#DECEMBER HOLIDAY WHEN I CATCH YOU-

[jaquelanterns]

ELLY…

[lupinqs]

SANTA BABY ━━ wnba!paige bueckers x reader

𝜗𝜚 ━ summary: during your christmas trip to NYC, you have a surprise waiting for paige back at the hotel.

𝜗𝜚 ━ word count: 4.9K

𝜗𝜚 ━ warnings: sexual content (munch p, scissoring)

𝜗𝜚 ━ links: my masterlist

𝜗𝜚 ━ author’s note: my christmas eve gift to y’all …. it was almost taken away tho because of that usc game ask the gc man i was crashing out

THE CITY is buzzing even at this hour, cold wind cutting through the streets as Paige makes her way back to the hotel. She tugs her coat tighter around herself, her hands jammed into her pockets to ward off the sting of the December chill. New York City is magical this time of year, but it’s also freezing, and she can’t wait to get back to the suite, where it’s warm—and more importantly, where you are.

This trip has been a mix of business and pleasure. She had a couple of sponsorship obligations to knock out and a media appearance scheduled for tomorrow, but mostly, it’s just an excuse to spend a few uninterrupted days with you. Both of your schedules have been so hectic lately—hers with the grind of off-season and the stress of Unrivaled about to start, and yours with work—and carving out this time feels like a luxury. It’s the last weekend before Christmas, and since you’re both gonna be spending the holiday with your families together, this is your time to celebrate just the two of you.

Paige hurries into the hotel, rubbing her hands together as she steps into the elevator. She flexes her fingers, still stiff from gripping a basketball for hours during her workout with Stewie and Sabrina. She promised you that she wouldn’t let it run late, and, as she glances at her phone to see the time, she’s satisfied that she fulfilled it.

Her sneakers hit the polished floor with soft thuds as she unlocks the door to the suite. The space is lavish, the kind of indulgence she spent because one, it’s the holidays, and two, she wanted this weekend to be perfect for the two of you. The warmth of the suite embraces her immediately, the city’s chill feeling miles away here. She shrugs off her coat, tossing it over the couch, and kicks off her sneakers.

“Baby, I’m back!” she calls, her voice echoing faintly in the spacious suite. When she came in, she assumed that you’d be in the living room, curled up on the couch with a blanket and whatever Netflix show you’ve been binge-watching. But the living room is empty, the TV off.

Her brows furrow as she looks around, scanning for signs of you. ���You in the bedroom?” she calls out, though there’s still no answer. Her pulse picks up, not in worry, but in curiosity. She hums, wondering where you’re hiding.

The hallway feels quiet as she moves down it, pushing open the door to the bedroom. The sight that greets her makes her stop dead in her tracks, feet planted in the doorway.

The lights are dim, the warm glow casting a soft, golden hue across the room. A bottle of wine sits on the nightstand, one glass already poured and in your hand. But it’s you that holds her attention, that makes her brain short-circuit entirely.

You’re sprawled out on the bed, leaning back against the pillows with a smirk that could stop traffic. And you’re wearing—Paige feels her throat go dry—this tiny, ridiculously sexy Christmas lingerie set. The red satin clings to you in all the right places, barely covering what it’s meant to, and the white fur trim is so playful, so sinful, she doesn’t know whether to laugh or groan. The ribbon on the front of your bra is tied in a neat little bow, teasingly undone just enough to look like you’d barely bothered. The matching panties sit high on your hips, connected to sheer thigh-high stockings by the tiniest garters she’s ever seen.

She doesn’t even realize she’s standing completely still until you grin at her, your voice playful and sweet as you say, “Hi, baby.”

Paige blinks, her brain struggling to catch up as she stares at you. Her heart is pounding, adrenaline giving way to something much more visceral. The way you’re looking at her, the way the light catches the curve of your body—it’s like she’s seeing you for the first time all over again. She lets out a low, shaky breath, her hand running through her hair as her eyes continue to rove over your figure. Her stomach constricts, her whole body coiled so tight she’s not sure if she wants to drop to her knees or throw herself at you. Maybe both.

“Fuck, ma,” she finally manages, her voice low and husky as she steps forward. Her hands flex instinctively, wanting to touch you, needing to touch you. “You tryna kill me?”

You giggle, the sound light and sweet, but the glint in your eyes is anything but innocent. “No,” you say, tilting your head slightly as you take a slow sip from your wine glass. Your smirk widens, and Paige swears her knees almost buckle.

She exhales sharply, inching closer to the bed. “You look…” Her voice trails off, her gaze roaming over you like she’s trying to memorize every inch of your body. “Jesus, baby, you look insane.”

You’re still grinning as she reaches the edge of the bed, her hands resting on the mattress as she leans down slightly, bringing her face level with yours. Her pulse races, her body buzzing with anticipation as her eyes lock with yours. “You did this for me?” she asks softly, though she already knows the answer.

“Who else?” you ask, grinning, your voice a teasing lilt that makes Paige’s chest tighten. You set your wine glass down on the nightstand, your eyes never leaving hers.

Paige is already leaning forward, her hands sliding to your thighs, the warmth of your skin and the delicate fabric of your lingerie making her head spin. “You’re gon’ be the death of me,” she murmurs, shaking her head a little as her lips brush against yours lightly, hands tightening on your legs. And God, if this is how she goes, she’ll thank you for it.

Her lips finally lock onto yours, slow at first, like she’s savoring the moment. The kiss is soft, tender, but there’s an edge to it—like she’s holding herself back, barely. Her hands tighten on your thighs, sliding higher, the heat of your skin burning through the thin satin, and she swears she feels you shiver beneath her touch.

You kiss her back, your arms looping around her neck to pull her closer, and that’s all the invitation Paige needs. She shifts, climbing onto the bed, her knees sinking into the mattress as she presses herself against you. The warmth of your body sends a rush of heat through her, and she deepens the kiss, her tongue brushing against yours as she loses herself in the taste of you.

“You’re fuckin’ unreal,” she murmurs against your mouth, her voice barely above a whisper but heavy with meaning. Her lips leave yours only to trail down your jaw, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your neck.

Her hands roam as her mouth works. One slides up to cup the back of your neck, her thumb brushing over your jaw to tilt your head just the way she likes. The other settles firmly on your hip, her grip strong enough to keep you exactly where she wants you, though her fingers twitch like she’s desperate to touch you everywhere at once.

The scent of you—the faint lotion you always wear, mixed with the wine you’ve been drinking—fills her senses, and Paige feels drunk on it, drunk on you. Her lips find the sensitive spot just below your ear, and when she hears the soft, breathy sound you make in response, it sends a jolt of electricity straight through her.

“Damn,” she mutters, her teeth grazing your skin lightly before she soothes the spot with her tongue.

Your hands tug at the hem of her long-sleeve shirt, and she sits back just enough to let you pull it over her head. You toss it somewhere behind her, leaving her in her sports bra. Her abs flex slightly in the cool air, but the way your eyes roam over her makes her feel anything but cold. She watches you, her chest heaving, her pupils blown wide as you reach out to touch her, your hands sliding over her shoulders and down her torso, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

And then she’s diving back in, her kisses lower now, lips finding the delicate line of your collarbone, pressing open-mouthed kisses there like she’s starving for you—which, she is. Her tongue darts out to taste your skin, her teeth scraping against you enough to leave you shivering. She feels your fingers tangle in her hair, undoing her ponytail as you pull her closer. Her breath quickens slightly, chest heaving with just how much she wants you.

Her fingers find the ribbon on your bra, tugging at it gently as her lips brush over the swell of your cleavage. “This,” she mutters, her voice muffled against your skin, “is fucking killin’ me.” She pulls back just enough to look at you, her thumb brushing over the satin. “You tied it so pretty for me, huh? Knowing I’d lose my damn mind?”

You laugh softly, breathily, fingers tangling further in her hair. “Maybe.”

“Slut,” Paige mutters, grinning as she tugs the bow loose with one sharp pull, letting the fabric fall open, your perky tits popping out of it. Her breath catches as she sees you fully now, blue eyes darkening with something heavy, something primal.

“Goddamn, mama,” she breathes, her hands sliding along your sides, thumbs brushing over your ribs. She leans down again, her lips brushing against the curve of your breast. “You’re so beautiful, so sexy, so perfect, baby. It ain’t even fair.”

And then her mouth closes around your nipple, her tongue swirling over the sensitive skin as she sucks gently, and the sound you make in response sends a jolt straight through her. She groans softly, her free hand sliding up to cup your other breast. She alternates between kisses and soft bites, her lips tugging gently at your nipple before soothing the spot with her tongue. Her breath is hot against your skin, and she presses closer, hips grinding against yours just a little as her mouth moves.

“Such perfect tits,” she murmurs against your cleavage, her teeth grazing you again as she switches to your other breast.

She licks a slow, careful path across your skin, savoring every inch of you as she begins to lower once more. Her mouth leaves a wet trail down your stomach, her tongue occasionally flicking out to taste the faint salt on your skin. Her hands slide down from your chest, settling on your waist. She grips the skin hard, pinching slightly. Her lips brush over the curve of your belly, then down to the soft plane just above your hips, like she’s mapping every part of you with her tongue.

She pauses for a moment, just long enough to lift her head and admire the way the red lace hugs your skin. The fabric is delicate, so inviting, it’s like it was made to drive her insane. The sheer material leaves almost nothing to her imagination, and the sight of it—of you and your perfect pussy—sends a rush of wetness to her own core.

She just shakes her head a little, as if in disbelief, before lowering again, her lips grazing the edge of the lace as her fingers grip your hips tighter. She can feel the heat radiating from you, the way your body tenses slightly beneath her, the way you say her name, and it makes her head spin.

Her tongue flicks out, tracing the edge of the fabric, teasing. She presses a kiss just below your navel, then another, breath warm. “You got any idea what you’re doin’ to me, baby?” she asks slowly.

You don’t even get the opportunity to answer before her teeth catch the edge of your panties lightly, tugging just enough to make you gasp. And then she lets it snap back into place with a soft, playful grin. She glances up at you, eyes dark and blazing, blonde hair falling into her face as she leans closer again. The way you look back at her—pupils wide, lips parted, cheeks flushed—spurs her on.

Her lips hover just above the lace, and she kisses you there, slow and careful, her mouth pressing over the thin barrier like she can’t stand not to be closer. “So pretty,” she murmurs against you, her fingers brushing over the lace now, testing the material as her tongue flicks out once more, tasting you even through the fabric.

Her big hands slide from your waist to your thighs, spreading them just enough to give her room to work. Her teeth catch the edge of the waistband, tugging gently, and she groans low in her throat as the fabric gives way slightly under her pull.

“Fuck,” Paige mutters, and it’s muffled as she grips the lace between her teeth. She pauses just long enough for you to whimper, “Paige,” before she tugs again, this time pulling the panties down your hips with deliberate slowness.

She moves inch by inch, her teeth grading the lace lower, and she’s completely transfixed. The garters make her work for it, the straps pulling taut against the tension, but she doesn’t mind—if anything, it drives her wilder. Her lips slide along your skin as she works, kissing the sensitive spots where the panties leave a faint imprint.

As she reaches your thighs, Paige shifts, letting the fabric slide past her lips and catching it with her fingers instead. She tugs it the rest of the way down with her teeth again, dragging it along the curve of your legs, her mouth brushing your inner thighs as she goes.

When the panties finally slip off completely, Paige lets them drop from her teeth to the floor, her breath shallow as she grips your thighs, holding them apart. Her eyes rake over every inch of you—the way your face has gone bright pink in a flush, the way your tits peek from the opened lingerie top, the way your cunt is absolutely glistening for her.

She licks her lips slowly, the corner of her mouth curving into a smirk as her gaze flicks back up to your face. “Shit, mama,” she says lowly. “Look at you. Fuckin’ dripping for me.”

Paige doesn’t waste any more time. She slides down on her elbows, lowering herself between your legs, her mouth attaching to your clit with an intensity that makes you cry out. She sucks and licks with fervor, her tongue working you over with a skill that leaves both of your lungs aching, Paige’s face buried so deep in your folds she has to fight for air. The sensation is overwhelming, a delicious mix of pleasure and desperation that has you writhing beneath her, hips bucking.

“Babe… mmm, shit,” you whimper, voice trembling as you reach down to grasp at the sheets, knuckles white with the effort to hold on. You can barely keep your eyes open, pleasure so intense it’s nearly blinding. “Please, fuck, don’t stop.”

Paige has no intentions of stopping. She moans softly against your pussy, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. Her hands grip your thighs, holding you in place firmly as she devours you like a woman starved. Her tongue moves expertly, flicking and swirling across your clit before laying it flat, shaking her head from side to side messily, driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck, ma, you taste so good,” Paige groans, pulling away just long enough to let a glob of her spit land on your cunt. She leans back in, lapping it up, eyes rolling into the back of her head. “Could eat you out all night, baby…”

Your back arches off the bed at Paige’s words, causing the lingerie top to slide down your shoulders a little more. Your hips buck involuntarily as you chase the pleasure Paige gives you, one of your hands coming up to knead your own tit, mouth dropping open at the way Paige’s tongue slides along your wetness effortlessly. You’re desperate, every nerve ending in your body tingling with need. “Paige, baby, ‘M so close,” you choke out.

Paige only intensifies her efforts, her tongue flicking against your clit faster, her mouth working you over with an urgency that has you teetering on the edge. She’s relentless, giving you exactly what you need, pushing you closer and closer until you’re trembling, your thighs quivering around her head.

Just when you think you can’t take anymore, Paige pulls back slightly, her mouth leaving your clit. You let out a desperate whine at the loss, body screaming for more, but Paige is already moving. She slides two fingers inside you without warning, thrusting them in deep, hard, and fast. The sudden intrusion makes you gasp, hands flying to Paige’s shoulders as you cling to her, body trembling with the force of Paige’s thrusts.

“Mmm, mama,” the blonde breathes out lowly as she pumps her fingers into your cunt with a brutal pace, the slick sound of her digits moving in and out echoing in the otherwise quiet hotel room. “So fucking tight, so wet for me. Shit, baby.”

She glances up, gaze on you as your head falls back against the pillows, your eyes squeezing shut as you let out a strangled moan, hips moving to meet Paige’s thrusts. She feels a rush of wetness flood her own boxers and picks up the pace even more, the pleasure becoming overwhelming for you, a white-hot fire that consumes you from the inside you. “Paige, oh my God… holy shit…”

Paige leans in close, biting lightly at your inner thigh as she whispers, “Think you can take three, baby?”

She watches as your eyes fly open at the question, brows furrowing as you nod frantically. “Yes. Yeah, do it,” you force out breathlessly. “Please, P.”

Paige smirks at your reaction, but doesn’t need to be told twice. She pulls her fingers out briefly, adding a third finger before thrusting back inside, her movements deliberate and rough, stretching you out. Your hips buck up to meet Paige hand, chasing the pleasure. Paige scissors her fingers inside you, making you choke a little on your own whimper, nails digging into her skin, gripping the strap of her sports bra.

“Such a—God, you’re such a fuckin’ slut,” Paige groans, eyes locked onto your face, watching every single expression of pleasure that crosses your features. “Wearing that lingerie, knowing I’d lose my goddamn mind. Shit.”

Your entire body is one fire, senses overwhelmed by the combination of the relentless pace of Paige’s thrusts and the dirtiness that coats her words. You can feel every inch of Paige’s fingers inside you, can feel the way they stretch you, the way they hit that perfect spongy spot deep inside that makes you see stars. “Baby, you’re gonna make me cum. God, I’m—” You cut yourself off with a loud moan.

Paige leans forward, her mouth finding your clit again, tongue swirling slick circles over the sensitive nub as she continues to thrust her long fingers in and out, faster and harder, pushing you to the brink. “Shit, ma, do it,” she urges roughly, humming against you as she laps at your pussy. “Cum for me. Cum all fucking over me, mama.”

That’s all you need to hear. With a strangled cry, your entire body tenses, back arching off the bed as you come hard, walls clenching around Paige’s fingers, gushing against her face. The pleasure is blinding, overwhelming, and you can’t do anything but ride it out, body trembling uncontrollably as wave after wave of ecstasy crashes over you.

Paige keeps thrusting her fingers, lapping at your wetness lazily, riding out your orgasm with you. She prolongs the pleasure until you’re nothing but a quivering, panting mess beneath her. When your body finally goes limp, Paige slowly withdraws her fingers, leaning down to press a kiss to your trembling thighs.

And then she starts crawling back up your body, her lips trailing over the lingering marks she’d left along her descent. Your eyes meet, a shared intensity overtaking the laziness you were just feeling, Paige’s lips finding you’re once more in a searing, desperate kiss. It’s messy and heated, tongues tangling, hands grasping and pulling at each other. You can taste yourself on Paige’s lips and it only makes you kiss her harder.

You let Paige flip your positions with her strength, your thighs now straddling Paige’s waist. She groans a little against your mouth as her hands find your bare ass, fingers digging into the skin and kneading it, your bodies pressing together.

“Ma,” Paige breathes out when you pull away slightly, sliding her sports bra up and over her head. Her hands reach down for her sweatpants and you help her yank them—and her boxers beneath—down in one swift motion. Paige’s hips lift off the bed, and the two of you finally rid of the barrier. You toss the clothing aside without a second thought.

Paige’s lips curl into a smirk as her eyes lock with yours again, pulling you closer with her hands on your ass, bodies flush against each other. “C’mon,” she murmurs thickly.

Your breath hitches at the feel of Paige’s hands on your hips, guiding you to align your cunts together. The sensation is sinful, and you can’t suppress the moan that escapes your lips as you feel the heat and slickness of Paige’s wetness against your own.

“That’s it, mama,” the blonde encourages, sending a shiver down your spine. “Ride me, grind on me. Lemme feel you.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You start moving your hips in slow, careful circles, your slick pussy sliding against Paige’s with every movement. The sensation is overwhelming, and your head falls back as you let yourself get lost in the pleasure, hands gripping Paige’s shoulders for support.

Paige’s eyes are glued to you, tracking every move, every expression. She’s mesmerized by the way your face contorts with pleasure, your mouth falling open slightly as your hips move with increasing urgency. Paige’s hands tighten on your hips, helping to guide your movements, pushing you down harder against her own aching cunt.

“Shit,” Paige groans, blue eyes flitting between your flushed face, the way your tits bounce slightly with every thrust of your hips, and where your pussy grinds against hers. “You look so fuckin’ hot riding me like this.”

You whimper at Paige’s words, pace quickening as the heat between you builds to an almost unbearable level. The friction of your clits rubbing together is enough to make you lose control, unable to hold back the desperate sounds that escape your lips.

“You like that, baby?” Paige rasps, voice dripping with lust as she watches you lose yourself in the pleasure. “You like grinding that pretty pussy against me, yeah?”

Your only response is a choked moan, body trembling as you lean forward, hands sliding up to grip the headboard for support. The new angle allows you to press down even harder against Paige, and it sends shockwaves through both of your bodies.

Paige’s eyes roll back in her head at the increased pressure, her own hips bucking up to meet the roll of yours. She’s completely entranced by the sight of you riding her, chest heaving as she helps you, gripping your ass and pulling you quicker against her.

“Feels so fucking good,” she groans roughly.

You whimper at her words, body moving faster, more desperate, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter. You’re both so close, bodies trembling with the effort to keep going, to chase the high that you both desperately need.

“Paige,” you gasp, breathless and needy. “I’m almost there.”

Paige’s grip on your ass tightens, fingers digging into your flesh as she urges you on. “That’s it,” she encourages, your folds so slick against hers. “Cum for me again. Need it right fuckin’ now.”

You cry out, your entire body tensing as you reach your peak, hips grinding down hard against Paige as you finish with a shuddering moan. The pleasure washes over you in waves, leaving you trembling and breathless as you ride out your orgasm.

Paige isn’t far behind, the sight of you coming undone above her enough to push her over the edge. Her own orgasm hits her hard, her hips jerking up as she lets out a low, guttural moan, her fingers digging into your ass and hips as she rides it out.

You collapse onto her, your body melting into hers, every muscle in you soft and spent. Her skin is warm beneath yours, slick with the same thin sheen of sweat that glistens on your back. Paige’s chest rises and falls erratically under your cheek, her breath heavy and labored, matching your own. The steady rhythm of her heartbeat pounds faintly against your ear, grounding you.

Her arms come around you almost instinctively, wrapping you in a hold that’s firm yet gentle, one hand splayed across your lower back, the other lazily circling between your shoulder blades. Her fingers drag lightly over your skin, soothing and possessive at once, as though she’s trying to memorize every inch of you. She shifts slightly beneath you, her body fitting against yours with an intimacy that feels effortless, as though this is where you’re meant to be.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The room is quiet except for the faint hum of the city outside and the soft, uneven breaths you’re both still trying to catch. Paige’s head tilts back against the pillows, her eyes fluttering shut as she lets the tension drain from her body, your weight on top of her a comfort she never realized she needed so much.

And then, with a low, raspy chuckle that vibrates through her chest, Paige breaks the silence. “Damn.”

The single word, said with so much raw awe and disbelief, makes you laugh. The sound is quiet, breathy, but it shakes through you, your shoulders trembling lightly against her. Paige feels the warmth of your laugh against her neck, and a lazy smile spreads across her face, her lips curving up in a way that makes her look soft, completely undone.

Her hand moves from your back, trailing slowly upward, the tips of her fingers grazing your spine before they find your jaw. She cradles it gently, guiding your face upward so your eyes meet hers. There’s something so special in the way she looks at you—like you’re the only thing that exists in her world right now. Her thumb brushes over your cheek, and then she’s leaning in, her lips finding yours in a kiss that’s slow and lingering, deep and unhurried.

She hums softly into it, the sound vibrating against your mouth, and when she pulls back just enough to speak, her voice is low and rough. “Did so perfect for me,” she murmurs, her eyes scanning your face as if committing it to memory.

Your lips curve into a small, sleepy smile, and you let your head rest against her shoulder once more. “I love you,” you whisper, your voice soft but sure.

Paige’s arms tighten around you in response, her fingers brushing lightly over the curve of your shoulder. She doesn’t say it back immediately, but the way she holds you—the way her lips press a gentle kiss to your temple—says it louder than words ever could.

The two of you stay like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, the weight of the moment settling around you like a warm, comforting blanket. Paige’s breathing steadies, her chest rising and falling beneath you in a rhythm that feels calming, almost hypnotic. When she finally moves, it’s only to reach for the nightstand, her fingers curling around the bottle of wine that’s been sitting there, untouched until now.

She pours herself a glass first, then grabs yours, her hand steady as she offers it. “Here,” she says softly, her voice still husky.

You take the glass from her with a small smile, your fingers brushing hers, and Paige feels that familiar spark, that electric current that always seems to buzz between you. She watches you as you take a sip, the way your lips curl around the rim of the glass, the way your eyes meet hers over the edge of it.

After a few minutes, Paige sets her empty glass aside and leans over the edge of the bed, her hand brushing against the discarded lingerie top. She picks it up, holding it up in the dim light, letting it dangle from her fingers as she turns back to you with a lazy grin. “This,” she says, her tone playful but still thick with awe, “was crazy.”

You smile at her, wide and teasing, your head tilting slightly as you reply, “You loved it.”

Paige laughs softly, shaking her head as she leans down to kiss you again, her lips lingering against yours as she murmurs, “Course I did.” Her voice is warm, sincere, and when she pulls back, the grin on her face is so full of love it makes your chest tighten.

