and hmu when you two break up :p

You never bothered replying, initially not sure how to reply, and then forgetting about the texts entirely. The two of you barely have any contact for a few weeks after that, but he's obviously keeping up with your socials; liking every post and viewing every story. It doesn't bother you, but it's weird going cold turkey on your relationship like that. You had expected him to reach out for some sort of closure. You wanted him to. 

Halloween swings by in no time, and (much to you boyfriend’s dismay) you dress up as a sexy nurse. You don’t remember much of the night, but you do know that you posted a picture of you and your friends all dressed up on your story before getting blackout drunk. 

Your phone dies early on in the night. Your friends take good care of you up until it’s time to bring you back home, and you don’t wake up until the afternoon. You don’t check your phone until a couple hours after that—long after it's been turned on and charged to 100%. 

When you finally check it, two particular notifications catch your attention. 

sunarin liked your story. 

rin ;)

Voice Message

The voice message is 12 minutes long. 

You exit your texts immediately, opting to distract yourself by tending to your other notifications. It doesn’t help much. Your mind races, wondering what he was talking about for so long and if it was really so important that he reached out after almost four months of near-silence. 

You toss your phone onto your bed, shaking your head. You try to ignore it, cleaning the bathroom and folding the laundry and vacuuming the living room all in an effort to forget about the lengthy recording sitting in your phone. 

But it doesn’t take long for the curiosity gnawing at you to win. 

You practically run back to your bedroom, grabbing your phone and sitting cross-legged in the middle of the bed. Your fingers move quickly across the screen, hitting play without hesitation. 

The first 8 seconds are nearly silent, and you start to wonder if it’s possible that he sent such a long message by mistake.

But then you hear a heavy sigh.

“I like your costume.” His tone is hushed, like he’s telling you a secret. “You look hot.”

There’s another moment of silence, like he’s giving you a chance to change your mind and stop listening. 

But then Suna moans and your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. 

“You never answered my text, y’know. When I asked if you wanted me to delete our pictures. So, uh, I kept ‘em.”

Oh. 

Oh fuck.

“I’m looking at one right now. It’s from last Halloween. When you-“ His breath hitches. “When you went as a Playboy Bunny.”

You remember. Suna dressed as Hugh Hefner and the two of you went to a party together. Then he took you back to his apartment and fucked you while you were still wearing the bunny ears and bowtie. 

You’re pretty positive you’re not wearing the bodysuit in the picture he’s looking at. 

“I don’t know how much of this night you actually remember, but I can describe the picture for you.”

You tense, anticipation sending goosebumps up your arms. 

“You’re kneeling on the ground, looking up at the camera, and you’ve still got those bunny ears on your head.”

This voice message is going in the last direction you thought it would.  Is he—?

“You’ve got cum all over your face, baby.” He laughs to himself before continuing. “And you’re sticking your tongue out like a fucking whore.”

Suna takes a ragged breath, a sound you're all too familiar with. It confirms your suspicions—he’s definitely jerking off. 

“That was a good night. We had a lot of good nights.” He sounds miffed all of a sudden. “I seriously doubt the boyfriend is fucking you as good as I did.”

You suppress a shiver. A pang of guilt heats your chest at the mention of your boyfriend. You should stop listening. Delete the message. Tell him to delete the pictures and then probably block him. 

Or you could let the message keep playing. 

Suna inhales sharply, followed by a shaky moan. You swear you can hear the sound of his fist stroking his dick. 

“I hope you’re not letting him put it in your ass like you let me. That’s our thing, okay?”

Under different circumstances you would have laughed. 

“Fuck,” he hisses. “And I hope you’re not letting him spit in your fucking mouth. Or–shit–doing that thing where you’d suck me off with your head hanging upside down off the bed.” He falters at the end of the sentence, groaning into the phone.

“I’m not gonna–” he interrupts himself, sighing deeply. “I’m not gonna pretend I’ve been happy for you. I miss you.”

You feel hot all over, a heady combination of annoyance and arousal and embarrassment. There’s a dull throbbing between your legs and in the back of your mind you wonder if this is what Suna wanted when he sent the message. 

“Just–just let me fuck you one more time. Okay princess? I’ll make it sooo good for you,” he whines. You can hear his hand picking up speed.

“It’s still early. Two months is nothing, it won’t even count as cheating.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “God, just one last time. Please?”

Without thinking, you grab a pillow and position yourself over it in a straddle. You won’t let him fuck you, but that doesn’t mean he can’t make you come one last time.