The two of you settle back into the bed, the wine forgotten on the nightstand as Paige tucks you against her side, her arm draped over your waist. The city hums softly in the background, but all Paige can hear is the quiet sound of your breathing, the steady rhythm of your heart against hers. And in this moment, with you curled against her, Paige thinks there’s nowhere else in the world she’d rather be.

[mattscoquette]

giving perv!matt head under the mistletoe

your living room buzzed with excitement as all of your friends were gathered together, all of the holiday decorations making it all the more lively. a large tree sat by your couch, decorated with lights and various ornaments you’d received over the years. little knick knacks scattered across random shelves and counter tops, and garland was wrapped around the outline of your windows. but to matt, none of that mattered. he was stood under the most important decoration of them all, mistletoe, while he waited patiently to catch you under it with him.

his eyes traced over everyone in the living room, but stopped on you when he saw you standing and talking to your friends. despite the december weather, you were wearing quite the revealing top. the way your hair sat on your shoulders, how yours hips looked in your outfit, matt could already feel himself growing hard. he stood leaned against the wall, peering down into his drink trying to shake his thoughts as he felt a hand lightly graze his shoulder, and saw you smiling up at him. “hi matt,” you beamed, “you having fun?”

matt’s eyes turned to you and raked over your body, gaze falling to the way your tits looked in the tiny red top you were wearing, and how your short white skirt did nothing to cover your thighs. his cheeks flushed a deep red as he opened his mouth to speak, but quickly shut it and nodded when he realized no words were coming out. you smiled softly and giggled under your breath, knowing you didn’t even have to try to make him nervous.

“y’know,” you said in a low and sultry voice, standing on your tip toes to whisper into his ear, “you’re standing underneath the mistletoe.” you could feel him nod next to you slightly, your arms wrapping around his neck. his shaky hands made their way to your waist, holding you in place against him while you continued to talk. “would you like to join me in the bathroom?”

you pulled away to grin up at him, biting your bottom lip in anticipation. he nodded feverishly, letting you drag him down the hallway into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him and pinning matt to it. he let out a shaky whine as he felt your lips attach to his neck, marking your way across his skin before sinking to your knees in front of him. he looked down at you, his eyes wide and chest heaving. matt’s dick was already twitching and beginning to press against the zipper of his jeans, his pants tightening.

you giggled as you played with his belt, undoing it and taking it off all in one motion. your hands made their way to his jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping them as you tugged them down to matt’s ankles. you were face to face with matt’s bulge underneath the boxers, his tip already leaking feverishly with precum, a dark stain on the front of the fabric.

leaning forward, you pressed a quick kiss to matt’s clothed cock before pulling the boxers down. his dick sprung free as small moan escaped his mouth, sinking his teeth to his lower lip to conceal his sounds. you took him in your hands, beginning to pump slowly as you started to speak.

“i bet you love this, right?” you sighed, looking up at him with faux, innocent eyes, “you waited all day by the mistletoe so i could come take care of you, hm?”

“y-yeah,” he whimpered softly, feeling like he could cum already from the way your thumb kept flicking across his tip, “w-wanna be good for you.”

you grinned up at him, shuffling a bit closer to him on your knees. “you wanna be good for me?”

he nodded rapidly, his head thrown back against the door in pleasure. you smiled to yourself as you leaned down to lick a slow, long stripe along the length of his cock. matt couldn’t help the moan that ripped from his throat, making it obvious to anyone outside the bathroom what was going on. you gave a few more small kisses and kitten licks to his dick before taking him in your mouth, your tongue swirling and flicking around his tip. matt’s hands were instantly cupping your face, his thumb stroking your cheek softly as you made a mess of him.

“please,” he muttered softy, “wanna cum.”

you sighed softly, sending vibrations through matt’s body, bringing him even closer to the edge of release. you wanted to tease him a bit more, pulling off his dick and asking already?, but you decided he was probably pent up from the months he’s been creeping around you, and it was the season of giving, after all. your head continued to bob up and down on his cock, your red tinged lipstick leaving its stain on his shaft.

matt looked down at you, the sight of you on his knees before him too much. his eyes screwed shut as he whimpered, his grip on your jaw tightening. “mmph, fuck, please, w-wanna cum on your tits, please.”

who were you to deny his request? you pulled off of his length, re-positioning yourself slightly as you sat on your knees, pumping his cock a few more times before your chest was painted with his white spurts of cum as matt released all over your cleavage. his eyes slowly peeled open, seeing you on your knees in front of him, coated in his fluids. you flashed a quick smile at him, standing to your full height before grabbing a washcloth from the shower and wiping yourself down.

matt stood there, nearly dumfounded and in shock as to what just happened while he watched you so nonchalantly fix your hair and makeup, before standing in front of him, ready to leave.

he gaped down at you trying to speak, his hair messy and cheeks red, his pants and boxers still pooled around his ankles. you smiled softly, leaning up to press a small, gentle kiss to his parted lips before scooting past him, about to slip out the door before you mumbled a tiny “merry christmas, matt.”

© mattscoquette

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬. ⋆˚꩜｡ this fic idea was the first thing i thought ab yesterday morning and the first thing i did when i got up LOL. also just bc they hooked up twice does NATWT mean they r tgth <3 this is just a christmas present after this he’s going back to to pining over her <3

based on this concept

[alchemistc]

Once again I need to get off my ass and go work but instead all I'm thinking about is Them:

Buck's mostly got his breathing under control by the time he hears the side door slide open, and he adjusts his weight automatically, tips his chin as he straightens his spine, tugs at the bottom of his suit jacket like that will fix the wrinkles he'd made bending at the waist for the last ten minutes.

"Buck?"

He's turned away, thank god, so Tommy can't see the wince.

"I'm fine," he says, annoyed with himself and the world at large when it comes out wobbly. "Go back ins-." When he hears the door click shut again he takes a moment to hope Tommy's just left, again, but -

No such luck.

"That door locks from the inside," Buck murmurs, and tears his gaze away from the gentle expression on Tommy's face. There'd been a cardboard box wedged up in there by whatever line cook had been out here smoking when Buck burst through the doors, and the guy had left it with a warning about how insanely large this building was and how few doors along its perimeter were unlocked, and now the broken down box is somewhere beneath Tommy's left foot.

Tommy tries the door anyway.

It doesn't budge. "We could just call Eddie," Tommy says, and Buck feels the ire rise in his throat.

"Eddie's not here," he spits, and it feels like a knife under the ribs. Everyone fucking leaves, eventually. "Call your date, if you want. I'm walking."

Buck heaves himself up from his lean against the brick, takes two large strides to make it past Tommy and keeps going.

He should have known better than taking Bobby at his word that this stupid gala would be worth his time. So far he's dodged conversations about the curse of the 118, spent an unbearable five minutes smiling blandly at Gerrard before he could excuse himself, and tossed two numbers written on raffle tickets into the trash in his mad dash through the kitchens because apparently Tommy had been chosen as the rep for 217 and he looks fucking good in his suit, and he'd been pretty sure they'd be spending this Christmas together, until last month.

He's twenty yards down the alley when he hears footsteps catching up to him. Light, brisk - he's jogging to catch up and Buck doesn't want to deal with -

"Not my date," Tommy says, and Buck curses his own body for automatically slowing to allow him to catch up.

Buck snorts. "Okay." The guy was older - than Buck, at least. Grey around his temples, fat lips and clever eyes that caught Tommy's mid-sentence and sent them both into quiet hysterics.

"Buck, would you just -."

He's close enough to reach for Buck's arm, so Buck wrenches it away before he can make contact. "Don't call me that."

December twenty-third is one of those weird days where the world doesn't quite work the same. Traffic is heavier or lighter in weird places, people with nothing to do wander the streets or hole up in their homes making too much food and watching weird holiday movies, and even in LA it gets chilly enough at night to need a jacket. This one isn't doing shit to keep Buck warm, but the anger catching in his throat sure is.

"It's your name," Tommy says, exasperated.

"Not to you." Buck stops dead in his tracks, watches Tommy take another three steps before he realizes he's alone. When he turns, Buck doesn't allow himself to turn away from his gaze. Annoyance isn't a new look - Buck has tested the waters enough in six months to know intimately exactly how far he could push it before Tommy stopped indulging him.

He looks upset. Frustrated. Tired. Hot as fuck. Buck sort of wishes he'd do something about those first two.

Something other than walk away.

Tommy sighs. Runs a hand through his hair, and the sides aren't as high and tight anymore. There's a piece curling over the tip of his ear and Buck wants to tug at it, slide his fingers in there and tuck it back. "That was Sal," he says, and Buck flicks through the sadly small Rolodex of names Tommy has mentioned in the past. Another boundary Buck hadn't realized was a brick fucking wall in the way of getting to know his boyfriend.

Ex.

Sal. He'd been at the 118 with Gerrard, in the early days. Before Chim and Hen, before Bobby. He'd been the one to prompt Tommy into filing a complaint against Gerrard even though he'd been scared out of his mind to do it.

"I don't care."

He does care, is the problem. He cares so much. He's got a pile of fruit cakes and half a dozen pies sitting on his kitchen island right now that prove it. He can't seem to stop caring.

Tommy looks sceptical.

Buck brushes past him again, keeping his strides long. Tommy's the same height, but both literally and metaphorically he's always struggled to keep up when Buck had somewhere to be.

At least the panic attack has passed. Maybe he could take up running, as a cure all, instead of the weak ass recovery period he usually takes that involves him drinking a bottle of water and staring at the same spot on the wall until he sees stars.

So, fine. Tommy hadn't brought a date to the work function it was entirely possible Buck would be at six weeks after breaking up with him and disappearing into the damn wind. He'd bubbled Buck seven times that Buck knew of, and he hadn't brought a date.

Fine.

"I just wanted to make sure you were alright. You looked -."

Buck had watched Tommy wheeze with laughter and curl a hand around the dudes - Sal's - wrist and he'd felt like maybe he was gonna throw up. Like six months and the something he'd been working his way up to defining hadn't meant a damn thing. Like Tommy could just move on like he seemed to think Buck could.

"Doing great, Tommy. My best friend is moving to Texas and the man I thought I could -." Buck clears his throat. Shuffles sideways just a bit because Tommy is keeping pace now and his cologne is familiar and devastating. He doesn't have anything inside. Once he rounds this corner he could just order an Uber and go home.

There's nothing keeping him here.

"Eddie's moving?"

The no contact thing had extended to everyone at the 118, apparently. At least Buck wasn't alone in that.

Buck digs out his phone, slows his pace just enough to pull up the app he needs. He can feel Tommy's eyes burning a hole in the side of his head.

"Yeah, well. I'm getting used to people leaving at this point," he says, filling it with as much ire as he can. His voice doesn't wobble this time.

"Buck."

It's soft, this time, same inflection as when he'd cage Buck against a counter and lick into his mouth. "Don't worry about me, Tommy. You made it a point not to."

"That's not fair."

Buck couldn't care less. He's spent six weeks on a depression baking spiral and now he wants to go home and destroy every bit of baked goods he's made that are still left.

It only takes a few taps. They're surging prices, but that's not exactly a shocker.

He'd really thought the next time he saw Tommy he'd just be sad. Maybe he'd feel a little wistful about all the moments they'd shared that had meant something to Buck even if they hadn't meant the same to Tommy.

He wants to swing a fist, if he's being honest. He wouldn't. Not ever. But the desire is there and he hates it.

"Buck, could we just -."

"Stop calling me that!"

"I pay a mortgage, Evan!"

Buck can't remember Tommy ever raising his voice. It's - weird.

"I'm forty years old and I own a house and you asked me to move in to your loft after you told me you admired me." The emphasis isn't lost on him.

His ride is three minutes away.

"I got it the first time, Tommy. Haven't sucked enough cocks or done enough tests to know what I really want, so. Go enjoy your evening with Sal and -."

"That is not what I said." Cool, calm. Infuriating.

"Well that's what I got from it, so clearly we were never on the same page. I wanted a future with you and you've been eyeing the expiration date the whole time so -."

He's definitely not expecting Tommy's lips. But there they are, on his, and Buck's stumbling back, fully expecting the sharp crack of the brick at the back of his head as Tommy surges forward with him, only Tommy's hand curls around his skull at the last second and takes the brunt of the landing. His mouth opens on a groan and Buck licks up into it. Their noses clash and rather than shifting for better positioning they just press closer. Tommy's free hand finds the soft give of Buck's waist and his thigh finds purchase between Buck's legs and -

"You're willfully misunderstanding me," Tommy says, lips on Buck's jaw, heart pounding under Buck's hand, his breath ghosting along Buck's cheek.

"Never really gave me the opportunity for clarity," Buck bites back, and Tommy huffs, rolls his hips, tucks his forehead into the juncture of Buck's shoulder.

His pulse is pounding in his ears and there's a cloud of Tommy Tommy Tommy obscuring his senses.

"Do you still want that?"

Buck's phone dings in his hand.

His ride is here.

"Not if you're just gonna walk away again," Buck bites out, and shoves. Hard.

It barely moves Tommy, but it's enough to slip out of his grasp.

He doesn't glance behind to see if Tommy follows as he pulls at his suit jacket again and rounds the corner to try to catch - he eyes his phone - Sheri before she cancels the ride on him.

Doesn't stop him from hearing the footfalls behind him while he searches out the blue Honda Civic.

[jupiterpilgrim]

The Elf Who Couldn't Help

Christmas Special 🎄

Miyeon x Male Reader

word count: 5K

You're wandering through the crowded mall, Christmas music blasting from every direction as you try to check off the last few items on your shopping list. The usual holiday chaos surrounds you - parents dragging screaming kids, teenagers hogging the benches, old people walking too damn slow. Just another December afternoon.

That's when you spot the Santa's workshop setup near the food court. There's a long-ass line of hyper children waiting to sit on Santa's lap, but what catches your eye is his helper elf. She's this tiny Asian girl in a green costume that looks about two sizes too big, desperately trying to wrangle the kids into some kind of order.

"Please stay in line! One at a time!" Her voice is high and stressed as a group of boys completely ignores her, ducking under the rope barriers.

You can't help but chuckle at how overwhelmed she looks. The elf costume is ridiculous - striped tights, pointy shoes with bells, and a hat that keeps sliding down over her eyes. But there's something endearing about how hard she's trying, even as chaos erupts around her.

And she's undeniably adorable too.

"Fucking hell," you mutter under your breath as another kid breaks free from the line, causing even more chaos. The girl's shoulders slump in defeat as she tries to restore order. This will definitely be a long day for the poor thing.

You continue with your shopping, but find yourself passing by the Santa setup a few more times. Each time, the poor elf looks more and more frazzled. Her dark hair is escaping from under the hat, her cheeks are flushed, and she's practically jogging to keep up with all the line-cutting kids.

"Please, one at a time!" the elf girl pleads, her voice cracking slightly. You notice dark circles under her eyes as you walk past.

After finishing up your shopping, you head to your car feeling accomplished. That's when your phone buzzes - a text from your mother saying your cousin - yes, that cousin - decided last-minute to join Christmas dinner.

Fuck.

Now you need another gift.

With a sigh, you trudge back into the mall. The Santa setup is gone now, packed away for the night. You quickly grab a generic gift card (he's not worth much effort anyway) and head back to the parking lot.

That's when you hear it - soft sniffling coming from between two cars. You pause, keys in hand. The sound continues, clearly someone crying. Following the noise, you find a small figure curled up against a tire, wearing that ridiculous elf costume.

"Hey... are you okay?" You ask gently.

She jerks up with a gasp, hastily wiping her eyes. It's the same elf from earlier, but her makeup is smeared and her eyes are red and puffy.

"I'm fine!" She squeaks, trying to force a smile. "Just... just taking a break!"

You raise an eyebrow. "In the parking lot? At night?"

She deflates slightly. "Okay, maybe not just taking a break..."

"I saw you earlier, helping Santa. Rough day with the kids?"

A bitter laugh escapes her. "That obvious, huh?" She sniffs and wipes her nose with her sleeve. "Everything went wrong. The kids were crazy, I couldn't control them, I dropped hot chocolate all over myself... and now they're firing me. Said I'm not 'elf material.'"

"That's harsh. Those kids were like wild animals though, not sure anyone could have controlled them."

She shrugs, looking down at her ridiculous pointed shoes. "I really needed this job though. Even just through Christmas..."

"I'm sorry. I'm sure you'll find something else soon." You hesitate for a second, then you say your name.

"Miyeon," she replies softly.

"Nice to meet you, Miyeon. Look, this might sound weird but... would you want to grab something to eat? You look like you could use a friend right now."

Her eyes widen. "Oh! That's very kind but... I don't know you. And I probably look terrible..." She gestures at her tear-stained face.

You grin. "Come on, who doesn't want to have dinner with a Christmas elf? I promise I'm not a serial killer. We can go somewhere public with lots of witnesses."

That gets a small laugh out of her. "I really shouldn't..."

Right on cue, her stomach lets out a loud growl. Her face turns bright red.

"When's the last time you ate?" You ask.

"Um... breakfast? Maybe?" She admits sheepishly. "I was too nervous to eat lunch..."

"That settles it then. Come on, my treat. Consider it my good deed for the holiday season."

She bites her lip, clearly conflicted. "You really don't have to..."

"I want to. Plus, how often do I get to take an elf to dinner? It'll make a great story."

Finally, a real smile breaks through. "Okay... but only if you promise to drive me home after?"

"Scout's honor," you reply, helping her up.

—

You lead her to your car, noticing how small and vulnerable she looks in the ridiculous elf costume. During the short drive, you learn that Miyeon is a college student who needed extra money for textbooks next semester.

"The mall job seemed perfect," she explains. "Decent pay for just two weeks of work. But I guess I'm not cut out for dealing with kids."

"Those weren't kids, they were tiny terrorists," you reply, making her giggle.

At the diner, you slide into a booth and watch in amusement as Miyeon demolishes a huge plate of pancakes. She pauses between bites, suddenly self-conscious.

"Am I being rude? I must look like such a pig..."

"Not at all. Eat up - you've earned it after this sitty day."

Other diners keep glancing at your table, probably wondering why there's an elf having breakfast for dinner. Miyeon shrinks under their stares.

"Don't you need to return the costume?" you ask.

She shakes her head. "Had to buy it myself. Waste of money now..."

"Seriously? They made you pay for it? That's fucked up."

"Yeah... I spent most of my savings on it too." Her voice wavers slightly.

You study her as she eats - she really is cute, even in the silly costume. There's something genuine and sweet about her that draws you in.

"So what are you studying?" you ask.

"Art history. Everyone says it's useless but... I love it. There's something magical about understanding how art has shaped human culture throughout time."

Her eyes light up as she talks about her studies, hands gesturing animatedly. You find yourself smiling at her enthusiasm.

"That's actually really cool. Most people just chase whatever degree will make them the most money."

"That's what my parents wanted me to do," she sighs. "They think I'm wasting my time. The mall job was supposed to prove I could be responsible and support myself but..." she trails off, looking down at her empty plate.

"Hey, no matter what they think. Do what makes you happy."

She gives you a grateful smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

After dinner, you drive her home as promised. She lives in a small apartment complex near campus.

"Thank you so much for everything," Miyeon says sincerely. "I don't know how to repay you."

You pretend to think hard for a moment.

"Hmm, how about drinks tomorrow night?" you suggest. "No elf costume required."

Her eyes widen. "Are you... are you asking me out?"

"Unless that would be weird?"

"No! I mean... no, it wouldn't be weird. I'd like that." Her cheeks flush pink.

"Great. I'll text you?"

She nods, typing her number into your phone. As she gets out of the car, she turns back one more time.

"You know... maybe getting fired wasn't the worst thing after all."

—

The next evening, you meet Miyeon at a cozy bar downtown. She looks completely different out of the elf costume - wearing a simple sweater and jeans that highlight her petite but curvy figure. Her dark hair falls in soft waves around her face.

"Wow, you clean up nice," you tease. "Almost didn't recognize you without the pointy ears."

She rolls her eyes but smiles. "Never mention that costume again. I'm trying to repress those memories."

Over drinks, conversation flows easily. You learn that Miyeon moved here from Korea as a child, that she has a passion for Renaissance art, and that she secretly loves terrible reality TV shows. She's funny and smart, with a dry sense of humor that catches you off guard.

"So what do you do?" she asks, sipping her cocktail.

You tell her about your job, making her laugh with stories about your weird coworkers. As the night goes on, you find yourself moving closer together, knees touching under the table.

"Want to know a secret?" Miyeon says, slightly tipsy. "I actually hate Christmas music now. Hours of Jingle Bells on repeat will do that to you."

"I don't blame you. That shit's torture."

She giggles, leaning into you slightly. "You know what else? Some of those kids were evil. Like, actually evil. One bit me!"

"No fucking way!"

"Yes! Right here!" She rolls up her sleeve to show you a small bruise on her forearm. Without thinking, you gently run your fingers over the mark. Her skin is incredibly soft.

Miyeon shivers slightly at your touch, looking up at you with those big dark eyes. The air between you feels charged suddenly.

"Do you want to take a walk in the park?" you ask softly.

Shd nods, biting her lower lip.

—

The winter air nips at your faces as you and Miyeon stroll through the park. Christmas lights twinkle in the trees, creating a magical atmosphere despite the late hour. Snow crunches beneath your feet as you walk close together, shoulders brushing.

"Thanks for tonight," Miyeon says softly. "I really needed this after... you know." She gestures vaguely, probably referring to the elf fiasco.

"Hey, I should be thanking you. Not every day I get to rescue a damsel in distress from a parking lot," you tease.

She playfully shoves your shoulder. "I wasn't in distress! I was just... strategically regrouping."

"Is that what we're calling crying behind a car now?"

"Shut up," she laughs, but moves closer to you as a cold breeze whips past.

You find a bench overlooking a small pond, its surface reflecting the colorful lights. Sitting close together for warmth, you can smell her light floral perfume mixing with the crisp winter air.

"You know what's funny?" Miyeon says, watching her breath form little clouds. "If I hadn't been such a terrible elf, we never would have met."

"You weren't terrible. Those kids were demons."

"True. But still..." She turns to look at you, snowflakes catching in her dark hair. Her cheeks are pink from the cold and maybe the drinks. "I'm kind of glad it happened."

The moment feels perfect - the lights, the snow, her eyes shining as she looks up at you. You lean in slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wants to.

Instead, she meets you halfway.

Her lips are soft and slightly cold from the winter air. The kiss is gentle, tentative at first, then deepening as she sighs against your mouth. Your hand comes up to cup her cheek, thumb brushing away a snowflake.

When you finally part, Miyeon's eyes stay closed for a moment longer, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Wow," she breathes.

"Yeah," you agree eloquently, making her giggle.

—

The next few days pass in a pleasant blur. You text constantly, sharing memes and stories about your days. She sends you pictures of terrible Christmas sweaters at thrift stores, you counter with photos of your coworker's increasingly elaborate desk decorations.

You meet up again for coffee between her job hunting attempts. This time she's wearing an oversized sweater that makes her look even tinier, hands wrapped around a steaming peppermint latte.

"I had another interview today," she sighs. "At a bookstore this time."

"How'd it go?"

"Well, I didn't cry or spill anything, so better than the mall job already." She takes a sip of her drink, leaving a foam mustache that you resist the urge to kiss away. "But they said they're looking for someone with more retail experience."

"That's bullshit. How are you supposed to get experience if no one will hire you?"

"Exactly!" She throws up her hands in frustration. "It's like they expect me to emerge fully formed from the womb with five years of customer service experience."

You think for a moment. "You know... my friend works at that art supply store downtown. I could put in a word?"

Miyeon's eyes light up. "Really? You'd do that?"

"Of course. Plus, it's related to your major kind of. You'd be surrounded by art stuff all day."

She practically bounces in her seat. "That would be amazing! Thank you-thank you-thank you!"

Her enthusiasm is infectious. You can't help but lean across the table to kiss her, tasting peppermint on her lips.

The art store interview goes well - Your friend's recommendation carries weight, and Miyeon's genuine passion for art shines through. They hire her for a temporary position through the holiday season, with potential to stay on part-time after.

"I start Monday!" she tells you excitedly over the phone. "And the employee discount is amazing. I'm going to buy so many fancy pencils."

You celebrate with takeout at her tiny apartment near campus. It's cramped but cozy, walls covered in art prints and fairy lights. You sit on her futon eating Chinese food straight from the containers while she tells you about all her plans.

"The manager said they do workshops sometimes too. Like, teaching basic techniques and stuff. Maybe eventually I could lead one!" She's practically vibrating with excitement.

"Look at you, moving up in the world. From disgraced elf to art guru."

She throws a fortune cookie at your head. "Never mention the elf thing again! I'm trying to maintain some dignity here."

You catch the cookie and crack it open. "'A surprise encounter will lead to lasting happiness.’ Huh, guess these things are right sometimes."

Miyeon blushes, ducking her head. You set aside the takeout containers and pull her close, kissing her slowly. She melts against you, fingers curling into your shirt.

The makeout sessions are becoming a regular thing, but neither of you pushes for more. It's nice, this slow build of intimacy. Learning the little things about each other - how she scrunches her nose when she laughs, the way she absently hums while reading, her habit of stealing sips of your drinks and more.

—

You help her prepare for her first day, picking out an outfit that's professional but still her style.

She texts you updates throughout the day:

"OMG there are so many types of pencils. How are there this many pencils??"

"Just had to explain to someone why they can't return used paint. Why are people like this?"

"A kid just asked me what colors taste the best. I told him blue. Hope I don't get sued."

After her shift, you meet her for dinner. She's tired but happy, chattering about everything she learned.

"And did you know there are pencils that cost like $50 EACH? For one pencil! But they're so smooth, feel this!" She pulls a sample pencil from her bag, making you test it on a napkin.

"Very smooth," you agree, charmed by her enthusiasm. "Worth $50?"

"Maybe not $50, but with my discount..." She wiggles her eyebrows suggestively.

The days leading up to Christmas pass quickly. You help Miyeon learn the store's inventory system, quizzing her on different types of paper and brush sizes. She introduces you to her favorite cheap noodle places near campus.

One evening, you're walking her home when it starts snowing heavily. She tilts her head back, sticking out her tongue to catch snowflakes.

"You know what?" she says thoughtfully. "I actually kind of miss the elf costume. Just a tiny bit."

You raise an eyebrow. "Stockholm syndrome kicking in?"

"No, it's just... if I hadn't taken that stupid job, if I hadn't been so bad at it... we wouldn't be here now." She stops walking, turning to face you. "Sometimes the worst things lead to the best things, you know?"

You brush snow from her hair. "Very philosophical. Must be all that art history education."

"Shut up," she laughs, standing on tiptoes to kiss you. Her lips are cold but her mouth is warm, tasting like the hot chocolate you shared earlier.

When she pulls back, her eyes are serious. "Thank you. For everything. The job, the support... just being there."

"Hey, I got something out of it too. How many people can say they're dating a former mall elf?"

She groans. "I take it back. You're the worst."

But she's smiling as she says it, snowflakes catching on her eyelashes, and you think maybe those fortune cookies know what they're talking about after all.

—

The art supply store keeps her busy through the holiday rush. You bring her coffee during her breaks, watching her explain different types of paints to customers with growing confidence. She's in her element here, surrounded by creative supplies and fellow art enthusiasts.

"A lady asked me to recommend brushes for oil painting today," she tells you proudly. "And I actually knew what to suggest! I'm becoming one of those knowledgeable retail people."

"Better than being one of those retail people who hides in the stockroom to cry," you point out.

"That was ONE TIME," she protests, but she's laughing.

—

Finally, about two days before Christmas, you invite her over to your place for dinner. You've cooked before, but tonight feels different. There's an electricity in the air, an unspoken anticipation.

Miyeon shows up wearing a simple red dress that hugs every curve. Her dark hair falls in soft waves past her shoulders, and you catch a hint of floral perfume when she hugs you hello.

"Something smells amazing," she says, following you to the kitchen.

"Don't sound so surprised," you tease. "I can cook sometimes."

"Sometimes being the key word." She peers into the pot on the stove. "Remember the Great Pasta Disaster of last week?"

"Hey, how was I supposed to know the sauce would explode like that?"

She laughs, stealing a piece of garlic bread. "My ceiling is still stained red. My landlord thinks I murdered someone up there."

Dinner is comfortable, filled with your usual banter. But there's an undercurrent of tension, a charge building between you. Every accidental brush of hands sends sparks down your spine. You catch her staring at your lips more than once.

After the dishes are done, you move to the couch with glasses of wine. Miyeon curls up against your side, fitting perfectly under your arm. You can feel her heart racing.

"This is nice," she murmurs, tracing patterns on your thigh.

"Yeah?" Your voice comes out rougher than intended. "Just nice?"

She tilts her head up to look at you, eyes dark and intense. "Maybe more than nice..."

You cup her face with one hand, thumb brushing her cheek. She leans into the touch, breath hitching slightly.

"Miyeon..."

"Yes?"

"Do you like me?"

Instead of answering, she surges up to press her lips against yours. It starts soft, tentative, but quickly deepens into something more urgent. Her tongue slides against yours as she shifts to straddle your lap, dress riding up her thighs.

You run your hands up her sides, feeling her shiver. She grinds down against you, drawing a groan from your throat. When you break for air, her pupils are blown wide with desire.

"Bedroom?" You manage to ask.

She nods frantically. "Please."

You stand, lifting her with you. Her legs wrap around your waist as you carry her down the hall, still kissing. You nearly trip twice, making her giggle against your mouth.

Finally reaching the bedroom, you put her back on the floor, your fingers gently touch her cheek, she looks up at you with such trust and want that it makes your chest ache.

"You're sure about this?" You have to ask.

"I've never been more sure of anything," she replies.

That’s all you needed to hear.

Your hands roam over Miyeon's body, mapping every delicious curve through her thin dress. She arches into your touch, soft moans escaping her perfect lips. When you kiss down her neck, she threads her fingers through your hair, pulling you closer.

"I've wanted this for so long," she whispers, her voice trembling with need. "Ever since we first met..."

You gently bite her neck, making her gasp. "Me too, princess. You drive me fucking crazy." Your hands slide down to squeeze her ass through the dress. She feels so perfect, so soft yet firm.

Miyeon grinds against you, her breath coming faster. "Please... touch me more..." She guides your hand to her breast, letting you feel her hardened nipple through the fabric.

You waste no time sliding the dress straps off her shoulders, revealing more of her flawless porcelain skin. Her medium breasts spill free, pink nipples begging for attention. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," you growl, taking one peak into your mouth.

"Ohh! Yes, suck them..." She holds your head to her chest as you lavish her breasts with your tongue, alternating between gentle licks and firm sucking. Her moans get louder when you graze your teeth over the sensitive buds.

Your hands push her dress down further until it pools at her feet. Miyeon stands before you in just her lacy panties, her face flushed with arousal and slight embarrassment. You drink in the sight of her nearly naked body.

"You're staring too much," she says shyly.

You gently grab her wrists. "It's because you're fucking perfect." You pull her close for a deep kiss, your tongue exploring her mouth as your hands roam her exposed skin.

She melts into the kiss, pressing her breasts against your chest. You can feel her nipples hard against you through your shirt. Her hands tug at the fabric. "Take this off... I want to feel your skin..."

You break the kiss just long enough to pull your shirt over your head. When your bare chest meets hers, you both moan at the contact. Her skin is so incredibly soft against yours.

"Bed. Now." You guide her backwards until her knees hit the mattress. She lies back, dark hair fanning out on the pillow as she looks up at you with those innocent yet lustful eyes.

You crawl over her, leaving a trail of hot kisses from her tummy up to her neck. Her hands explore your back, nails lightly scratching. When you grind your clothed erection against her core, she gasps.

"Can you feel how hard you make me?" You thrust against her again, making her whimper.

"Y-yes... I want to see it..." Her hands move to your belt, fumbling with the buckle.

You help her undo your pants, kicking them off along with your boxers. Your cock springs free, already rock hard and leaking precum. Miyeon's eyes widen as she takes in your size.

"Like what you see, princess?" You smirk as her hand wraps around your shaft, stroking experimentally.

"It's so big..." she whispers, thumb brushing over your sensitive tip. "Will it... fit?"

"We'll go nice and slow, baby. But first..." You hook your fingers in her panties, sliding them down her legs. You spread her creamy thighs wide apart, admiring how her pink pussy glistens with arousal. Her outer lips are puffy and swollen, inner folds glistening with her juices. The musky scent of her cunt makes your mouth water as you lean in closer. “Fuck, you're already so wet for me.”

"Please..." she whimpers, squirming under your intense gaze. "Stop teasing and lick me already!"

You give her a wicked grin before diving in, dragging your hot tongue through her dripping slit from bottom to top. The taste of her pussy explodes across your tongue - tangy and sweet like ripe fruit. She cries out and bucks her hips up into your face.

"Fuck! Your tongue feels so good!" Her fingers tangle in your hair as you focus on her clit, circling the swollen nub with firm strokes. You can feel it getting harder and more pronounced under your tongue.

Holding her thighs open wider, you bury your face deeper between her legs, eating her pussy like it's your last meal. Your tongue alternates between fucking into her tight hole and flicking rapidly over her clit. Wet sucking sounds fill the room as you devour her cunt.

Her pussy is absolutely drenched now, cream coating your chin as you feast on her. You slide two fingers into her clutching channel while continuing to assault her clit with your tongue. The walls of her cunt squeeze your digits hungrily.

"Holy shit, don't stop! Right there!" She grinds her pussy against your face, chasing her pleasure. "I'm getting so close already..."

You curl your fingers to massage her g-spot while sucking her clit between your lips. The combination has her writhing and moaning uncontrollably. Her thighs start to tremble as her orgasm builds.

You increase the pressure and speed, determined to make her cum hard on your tongue. Your fingers pump in and out of her sopping pussy while you flick her clit mercilessly. She's so wet that obscene squelching noises accompany each thrust of your fingers.

"Fuck fuck fuck! I'm gonna cum!" Her back arches off the bed as her climax hits. Her pussy clamps down on your fingers as waves of pleasure course through her. You keep licking and sucking, drawing out her orgasm until she pushes your head away.

But you're not done with her yet. Not so soon. As she lies there panting, you reposition yourself between her legs. Her pussy is still twitching with aftershocks when you dive back in, this time focusing solely on her sensitive clit.

"Wait! I just came—ahhhh!" Her protest turns into a moan as you suck her swollen clit between your lips. You can feel her trying to close her legs but you hold them open, continuing your relentless assault on her pussy.

The oversensitivity quickly transforms back into pleasure as you work her towards another orgasm. Your tongue swirls around her clit in tight circles while three fingers pump into her dripping hole. Her cream coats your hand as you finger-fuck her roughly.

"Oh god, I can't... it's too much!" But her hips are rocking against your face again, chasing the building pleasure. You can feel her pussy getting even wetter, if that's possible.

You alternate between broad strokes with your flattened tongue and quick flicks directly on her clit. Meanwhile your fingers curl to hit her g-spot with each thrust. The combination of stimulation has her climbing rapidly towards another peak.

Her moans get higher and more desperate as you drive her wild with your mouth and fingers. You can tell she's fighting the pleasure, still sensitive from her first orgasm. But you're determined to make her cum again.

"Please... I can't take it... gonna cum again!" Her thighs start shaking as her second orgasm approaches. You double down, sucking her clit firmly while hammering your fingers against her g-spot.

She screams as she cums, her pussy clamping down so hard on your fingers that you can barely move them. You keep your lips locked around her clit, sucking gently to draw out the intense pleasure.

When her orgasm finally subsides, you slowly withdraw your fingers from her quivering pussy. They're absolutely coated in her cream. You make eye contact as you lick them clean, savoring her tangy flavor.

"Holy shit..." Miyeon pants, still trembling. "That was incredible. I've never cum that hard before."

You smirk and dive right back in, making her yelp in surprise. Her clit is swollen and ultra-sensitive now, perfect for what you have planned. You flatten your tongue and lap at her pussy with long, slow strokes.

"No more, baby, I can't..." But her protests are weak and her hips are already moving against your mouth again. You can feel her getting wetter as you continue eating her out.

This time you take it slow, building her up gradually. Your tongue explores every fold and crease of her pussy, occasionally dipping into her hole to taste her essence. When you finally return attention to her clit, she's practically begging for it.

"Please... need to cum again..." Miyeon rocks desperately against your face, seeking more pressure. But you keep your touches light and teasing, driving her crazy with want.

You trace letters on her clit with the tip of your tongue, spelling out filthy words as she writhes beneath you. When you finally slide your fingers back into her clutching pussy, she moans in relief.

"Yes! Fuck me with your fingers while you eat my pussy!" Her dirty talk spurs you on as you pump three fingers into her dripping hole. Your tongue works her clit with firm, steady pressure.

Her pussy is absolutely gushing now, cream running down your wrist as you finger-fuck her roughly. The wet sounds of your fingers plunging into her cunt fill the room along with her desperate moans.

You curl your fingers to massage her g-spot while sucking her clit between your lips. The dual stimulation has her climbing rapidly towards another orgasm. Her thighs start trembling as she gets close.

"Gonna cum again! Don't stop, please don't stop!" She grinds her pussy against your face, chasing her pleasure. You increase the pressure and speed, determined to give her the most intense orgasm yet.

Her back lifts clear off the bed, her body trembling violently as the orgasm tears through her. Miyeon's cries of your name echo in the room, her voice breaking into a series of desperate whimpers. Her pussy clamps down on your fingers, pulsating in rhythm with the waves of pleasure crashing through her. Her hands clutch at the sheets, knuckles white, as her thighs twitch uncontrollably. You don’t let up, your fingers continuing to work her through every shuddering moment of ecstasy, curling and teasing until she lets out a sharp gasp and pushes your head back, her hips jerking away.

"Stop, stop! Too much," she pants, her chest rising and falling rapidly, her body glistening with sweat.

You lean back, watching her recover, her hair splayed out like a halo against the pillow. Her cheeks are flushed deep red, lips parted as she struggles to catch her breath. She drapes an arm over her face, giggling weakly. "Wow... that was—like—insane. I didn’t know you were this good with your hands."

“Take your time,” you say, your tone soft but teasing as your gaze roams her utterly wrecked form.

She peeks at you from beneath her arm, her eyes still hazy and unfocused. Her thighs quiver as she stretches her legs out, one hand brushing against her stomach as if grounding herself. “Okay, just give me a second,” she murmurs, her voice shaky, a tired smile playing at her lips.

While she lies there, basking in the aftershocks, you reach over to the nightstand. Your fingers brush against the foil packet, and you tear it open deliberately, watching her out of the corner of your eye. Her gaze snaps to you as you roll the condom onto your throbbing cock, her pupils dilating slightly.

"Already?" she whispers, a flicker of excitement chasing away the exhaustion in her expression. You smirk, positioning yourself above her, letting her feel the heat of your body pressing against hers.

"Yes. Ready for me, princess?" You position yourself at her entrance, rubbing your tip through her folds.

She nods, pulling you down for a passionate kiss. You can feel her trembling with anticipation.

"Tell me if it's too much," you murmur against her lips as you start pushing in. The head pops past her tight entrance, making you both moan.

"Oh fuck... you're so big..." She bites her lip, adjusting to the stretch as you slowly feed more of your length into her.

You go inch by inch, letting her pussy accommodate your size. Her walls grip you like a vice, so hot and tight it takes all your control not to just slam in.

"That's it, baby, taking my cock so well..." You bottom out, fully sheathed in her warmth.

You stay still for a moment, letting her adjust while peppering kisses across her face and neck. When her hips start moving against you, you take it as your cue to move.

You start with a few slow, shallow thrusts, just to get her warmed up. Miyeon's moans are soft at first, but they grow louder with each push, urging you on. You can feel her nails digging into your back, her legs wrapping around your waist, pulling you deeper into her. The angle changes, and you hit something inside her that makes her cry out.

"Fuck, right there," she gasps. "Don't stop."

You don't plan to. You pick up the pace, your hips moving faster, your cock sliding in and out of her slick pussy. She's meeting your thrusts, her body arching up to take you deeper.

"Faster," she begs, her voice ragged. "Please fuck me faster."

You grip her hips, your fingers digging into her soft flesh. You start really giving it to her, your balls slapping against her ass with each stroke. The bed creaks beneath you, the headboard banging against the wall as you pound her tight pussy.

"You like that, huh?" you growl in her ear. "Like getting fucked hard by my big cock?"

"Yes!" she screams. "Oh god, yes! Your cock feels so fucking good inside me."

Her words dissolve into incoherent moans, her body writhing beneath you. You can feel her getting wetter, her cream coating your shaft and dripping down her ass, making a fucking mess of the sheets. You can see it glistening on your cock every time you pull out, can feel it easing the way as you slam back in.

You lean down, your teeth finding her neck, biting down as you fuck her even harder. She cries out, her body convulsing around you. You can feel her pussy clenching, her walls squeezing your cock.

"Fuck, you're close," you groan. "I can feel it."

"Yes," she pants. "I'm gonna cum again. I'm gonna cum all over your cock."

You can feel your own orgasm building, your balls drawing up tight. But you hold back, determined to make her cum first. You want to feel her lose control, want to feel her pussy milking your cock.

You reach between them, your fingers finding her clit. You rub it in tight circles, your cock still pounding into her. She screams, her body bucking, her pussy clamping down on you like a vice.

"Cum for me, baby," you growl. "Let me feel you cum all over my cock."

And she does. She cums hard, her body convulsing, her pussy pulsing around you. You can feel her cream coating your cock, can feel it dripping down your balls. You keep fucking her, drawing out her orgasm, making her cry out with each thrust. Gradually you slow down the pace, each time your cock goes deep inside her, it pulls out slowly, you stay at this teasing pace until she catches her breath, then when you finally pull your cock out of her, without warning, you lift her shapely leg, exposing her dripping pussy and those delicate feet with festive red toenails.

"What are you doing?" she asks, watching as you grip her ankle.

"I'm gonna worship every inch of you," you growl, bringing her foot closer to your face. "Your pretty little toes look too tasty to resist."

Miyeon giggles nervously. "Nobody's ever... Oh fuck!" she gasps as you take her big toe into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it. The polish is smooth against your tongue as you suck gently, watching her face for reactions.

"Does that feel good, baby?" You ask between licks. Her toes taste clean with just a hint of salt from sweat.

"Mmmhh... it's weird but... kinda nice," she admits, wiggling her toes against your tongue. You take two toes in your mouth now, sucking harder as your hand slides up her thigh.

"Your feet are fucking perfect," you tell her, kissing down to her arch. "Just like the rest of you." Your fingers find her pussy lips, already swollen and slick from earlier. You gather some of her wetness and start rubbing slow circles around her clit.

"Ohhh..." Miyeon moans, her leg trembling in your grip. You alternate between sucking her toes and licking long stripes up her sole while your fingers work her pussy. Her cream coats your digits as you slide two inside her tight channel.

"So wet for me," you growl. "I love how your pussy gets all creamy when you're turned on." You curl your fingers, finding that special spot that makes her whole body jerk.

"Fuck! Right there!" she cries out, grinding against your hand. You keep the pressure steady, pumping your fingers as you lavish attention on her feet. Her pussy clenches rhythmically around you.

"You gonna cum again for me?" you ask, increasing the pace of your fingers. "Gonna soak my hand with that sweet pussy?"

"Yes! Please don't stop!" Miyeon pants, her head thrashing on the pillow. You can feel her getting close, her inner walls fluttering. Just before she peaks, you withdraw your fingers, making her whine in protest.

"Not yet baby," you tease, releasing her foot. "I want to fuck you while I suck these pretty toes." You position yourself behind her, keeping her leg lifted. Your cock slides easily through her folds, gathering her wetness.

"Please," she begs. "I need you inside me..."

You press just the tip against her entrance, making her squirm.

"Tell me how bad you want it."

"Please, baby, I need to feel your big cock deep in my pussy! Please fuck me... I'm so empty..."

Unable to resist her pleading, you thrust forward, burying your full length in her tight heat. "Fuuuck," you groan. "Your pussy feels amazing." You start a steady rhythm, not too fast yet, wanting to build her up slowly.

Miyeon moans with each thrust, her pussy gripping you perfectly. You capture her toes in your mouth again, sucking hard as you fuck her. The dual stimulation has her writhing.

"Oh god... that's so... unngh!" She can barely form words as pleasure overwhelms her. You increase your pace gradually, driving deeper. Her cream coats your shaft, making obscene wet sounds with each stroke.

"You like having your toes sucked while I fuck this tight pussy?" you ask, releasing her foot momentarily. "Such a good girl, taking my cock so well."

"Yes! Love it... love your cock..." she gasps. You've never heard her talk so dirty before. It spurs you on, making you thrust harder.

Her pussy starts clenching erratically around you as you pound into her. You can tell she's getting close again. This time you don't let up, determined to make her cum hard.

"Something's happening..." Miyeon pants suddenly. "Feels different... like I need to pee..."

"That's it baby," you encourage her. "Don't fight it. Let go for me." You redouble your efforts, angling your hips to hit her g-spot with each thrust while sucking her toes enthusiastically.

"But... unngh... I can't..." she protests weakly, even as her body tenses up.

"Yes, you can! Cum for me Miyeon. Fucking squirt all over my cock!" You slam into her faster, feeling her pussy spasm around you.

"Oh god, oh god, OH FUCK!" Miyeon screams as the dam finally breaks. Clear fluid gushes from around your cock, soaking the sheets beneath you. Her whole body convulses as she experiences her first squirting orgasm.

You keep thrusting through her release, prolonging it as much as possible. More fluid spurts out with each stroke as she trembles uncontrollably.

"That's it baby, let it all out," you growl around her toes. "So fucking hot watching you squirt."

Miyeon can only moan incoherently as waves of pleasure crash over her. Her pussy clamps down so hard it nearly pushes you out, but you maintain your rhythm until her orgasm finally starts to subside.

You gently release her foot and slow your thrusts, giving her time to catch her breath. She looks absolutely wrecked in the best way possible.

"Holy shit," she pants when she can speak again. "What... what was that?"

You chuckle, still buried deep inside her quivering pussy. "That was you squirting, baby. Felt good, didn't it?"

She nods weakly. "Amazing... I didn't know I could do that..."

"Oh we're just getting started," you promise with a wicked grin. "Now that I know how to make you squirt, I'm gonna make you do it again and again..."