“I promise I’ll do that thing you like with my tongue. And you can pick all the positions if you want to.” There’s a tremble in his voice. “Or just lay there. I’ll do all the work.”

You grind into the pillow beneath you, picturing the expression you know he’d be wearing if he were in front of you–batting those dark eyelashes with raised eyebrows, just barely able to control the smug curve of his lips.

Heat pools in your gut and a whimper falls from your lips. Suna keeps talking.

“I know you miss me. You have to. You’re probably touching yourself to this right now.” 

You gasp softly and rock your hips faster.

“Such a fucking slut.” You hear the telltale quiver in his voice that tells you he’s getting close. “My fucking slut.”

You moan, his words giving you flashbacks.

“Oh fuck. Fuck, I’m coming,” he rasps, before letting off a series of moans and whimpers that almost make you concede. You grind harder into the pillow beneath you, imagining Suna in his room, chest heaving, talking into the phone and making himself come to pictures of you. 

That does it. A tsunami of pleasure washes over you, forcing your body to tense before you go limp, collapsing onto your bed with a shudder.

You and Suna breathe in tandem, both of you catching your breath. 

You hear another laugh through the phone. “Damn, that was a lot.” There’s the sound of sheets rustling. “Kinda made a mess, princess.”

He’s silent for another few beats before clearing his throat. “Text me, okay?” he says quietly. “Please.”

The voice message ends.

part two

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ no one has to know what we do ]❜

ft. cho sang-woo x f! reader — squid game

╰₊✧ you lay in bed with your dad’s best friend after a night of passion┊1.3k words

contains: slight smut!! dom sang-woo & sub reader┊age gap (reader is early 20s & sang-woo’s early 40s), (adopted) dad’s best friend trope, purposeful seduction, one-night stands, unprotected piv (don’t do anything the reader does, this is fiction & unrealistic, stay safe), creampie, biting, smoking, 

➤ author's note: i was thinking about this man all night, i’m not kidding, i’m doing it again tongiht too because he’s so fine idc if he’s evil, i wanna fuck him not fix him

it’s nearly four in the morning on another cold winter’s night with nothing but a yellow-tinted bedside lamp illuminating the room, completely silent aside from the rustling of the blanket from your movement. you sigh softly and nestle closer to the man lying flat on his back for more of the addicting warmth radiating off his body, your face nuzzling into the crook of his shoulder and your legs entangling with his. he doesn’t pull away like you expected him to, just takes another drag on his cigarette and ignores you for the most part with the weight of the past few hours— the weight of the sins he committed tonight— pressing into his mind.

you, on the other hand, were all soft smiles and feeling content as if you just crossed off an accomplishment on the top of your bucket list. for a situation that could ruin both of your lives if discovered, it certainly feels blissful and freeing to finally fuck the man you’ve been dreaming about almost religiously ever since you came back home from university for the holidays a week ago. you have no idea how you’ve never met him until now when you’ve heard so much about him, but perhaps it was better that way when your thoughts were less than innocent. 

despite being middle-aged, he was still very handsome with intelligent albeit weary eyes which seemed to hide some sort of darkness to them. you found yourself studying him from afar, noticing him not wearing a wedding ring and making no mention of a family other than his mother, so you quickly made up your mind that you were going to fuck him before going back to school. it’s not like you had anything better to do anyway.

it actually didn’t take much to seduce him surprisingly: accidental eye contact filled with longing, lingering touches when you handed him his chilled cheap beer, careful actions and words to play up your sex appeal— it reminded you that most men are the same even if the stoic cho sang-woo was older and prided himself in his cunning mind, starved for affection with wandering eyes that frequently followed beneath the hem of your skirt. he looked at you behind his glasses with distrust and tried to act indifferent towards you in front of gi-hun, probably already suspicious about your intentions, but you could already see him drinking up your appearance in your cute little outfit as he downed another bottle. this little game was one you knew well and you always won in the end, there has yet to be anyone you wanted who couldn’t resist you and he certainly wasn’t going to be the first.

he stayed the night in the guest bedroom because it was already dark out, your former room which was converted after you moved out (sometimes it was rented out for extra cash), and at the strike of midnight, you knocked on the door and presented yourself to him seeking his comfort for an unspecified reason with slightly teary doe eyes. it was clear that you didn’t disturb him from his slumber and that he was already awake, visibly restless, and maybe even stressed. it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what was bothering him so much. he was hesitant to let you in at first, as any good man would, but his resolve crumbled after seeing how beautiful you looked in the dim light (not like it wasn’t already a breeze away from collapsing after the alcohol). it’s surprising what a little silk nightgown can do with the thin straps threatening to slip off your shoulders, the short hem revealing your soft thighs, your perk nipples straining through the thin fabric, and how small and vulnerable you looked shivering in your lack of clothes.