Miyeon whimpers at your words, her pussy clenching around you. You can feel she's still sensitive, but also still aroused.

Perfect.

"Ready?" you ask, starting to move inside her again. She moans in response as you lift her foot back to your mouth...

Your cock slides easily through her creamy folds as you build up a steady rhythm once more. Miyeon's moans get louder with each thrust, her oversensitive pussy gripping you like a vice.

"Such a good girl," you praise her between licks to her foot. "Taking my cock so well after that huge orgasm."

"Feels so good," she gasps. "Everything's so sensitive..."

You angle your hips to hit her g-spot again, making her whole body jerk. "Think you can squirt for me again?" You ask, increasing your pace slightly.

"I... unngh... maybe?" Miyeon pants. "Still feels like I might pee..."

"That's normal, baby. Just let it happen." You suck her big toe into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it as you fuck her deeper. Her cream coats your shaft, dripping down onto the already soaked sheets.

"Oh fuck... oh fuck..." she chants as the pleasure builds. You can feel her starting to tense up again, her inner walls fluttering around your cock.

"That's it," you encourage her. "Let go for me. Show me what a good little squirter you are."

Your words push her over the edge. With a sharp cry, Miyeon's pussy contracts hard and another gush of clear fluid sprays out around your cock.

"Fuck yes!" You growl, maintaining your rhythm as she squirts. "So fucking hot watching you lose control like this."

Wave after wave of pleasure rocks through her body as you continue fucking her through the intense orgasm. Her toes curl against your tongue as more fluid spurts out with each thrust.

When her release finally subsides, Miyeon lies there trembling and gasping for air. You slow your pace but don't stop completely, knowing you can wring at least one more orgasm from her oversensitive body.

"Please..." she whimpers, her body trembling beneath you. "It's too much... I can't..."

"Shh, baby," you murmur, your voice steady and firm. "You can take it. You can take everything I give you." You slow your thrusts a little more, letting her catch her breath, but not enough to let her come down from the peak. "You've got one more in you. I know you do."

She shakes her head, her hair sticking to her sweat-slicked face. "No, I can't... I can't..."

"You can," you insist, your cock still moving inside her, stirring up her pleasure again. "You're a fucking goddess, Miyeon. You can take every inch of my cock. You can cum all over it again."

You increase your speed, your hips moving faster, your cock hitting that spot inside her that makes her scream. You can feel her pussy clenching around you, trying to keep you in, trying to milk you.

"Oh god," she moans, her voice rising in pitch. "Oh god, oh god, oh god..."

"That's it, baby," you growl. "Feel that? Feel my cock hitting your g-spot? You're gonna cum for me again. You're gonna squirt all over my cock."

"I'm so close... I'm so clo—OH GOD!" she cries out, her body tensing, her pussy gripping you like a vice.

You can feel her right on the edge, her body coiled tight, ready to snap. You lean down, your teeth finding her earlobe, biting down just hard enough to send a shockwave through her.

"Cum for me, Miyeon," you command, your voice low and rough. "Fucking let go. Let me feel that pussy explode. Let me see that squirt. Do it, baby. Fucking do it now."

She screams, her body convulsing, her eyes rolling back in her head. "I'm cumm—AAAAH!"

You can feel it, hot and wet, gushing out of her, coating your cock, dripping down your balls. You keep fucking her, drawing out her orgasm, making her scream with each thrust.

"That's it, baby," you groan. "Fuck, that's so good. You're squirting all over my cock. You're such a good girl, Miyeon. Such a fucking good girl."

Her body is shaking, her pussy still pulsing around you. You slow your thrusts, letting her ride out her orgasm, letting her come down slowly. You're about to cum, right on the edge, but you hold back again. This is about her.

This is about Miyeon.

You gently pull out of her, your cock still hard and glistening with her cum. You move down her body, your tongue tracing a path down her stomach, down to her pussy, your hands stroking her thighs, your touch gentle and soothing.

The bed beneath her is a fucking mess—sheets soaked through, the scent of sex heavy in the air. You can see the wet spot spreading, a testament to her pleasure.

"Fuck, baby," you murmur, your voice soft but filled with awe. "Look at this mess you made. You're so fucking sexy."

Miyeon's breath hitches as she looks down at the wet sheets, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and satisfaction. "I... I didn't know I could do that," she admits, her voice shaky. "It felt... god, it felt so fucking good."

You smile, your fingers tracing patterns on her inner thighs, feeling the slickness of her cum. "You squirted, baby. You fucking squirted all over my cock. It was the hottest thing I've ever seen."

She shivers, her body still sensitive from the intense orgasm. "I've never... I've never felt anything like that before. It was like... like my whole body just let go."

You lean in, your tongue lapping at her pussy, tasting her, cleaning her up. She jolts, her hips bucking slightly, but you hold her steady, your hands gripping her thighs.

"Shh, baby," you soothe. "Let me take care of you. Let me clean you up."

She relaxes, her body melting into the bed as you take your time, your tongue exploring every inch of her pussy. You can feel her shivering, her body responding to your touch. The taste of her is intoxicating, a mix of sweet and salty, pure fucking heaven.

"You taste so fucking good, Miyeon," you murmur, your voice low and husky. "I could do this all fucking night."

She moans softly, her fingers tangling in your hair. "It feels so good... I can't believe I did that. I can't believe I squirted."

You look up at her, your eyes meeting hers. She's watching you, her eyes soft and hazy with pleasure. You smile, your tongue giving her one last lick.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Miyeon," you whisper. "God, you're so fucking perfect…"

"But you haven't come yet," she suddenly notes.

"You're right. And where do you want my cum, princess?" You ask.

"On my face... want to taste you..."

"Fuck... Okay. Yeah, right. Get on your knees, baby,” you ask her as you quickly remove the condom.

Miyeon looks up at you with those innocent eyes as she kneels before you, her pretty face flushed with arousal. Her lips are already swollen from all the kissing, making them look even more cock-hungry than usual. You grab a fistful of her silky black hair, guiding her face closer to your throbbing shaft.

"Open that pretty mouth for me baby," you command, tapping your cock head against her plump lips. "I want to see how deep you can take it."

She parts her lips obediently, sticking out her pink tongue to lap at your sensitive tip. The sight of your precum glistening on her tongue makes your cock throb with need. You slowly feed her more of your length, watching in satisfaction as her lips stretch around your girth.

"Mmmmph," she moans around your cock, her eyes fluttering closed in pleasure. She clearly loves having her mouth filled, eagerly sucking and slurping as you push deeper.

You start with slow, shallow thrusts, letting her get used to your size. Her tongue swirls expertly around your shaft as you slide in and out between those perfect lips. Wet sucking sounds fill the room along with her muffled moans.

"That's it baby, take my cock," you growl, tightening your grip in her hair. "Your mouth feels so fucking good."

She responds by taking you deeper, relaxing her throat to accommodate more of your length. Tears form in the corners of her eyes as you hit the back of her throat, but she doesn't pull away.

If anything, she seems even more eager.

You pick up the pace slightly, fucking her mouth with measured strokes. Her lipstick is getting smeared all over your cock, marking it with traces of red. The sight of her face getting messy already has your balls tightening.

"Such a good little cocksucker," you praise, watching her cheeks hollow with suction. "You love having your pretty face fucked don't you?"

She nods as best she can with your cock stuffed in her mouth, humming in agreement. The vibrations send pleasure shooting through your shaft.

You pull out briefly to let her catch her breath, a string of saliva connecting her lips to your cock head. She gasps for air but immediately opens wide again, eager for more. Her face is already a mess of smeared makeup and drool.

"Please fuck my face harder," she begs, voice hoarse. "I want you to use my mouth like a pussy."

You don't need to be asked twice. Gripping her head firmly with both hands, you slam your cock back between her lips. This time you don't hold back, setting a brutal pace as you fuck her throat. She gags and chokes but takes it like a champ, her eyes watering heavily.

The wet sounds of her throat getting pounded are absolutely obscene. Drool runs down her chin and neck as you use her mouth roughly. Her hands grip your thighs for support but she doesn't try to pull away or slow you down.

"Fuck yes, take that cock," you grunt, watching your shaft disappear repeatedly into her willing mouth. "Going to paint that pretty face white soon."

She moans eagerly around your length, clearly excited by the promise of a facial. You can feel your orgasm building as her throat muscles massage your sensitive head.

Your thrusts become more erratic as you get closer to the edge. Her face is an absolute mess now - mascara running down her cheeks, lipstick completely ruined, drool everywhere. She looks utterly debauched and you haven't even cum yet.

"Get ready baby," you warn, feeling your balls tighten. "Going to cover that beautiful face."

You pull out just in time, the slick heat of her lips giving way as you grip your shaft tightly, aiming at Miyeon's upturned face. Her mouth is already open, tongue stretched out, her eyes locked on yours with a look of pure, desperate need. "Give it to me," she breathes, her voice thick with anticipation. The sight of her waiting so hungrily for your release sends a jolt through you, your cock twitching violently in your hand.

With a guttural groan, you let go, the first rope of hot cum splattering across her forehead and sliding down to her nose. She gasps softly, her breath hitching as the next thick jet paints her cheek, followed by another streaking across the bridge of her nose. Your hand works your shaft steadily, aiming with intent, making sure to glaze her perfect lips thoroughly, the creamy mess dripping onto her tongue as she moans in satisfaction.

She doesn’t flinch—if anything, she leans into it, her tongue sweeping over her lips, savoring every drop that lands in her mouth. You’re relentless, emptying yourself onto her until her face is a masterpiece of your desire, every inch of her skin marked with your seed. Thick streaks cling to her lashes, a stray drop dangling precariously from her chin before falling onto her chest. By the time you're finished, she’s a vision of debauched perfection, her flushed cheeks and parted lips framed by the glistening evidence of your climax.

"Fuck," you mutter, your voice hoarse as you admire her. "Look at you. My perfect, filthy girl."

She moans softly, tilting her head as you bring your cock closer, your tip still sensitive but eager for more. Slowly, deliberately, you use your softening length to spread the mess across her skin. You smear the cum over her cheeks, tracing her jawline, rubbing it into her lips before sliding down to her chin. She stays perfectly still, her eyes closed, a serene smile tugging at her mouth as she basks in the attention.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” you whisper, your voice thick with awe. “That pretty face deserves to be covered in my cum every day.”

Her lashes flutter as she peeks up at you, her voice soft but dripping with satisfaction. “I’ll let you paint me whenever you want. I love how it feels... so warm, so dirty.”

Your thumb moves to her lips, smearing the last of the cum over them before pushing lightly into her mouth. She sucks on it obediently, her tongue flicking against your skin, her moan vibrating through your thumb.

When you finally pull back, you grab a handful of tissues, leaning down to clean her face. You start gently, dabbing at her cheeks and lips, but you can’t help but pause to admire her wrecked state—the messy hair, her flushed skin, her swollen, cock-bruised lips. Even as you clean her, the heat between you lingers, your touch lingering on her skin as she smiles up at you.

"You’re mine, Miyeon," you blurt out unconsciously, but there’s no mistaking the edge in your voice.

"Yours," she repeats, her voice a dreamy whisper. "Yeah, I'm yours.”

—

After changing the sheets on the bed, you both collapse onto the fresh, clean mattress, exhausted but content. You pull Miyeon close, her body fitting perfectly against yours as you snuggle together. The room is quiet, the only sound the soft hum of the city outside the window.

Miyeon props herself up on an elbow, looking down at you with those dark, beautiful eyes. "So... this isn't just a one-time thing, right?" she asks, her voice soft but hopeful.

You pull her in for a kiss, your lips lingering on hers. "Definitely not," you murmur against her mouth. "Unless you want it to be?"

"No!" she says quickly, then blushes, her cheeks turning a cute shade of pink. "I mean... I really like you. Like, really really like you."

You smile, your heart swelling in your chest. "Good, because I really really like you too," you say. "Even when you're not dressed as an elf."

She groans, hiding her face in your neck. "Are you ever going to let me live that down?" she mumbles, her voice muffled.

You chuckle, your arms tightening around her. "Nope. It's how we met, it's part of our love story now."

She goes still in your arms, her body tensing slightly.

"Love story?" She asks

Shit. Too soon? You think to yourself, wondering if you've fucked up. But then she's beaming up at you with that bright smile that first caught your attention, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

"Yeah," you say softly. "Love story."

She kisses you again, pouring all her feelings into it. When she pulls back, her eyes are sparkling with happy tears. "Best Christmas present ever," she declares, her voice filled with joy.

[selfcarecap]

Dear Santa

✧ Logan Howlett x female!reader x Wade Wilson

✧ summary: Your best friend and roommate Wade is a little lonely over the holidays, third-wheeling with you and Logan the entire time. But the holidays are all about giving, so you and Logan decide to fulfil some of the more sexual wishes on Wade’s wishlist. Or: You have a threesome with Logan and Wade.

✧ warnings: smut 18+ (oral sex, piv sex, cum eating, frotting kinda, liittle bit of ass eating (f rec); deffffinitely attraction between Wade and Logan but the focus is on the reader), Christmas mention (just for the seasonal vibes, not the religion obv. wanted to make it neutral originally but sorry I needed Christmas vibes specifically!!), this is my first time writing Wade beyond a few lines, idk if I did him justice but either way this was so fun to write!

gorgeous dividers by @dollywons <3

✧ word count: 4.7k

Wade Wilson likes to flirt. That’s no secret. 

But he’s been even more flirty recently, in the weeks leading up to the winter holidays. In fact, he’s been so flirty that you had to check in with your boyfriend Logan to make sure that he doesn’t mind. 

And no, Logan doesn’t mind. If anything, he enjoys watching how Wade makes you squirm with the sexual remarks that you have to pretend are below your level but you actually quite enjoy. 

It started when you bought yourself some cute Christmas pyjamas, pink and with a cheesy pattern on them. 

“You look so cute, I could just eat you out,” Wade said as soon as he saw you in it. 

You sat down between him and Logan on the sofa, ready for your first December movie night, and you shared an unsure look with your boyfriend. 

“Don’t you mean you could just eat her up?” Logan asked, an eyebrow raised. 

Wade considered it for a moment. “Hmm, no. I said the right thing.”

You spent the rest of the night flustered, leaning into Logan and hiding your face in his neck as deeply as you could. 

-

The next time it happens is when you get out of the car after buying some festive decorations for your shared apartment with Wade. 

You’re getting the shopping bags from the back when you notice him still in the driver’s seat, leaning over to inspect the place you were just sitting. 

“What are you doing?” you ask Wade, cheeks heating up. 

“I was just checking if you were sitting in a pile of sugar, cause that ass is looking sweet.”

-

“You know why they call me Wilson?” he asks you over breakfast one time. 

“Because that’s your last name?”

“No, because I will soon be between your legs.”

You take a bite of your food, humming, “That one still needs some work.”

Wade nods, “I know, still experimenting on the execution. Thanks for the feedback.”

-

“Does my tongue taste funny to you?”

You roll your eyes at Wade. “Ew.”

“No, I mean it, I think I’m having an allergic reaction. Can you at least look at it?”

“Oh!” you hurry towards him. 

-

“You know, baby angel,” he tells you one afternoon, “I think you’re the only one who can still be on Santa’s nice list despite being so naughty.”

Your eyebrows inch closer together, “How am I naughty?”

“Your bedroom is right next to mine, Miss likes-being-spanked.”

“Oh…” is all you manage to say. 

“But from what I hear in there you are a good girl, so that checks out with Santa’s nice list.”

-

It’s not strange per se that he’s acting this way, but it still makes more sense when you find Wade’s Christmas wishlist. 

You’re in his bedroom to get back a hoodie of yours that he borrowed ‘because it smells like you’ and he wanted to cuddle it while he sleeps. He said it so sweetly that you couldn’t say no, though you hope cuddling is really all he did to it. 

You find the piece of paper jammed between the bedframe and the mattress, and it only catches your eye because of the messy ‘Dear Santa’ scribbled at the top. 

Wade is always graphic, but reading his wishlist still makes a tingle run up your spine. All that’s on the list is things he wants to do with you and to you, all of sexual nature, of course. Logan is involved too. 

You read Wade’s wishes and get giddy, running to your bedroom to show Logan. 

You’ve been struggling to find a meaningful Christmas gift for Wade, so this is going to be perfect. Now all you have to do is wait for the next horny joke – and you’re sure that won’t be long.

-

It’s Christmas Eve and you and Logan are watching some show when Wade comes in. It’s toasty warm, the fairy lights reflecting on the tv screen during every dark scene. You’re sitting between Logan’s spread legs with your back against his chest.

Wade sits down next to you two, eyes glued to your legs, bare underneath an oversized graphic t-shirt. You give him a minute before he says something.

His words come three seconds later.

“If your left leg is Thanksgiving, and your right leg is Christmas, can I visit you between the holidays?”

You lean to the side to glance up at Logan, who gives you a subtle nod. You settle back against his chest, “Sure.”

“Wait, what?” Wade’s jaw drops.

You giggle, humouring him, “What do you wanna do when you visit me between the holidays?”

He scrambles for an answer, still surprised at your words, “Since Logan is my little honey badger,” your boyfriend huffs from behind you, “and honey badgers are named after their favourite food, I wanna know if your honey is as sweet as I’ve imagined.”

You laugh but Logan grumbles, “If you wanna eat her pussy, just say that.”

Wade rolls his eyes, holding a hand to the side of his mouth, “Honey badgers are no fun,” he says to you, “But yes, I wanna eat your pussy.”

“Okay,” you say, smiling.

His eyes light up. “Okay? Like, you’re giving me your consent okay?” 

“Yes, Wade,” you giggle, watching him fall to his knees in front of the sofa as he gently pushes your legs apart. His fingers against your skin immediately make you feel warm.

Before Wade can get to your panties, Logan reaches around from behind you and pulls the hem of your shirt down, blocking Wade’s view. “Ah,” he chides, “No fucking manners. You kiss her first before you get between her legs.”

Wade doesn’t have to be told twice.

Your lips meet with a fervour exactly like you would expect from Wade. You figured he’s been lonely the last few weeks, single and alone while you and Logan are still in the honeymoon phase. You’re glad to provide some love for Wade. He deserves it.

While Wade almost bites your face off, Logan’s hands find your hips, gently circling the skin there, and you can practically feel the heat from your underwear radiating in the little space between you.

Logan knows your body so well by now that he can tell immediately when you’re getting needy. He reaches around you, taking hold of Wade’s jaw, interrupting the kiss.

“Now,” Logan commands.

“Don’t boss me around, the only one who can boss me around is this little thing,” Wade’s hand trails up your knee. You giggle, trying to suppress the moan you want to let out.

You spread your legs for Wade as he gets back on the carpeted floor, hands smoothing up your legs, playing with the hem of your panties. You want to tell him to stop teasing, the butterflies in your stomach almost too much to bear.

He laughs, “Oh, who am I kidding? I don’t have the self control to tease you like this.”

You lift your hips for Wade to pull your panties all the way down your legs, grateful that he doesn’t comment on how wet they already are. You don’t comment on how he stuffs them in his pocket.

Logan helps Wade spread your legs further, two sets of strong hands digging into the flesh of your thighs. You’re getting wetter by the second.

“This is even better than seeing Hugh Jackman oiled up and shirtless with ‘Like a Prayer’ playing,” Wade says when he sees your pussy.

“What?”

“Huge who?”

Wade ignores the questions. “God,” he whispers, leaning in to press a kiss to your clit, and you resist the urge of your legs to weakly fall shut from the pleasure.

He takes his time with you, eating your pussy like a five course meal, making out with it like he never wants it to end. Wade moans against your skin even more than you moan from the pleasure.

He fucks you with one finger, then two, while he licks your clit, but it’s still not enough. Luckily, your boyfriend recognises your need.

“Quit squirming, will ya? So needy,” Logan scoffs, lifting your hips off him for a moment to pull down his sweats, taking out his hard cock. You give him a desperate nod before he can even ask anything, and Wade helps position you so that Logan can slowly sit you down on his dick, all three of you sighing in pleasure as he bottoms out.

“Mhmm, good girl. Much better. Was startin’ to get cold anyway.”

You nod mindlessly, pussy already pulsing around your boyfriend. 

“So fucking pretty,” Wade mumbles. He licks your clit, your pussy stuffed full with Logan’s dick.

Logan lifts your shirt over your head, discarding it in a corner of the sofa, playing with your tits from behind you. Wade looks up at your chest, tongue on your puffy clit, and moans so hard his eyes almost roll back. He brings a hand up to squeeze your tit, leaving his hand there.

“You close, baby?” Logan asks, able to feel your every squeeze around his cock, and you nod, grabbing his knee for support.

“Yeah, pretty girl, cum for us,” Wade parts with your pussy for just a split second to say this. Logan’s hand comes down from your boob to gently press down on the space between your abdomen and your pussy, and you feel everything three times more intensely.

Wade begins to suck on your clit, and that’s your undoing. You whimper as you try to fuck yourself on your boyfriend’s big cock just a little bit, squeezing around him, as Wade sloppily licks your clit to draw out your orgasm.

All of Logan’s willpower trying not to cum flows into your hips as he grabs you there. You feel a warm load of precum in your pussy, but he manages to resist the urge to cum, pulling you up and off his dick as soon as you stop pulsing with the aftershocks.

All three of you are out of breath. Logan turns you towards him to press a big kiss to your mouth, pinching your cheek, “You really needed to cum, hm? Did so well.”

“That’s three Michelin stars right there,” Wade says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and licking it afterwards.

You blink at Wade.

“Exceptional cuisine, worth a special journey?” he offers. 

“Michelin? I knew that guy…” Logan says, shaking his head a moment later, “You wanna keep going?”

You nod eagerly.

Your boyfriend smirks, “Let’s see if Wade can make you cum too.”

Wade puts a hand on his chest as he stands back up, hard dick tenting his sweatpants, “Je m’excuse. Were you not just there for me licking her pretty pussy until she came?”

Logan shrugs, “I was the one inside her, bub.”

Wade huffs, “That’s not how it works and you know it.”

You smile, pulling Wade’s face closer to kiss him again.

“Can I fuck you?” he asks in between kisses.

“Yes, but not yet.”

Logan completes your thought, “Not before I cum in her.” You smile at his possessiveness.

Wade puts his hands on his face, “Woah, wait. Did you two plan this? That’s so hot.”

You’re already on all fours, Logan getting on his knees behind you, rubbing his cock between your pussy lips. You sigh in pleasure, pawing at Wade’s sweatpants and pulling him to the sofa by the drawstrings.

He moans, pushing his sweats down and getting in front of you, “Well, merry fucking christmas to me.”

You kiss Wade by his hips and support yourself with a hand on his thigh. He gets the tiniest little bit harder, a brief flex of his dick, now fully hard. A drop of precum drips down, and you only just catch it with your palm before it lands on the sofa. 

Logan smiles behind you, “Can’t have him ruinin’ the sofa, hm, baby?”

You nod lazily, and look up at Wade, “Can I?”

“Holy shit, baby, of course you can.” Wade looks you right in the eyes when you open your mouth to take the head of his cock past your lips, moaning when you taste him.

Logan begins to fuck you at the same time, slowly at first. You suck Wade’s dick in the rhythm of Logan’s thrusts, slow but firm, that move you forward a little bit every time. Somehow, you manage to still look up at Wade with a little fucked out look in your eyes as your boyfriend fucks your wet pussy just how you like it.