“you shouldn’t be here at this time.”

“are you going to turn me away?”

still, even if it all went according to plan, he’s not in love with you. you don’t think he is anyway. you don’t expect him to be. would you like him to be in love with you? it might put the aching loneliness at ease even if it won’t make it disappear entirely. he’s a man old enough to be your father after all, he’s a man who grew up with your father and considered him to be a close friend. is this how you thank your father for taking you in and sharing what little he had with you? by seducing and sleeping with his best friend? 

in all honestly, though, he certainly fucked like he was in love with you— like you two were the last two souls on this earth. he was a lot more pent up than you anticipated, or a lot more lonely, trusting into you so deeply one would think he was trying to reach your empty heart as you clawed at his back leaving red rivers of scratched skin. you barely even needed any prep for his size with how soaked you were, evident with a wet patch on your underwear which he teased before throwing it to be forgotten on the floor along with all your other clothes. 

it was difficult to keep the sinful sounds of sex to a minimum, skin against skin with moans slipping from your mouth and groans from his. he had to resort to covering your mouth with his large palm to shut you up and bit into your collarbone leaving his mark on you, finally finishing inside of you in his haze before using his fingers to help you reach your orgasm and embarrassing you for once by staring intently at how the mix of your arousals dripped all over his hand.

“when are you leaving for university?”

“why, are you going to miss me when i’m gone?”

“we shouldn’t be doing this.”

“no one has to know what we do,” you giggled, placing a kiss against the corner of his mouth and inhaling the smoke. “i’m old enough to keep a secret.”

those last words made him pause for a second. this was immoral and forbidden. if seong gi-hun were ever to find out, their relationship would be ruined forever and you would be disowned, and he could only imagine the look of betrayal on his face. yet you didn’t seem to care in the least bit about what he would think, gingerly rubbing your thighs together at the feeling of him leaking out of you and touching the area where he bit you. it drew his attention, finally turning to you and admiring the mark sunken into your skin, looking almost proud of it like art on a clean canvas. 

“i don’t want you sleeping with some other stupid boys when you go back.”

“hm, only if you promise that this won’t be the last time and that you also don’t fuck anyone else while i’m gone.”

“you know, i can’t promise that. we were lucky to not get caught this time, but who’s to say there will be a next time?”

“well, then i’ll go back to university and have sex with whoever i want, then you can do the same—”

“oh, shut up,” he scolded, pinching your cheeks to pull you towards him and kissing you possessively as if he could consume you whole by it. you were glad to reciprocate, allowing him to climb back on top of you while your arms wrapped around his neck. “fine, as long as you keep your word.”

he said it like he didn’t really want to continue this, like he was conceding to your demands and was merely tolerating you with better things to do, but the thinly veiled desperate need in his words and actions was clearer than glass to you. not that you minded, it was all working out just how you wanted it to.

[bi-writes]

how would simon react if his mail order bride got really really sick?

mail-order bride

the phone is ringing.

he's on leave, so normally he would never even touch the thing. but there are only two ringtones he has to answer to, and this one isn't price.

he picks it up, putting it to his ear. he wipes the sweat off his brow, letting out a sigh as he steps back under the shade. the sun is out today, of course choosing to beat down on him the one day he finally decided to build you better planters for your little garden.

you've taken to it quite nicely. you love being out here, tending to the little roots and the tiny leaves that have started to sprout. he thinks you look so cute when you're out here, on your knees. you always tie a scarf around your hair and wear these sage green gloves, and he thinks you look so fucking adorable when you come back inside with dirt along your brow and a sweet little smile on your face. you always give him an update. the carrots are so stubborn, you huff, and he tries to hide his grin as you bring out your little gardening journal and scribble in it all frustrated. look, simon! the tomatoes! look! look!--and he practically keens when you grab his hand to bring him outside so he can see.

but it's gotten too small. you've outgrown the little boxes of dirt, and simon knows you're itching to do more. the planter is only half done, so he's a little peeved to be interrupted while he's just starting to get it together.

"wot is it, luv, i'm--"

"s-simon?" your voice is a soft whimper, and you're sniffling on the other line. simon stands up straighter, dropping his tools immediately as he wipes his hands on his jeans and starts to go inside.

"oi. wot happened?"

"s-simon, i-i don't feel so good, c-could you come get me?"

simon lets out a low breath, shaking his head.