“Such a good girl, baby,” Logan mumbles, “taking us both so well.”

Wade stutters “Yeah, yeahh, knew this would feel good but,” he needs a second to recalibrate when you move your head down to lick his balls, heavy cock falling against your cheek, spilling precum. Wade’s eyes fall shut as his head drops back.

He continues after a few moments, “but this feels like heaven.”

When you move back to his dick and take him into your mouth all wetly, Wade cums instantly. The pleasure of having him pulsing against your tongue and his cum spilling down your throat makes you clench around Logan’s cock so hard that he moans. 

“Yeah, baby, cum for me,” Logan sneaks a hand around your hip to play with your clit, and with Wade’s dick still throbbing against your tongue, you cum too. You feel Logan letting go, fucking his cum into your pussy that’s squeezing him with the pulse of your orgasm.

 You all come down from your shared high giddy and giggling, Wade’s hand smoothing over your cheek, Logan’s hand soothingly running down your spine.

Wade’s dick, still hard, flexes in front of your face when you look at him, sticking out your tongue, his creamy cum covering it. “Saved you some,” you say carefully, making sure to not let any of it spill from your mouth.

“You’re perfect,” he groans, bending down to kiss you and messily make out. Some of his cum spills from between your mouths, dripping down your chest.

Logan manhandles you to turn you around onto your back, and you bounce a little when you land. Then he bends down to lick Wade’s cum off your chest in one broad lick. You’re too excited yourself to pay attention to Wade’s reaction. 

Logan moves to rest your head in his lap by his lower thighs, cock hard again and close to your face. He nods between your legs, telling Wade, “there you go. She’s wanted this for a long time”

Your head snaps straight up so that you’re looking at Logan, your gazes meeting. Your skin heats up all the way down to your chest and Logan smirks, “It’s okay, princess. This pussy’s still mine.” He reaches between your legs to deliver a gentle slap to your pussy, collecting some of his cum from inside you on his fingers, bringing them to your mouth. You suck them eagerly, and then sit up briefly to pull his face into a kiss.

“I love how we taste together,” you tell him.

Wade gets between your legs and tuts at Logan. “What an animal, doesn’t even clean up after himself,” he huffs and promptly licks your pussy. He smirks up at you and Logan, “I love how you two taste too.” 

“Need you to fuck me, Wade.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve dreamed of hearing those words. Fucked my fist listening to you fucking so many times, gave myself friction burn.”

You and Logan share a smile. You know this; he talks to himself while he’s jerking off – you’re not sure if he’s aware.

Wade lines his dick up with your pussy, pushing your legs up against your chest, teasingly slapping his cock against your clit until you’re squirming. When Wade fucks you, he fucks you slowly, tauntingly yet desperately.

Logan lazily plays with his cock, slapping it against your cheek and your tongue from time to time, your mouth eagerly chasing after him, but he’s just teasing you, wants you to focus on Wade.

“Doin’ such a good job, baby,” Logan says from above you, stroking his hand over your cheek.

“Thank you, peanut,” Wade says, eyes closed, thinking Logan is talking to him. You both let him remain in that belief. 

Wade is lost in the feeling of your warm, wet and tight pussy around his dick, languidly fucking you as your pussy starts to squeeze around him more and more as you get closer to your own orgasm.

“God baby, feels better than anything I’ve ever felt. Can’t last much longer”, Wade rasps, playing with your clit. But it’s messy, and Logan can tell it won’t be enough for you. He bats Wade’s hand away and circles your clit instead.

You cum before Wade, moaning as your pussy clenches around him, triggering his orgasm. Your back arches as pleasure flows through your belly and spreads throughout your whole body, Wade’s hips desperately chasing to keep that heavenly feeling until he stills inside you while he’s bottomed out.

“Still haven’t made her cum,” Logan says, with a teasing smile.

Wade looks up, “I was the one inside of her, bub.”

You roll your eyes at their teasing each other, but you don’t care as long as it’s about your pleasure. You don’t care who made you cum.

“Bend over for me, baby,” Wade says, pulling out, “wanna see if that ass is really made of sugar.”

You laugh as you get on all fours, Wade pulling your hips in place. He bends down and licks your pussy where he just came in you, swallowing some of his cum. 

Then, he grabs your ass so hard your cheeks spread. Wade licks around your tight hole, and you wrap your hand around your boyfriend’s hard dick. Logan bends down to give you a kiss, and you moan into his mouth as the tip of Wade’s tongue pushes inside you.

You can’t deny that it feels good but you’ve never let Logan’s mouth stay near your ass long either. You squirm so that Wade moves away from your hips, and he gives you ass a teasing slap as he sits back up.

“Definitely made out of sugar,” he concludes.

Just when Wade is about to stand up, some more of his cum drips out of your pussy as you involuntarily clench around nothing, and he stuffs his face back between your legs. He sits back up with cum in his mouth, ready to kiss you, but you shake your head, looking up at Logan.

Your boyfriend pretends to be unaffected, but you can see behind it.

“Can he?” you ask Logan, and he agrees to it. You grab his jaw and open his mouth manually, biting your lip as you look at Wade. Logan’s skin is hot under your touch.

“Here you go, open up,” you beam at Logan, watching as Wade holds his jaw all tenderly, spitting his own cum into Logan’s mouth. You hold your breath as you wait for them to kiss, but the moment doesn’t come.

You visibly pout when they pull away without making out.

“I know, sugar bear, me too, but Peanut’s not ready yet,” Wade shrugs.

You press a quick kiss of encouragement to Logan’s lips, and he and Wade are on you again within the second, but you need a break after your orgasms. But that little exchange, their lips almost close enough to kiss, turned you on so much that you want to see more of them.

You tell them to sit together, facing each other, as close as they can. Their muscular thighs are tangled around each other’s hips, Logan’s leg resting over Wade’s on one side, vice versa on the other one. Their dicks are close enough to touch with just a little bit of assistance.

“Can I?” you ask, kneeling in front of the sofa.

“Can you what, princess?” Logan bites his lip.

“Rub your dicks together?”

“Yeah, but come here. Don’t wanna see the face it’s attached to.” Logan lies down and lifts you on top of him, your pussy in his face and your upper body by their pushed together crotches.

“Oh pfft, you know you love it,” Wade comments.

“He does,” you kiss him for reassurance. Logan is obviously into Wade, he just hasn’t admitted that to himself yet.

Logan begins to lick at your pussy, tongue playing with your clit. “Don’t. Can’t focus,” you warn with a teasing smile.

“Sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

You wrap one hand each around their cocks, just jerking them off for a few moments.

“Don’t make it so suspenseful, sugar bear, or I’ll cum from the anticipation alone.”

“Would that be a bad thing?” you shrug with one shoulder, smiling down at their throbbing dicks in your hands.

As much as you’d love to see Wade cumming all over himself before you’ve even started, you have other plans. You let some of your spit drip down over their tips, jacking them off a bit faster, hearing their breaths stutter.

“Peanut, you’re really missing out not being able to see her. She’s so gorgeous.”

“I know she is, Wade.”

You smile at their compliments, lowering your head to trail your tongue between their cocks, paying more attention to your boyfriend first, then to Wade. They taste of your pussy and their precum, wetting your tongue with their taste.

Playing with them for a bit, you rub their dicks together, jerking them off at the same time.

“You need some assistance?” Wade asks, sitting up more and moving his hips. All you have to do is hold your boyfriend’s dick in place as Wade grinds against him, rubbing his cock against Logan’s for a few moments.

“God that feels good, wanna cum,” Wade groans.

“Off,” you tell him, smiling when his hips still in defeat. You tease them both a little longer, rubbing their tips together until their precum mixes and they’re both close, but you don’t let them cum. 

You get off them, telling them to stand up while you sit on the sofa facing them, leaning back a little.

“Which one of you wants to cum on me first?” you ask, voice sweet and angelic. 

They both start jerking off immediately, and you almost drool at having these two tall, muscular men stroking their dicks right in front of you – and for you – fighting over who gets to drain their balls for you first.

It’s Wade who cums first, a string of obscenities leaving his mouth as he jerks his dick to orgasm, painting your stomach white with his cum. Logan isn’t far behind, telling you what a pretty girl you are as he cums over your belly and tits. Their cum mixes, and it becomes impossible to tell whose cum landed where.

You sit up to lick your boyfriend’s dick clean, then Wade’s, then you lie back, puffing out your chest.

“Can one of you get wipes to clean me?” you ask innocently, knowing exactly that’s not what they’re going to do. They get to their knees simultaneously, starting to lick their cum off you, licking you clean.

They sit down next to you afterwards, you sandwiched between them. They lift one leg of yours each over their lap, touching you all over, putting their hands between your legs.

“Such a good girl for us, hm?” Wade says.

Your boyfriend agrees. “Did such a good job, baby.”

“You wanna cum again? Wanna cum for Logan and me?”

You nod lazily, all blissed out already, “yes please.” Your eyes fall shut at how good it feels, and at some point you can barely tell who is kissing you, whose hand it is playing with your nipples, or whose fingers are inside your wet pussy.

You cum for them, clenching hard around the fingers inside your pussy as another hand grabs at your knee to keep your legs apart. When you open your eyes again after a few moments, both men are looking at you lovingly, and it’s Logan who slowly pulls his fingers out of your pussy, delivering a few gentle, smoothing circles over your clit.

You grab his wrist to bring his fingers up to your face, looking him in the eyes, at how they light up when you suck his fingers into your mouth to taste yourself, no matter how often he’s seen you do it.

“You’re such a lucky bastard, honey badger,” Wade smiles, leaning his head against the back of the sofa.

You innocently smile at Wade, “I’d say I’m quite lucky too.”

-

You end up cuddling in your and Logan’s shared bed, all fucked out of your minds, freshly showered but exhausted to bits. 

“All in all, a successful Christmas Eve,” Wade says, making you giggle.

You force yourself from your warm and cozy position between them when you remember Wade’s list, grabbing it off your bedside table, along with a pen.

Wade’s cheeks redden in recognition at the piece of paper, “You found that? That was just me writing fanfiction before bed one night.”

“We wanted to give you a nice gift,” Logan grumbles.

“Yeah,” you agree, “We didn’t want you to feel like you were third-wheeling all throughout the holidays.”

Wade smiles one of his sweet smiles, “Thank you, guys. You’ve made this little guy,” he points at his face, “and especially this big guy,” he points at his crotch, “very happy.”

“Let’s see if you got all your wishes.”

Dear Santa,

I’ve been an exceptionally good boy this year, my kill count is at a measly 34. I think I deserve a few things. Here are my wishes for Christmas this year:

- Eat out Logan’s girlfriend

“You know she has a name, right?” Logan huffs.

“Of course, but the writer didn’t want to have to use the dreaded y slash n.”

“What?” you cringe.

“Nothing, keep reading.” 

- Eat my or Logan’s cum out of her pussy

- Sword-fighting with Logan while his girlfriend supervises

- Cum eating contest off her body with Logan 

- Cuddle with them

“What genius came up with this?” Wade grins.

“We had to do some interpreting, but we got everything, right?”

Surprisingly, it’s Logan who points at the last wish, “We haven’t done that one yet.”

“Yippie!” Wade claps, “cuddle wuddle time.”

“Nevermind,” Logan says, ready to get up and sleep on the sofa, but you pull him back by the wrist, giggling.

You switch off the lights, putting Wade’s wishlist away – all wishes checked off.

Logan moves closer to you, pressing his chest against your back to cuddle, giving you a loving kiss before lying down.

“I love you, princess.”

“I love you too.”

You let Wade snuggle up to you as the little spoon, draping your arm over his chest, and he holds onto your wrist with a warm hand.

“You made me a very happy Christmas boy, you know that?”

You laugh, “We love you, Wade.”

“I love you too,” he says, and lies his head down on the pillow. You kiss the side of his head before you pull the blanket over yourself.

“Merry Christmas, Wade.”

Just as you’re about to fall asleep a while later, you hear Wade’s voice:

“You know that means Santa’s real, right?”

P.S. Thank you so much for reading <3 Let me know what you liked and reblog to get on Wade’s and Logan’s nice list 🤭😇 and Merry Christmas!!! <3

[i2sunric]

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 (p.js)

PAIRING: hades!jay x persephone!reader

SUMMARY: labelled as unable of being loved, jay decides to steal a mortal to rule his realm with. what he hasn’t expected, though, is that it wasn’t you who he kidnapped, you had stolen his heart.

WARNINGS: kidnapping, enemies to lovers (but only reader hates jay), greek mythology, mentions of other idols as Gods, kisses. lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 22nd December 2024

WC: 3.5k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @heeheeswifey @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @cloud-lyy @who-tf-soddhi (oneshot) @monstaxdirtywonk @love4choso @heechwe

a/n: guess who’s back, back again. lol, i’m so happy with how this turned out! and i sincerely hope y’all like it too 🩷 have some nice holidays!

The gods of Olympus were never silent. Their laughter and taunts echoed across the heavens, filling their golden halls with noise and light.

Among them, Hades — so few knew him as Jay — was the quiet shadow in their midst.

Rarely did he grace their celebrations, his duties below pulling him away from the vanity of their world.

But he wasn't deaf to their jests.

“He'll never know love," Hermes — whose former name was Jungwon — had said to one banquet, leaning onto his caduceus with a smirk.

"Who would want to walk in those dark halls with him?" Aphrodite chimed in, her melodic laughter cutting through the room.

Jay had sat silent, his face impassive, but their words lodged deep within him.

He had never been a creature of longing— his domain demanded stern control, not vulnerability. And yet, as centuries passed, a hollow ache had begun to grow.

Perhaps the others were right. Perhaps he would remain alone. But then, there was the smallest flicker of rebellion within him.

“Let them doubt me," he whispered, his voice cold as the mist of the Styx. "I will find someone who can see me for what I really am."

♡.

Jay seldom visited the mortal world. It was too loud, too bright, too alive.

But something had pulled him there that day, a whisper in the back of his mind, a tenuous tug he could not ignore. And so, he walked among the mortals, his dark robes altered to blend in with their simple garb.

The sun beat above, merciless. Apollo — also known as Heeseung — really enjoyed making mundanes suffer. Mortals bustled around him, their voices a cacophony of trivial concerns.

He had nearly given up, retreating toward the shaded edge of a golden orchard, when his eyes fell on you.

You stood beneath an ancient apple tree, reaching up toward the highest branches.

Your hands grasped the fruit carefully, inspecting each apple before placing it in your basket.

The sun played in your hair, catching the edges of your figure like a halo. But it wasn't your beauty that arrested him; it was the way you moved— with confidence, with purpose.

Suddenly, a strange thought assailed him: You belonged in no one's shadow. It seemed as if not even the apple’s shadow could make you lose your spark.

A step closer he came, and almost faltered. You laughed softly as you took a bite of the sweet fruit, a slice of sound that cut through the din around him. Something in his chest stirred. An unfamiliar pull, sharp and insistent.

Before he knew better, he acted.

The earth had shaken beneath your feet, and you had stood stock-still, startled.

A chill had saturated the air, unnatural and heavy. You turned, your gaze darting around for the source, but the orchard had fallen silent.

Then the earth rent asunder. Shadows poured from it, twisting and coiling like living things. Swimming around you like water would from a waterfall.

Up from the chasm rose a chariot of black iron, its wheels spinning silently above the broken earth. The horses were ghostly, their eyes glowing like dying embers.

Your breath caught in your throat as a figure stepped from the chariot, the bitten apple falling on the ground, rolling. He was cloaked in darkness, his hood obscuring his face, but his presence was overwhelming.

Power radiated from him, pressing down on your chest like a physical weight.

"Who—" Your voice broke, trembling with fear and defiance. "Who are you?"

He didn't answer, only lifted a hand. The shadows surged forward, binding your legs like chains. You cried out, struggling against them, but they held fast.

"Let me go!" you shouted, anger flashing through your terror.

Jay raised a brow; he moved closer, and for the first time, you caught a glimpse of his face beneath the hood.

His features were sharp, almost otherworldly, and his eyes were a cold, unyielding gray.

"I cannot," he whispered, and then before you could reply, he took you into his embrace.

You struggled against him, your fists pounding against his chest, but it was like hitting stone. He stepped back onto the chariot, holding you fast as the horses reared and plunged into the chasm.

The world above disappeared in a swirl of darkness as you lost your senses.

♡.

When you awoke, you were no longer in the orchard.

The air was cool and heavy, carrying a faint metallic tang that sent shivers down your spine.

You sat up slowly, your heart pounding as you took in your surroundings. The chamber was huge, its walls carved from gleaming black stone that seemed to drink in the dim red light emanating from the ceiling.

And there, sat on an obsidian throne on the other end of the room, was him.

He watched you intently— his hood discarded, with pale skin and a face chiseled, striking yet severe. His dark eyes felt to see right through you, and you hated the way your breath caught under his gaze.

Hades. Ruler of the Underworld.

"Why?" you demanded, your voice hoarse. You stood shakily, glaring at him. "Why did you bring me here?"

"I needed a queen," he said simply, as if that explanation was enough.

You laughed bitterly, the sound echoing off the walls. "A queen? You think I'd ever agree to rule this… this pit with you?"

His expression didn't change, though you could have sworn you saw a flicker of something in his eyes-annoyance, perhaps, or amusement.

"You misunderstand," he said, his voice calm but firm. "You don't have a choice."

That struck a nerve. Your hands curled into fists, and despite the fear twisting in your gut, you stepped closer. "No one owns me," you hissed. "Not you, not anyone.”

For the first time, his calm cracked.

He rose with a slow, deliberate movement, and all the weight of his presence came down on you.

"I am Hades," he said, his voice thundering with power. "God of the Underworld, you are here because I chose you, and you will learn to accept that."

Your heart hammered in your chest, but you refused to back down. "And if I don't?"

The silence hung heavy between you for a moment. Then, to your surprise, he looked away. "Then you'll remain here as my prisoner. Either way, you belong to me now."

You swallowed hard, anger and fear warring within you. But one thought rose above the rest: You will not let him break you.

With the snap of his fingers, two servants in the form of a skeleton appeared in front of you. They looked at you with their void eyes and then turned around, walking.

You glanced up at Jay, who only beckoned you to follow them.

A scoff escaped your lips as you did just that, anything would be better than staying in the same room as him.

The skeleton's bones made a funny noise as they walked you down the neve -ending hallways. The castle was huge, crimson coated the walls as well as dark black.

“So,” you cleared your throat “Is your boss always like that? Or does he change expressions sometimes?” you tried to joke, but the skeletons didn’t reply.

Of course, they didn’t even have lips, “You can’t tell me anything, uh? Not even where the exit is?”

They just stopped in front of a door, opening it for you. Taking the hint, you slowly stepped inside, cautious.

The chamber was so spacious for only one person, a bed stood in the middle of the room, its sheets a dark shade of red.

The walls were coated with drawings of black dahlias, the ceiling so high it made you think the room never actually ended.

The skeletons closed the door behind your back, leaving you there, alone.

You walked to the bed, sitting on its edge. At least, the mattress was soft, the sheets silk and warm.

You finally allowed a sob to escape your lips, another followed and then another again.

Gods always did what they wanted, never truly considering someone’s feelings. You hated them, but more than anything, you hated Hades.

Your fingers gripped the sheets, if he wanted a wife, you’d show him just what you were made of.

♡.

The tension hung between you like a storm cloud.

Jay had come to visit you when you woke up, followed by a skeleton that placed a trail of pomegranate on your bed.

You didn’t know how much you slept, neither of it was morning or night. The Underworld had no light.

“I hope the chamber is of your likings.” He spoke after an awkward silence. You dared glance at him, but daren’t reply.

Jay let out a soft sigh, “It is the only fruit that grows in my realm, if you want anything in particular, I’ll have one of my servants fetch you something from the orchard in the Olympus.”

Finally, you reached down, picking up the pomegranate. Its scent was sweet, and the faint shimmer of the seeds made them look like tiny jewels.

Usually, you’d go crazy for the bittersweet fruit, but the Underworld made even that look dead, poisonous.

You turned it in your hands as if inspecting it. "And what if I refuse to eat?" you asked, tone sharp.

Jay's lips quirked in what might have been amusement, though it was fleeting. "You won't," he said simply, his voice soft but sure.

Your glare deepened. "How do you know?"

"Because you don't hate life," he said. "Even here, in this place you claim to despise, you'll find a reason to keep going.”

The words struck deeper than you wanted to admit. You opened your mouth to fire back a retort, but no words came.

You picked up one of the seeds between your fingers, observing the way the surface shimmered before finally placing it into your mouth.

The flavor burst on your tongue, sweet and tart, and for a moment, you were reminded of the orchards above— the sun on your skin, the breeze in your hair, the simple joy of being free.

Jay watched you in silence, his expression unreadable. When you finally set the pomegranate down, he inclined his head slightly. "I'll leave you to your evening," he said, turning to go.

So, it was evening.

But before he could go, your voice stopped him. "Wait."

He turned back; his eyes were steady but questioning.

"Why do you keep trying?" you asked, quieter now. "Why not just leave me to my misery? Use me just for your plans?” after all, it would be typical of the Gods.

For a moment, he said nothing. Then, stepping closer, he spoke in a voice so soft it barely carried across the room, “Because I've spent eternity surrounded by shadows, and for the first time, there's a light here."

His words had left you speechless for a moment. He bowed his head slightly and then left the room, the door clicking softly behind him.

♡.

The Underworld had a strange beauty to it, though you’d fought to see it.

The palace gardens, in particular, drew your attention on restless nights— or days. They were like nothing you’d ever encountered in the mortal world.

The flowers glowed faintly, their petals a soft silver-blue, and streams of water that sparkled like liquid starlight wove between them.

It was here, one evening, that you sat on a stone bench, your eyes fixed on the ghostly blooms. You didn't hear Jay approach until he spoke.

"You come here often," he said, his voice quiet.

You startled slightly but didn't turn. "I don't have many options," you replied, your tone still edged with defiance.

You had tried to wander around the castle, and Jay let you, but whenever you came too close to the exit, a puddle of shadows rose from the ground and brought you back to your chamber.

Jay sat beside you, leaving enough space to show he wasn't trying to intrude. He looked out at the garden, his gray eyes contemplative. "These flowers," he said after a moment, "Only grow here, nowhere else in existence."

You glanced at him, surprised by the hint of pride in his voice. "You care about them?"

"They're life in a place where life shouldn't exist," he said simply.

The words hung in the air between you, and for the first time, you felt a flicker of understanding: the Underworld wasn't just a prison to him— it was a responsibility, a realm he nurtured despite its darkness.

It was the realm given to him by his father, and it was his job to keep it going, no matter how much he despised it.

After a moment, you exhaled, leaning back slightly. "Why do you do that?"

He looked at you, brow furrowed. "Do what?

“Say things that make it hard to hate you,” you said, a faint, reluctant smile tugging at your lips.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, perhaps weeks or months. Time seemed to flow slower there.

But you thought it would be easier to hate him, had he been scarier and less gentle. His sharp edges always seemed to soften whenever you walked into the room, and his clothes clung to his form, revealing a body any girl from your village would go crazy about.

Not that you stared at it too much, of course.

To your surprise, Jay’s lips curved into a faint smile of his own. “I thought you’d hate me forever.”

“I’m still considering it,” you shot back, though the teasing note in your voice was unmistakable.

Jay chuckled softly, the sound low and unfamiliar. For the first time, the weight between you seemed to lift, if only slightly.

“Will you ever let me see the light again? The orchard?” or your family. Would your parents be worried, or had Jay already cast a spell on them?

“Depends,” he spoke, “Will you run away if I do.” fair point. The moment the sun kissed your skin again, you were sure you wouldn’t step inside this gloomy castle anymore.

Seeing your lack of reply, Jay just got up and turned around, murmuring “That’s what I thought.”

And for a seconds, you thought you saw something like hurt flicker in his eyes.

♡.

More time passed, and though you had resisted at first, you found yourself softening toward Jay. He had a quiet strength about him, a steady patience that wore down your walls like water against stone.

You spent most of your days in the library. Though your eyes weren’t used to the light anymore, your imagination worked just as fine.

You daydreamed of the life outside the suffocating walls of the Underworld’s castle, you dreamed of someone rescuing you.

And sometimes — but just sometimes — you fantasised about Jay, and his heart made of iron.

One night, as you sat by the fire in the great hall, he joined you, a small bundle wrapped in dark cloth clutched in his hand. "I have something for you," he said; his voice held a rare note of uncertainty. You lifted an eyebrow, curiosity pricked despite yourself. "Another 'gesture'?"

"Of a sort," he said. He unwrapped the bundle, revealing a delicate necklace of silver and black opals.

The stones shimmered like starlight, their glow faint but mesmerizing.

You stared at it, then at him. "Why?"

"It reminded me of you," he said simply. "Strong.. luminous, unyielding."

Your heart skipped a beat, though you fought to keep your expression neutral. "You think flattery will make me forgive you?"

"No," he said, holding the necklace out to you. "But it's the truth."

You hesitated, then reached out to take it. The metal was cool against your skin and for a moment, an odd sense of belonging overtook you, like this place, this moment wasn't entirely foreign.

"Thank you," you said softly and surprised yourself.

Jay's eyes relaxed, and for the first time, you saw not the god who had stolen you but the man beneath— the one who had spent centuries in solitude, yearning for connection.

for someone understanding, someone to love. Perhaps, you could learn to be just that.

You handed the necklace back to him, he looked at it, hurt. He thought you had rejected his gift, but as you turned around and held your hair up, his breath hitched.

“Would you help me put it on?” you questioned, your voice soft, unlike the usual bite it held.

“Of course.” Jay murmured quietly, his touch gentle as he put the jewel around your neck.

It fit perfectly, the dark necklace adorning your once tanned skin.

You smiled. holding it between your fingers, “It’s beautiful.”

He smiled.

Your eyes widened when he took in the sight, he smiled so warmly, and for a moment he even looked human.

“You’re beautiful.” Jay spoke, his voice so soft.

“Hades—“ You said, but he shook his head “Call me Jay.”

You gulped, the room suddenly feeling too hot, “Jay.” you repeated, the name rolling sweetly down your tone.

He let out a soft groan, like it both pained and healed him.

“I know you keep thinking ‘Why me?’” He murmured, caressing your cheek. The first time his skin met yours voluntarily “But for me, it has always been you— from the moment I saw you picking those apples, my heart belonged to you.”

You didn’t even have time to think about it, but your feet went on their tip-toes as you pressed your soft lips on his.

To say he was taken aback was an understatement. His eyes wide as body rigid, and for a moment you thought if maybe, he didn’t love you as much as he claimed.

But then, his hand held your face, the other tangled in your hair as his own lips moved on yours passionately.

Your fingers curled around his shirt, grounding you as uou got lost in the taste of him.

You took the hand that was on your cheek and guided it to rest on your racing heart, “Maybe you have the same effect on me.” You murmured on his lips.

His eyes darkened and he pulled away, “Will you marry me?”

You blinked faintly, your breath hitching at his straight-forwardness.

“Do I have a choice?” He stepped away, his breath still heavy from the kiss, “Yes— yes, I’m giving it to you right now.”

Your brows furrowed, so he added “If you think your future still belongs in the Olympus, then go. The door is actually just around the throne room.”

Jay gulped, hope flickering in his usually gloomy eyes “But if you have some sense of future here, with me, then stay. Stay and let me be your husband.”

You clenched your jaw and looked at the door of the throne room. If you exited it and followed the long hallway, you would be out.

You would see the light, feel the sun tickle your skin, see your family, your friends.

But you weren’t sure that was what you wanted anymore.

Your eyes set again on Jay. His expression had lost hope, like he had already lost.

But you smirked, crossing your arms over your chest “So,” you cleared your throat “When’s the wedding?”

A smile, brother than Apollo’s sun lit up his face as he closed the distance he had put and claimed your lips once more.

“Whenever you want, Y/N.”

♡.

In time, the Underworld became your home. Though the darkness remained, it no longer felt oppressive. The palace, once cold and foreign, now echoed with your laughter. And Jay, once a figure of hate, had become something else entirely.

One day, as you stood by the garden's edge, watching the silver streams flow, he approached you. His steps were quiet, but you felt his presence before you turned.

"You've changed this place," he said, his voice filled with quiet reverence.

You looked at him, a faint smile playing on your lips. "And you've changed me.

He reached out and took your hand in his, holding it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss on the ring. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence between you heavy with meaning.

Then he bowed his head slightly, his voice a low murmur "Will you teach me how to love you right?”

You looked at him, at the man who had once been your captor but was now so much more.

Slowly, you nodded. "I will."

[meazalykov]

the season to (not) be jolly

barcelona femeni x esmee brugts x reader

summary: you hated christmas, and your teammates figure out why

warnings: childhood neglect, trauma, angst, financial poverty, etc

the excitement rings through the barca locker room like electricity, bouncing off the walls and between your teammates. 

the holiday break is just around the corner, only one training session and ninety minutes of football separating everyone from flights to faraway places like back home, home-cooked meals, and quality time with loved ones that only get to see them from the stands at important games. 

it is a cheerful chaos—laughter echoing, jokes being thrown back and forth, and plans being laid out like promises.

"we’ll be in norway,” mapi grins, slinging her arm around ingrid as she sits beside her. 

“ingrid’s parents already have the cabin ready. a real winter wonderland, i shall say.”

“it’ll be nice to be home,” ingrid adds softly, her smile as calm and steady as always. 

you sit at your locker, head tilted down as you lace your boots, pretending to be engrossed in the task as their words float around you. 

it feels safer to keep your eyes on your hands, watching how your fingers move—pull, tighten, tie. over and over again. anything to distract yourself from the sting in your chest.

you feel it every december. that heaviness. that punching ache in your ribs when people start talking about their families, their holiday traditions, and their childhood memories. 

you can’t relate. you never could.

to your left, keira and lucy are chatting animatedly about spending christmas in england, lucy teasing ona about the inevitable cold since ona will be going with her. to your right, patri and claudia are arguing over who will get more gifts from their loved ones, both wearing matching grins as they playfully push on each other.

but you? you just exist in the in-between, silent, invisible.  

the noise grows louder. the locker room feels smaller. your throat tightens, that familiar burn rising behind your eyes. you push it away. this is not the time to fall apart.

alexia’s voice cuts through the chatter again, light and teasing as she looks ahead at you. 

“nina, you’ve been quiet. what about you? where are you headed this christmas?”

you freeze for half a second. it’s subtle enough to go unnoticed, but the question lingers in the air like a heavy fog. you glance up, forcing your expression into something neutral—something safe.  

“nowhere special,” you say with a small shrug, trying to keep your voice steady. 

“just staying here at home. might catch up on needed sleep without needing to wake up for training.”

“no plans with family?” mapi asks, brows furrowing slightly.

you hate that. you hate when people ask about your family. after leaving your home to live in paris, where you played for a season and a half with psg (before leaving when the barcelona offer came up in 2021), you stopped talking to your mother who wanted nothing to do with you. 

your answer has never changed, and yet, every time it feels like a fresh wound being prodded.  

“yeah,” you mutter, looking back down at your laces. 

“just after christmas though.”

thankfully, mapi doesn’t press further. her attention shifts back to ingrid as she brings up the norwegian christmas markets, and you’re left to sink back into your silence, drowning in it. 

you look over at the corner of the locker room to see esmee, your girlfriend, looking right at you. jana sits beside her, laughing about a joke sydney made while esmee notices the sadness in your eyes. 

the look in your eyes can be hidden from the team, but you can’t hide it from esmee.  

she notices—of course she does—because she knows you better than anyone, even after just eight months of being together. normally, you’re her sunshine, a steady source of warmth no matter what the day brings. 

you’re the first to crack a joke after a tough training session, the one to steal food off her plate at team dinners just to see her roll her eyes, the one who sneaks kisses when no one’s looking and holds her like she’s the most precious thing in the world. 

but now? now you’re quieter, smaller. you smile, but it doesn’t quite reach your eyes, and your laughter sounds hollow when it finally comes.  

“i don’t have to go, you know,” she told you last week as you sit together on the couch, her thumb tracing gentle circles over the back of your hand. 

“i can stay here with you.”  

you shake your head almost immediately, forcing a smile as you press a kiss to her knuckles. 

“no, es, you should go. your family wants to see you. they miss you.” 

you don’t tell her the rest—that you don’t want her anywhere near the dark place that december always drags you into. she’s too bright, too good, to get caught up in the emptiness you feel during this time of year. so you push her away gently, telling her you’ll be fine, that you’ll call her every day and send pictures of maple– your cat— curled up at the foot of the bed. 

esmee doesn’t look convinced. she squeezes your hand tighter, leaning her forehead against yours.  

“you’re not fine,” she whispers, eyes searching yours. 

“i am, esmee.” you say. 

you’re just tired, you convince yourself. however, the words stick in your throat because you know she won’t believe them. this is the first december you’ve spent together, the first time she’s seen you like this, and it terrifies you—being vulnerable in front of someone you care about so much. 

you’ve always hated christmas. as a kid, it was just another reminder of everything you didn’t have. no presents waiting under a tree. no stockings hung by the fire. no warm meals shared at a crowded table.  

instead, you had an empty house, cold and quiet.  

your mom always worked. always. christmas, birthdays, weekends—it didn’t matter. “we need the money,” she’d say coldly, pulling her coat on as she hurried out the door, leaving you behind. 

sometimes, she’d forget it was even christmas until days later.  

“we’ll celebrate next year,” she’d promise. but next year never came.

you can still remember what it felt like to see the other kids at your academy, showing off their shiny new boots, their expensive kits, their gear from nike or adidas. their parents would stand proudly by the sidelines, bundled up in warm coats, smiling as they cheered.  

then there was you, wearing a pair of cleats one size too big—scuffed, worn, bought secondhand with the crumpled euro bills you’d earned from mowing lawns or shoveling snow after training each afternoon. you’d tuck your hands into the pockets of your thrift-store jacket to hide the holes in the seams.  

your academy teammates didn’t know how lucky they were.  

you hated them for it, sometimes. hated their laughter, their joy, their easy lives. mostly, you hated yourself for feeling like you didn’t belong. for being the girl who showed up every day with nothing to show for it but grit, raw talent, and determination.  

now, years later, that feeling lingers.  

you’ve worked hard—harder than anyone—to get here. to wear the barcelona crest on your chest. to play alongside some of the best players in the world. to prove to yourself, and to everyone else, that you deserve this.  

no matter how much success you achieve, no matter how many goals you score or games you win, you can’t outrun the past.  

christmas will always be a reminder of what you never had.  

you pull your boots off, methodical and slow, as the locker room continues to cheer around you. your teammates don’t notice the way your shoulders slump or how you turn away slightly, shielding your face.  

“hey,” a voice says quietly beside you. it’s aitana, sitting beside you since her locker is beside yours. her tone is softer than usual, like she’s noticed something. 

“you okay?”

you nod quickly, too quickly.

“yeah. just tired.”

she doesn’t look convinced, but she doesn’t push. aitana never does. she just nods and goes back to her boots, letting the moment pass without making it heavier than it already is.  

you’re grateful for that.

you finish changing, moving through the motions on autopilot, your mind elsewhere. the noise in the room feels muffled, like you’re underwater, and when you finally leave the locker room, stepping out into the cold december air in your new training gear, you inhale sharply—like you’ve been holding your breath all along.  

the sun is already setting as you leave training hours later, streaks of orange and pink blending with the darkening sky. your breath comes out in clouds as you walk toward your car, hands stuffed deep into your coat pockets.  

you stare at the horizon for a moment, watching the city lights flicker to life in the distance. it’s beautiful, you think absently. and yet, it makes you feel so small.

tomorrow, the break begins. your teammates along with your girlfriend will board flights, heading off to homes filled with warmth, love, and laughter.  

and you? you’ll stay here. alone.  

you’ve grown used to loneliness over the years. it’s familiar. like an old coat you can’t bring yourself to throw away.  

that doesn’t mean it hurts any less.  

you sit in your car for a long time before starting the engine, the radio playing faintly in the background. a christmas song—cheerful and bright—fills the silence, and you quickly shut it off, gripping the steering wheel tightly.  

you hate christmas. you hate the way it makes you feel. like you’re still that little girl, watching the world through a window, longing for something you’ll never have.  

turning on the radio, you hear, “walking around the christmas tr–” before slamming your fingers on the mute button. there was no christmas tree in your apartment, nothing in your space shows that it is even december. 

not like alexia’s apartment that clearly shows that is is the holiday season. the scent of cinnamon candles and fresh pine greet esmee like a warm hug as she visits alexia. 

soft music plays from a speaker in the corner, and the living room is an organized mess of wrapping paper, ribbon spools, and tape dispensers scattered across the coffee table.  

“es!” mapi’s voice is the first to cut through the scene, grinning up from where she’s sitting on the floor, tape stuck to her sleeve. 

“about time you showed up. come help me wrap ingrid’s gift before she figures out what it is.”  

“you’re impossible,” ingrid mutters beside her, laughing as she ties a bow on someone else’s gift. maybe vicky’s since esmee saw the ipad that the younger girl asked for. 

esmee smiles at the couple teasing eachother, kicking her shoes off and settling onto the floor, careful not to disrupt the organized chaos. across the room, olga – alexia’s girlfriend – sits on the couch beside alexia, scissors in hand as she trims the edges of wrapping paper, while salma sprawls nearby, half her attention on the gift she’s wrapping and half on her phone.  

“is mine here?” esmee teases after a moment, eyes narrowing playfully at the pile of brightly wrapped boxes beside alexia.  

“it’s already done,” alexia replies without looking up, focused on folding the paper perfectly around a large box. 

“you’re not getting any sneak peeks until new year’s eve like everyone else.”  

“como no,” esmee groans dramatically, earning a laugh from salma and mapi. she leans back on her hands, soaking in the cheerful atmosphere for a moment, but the weight in her chest pulls her down before she can fully enjoy it. 

the smile fades from her face, and her gaze drops to her lap.  

“what’s wrong?” alexia asks, finally noticing the shift in her demeanor.  

esmee hesitates, chewing her bottom lip. “it’s... about y/n.”  

the room quiets slightly, everyone’s attention turning toward her. mapi raises an eyebrow, already halfway to smirking as she leans into ingrid. 

“trouble in paradise?”  

“no, no,” esmee says quickly, shaking her head. 

“it’s nothing like that.”  

olga sets down her scissors, studying esmee carefully. 

“then what’s wrong?”  

esmee swallows hard, fiddling with the corner of a ribbon. 

“i feel like... i need to stay in barcelona for the holidays. with y/n. she’s—she’s going to be alone.”  

alexia frowns slightly, confused. 

“no, she’s not. she told me she’s going to see her mom and family eventually.” 

esmee’s heart sinks, her brows furrowing as she glances up at alexia. “that’s not true,” she says softly, shaking her head. “she hasn’t spoken to her family in nearly five years.”  

silence falls over the room like a heavy blanket. alexia looks stunned, her brow creasing deeply as she processes esmee’s words. salma sets her phone down, staring in disbelief, while mapi and ingrid exchange quiet glances.  

“she told you that?” alexia asks carefully, her voice softer now.  

“yeah,” esmee nods, her voice steady but heavy with concern. 

“she doesn’t want anyone to know. i think—i think she told you that lie so you wouldn’t feel bad for her. she hates christmas. she’s always hated it. i don’t know why, but i can assume that it has to do with her family.”  

“joder,” mapi mutters under her breath, rubbing the back of her neck. 

“y/n’s gonna be alone? she didn’t tell anyone?”  

“she wouldn’t,” esmee says, guilt rising in her chest as she looks around at them. 

“she acts like everything’s fine, but it’s not.”  

ingrid exhales slowly, her face softening with quiet understanding. “we can’t just leave her like this,” she says firmly. 

“esmee’s right—she shouldn’t be alone.”  

“what do you suggest?” alexia asks, her voice sharper now, edged with determination.  

“we go to her,” mapi says immediately, pushing herself to her feet as if the decision is already made. 

“right now. if she won’t talk to us, we’ll make her.”  

“she’s going to hate me,” esmee says quietly, worry flickering across her face as she stands, too. 

“she doesn’t want anyone to know. she’s going to be so upset that i brought you all into this.”  

alexia crosses the room in a few strides, stopping in front of esmee and placing a hand on her shoulder. her expression is calm but resolute, a quiet authority in the way she looks at her.  

“she won’t be upset at you,” alexia says firmly. “i won’t let her be.”  

esmee lets out a shaky breath, nodding slowly as the others begin to gather their things. the cheerful hum of the evening is gone now, replaced by a silent determination that hangs thick in the air. alexia is the first to head for the door, already pulling on her coat, and one by one, the others follow—mapi, ingrid, olga, salma.  

as esmee pulls her own coat on, she sends up a silent hope that you will understand. she knows how fiercely you guard your heart, how much you hates people seeing the parts of yourself that are broken. 

esmee also knows that you deserve more than an empty apartment and silence on christmas day.  

back to you– the steam still lingers faintly in your bathroom, curling around the doorframe as you pad out into your apartment, feeling the lingering warmth of your everything shower settle into your skin. your matching red plaid pajamas feel soft and clean, clinging to you in that perfect way that only comes after freshly washed laundry. 

you won’t admit to anyone that the red plaid feels a little festive—that maybe, on some level, you allowed yourself to indulge in something resembling the season.  

your hair is pulled back in a loose, low braid, wisps escaping around your face, and your apartment is spotless. floors vacuumed, counters wiped down, blankets folded neatly on the couch. if you couldn’t have christmas, the least you could do was make sure the space felt fresh and ready for the new year. clean, organized, empty. just like you wanted it.  

you hum quietly as you step into the kitchen, reaching for the bowl of fruit on the counter. you’d planned to snack a little while watching a movie tonight, something non-festive—maybe a thriller like friday the 13th– anything that didn’t mention families or magic or joy.  

before your hands can reach the fruit bowl, there’s a knock at your door.  

you frown slightly, the sound cutting through the quiet apartment like an unexpected jolt. you assume it’s esmee—she’d mentioned she might come by to say goodbye before she left for the netherlands in the morning.  

“coming,” you call softly, feet shuffling toward the door.  

when you swing it open, your breath catches in your chest.  

standing in the hallway, crammed into the small space outside your apartment, are esmee, mapi, ingrid, alexia, salma, and olga. esmee stands closest to the door, just beside mapi, her expression tinged with worry that makes your stomach turn. 

everyone else has the same look—soft, cautious, and far too knowing.  

“what’s—” you start, forcing a smile to smooth over your features. 

“what are you all doing here?”  

“surprise?” mapi tries, her voice lighter than the rest, but even she falters when your eyes narrow slightly in confusion.  

“can we come in?” alexia asks softly, her tone careful.  

you nod slowly, stepping aside to let them file in one by one. salma gives you a small smile as she passes, and olga pulls you into a quick hug—her familiar warmth a brief comfort.  

“it’s good to see you,” she says, and you force another smile, nodding.  

“you too. it’s been a while.”  

as the door clicks shut and you turn back to face them, the knot in your chest tightens. their expressions don’t match their usual energy—not the teasing, playful banter you’re used to. instead, they’re quiet, gentle. worried.  

“is everything okay?” you ask, scanning the room as they settle awkwardly around your small living space. you go on sit on your grey colored sectional couch as everyone follows you. 

alexia is the first to speak.

“y/n... are you really going to see your family this year?”  

the question hits you like a punch to the gut. your heart drops, and your eyes immediately dart to esmee, who looks at you apologetically. you don’t even need to say it—your expression screams “did you tell them?” 

esmee shifts slightly, opening her mouth to speak, but mapi cuts in before she can.  

“she can’t save you from this conversation,” mapi says gently, though there’s no humor in her voice. 

“we know you lied.”  

you take a small step back, crossing your arms over your chest defensively. “i’m fine,” you say quickly, the words rushing out before you can think. 

“i don’t have christmas plans, and that’s okay.”  

“it’s not okay,” ingrid says firmly, her voice soft but resolute. 

“y/n, it’s clearly not fine.”  

you feel the walls closing in, your heart pounding in your chest. the room feels too small, the air too thick. flight or fight mode kicks in—you want to run, to get away from their prying eyes and gentle words that feel like they’re picking you apart piece by piece.  

“there’s nothing wrong,” you stammer, shaking your head as you back toward the couch. 

“i don’t know what you’re all talking about. i’m fine—”  

“hey,” esmee’s voice cuts through the panic, soft but steady, and when you look at her, the tension eases ever so slightly. 

“it’s okay. nobody here is judging you, okay? you’re safe. you’re not in trouble for lying to ale.”  

her words ground you enough to sit down, curling into the corner of your couch. you hug your knees to your chest, wishing you could shrink into yourself, disappear completely. 

you don’t want to be here, in this moment, with all their eyes on you.  

“i just hate how everyone gets to have a good holiday except me,” you mumble, the words spilling out before you can stop them. your voice wavers, cracking slightly as the truth seeps through the cracks in your armor.  

ingrid is the first to move, crossing the room to sit beside you. she doesn’t say anything—just wraps an arm around your shoulders, holding you gently. olga comes next, kneeling on the floor beside the couch and resting a hand on your arm.  

“what do you mean by that?” olga asks softly, her voice a careful whisper.  

alexia moves to sit in front of you, dropping to her knees so she can look up into your face. her expression is open and kind, patient in the way only alexia can be.  

“what happened, y/n?”  

you close your eyes tightly, your fingers digging into your knees as you try to fight back the sting of tears. you don’t want to tell them. you don’t want anyone to know. but the words are already there, clawing their way out, demanding to be heard.  

“i never had christmas, my birthday afterwards did not seem important either..” you whisper finally, your voice so small it’s almost lost to the room. 

“i don’t even know what the happy feeling is supposed to feel like.”  

alexia’s brow furrows, and mapi leans forward, her voice quiet but gentle. 

“can you explain?”  

you take a shaky breath, the air trembling as it leaves your lungs. 

“growing up... it was just me and my mom. we didn’t have money for christmas. no tree, no presents, nothing. she worked all the time—she had to. bills came first. even with that, she was never nice to me. she made it seem like i was asking for too much.”  

your throat tightens, but you force yourself to keep going, to let it out.  

“when i was in the academy, all the other kids would come back after christmas with new cleats, new gear, new jerseys. i’d still be in hand-me-downs from thrift stores. i’d use money i got from doing yard work to buy boots that were a size too big to make sure i could fit in them for a few seasons– because it was all i could afford.”  

the room is silent as you speak, the weight of your words settling over everyone like a blanket. ingrid’s arm tightens around you, and olga gently rubs your arm as tears sting the corners of your eyes.  