"fuckin' hell, luv," he mutters, grabbing his keys and wallet by the door. "still at the library?" you had asked him to drop you off in town, wanting to visit a few of the shops along the main road. your eyes had bugged when you saw the quaint little library and pastry shop, and he agreed to come back later after your little excursion.

"y-yeah, i-i..." you cough a little. "i-i got...i got sick. in the bathroom, i-i--"

"'s olright," he quiets you. "'m comin'. gimme a few minutes."

simon finds you in the family restroom of the little library, seated on the floor and hugging the toilet. he curses under his breath when he finds you, tears blurring your vision as you cry. you didn't sound so bad on the phone, but maybe you were just holding it together until you got yourself some help.

"ohhhh, swee'eart," he sighs, pushing the hood of his jacket off as he kneels down to your level. he wipes the sweat off your forehead with a gloved hand, cupping you under your jaw. "you olright?"

"no," you sob, gasping a little between tears. "i feel terrible, s-simon, i--"

"olright," he coos. "'m 'ere now. let's get ya 'ome. get ya into bed, tha' sound good?"

you nod. you look sickly, eyes dull, a cold sweat breaking out all over you. he suspects it might be the flu, considering the body aches you seem to have and the headache you tell him about as he helps you into the car. he gives you some water, stroking your face gently, and when you tell him how cold you are, he shucks his jacket off and drapes it over you before taking you back home.

you're in and out of consciousness over the next few hours. simon had helped you into your pajamas before tucking you into bed. he watched you with a glare to make sure you took the medicine he gave you, and he made you drink at least four glasses of water before he let you drift off to sleep.

when you wake up later in the evening, the cat is purring on her little bed hanging on the windowsill. simon had installed it a few weeks ago, a little perch bed so she could look outside and watch the little bunnies that came by in the morning. it's dark out now, and when you look around, simon has turned your little diffuser on, and it smells like lemons.

"s-simon?" you croak. your throat hurts. you hear a shuffle in the kitchen, and then simon is coming into the room. he doesn't turn the main light on, merely coming close and flicking the low lamp on beside you.

"'ow are ya feelin'?" he asks softly. your eyes are watery again, and he sighs, putting the back of his hand to your forehead and grimacing. "not as warm, at least. what do ya need, hmm?"

"my throat," you whisper. "i-it hurts--"

"i'll bring ya a cuppa, baby," simon murmurs. you sniffle, leaning into his hand. "do ya want somethin' ta eat? anythin'? got some bread...some soup if y'r up for it."

your lip wobbles, and he shakes his head, kissing your forehead gently.

"i'll bring ya some bread. if ya can keep it down, we'll try the soup, yeah?"

you just nod and shrug, and he picks up the box of tissues on the dresser and takes one out. he comes back to you, holding your cheek gently with one hand and wiping your tears with the other. he dabs at the sweat gently before he lets you relax again.

"i'll be right back."

you close your eyes when he leaves. you vaguely hear him in the kitchen, the sound of cookware and the whine of the kettle on the stove. simon comes back into the bedroom a little while later, holding a small plate and a steaming mug of tea. he sets down the tea, telling you it's something lemon with honey, and he shows you the thin slice of bread he's toasted with a little butter.

he sits with you while you eat small bites, and he helps you drink the warm tea that immediately soothes your insides. you start to cry again, but not from feeling so terrible.

"wot's wrong?" simon huffs, and you just look up at him, clinging to his shirt, pulling him onto the bed.

"t-thank you," you whisper, and simon just shakes his head.

"wot for?"

"f-for taking care of me. f-for c-coming to get me...for..."

simon meets your eyes, holding them, and he narrows his eyes.

"don't thank me," he says firmly. "wot fuckin' kind o' man would i be if i didn't take care of my wife, eh? sorry fuckin' wanker, is wot i'd be."

"b-but--"

"and when y'r better," he interrupts you, standing as he takes your plate, "got everythin' set up for ya outside. can move the lettuce, like ya wanted."

you sink into the cushions, happy tears in your eyes, and simon leaves, busying himself with the dishes as he tries to fight off the warm, aching feeling in his chest.

fuck, it feels so good to take care of you. to see you smile. to see your wobbly lip and those tear-filled eyes and know that he can make it all better--it feels so fucking good.

when he comes to bed later that night, you're still asleep, but you move towards him, seeking his warmth. it's instinctual now, easy.

there's a place at his side that's made only for you. it's shaped just how you are, it cannot be mistaken to be for anyone else.

when he whispers that he loves you into the dark, you don't hear him. but you scoot just that much closer.