“i hated it,” you admit, your voice breaking. 

“i hated watching everyone else have families, have traditions, have... love. i hated feeling like i did something wrong, like i wasn’t good enough to deserve it.”  

you bury your face in your knees, unable to look at them. your shoulders shake slightly as you try to keep yourself together, but the truth is out now, raw and ugly, and you feel exposed in a way that terrifies you.  

“you didn’t do anything wrong,” esmee says softly, sitting on the floor beside alexia now. 

“none of that was your fault, y/n.”  

you don’t respond, but the tears slip free, hot and silent against your skin. you feel alexia’s hand settle on your knee, grounding you, and ingrid presses a kiss to the side of your head.  

“it’s not fair,” you whisper. 

“it’s not fair that everyone else gets to be happy except me.”  

“but you deserve to be happy, too,” alexia says gently, her voice firm with conviction. 

“you deserve love, and joy, and traditions, just like everyone else.”  

“we can’t change your childhood,” salma adds softly. 

“but we can change this year and every year after this one.” 

you lift your head slightly, looking at her through blurry eyes.

“what do you mean?”  

“you’re not spending christmas alone,” ingrid says simply, brushing a tear from your cheek. 

“none of us are going to let that happen.”  

“you’ll come with me and olga,” alexia says. 

“we’re having dinner with her family on christmas eve, and you’re coming. no arguments.”  

“and before you say no,” olga adds quickly, smirking slightly, “it’s not a pity invite. it’s a ‘we want you there because we care about you’ invite.”  

you look around the room, at all of them—esmee, alexia, mapi, ingrid, olga, salma. their faces are open, kind, and so full of love that it makes your chest ache.  

“you don’t have to do this,” you say quietly, but esmee shakes her head.  

“we want to,” she says softly. 

“you’re not alone anymore, y/n. you have us now, you have me.”  

something shifts in your chest at her words, the weight you’ve been carrying for years lifting

you don’t know what christmas will feel like this year, but maybe, just maybe, it won’t be so bad.  

esmee shifts beside you, reaching for your hand, threading her fingers through yours as you lay your head on her chest. her touch is soft, steady, and when you glance at her, you see something unwavering in her eyes—love, determination, all of it laid bare.  

“i’m staying in barcelona,” she says quietly, her voice gentle but firm.  

your brows furrow immediately, and you sit up slightly. 

“esmee, you don’t have to—”  

“no,” she cuts you off, shaking her head with a small smile. 

“i’ve already decided. my family is coming here instead on the day after christmas. we’ll celebrate together, and you’ll be with us.”  

you open your mouth to protest again, the instinct to push her away rising, but before you can say anything, alexia’s voice chimes in, calm and final.  

“again, that’s not up for debate,” she says softly, kneeling back onto the floor to look at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. 

“you’re family to us, y/n. esmee’s family loves you just as much as we do. and that’s final.”  

you glance back at esmee, your heart tightening, your walls cracking just a little more as her thumb rubs soothing circles over your knuckles.  

“you’re not alone anymore,” she says again, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“this year, you’ll have a real christmas. with me. with my family. with our family.”  

you stare at her for a moment, overwhelmed by the weight of her words, by the love in her gaze that feels so foreign yet so familiar all at once.  

"okay,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly as the beginnings of a smile tug at your lips. 

“okay.”  

esmee leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as alexia gives your knee one last reassuring squeeze. the rest of the room seems to exhale in relief, the energy softening into something warm and safe, like a blanket wrapping around you.  

for the first time in years, you let yourself believe it.  

you’re not alone.  

and this year, christmas will be different.

masterlist

[pseudowho]

(MASTERLIST DISCONTINUED- PLEASE SEE PINNED POST ON MY BLOG FOR NEW RESTRUCTURED MASTERLIST!)

Pseudowho's Original JJK Masterlist

Scroll through to see...

Nanami Kento

Higuruma Hiromi

Suguru Geto

Choso Kamo

Aoi Todo

JJK multi-character fics

Nanami Kento Masterlist

Updated: 28th March 2024

REQUESTS CLOSED

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🔥 Smut 💔 Angst 💕 Romance

☕ Comfort/Fluff 🤡 Clowning

🐙 Monsterfucking. 📚 Education (*dirty laugh*)

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1st of December 🔥☕💕 -- No-Nut November is over-- but Nanami Kento won't let you get away with it that easily.

7:3 🤡 -- Nanami Kento never thought about his 7:3 pattern...a fourth wall breaking moment.

"Dad Reflexes" Ask and Drabble 🤡💕☕-- Nanami Kento can catch anything.

Daylight Robbery 💕☕🔥-- when Gojo asks Nanami to cuckold him and his fiancée, things don't go the way Gojo planned...

Debellatio 🔥💕-- a Nanami x Reader x Higuruma sex-pollen threesome.

Ditch the Party 🔥💕-- Nanami Kento hates parties. But the drinks? The drinks make him bold.

Domain Expansion theory-- Pseudowho's vision of Nanami Kento's domain expansion.

Edging Nanami Kento 🔥💕-- The reader drives Nanami Kento to the edge and back again.

Fire and Iron 💕☕🔥-- AU!Nanami Kento is the town blacksmith, and the reader is forced to stay the night after tending to his wounds.

Full 🔥☕💕-- Nanami Kento treats his pregnant wife like the goddess she is.

Glory Glory 🔥☕💕-- "Help, I'm stuck!" on a mission with Kento, and he takes full advantage of the compromising position.

Good Boy 🔥💕-- after a bad day, you know exactly what Kento needs to help him relax...

Good Girl 💕🤡 -- a drabble

Grandpapamin ☕💕-- Nanami Kento as a grandfather, Headcanons.

Grey 🔥💔💕-- The reader lives a vigilante life; so does Nanami Kento, a changed man after the events of Shibuya. When she is sent to hunt him down, Nanami Kento has a proposition for her.

Grey! Nanami Headcanons Part One ☕💕💔-- post-Shibuya Nanami Kento x Reader headcanons.

Grey! Nanami Headcanons Part Two ☕💕💔-- post-Shibuya Nanami Kento x Reader headcanons.

Grey! Nanami Christmas ⛄🎄 Headcanons ☕💕💔-- post-Shibuya Nanami Kento x Reader Headcanons.

Hanahaki 💕☕💔-- being in love with you is killing Nanami Kento.

Hide and Seek 🔥-- Game night gets spicy.

"How well can you drive?" 🔥 -- the reader takes matters into her own mouth so Kento can prove his driving skills.

Infiltration (MULTI-CHAPTER) 🔥☕💔💕

(COMPLETE!) --the reader and Nanami Kento must pretend to be married, infiltrating a Curse-user cult to take it down from the inside.

Chapter One: Introduction

Chapter Two: Pillow Talk

Chapter Three: Deadly Games

Chapter Four: The Rumbling Shrine

Chapter Five: Breaking Point

Chapter Six: Exposed

Chapter Seven: The Captive Goddess

Chapter Eight: Unchained

In From the Cold ☕🔥💕-- The reader wanders in the snow, lost and injured after a mission gone wrong; will Nanami Kento save her?

Kento Comes Home Drunk 🔥💕-- and the reader handles his advances like a total champ.

And, its sequel... Reader Comes Home Drunk 🔥 💕-- where Kento manages the reader's advances like an absolute champ.

Knismolagnia 🔥💕-- Kento has a somewhat...erotic response to being tickled.

Last Moments 💔☕-- Nanami Kento remembers a childhood holiday.

Nanami Kento, and the Curses of an Unusual Nature (MULTI-CHAPTER) -- Nanami Kento is deemed the only Sorcerer sensible enough to handle some frankly weird Curses

- Chapter 1: Gone Shopping 🤡 -- locals are going missing at a large shopping centre; Nanami Kento is sent to investigate.

Nanami Kento's Massive Squeezable Man Tiddies 🔥☕-- the reader being casually obsessed with Kento's chest...repost link HERE!

Operation Babymaker (a new series!) 💕💔🔥☕ -- Nanami Kento takes trying for a baby very seriously indeed.

A Trip to the Tailors-- the reader reveals she's been off the pill for months, and Kento cannot contain himself.

Benchpress-- the reader interrupts Kento's workout, and is manhandled into submission.

Ditch the Party...again-- tipsy Kento is back, and deadlier than ever.

Wet Dreams-- Kento gives the reader a free-pass for when he's asleep...and he returns the favour

Raising You ☕💔💕-- When the reader is de-aged by a Curse, Nanami is forced to raise her like a daughter.

Red 🔥💔-- Nanami Kento, the infamous Curse-user, has been on the run for years...what will you do when he catches up to you?

Resolute ☕💔💕-- The reader helps Nanami to accept that he has a drinking problem.

Seasons of Grief 🔥💔💕☕ -- The reader supports Nanami Kento through the anniversary of Yuu Haibara's death, and afterwards, when Kento nearly loses the reader

Shirtsleeves 🔥 -- The reader steals Kento's last shirt, and receives her comeuppance.

Still Got It ☕💕-- The Nanami kids' parents are boring...right?

Stoic 💕🔥-- Kento is furious when Gojo assumes that his lack of PDA towards the reader shows a lack of desire.

The Accumulation of Little Despairs ☕💔💕 -- The reader struggles with low-mood; Nanami Kento comes to the rescue

The Chase 🔥💕-- The reader has insisted on No-Nut November; Nanami Kento gets his revenge by hunting her down and taking his reward.

Why I love Nanami Kento

Yet Another Sex Pollen Fic, PART ONE 🔥💕

And...PART TWO 🔥💕 -- the reader has a problem... and only Nanami Kento can help her scratch the itch.

Higuruma Hiromi Masterlist

Updated: 6th March 2024

REQUESTS CLOSED

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Calamus et Gladius (the pen and the sword) 🔥💕💔☕-- slow-burn, enemies to lovers Culling Game smut with Higuruma and a foreign reader

Daddy 🔥☕💕-- dating apps are a hazard for men like Higuruma Hiromi...

Debellatio 🔥💕-- a Higuruma x Reader x Nanami sex-pollen threesome

Fellatio 🔥-- the bathtub lawyer receives head in his office.

Fumus et Ignis 🔥💕-- sometimes, Hiromi smokes and ties you up while he makes you ride him.

Glory Glory 🔥☕-- 'Help, I'm Stuck!' with Hiromi, two bottles of wine and a compromising position with his gavel.

Hiromi and Nemo ☕-- tales of Higuruma Hiromi, and his little black cat.

Hiromi Higuruma Relationship Headcanons ☕🔥💕

In Flagrante Delicto 💔☕🔥💕-- Higuruma struggles to adapt to life as a sorcerer, refusing all of your offers to help...until he needs you.

"I've Committed a Crime" Ask and Drabble 🤡💕-- Higuruma is a ruthless tease

Jus in Bello: A Judicious Domain 💔🔥💕-- The reader throws Higuruma out of their home after they struggle to adapt to his new Cursed power...and the reader must then hunt him down in the Culling Game, to bring him home.

Men with Big Noses 🔥💕-- you reveal a kink for Higuruma's nose, and he shows you exactly what he can do with that.

Milk and Honey 💕🔥-- Hiromi is obsessed with your milk, and loves you while you sleep.

Office Besties ☕💕-- Hiromi and you are just friends...right?

Sanguis et Vinum 🔥💕-- period sex with Higuruma

Shower drabble ☕💕-- Higuruma comforts you after a bad day.

The Stairwell 🔥💕-- You've been teasing Higuruma all day at the office; he catches up to you, eventually.

Vinum Rubrum 🔥💕-- wine is better when you share a glass...and your mouths.

The Widow's Keeper ☕💔💕-- The reader and Higuruma traverse the complexities of love and grief, after the death of Nanami Kento, her first husband.

"Your Honour" Ask and Drabble 💕🤡🔥-- Hiromi forgets your name as he cums.

Suguru Geto Masterlist

Updated: 23rd February 2024

REQUESTS OPEN!

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Deadly Nightshade 🐙🔥💕-- a Suguru Geto "sex pollen" fic.

Kamo Choso Masterlist

Updated: 28th December 2023

REQUESTS OPEN!

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Glory Glory 🔥☕-- 'Help, I'm stuck!' on a mission together, and virgin Choso is offered the opportunity of a lifetime.

Snowhere to Go ☕💕-- When your date plans are foiled by the snow, you and Choso make your own fun with a stack of old board games.

Aoi Todo Masterlist

Updated: 27th January 2024

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Act of the Soul 🔥-- Aoi Todo uses his Boogie Boogie on the reader during sex.

JJK's Multi-Character Masterlist

Updated: 31st March 2024

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Being gross in long-term comfortable relationships ☕💕-- with Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Yuuta, Maki, Megumi, Nobara, Yuuji and Ino

"Cumfaces" Ask and Drabble 🤡

Defending Your Honour ☕💕-- the JJK boys are sick of the creeps and perverts who harass our dear reader.

Nanami, Todo and Geto

Higuruma, Ino and Yuuji

Gojo, Megumi and Nobara, Inumaki and Toji

Firemen 💔☕💕-- the JJK Crew rescue the Reader, and fall in love at the same time.

Nanami and Higuruma Aesthetics: ☕ 'Besto Friendos' dichotomies

Neat Suit/Messy Suit

Cold Anger/Hot Anger

"Stay down!" Fighter/"Get Up!" Fighter

City-Skyline Penthouse/Converted-Factory Penthouse aesthetics

IKEA Flat-pack Aesthetics

How They Ejaculate 🔥📚-- a physiological ejaculation study of Gojo, Nanami, Geto, Choso, Toji, Higuruma and TrueForm!Sukuna

Penis Synonym Smutfics 🤡🔥 -- with Nanami Kento, Hiromi Higuruma, Takuma Ino, Gojo Satoru and Inumaki Toge

Penpals (a Panda fic) 🐼☕-- he didn't mean to Catfish you. Honestly.

Shower Mat 🔥💕-- the reader buys an 'old lady shower mat'...that makes shower shenanigans suddenly possible.

Takuma Ino as a Young Dad ☕💕-- when Takuma unexpectedly becomes a father...

The Rebounds 🔥💕-- Yuuta and Maki show you the date of your life, after you're dumped

They Find You Wearing This...Unsexy Monstrosity 🤡 -- with Itadori Yuuji, Satoru Gojo, Higuruma, Sukuna, Toji, Nanami and Suguru

[wqlfstqr]

◟𖥻 ♡⃕ secret santa: percy jackson

▰▰▰ pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

y/n doesn't like percy, he's in love with her. the best answer percy finds for this situation? be her secret santa for the upcoming holidays.

warnings: none i think ?? cabin 10 reader just for the plot but it doesn't get mentioned that much.

day one

— 10th of december.

it wasn't even halfway through december and everything was already going bad. Apparently, there had been a storm and Chiron thought that it was safer for campers to stay safely in camp instead of going home since he didn’t know what was happening with Zeus for him to suddenly cause the biggest storm of the year.

frankly, y/n thought Zeus was throwing another one of his childish tantrums, but she couldn't say that out loud because knowing the god, he would probably make things worse. That didn’t mean she wasn't pissed about having to stay at camp though, she was.

that's why, after spending her afternoon hiding her discomfort about the situation, she walked into her cabin and went straight to her bed, wanting more than anything to hide away from the rest of the world. She had been so excited to go and spend her holidays with her father, it was the first time she would be having christmas away from her father.

Just as she was going to jump into her bed, she saw the suitcase with the clothes she had been excitedly packing in the morning. However, when she took the suitcase to put it away, something else catched her attention.

left in her bed was a box of chocolates, a ribbon placed neatly on top of it with a note stuck on it. She took it carefully in her hands, eyeing it with a mix of curiosity and surprise.

“i'm sorry you couldn't go home for the holidays, I do hope some chocolates can cheer you up — your secret santa.

P.S. don't worry, I took the white ones from the box since I know you don't like them”

y/n was left surprised, and when she opened the box and found that the person had, indeed, taken the white chocolates out of the box, she even smiled a tiny bit.

well, the circumstances were not ideal for her, but maybe the holidays were not going to be that bad.

day two

- 12th of december

it took two days for her to take it back. The holidays were going to be awful, especially if she was forced to spend another minute with Percy Jackson.

And if it was up to Chiron, she would have to spend most of her time with Percy. So it was going to be awful, no question. They had both been chosen to plan the christmas party, and it had only been a couple of minutes and y/n almost wanted to go and see if she could drown Percy in the lake. That wouldn't have worked, of course, since he could breathe underwater, but she still was inclined to try.

she still didn’t understand why Chiron had paired them together, she could understand if they needed her help for the party, but what exactly could Poseidon's son provide if not unhelpful ideas and stupid jokes?

"the pavillion could use some blue lights" he suggested unhelpfully, because that's what he did.

she, on the other hand, was set on her own vision of christmas "It’s supposed to be red and green! Like a traditional Christmas!"

they ended up doing nothing that day just because they couldn't agree on anything. y/n suspected he was disagreeing with her just to be annoying, which was something that he seemed to enjoy doing.

but when y/n was back at her cabin, her mood immediatly lifted up when she caught a glimpse of a blue sparkly ribbon in her bed. It had been two days since the first gift, and she had been sure it had been a one time thing. Now, she ignored her siblings and went straight to her bed, finding there a plate of cookies with ribbon and another note on top.

“thought you deserved a sweet treat after working so hard today — Secret Santa.

PS. some of them are a little burnt, but I know how much you like choco-chips cookies"

day three

— 14th of december

When Grover walked into cabin three, he wasn't expecting to find Percy trying to wrap a gift, the floor around him buried in wrapping paper.

“are you seriously trying to go on with this?" the satyr asked, though the answer was very obvious. “Chiron told me you were very interested on helping with the christmas party”

well, maybe Percy had begged Chiron to pair him with y/n since he had overheard her telling one of his siblings that she was chosen to plan the party.

However, Percy was not going to admit that to anyone. "I need help with this wrapping paper, it just isn't folding the way I want to."

Grover rolled his eyes as he walked through the discarded wrapping paper. "You adhd people can't do anything."

"sorry, I was too busy saving the world to attend to gift wrapping 101"

turns out, Grover wasn't any better at wrapping than Percy was. He was worse, actually, since he ate the paper when he got nervous. Thirty minutes later, they had half the wrapping paper they started with and a terrible wrapped present.

"so it's us adhd people huh?" percy asked as he raised his eyebrows.

"hey, I was busy saving the world with you." Grover defended himself as he placed the blue ribbon on top, as if that could cover the terrible work he did.

And since Percy couldn't do any better, the next present on y/n's bed looked like someone had wrapped it with their eyes closed. Still, she didn’t care much when she found it later, because she was busy being too excited over the book she had been reading for months.

“I noticed you kept talking about this book, so I figured it was time you got it. Sorry for the wrapping massacre but hey, don't judge a book by its cover, right? Hope this one keeps you entertained until Zeus chills out. — Secret Santa.”

day four

— 16th of december

Percy and y/n had finally made some progress with the decoration, after Percy annoyed her into allowing him to hang blue lights. She decided to go with it and simply have a blue and white decoration for the pavillion.

they didn’t talk most of the times they met, Percy tried to talk to her but she mostly glared at him or ignored him until he eventually grew tired of talking to himself. It was only sometimes that the silence was too much and y/n would make little comments.

"I'm freezing."

"Didn’t think a daughter of Aphrodite could get cold. Isn't that, like, a beauty hazard? You better warm up, or your hair will lose its shine" And y/n would go back to ignoring him again.

or sometimes they would simply argue.

"No Percy, we can't hang seashells on the tree, are you insane?"

"Why not? it adds nautical charm"

"It’s Christmas! we're not hosting a luau. stick to ornaments, Jackson"

Sometimes, she felt like maybe Percy could be only a little bit likeable, maybe he wasn't too unbearable after all, sometimes he was even funny. But only sometimes.

"How can you make the bows so perfect? mine look like tangled fishing nets" y/n herself was caught by surprise at the laugh that escaped her lips when he raised his bow.

"Maybe if you didn’t tie your bows as if you were anchoring a boat, you would have better luck. Seriously, did Poseidon skip teaching basic motor skills?" And he'd always laugh at her remarks, even when she wasn't being that nice.

By the end of the day, she was tired, but she couldn't deny that she was happy, but she was only happy because they had made progress and now the only thing left was to finish decorating the tree.

And her mood got even better once she stood in front of her bed, noticing the new teddy bear that rested against her pillow, a blue ribbon tied around its neck and a few - blue? - candy canes making a heart on its belly.

“Thought you could use a fuzzy friend to keep you company. — Secret Santa.

PS. I know you don't like candy canes, it was just some decoration. Don't worry, you can give them away."

Day five

— 18th of december.

she ended up giving the candy canes to Percy, and she choose to ignore the weird smile on his face when she gave them to him. Still, he explained that, apparently, he loved candy cane and since those were blue, he loved them even more. Weird.

"Percy Jackson, hero of Olympus, reduced to untangling Christmas lights. Truly a humbling sight." she told him as she found him trying -and failing- to untangle the lights for the tree.

"Give me a little credit here, I think i'm almost done." he replied, a candy cane hanging from his mouth as he continued his work. He wasn't nowhere near done.

But y/n left him to it because she was busy sorting the ornaments. She didn’t know when had been the last time Chiron had gone out for christmas decorations, but the ones her and Percy had found on the big house were old.

She took one of the boxes with the blue ornaments she thought looked the best, and carefully carried it toward the tree, trying to avoid the patches of ice that had formed on the ground outside the Pavillion, she had been so concentrated that she didn’t notice what Percy was up to until a snowball hit her shoulder.

"what the hell, Jackson?" she looked at him, dumbfounded, but he only replied with a laugh.

he went to pick up another snowball, but just as he straightened, she hit him straight on the chest with a snowball of her own. "Okay, that was a lucky shot" he shook the snow out of his hair.

"Lucky? please, I'm a natural" she smiled, shrugging simply.

"Natural at being bossy, maybe." He finally threw the snowball in his hand but he missed his target.

that made y/n laugh, her body feeling lighter as she forgot about the decoration for a moment. "Wow Percy, with aim like that, it's no wonder you stick to swords."

Percy, once again, didn’t take her comment as an offense but simply laughed. She could see his eyes shining as he came close and took the box from her hands.

And he didn’t see it because he turned around to place the box near the tree, but she finally let herself smile as she followed him. When they went back to work, the atmosphere between them felt lighter, warmer, as though a layer of frost was beginning to melt.

When she went back to her cabin, there was a gift already waiting for her in her bed. Whoever this secret santa person was -and y/n really wanted to know who it was-, they had already given up on wrapping and instead used blue ribbon on every gift.

this time, it was a blue and green scarf. And she was confused about it until she looked at the note: “heard you have been cold, maybe you could use a little warmth. — Secret Santa”

day six

— 20th of december

"you're placing the lights wrong" she pointed out as Percy tried to wrap the lights around the tree.

Percy turned to look at her as if she had gome mad. "Are you kidding? there’s surely not a wrong way to place lights on a tree." he replied, his eyebrows raising. "Besides, this is creative expression, you should appreciate it."

"it's an assault on christmas trees everywhere." Percy gasped in mock offense, but he finally stopped whatever he was trying to do with the lights.

"Fine. You hang the lights, I'll stand here looking festive." y/n took the lights from his hands, her fingers grazing his for a second longer than they should.

"If by festive you mean that christmas sweater, it's ugly." this time, she couldn't help but smile a little when he gasped again.

"what's wrong with my sweater? it's festive!" he looked down at the red and blue christmas sweater that had little tridents all over it.

"horrifying, you mean." she mumbled as she put the lights around the tree.

"Aren't you a ray of sunshine? I like your scarf, by the way." he replied, and even though he was always smiling, that moment his smile felt different, y/n didn’t want to find out why. "see how easy is to be nice?"

But the mention of her scarf, made her distracted for a moment as she looked down at the blue and green fluffy scarf around her neck. She still hadn't found out who was her secret santa, and since christmas was coming she wanted to know who was behind those gifts, but she had no clue yet.

She had already questioned her siblings, but no one admitted to being her secret santa and if they knew who it was, they didn’t give the name away even after she threatened them. She was sure of one thing, whoever it was, they had help because it wasn't easy to just sneak into her cabin without her seeing them at least one time.

"hey, Percy." she called absentmindedly, looking up from the scarf. "you pretty much know everyone around camp, don't you?"

"yes, why?" he asked, just as distracted as her because he was hanging some ornaments on the tree.

She hesitated, this was Percy. She didn’t like Percy, she shouldn't share anything about her life with Percy. "Nothing, just thinking about how many people will see you with that ridiculous sweater."

Percy snorted. "next time I'll get you one and we can match."

"I wouldn't wear one of those if my life depended on it, Jackson." and who could blame her if she laughed when Percy looked at her offended.

She also couldn't be blamed if, when the afternoon ended, she had an extra pep in her step. It was just because she was excited over her secret santa, it had nothing to do with Percy Jackson at all!

But it did have to do everything with the box with the blue ribbon placed neatly on top of her bed. It wasn't about the gift at all, no. For y/n, it was how thoughtful everything was. And when she opened the box, she knew she'd have to find who her secret santa was.

Because nobody had ever thought this much about her.

The beautiful bracelet full of small charms, as usual, came with a note. “Each charm has a story. I’ll let you figure them out. — Secret Santa”

day seven

— 22th of december

y/n had tried to make sense of the charms, figure the story behind them. She had been looking at the bracelet every moment she could for the past two days, she already knew the charms by memory: a wave, a heart, an apple, a sweater, a book and finally a star.

She thought that maybe, if she figured it out, she could at least get a hint of who his secret santa was. But she couldn't even guess who this person's godly parents was just because the many charms gave her misleading hints.

Shee was looking at it as she walked through camp, ready to meet Percy at the pavillion so they could finish their decoration for the party. She found him already there, waiting for her with a smile that only stretched on his face when he looked at her.

"Ready for today, boss?" she could've sworn his gaze flickered to the bracelet on her wrist just for a moment but then he was walking past her to pick up the box of decorations.

They ended up drinking some hot chocolate while they decorated just to shake off the cold from the day. These past days, y/n couldn't help but wonder if maybe she had judged Percy a bit too hard before, he wasn't as annoying as she made him out to be.

By the end of the afternoon, they were almost ready with their decorations, Percy was hanging some garlands, his back turned to y/n, who was balancing on her toes to hang a sprig of mistletoe above one of the archways.

She stretched as far as she could, grumbling under her breath. "Who even invented the mistletoe tradition? It’s just a parasite plant. And why is it always there at the worst times?"

Percy chuckled, his voice echoing from across the pavilion. "You’re the one who insisted on using it. Aphrodite's influence finally catching up to you?"

"Oh shut up, Jackson," she shot back, standing precariously on her toes. She was about to talk again when the tip of her shoe slipped slightly on the frosted wooden floor.

"Whoa careful!" Percy dropped the piece of garland he had on his hand and rushed to her.

She caught herself before she could fall, but Percy steadied her anyway, his hands instinctively landing on her waist. "Are you good?" he asked, his face closer than it probably needed to be.

She huffed, looking at the slippery floor before her gaze went back to him. "Can we sue Zeus for hazardous working conditions?"

Percy smirked, helping her regain her footing but keeping his hands on her waist just a second longer than necessary. "Good luck with that lawsuit. Let me know how it goes when you present your case to the olympians."

That’s when they both looked up.

The sprig of mistletoe hanging innocently above them. It swayed slightly in the breeze, almost as if it was mocking them. She blinked at it, her mind racing as her cheeks turned pink. Percy, on the other hand, looked frozen in place.

"I- uh," she started, but her words faltered when his gaze flicked down to her lips for just a second too long.

And when y/n noticed, she couldn't control her eyes as they copied his actions, her gaze going to his lips before returning to his own eyes. It took her a second to realize what she was doing, and she immediatly stepped back.

What was she doing? this was percy jackson!

"I think we're done here, don't you?" Percy only nodded, and for the first time, he wasn’t smirking or cracking a joke. He just stood there, wide-eyed, staring at her.

When she got back to her cabin, she was shaken and it wasn't because of the snow at all. She was so distracted with thoughts of Percy that she almost missed the gift waiting for her as she sat on the edge of her bed.

This time, a neatly folded sweater was placed on her pillows. And for a second, it reminded her of Percy, until she shook off the thought and reached for the note placed over the blue ribbon.

"a little bird told me you liked sweaters, this one might add some extra holiday sparkle to your already dazzling style. I just hope you won't want to burn it. — Your fashionable Secret Santa."

day eight

— 24th of december

y/n had stayed in her cabin as much as possible for the past two days. Now that Percy and her had finished with the preparations for the party, she wasn't forced to spend time with him and she planned on keeping it that way, so she avoided him as much as she could.

Yet, she couldn't keep thinking about him. And that's why she decided it would be best to just stay away from him, at least until her infatuation - and she was sure that's what it was, nothing else - would wear out.

So in the morning of christmas eve, y/n didn’t even went to have breakfast with her siblings, instead she stayed late in bed. She had dreamed about percy, again! and now, she was grumpy as she wrapped herself on her blanket.

It was his fault, for making her feel comfortable with him, for making her forget about how annoying he was, for running to catch her without even thinking, for looking at her lips with those eyes! those stupid sea green eyes she had been seeing every night in her dreams for the past two days.

Now, she would stay on her room, away from everyone. It didn’t matter if it was christmas eve, and damn her secret santa! if they wanted to leave something, they would have to do it with her there. Because she wasn't going anywhere.

Well, at least that had been her plan. Until noon when Grover barged into her room, startling her. "y/n we need you at the stables.. is... uh-" he hesitated. "we just need you, can you come?"

She was about to tell the satyr that he should really learn to knock, but since he seemed shaken and she wasn't doing anything but looking at the ceiling, she stood up from her bed and followed him.

She was wearing her pijamas and the sweater that had been gifted to her. It was truly ugly, with christmas colors and little cupids all over it. But she liked it and it wasn't because it reminded her of percy's ugly trident sweater. No. Nothing to do with Percy. She just liked that her Secret Santa had put effort into it.

As it turns out, Grover didn’t have any emergency or reason to take y/n out of her cozy bed, because there was nothing happening at the stables. The Satyr was acting strange and he told her that the pegasi just needed her, but after they were served food, there was nothing else to do but he insisted on her staying there.

"Grover i'm freezing, can I at least go back to take some gloves and a scarf?" she rubbed her hands against her sweater, trying to keep them warm.

"No!" he exclaimed loud enough to make y/n jump away in surprise. Then, he looked over her shoulder and his face relaxed. "I mean, you can just go if you want to, I think the pegasi are fine."

She looked at him skeptically. He was acting strange. But ultimately, she decided it wasn't out of the ordinary for Grover. "okay... I'll see you later?" she replied before she went back to her cabin.

What she didn’t expect when she walked into her cabin, almost running to her bed because she was freezing, was that her secret santa had worked while she was away.

The past week, she had stood in front of her bed opening all kind of thoughtful presents that made her smile, but this time she was speechless at what waited for her.

Fairy lights were hanging from her bedposts, and fresh flowers were placed in a vase on the nightstand beside her bed, but that didn’t compare at all with the gift waiting for her. As she carefully pulled the blue ribbon off, her eyes wandered through the star map. It was pretty, but the note that came with it was beautiful.

"One night at the bonfire, I remember how you looked at the sky and said 'If I ever get lost, I hope the stars lead me home'. This is a map that shows the stars the first time you came home to camp half-blood. The night I met you. — Secret Santa

PS. I know Christmas is technically tomorrow, but this couldn't wait. So happy christmas!"

y/n sat for a long time in her bed, reading the note over and over again. It wasn't until half an hour later that she realized something: Grover had taken her out of her room so whoever her secret santa was could arrange everything. Grover knew who her secret santa was.

She finds out

— 25th of december.

"I already told you, I have no clue what you're talking to me about!" Grover replied, very obviously trying to run away from her.

This had been going on for the past twelve hours or so, Grover refused to tell her the identity of her secret santa, and she had already tried everything to get him to tell her. He just didn’t budge.

She gave Grover a suspicious look as he hurried off, practically tripping over his own hooves in his attempt to get away. For someone who claimed to know nothing, he sure was acting guilty.

But whatever. She had bigger problems right now, like how her heart felt like it was going to leap out of her chest every time she read the note. And the star map? It was so thoughtful, so personal. She couldn't stop staring at it, wondering how her Secret Santa could possibly know her so well.

It wasn’t until she was alone in the Aphrodite cabin, looking at her closet while thinking about what to wear to the party, that the pieces started falling into place. She fiddled absentmindedly with the bracelet on her wrist, the charms clinking softly. Her eyes fell on one charm specifically. The book.

She had been so focused on making sense of the charms that she hadn't thought to connect them to the other gifts. There was a book charm and she had been gifted the book she had been wanting. She remembered she had been book shopping with Annabeth when she mentioned that specific book. But it surely couldn't be Annabeth.

Her brows furrowed together, trying hard to remember something from that day. But the only thing she could remember was that Percy had tagged along with them and she had been so annoyed with him, because he kept knocking down books and asking dumb questions and-

A gasp left her lips as the realization kicked in and she had to sit down immediatly, her hand desperately looking for the apple charm. How had she missed it? it had been right in front of her the whole time, the apple and the first time she came to camp.

Her mind wandered back to the note. “The first time you came home to Camp Half-Blood. The night I met you.”

The night she met him. The night Percy and Grover had found her wounded in the woods. The next morning, where Percy had given her an apple and then he had tried to make some joke that only worked to put y/n in a bad mood. He'd brought her to Chiron, and she hadn't thought about it ever again.

But now... now she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Or the bracelet. Or how every single gift felt like it was tailored just for her and connected to him somehow: the scarf after she had been complaining to him about the cold, the christmas sweater after she had teased him about his, the chocolates after that one time Annabeth tried to bring her some and she left the white ones to Percy, the blue candy cane after she had said so many times that she hated it, the chocolate chip cookies she loved because of couse Percy would burn them, the blue ribbon!

Her heart skipped a beat as she replayed every interaction they’d had over the past few days. The snowball fight, the way he’d caught her when she slipped on the ice, the way he’d looked at her under the mistletoe. How she’d sworn he’d almost kissed her.

It was him. All of this time, it had been him. And she had been avoiding him, so torn apart with her feelings that she hadn't realized what was in front of her.

Percy gets a gift back.

— 25th of december

y/n had to beg Leo to help her at the very last minute, but as she walked through the party with a little box in hand, she was glad that Valdez could literally turn trash into beautiful things, because now she had the perfect gift.

And the only thing that was left for her to do was find Percy. It shouldn't be hard, since the pavillion wasn't too big, but she was simply too distracted with her thoughts to find him at first glance. At the end, he was the one to find her when she bumped into someone and he catched her before she could fall. Again.

"Hey, you." he smiled, and now she could see the meaning behind the shine in his eyes. "I see you made it out of your cabin. I thought you were going for the ‘grumpy hermit’ vibe today."

She rolled her eyes, but there was a fondness to them once she looked at him. He even looked surprised when she smiled. "Very funny, I actually wanted to talk to you."

He raised his eyebrows. "whats up?" y/n tried to ignore the way her heart seemed to slow down at how nervous she felt.

Instead, she extended the small box towards him. "I got you a gift."

Percy blinked, looking at her like she had grown a second head. "You did?"

She rocked back and forth on her heels as she looked down on the box, pushing it into his hands. "yes, consider it a... thank you gift."

His fingers brushed hers briefly as he finally took the box, eyeing it curiously. "Thank you? for what exactly?"

"for..." making me happy through the holidays. "oh you know, for helping me with the party and for not being completely unbearable."

She hated how her heart raced when he let out a chuckle. "just what any person wants to hear." he joked, but he was already distracted because he was opening the box.

She had made a point of placing a blue ribbon on top, but he didn’t seem to place the pieces together until he looked into the box. Inside was a bracelet, a simple leather cord with three small charms hanging from it, a star, a seashell and a heart.

He looked up at her, surprise evident in his eyes as he opened his mouth to talk, but she was faster. "I thought you'd maybe want to match." she said, raising her arm, the bracelet on her wrist jingling softly.

he was gaping at her, and for a moment he looked slighly panicked, his eyes darted nervously to Grover, who was standing nearby and immediately pretended to be interested in the food table. He had no choice but to look back at her. "You know?"

y/n opened her mouth to tease him, but the panic in his expression stopped her. Instead, she smiled softly. “Yeah, I figured it out. You weren’t exactly subtle, Percy.”

Percy laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey, give me a little credit here, it took you long enough to figure it out." he paused, suddenly quiet. "did you like them?”

It was the first time y/n saw Percy acting shy instead of his usual confidence. “I loved them,” she admitted. “Even that horrifying sweater.”

"i'm just glad you didn’t burn it." he joked, his usual grin back on his face.

Percy looked like he was about to say something else when his eyes flicked upward, she followed his gaze and froze. There it was, for the second time in the week, the mistletoe she hung mocking hee yet again.

Even though it was freezing, her cheeks burned as she looked back at him. "Oh."

"Yeah" Percy said, his voice softer now. “Funny how these things just... appear.”

They stood there for a moment, the noise of the party fading into the background. Percy’s eyes locked on hers, his usual playfulness replaced with something deeper, something that made her chest tighten.

"Well" she said, trying to break the tension, "are you just going to stand there, or—"

He didn’t let her finish. Percy leaned down, brushing his lips against hers in a kiss that was sweet and hesitant but full of meaning. It wasn’t long or overly dramatic. Just a gentle, warm kiss that left her mind spinning. When he pulled back, he was smiling again.

"Well" he said, mocking her as he glanced at the mistletoe again "Maybe it wasn't so bad for you to put that thing there."

She blinked at him, momentarily stunned. Then she scowled, smacking his chest lightly. “don’t push your luck, Jackson.”

And he only laughed.

But as they walked back into the party, side by side, she couldn’t help the warmth spreading through her chest. Maybe Percy Jackson wasn’t so bad after all.

[amourquinn]

( short fic ) everything

pairing : boyfriend!quinn x fem!reader wc. 1.2k

genre : extreme fluff no warnings

summary : you and quinn spend christmas eve together and it ends with a beautiful surprise…

the apartment smelled like sugar and cinnamon, warm and inviting. the faint hum of a christmas playlist played in the background, filling the air with soft jingles and cheerful tunes. it was december 24, and your favorite tradition with quinn hughes was in full swing: decorating cookies.

you sat cross-legged at the kitchen island, armed with piping bags filled with brightly colored icing, sprinkles scattered across the counter. quinn stood across from you, wearing an apron he’d claimed he didn’t need—though his flour-dusted hands and icing-streaked cheek suggested otherwise.

“alright, quinn-casso,” you teased, pointing at the lopsided tree he’d just decorated. the green icing was uneven, and the star looked more like a blob.

he held it up, feigning offense. “what? this is art. you just don’t get it.”

you laughed, snapping a picture with your polaroid camera. the flash caught him mid-eye-roll, flour still smudged on his cheek.

“add it to the collection,” you said, shaking the photo and setting it on the counter to develop.

the collection was an assortment of candid photos you’d been taking all month—quinn tangled in christmas lights, the two of you picking out a tree, him wearing the santa hat you’d forced on him. the pictures were scattered on the fridge, a chaotic but charming timeline of your holiday season together.

“fine,” quinn said, grabbing another cookie. “but if you’re going to document this, i’m going to make the best-looking snowman you’ve ever seen.”

you leaned on your elbow, watching him carefully pipe white icing onto the cookie. his tongue poked out slightly in concentration, a detail that made your heart swell.

“not bad,” you admitted as he added tiny sprinkle buttons.

“‘not bad’? that’s perfection,” he said, placing it on the tray with a satisfied grin.

you shook your head, laughing softly. “i guess i’ll give you that one.”

the two of you worked through the tray of cookies, decorating everything from candy canes to reindeer. you captured moments on your polaroid as you went: quinn sticking sprinkles on his nose to make you laugh, you holding up a cookie shaped like a heart, and the tray of finished cookies, a chaotic mix of skill and whimsy.

when the cookies were done, you both collapsed onto the couch with mugs of hot chocolate. the christmas tree twinkled softly in the corner, the ornaments catching the glow of the lights.

“i think we outdid ourselves this year,” quinn said, holding up a cookie shaped like a stocking.

“speak for yourself,” you teased, holding up one of your own. “mine are way better.”

he rolled his eyes, nudging your shoulder with his. “you’re lucky i love you.”

you smiled, leaning into him. “i know.”

⋆˙⟡

as the night wore on, the stack of polaroids grew. quinn had taken over the camera at some point, snapping pictures of you mid-laugh or caught off guard. one photo in particular made you laugh—a close-up of your face, icing smeared on your cheek.

“quinn! i wasn’t ready for that one!”

“that’s the point,” he said, smirking.

eventually, it was time for the part of the evening you both looked forward to the most: exchanging gifts.

“okay,” you said, hopping off the couch and grabbing a small, neatly wrapped box from under the tree. “you first.”

quinn set his mug down, his eyes lighting up as he took the box. “you know you didn’t have to get me anything, right?”

“yeah, yeah,” you said, waving him off. “just open it.”

he carefully unwrapped the box, lifting the lid to reveal a vintage hockey puck encased in glass. his jaw dropped.

“is this…”

you nodded, grinning. “it’s from your first-ever college game. i found it online, and the guy who had it was willing to sell. i thought you’d want to have it.”

he stared at it for a moment, his fingers brushing the glass. “this is amazing. thank you.”

his voice was soft, and when he looked up at you, his expression was full of gratitude. he set the puck down and leaned over to kiss you, his lips warm and lingering against yours.

“alright,” he said, pulling back. “your turn.”

he stood and grabbed a box from behind the tree. it was big, wrapped in shiny gold paper with a perfectly tied bow.

“wow,” you said, taking it from him. “someone went all out.”

“just open it,” he said, his grin mischievous.

you tore into the paper, lifting the lid to reveal… a polaroid camera. not just any camera, though—it was a custom design, your initials etched into the side, and the strap was embroidered with tiny snowflakes.

“quinn,” you breathed, running your fingers over the details.

“i know how much you love taking pictures,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “so i thought you’d like something a little more special.”

you set the box aside and threw your arms around him, holding him tightly. “it’s perfect. thank you.”

for a moment, the two of you just stood there, wrapped in each other. the night felt perfect, like something out of a storybook.

“actually…” quinn pulled back slightly, a nervous edge to his voice.

“what?” you asked, your brow furrowing.

he reached into his pocket, and he took out a neatly wrapped box. it wasn’t the biggest gift, but there was something about the way he held it, his expression a mix of nerves and excitement, that made your heart race.

“quinn…” you started, but he cut you off with a small smile.

“here.”

you unwrapped the box carefully, lifting the lid to reveal a delicate silver ring. It wasn’t flashy, but it was beautiful, a small diamond set into the band, understated and perfect. your breath caught in your throat.

“it’s not what you think,” quinn said quickly, rubbing his left arm. it’s not… you know, that ring. not yet, anyway.”

you looked up at him, your heart pounding. “so it’s—”

“it’s a promise ring,” he said, his voice soft but steady. “i know we’re not there yet, but i wanted you to know how serious i am about us. that i want this—you—for the long haul. this is my way of saying i’m all in, even if we’re not at the finish line yet.”

tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you stared at him, at the boyish grin on his face and the sincerity in his eyes.

“quinny…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“i love you,” he said, reaching for your hand. “and i just wanted you to know that.”

you nodded, a tear slipping down your cheek as you let him slide the ring onto your finger. “i love you too. so much.”

he let out a breath, relief washing over his face as he pulled you into his arms. for a moment, the world outside disappeared, leaving just the two of you wrapped in each other.

when you finally pulled back, you held up your hand, admiring the ring. “this is perfect. you’re perfect.”

quinn smiled, brushing a thumb over your cheek. “i wouldn’t say perfect. my cookies were… mediocre.”

you laughed, swatting his arm. “hey, don’t ruin the moment.”

the night went on, filled with more moments that you knew you’d treasure forever. and as you sat there, leaning against quinn with the soft glow of the tree around you, you couldn’t help but think that this christmas was everything you’d ever wanted—and more.

© amourquinn

[mononijikayu]

make me your god, i can give you everything — ryomen sukuna.

"I want revenge, my god." you said, your gaze unwavering. "But not on you. Not right now. So let me make my wish clear. You’ve taken enough from me. You can’t give me love, you can’t give me peace. You can’t give me goodness. But revenge—that, you can give me." He raised an eyebrow at you, the amusement in his gaze deepening, though his smirk never faltered. Slowly, he reached down, drawing his blade from his side with a fluid motion. He handed it to you, the gleam of steel catching the light as he placed it into your hands. "You want revenge?" he asked, his voice carrying the promise of something darker, more dangerous. "Then take it, little one. I can give you that. And nothing more."

GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;

WARNING/S: nsfw, smut, r-18, angst, one sided romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/ comfort, marriage, parenthood, hurt, betrayal, physical touch, character death, massacre, murder, failed human sacrifice, sexual acts, mourning, loneliness, pain, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, hallucinations, nightmares, grief, toxic relationship, remembering memories, coercion, depiction of massacre, depiction of murder, depiction of one-sided relationship, depiction of sexual acts, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of parenthood, depiction of loneliness, mention of drugging, mention of mention of grief, mention of murder, mention of loneliness, mention of sexual acts, heian! sukuna, long suffering concubine! reader;

WORD COUNT: 29k words

NOTE: i had delays writing this because i told myself i can pull it off much earlier but i kept changing stuff during the planning even during writing and so i delayed more and more and more and so i couldn't have beta-read by my beta reader. but here we are, 27th of december. i hope all of you are well over the holidays!!! please dress warmly and always stay healthy!!! i will be back on the 30th, where a commissioned piece is going to be published. the person who commissioned it approved publication - so i hope you enjoy that. until then!!! i love you all <3

TAGLIST: @after-laughter-come-tears, @kunasthiast, @midnight-138, @sukioyakio;

main masterlist

the other woman masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

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NEARLY THIRTY OR SO YEARS AND YOU STILL DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU ARE TO YOUR HUSBAND OR EVEN TO YOURSELF. Everything about being Ryomen Sukuna’s concubine in this life was… an existence of full of constant paradox.

The world around you was both magnificent and oppressive, full of grandeur that suffocated rather than uplifted. Nothing was concrete, nothing was easily explained. Each day folded into the next, all wrapped in the same cycle of luxurious monotony and unspoken tension. 

You had everything and nothing all at once. You were at his side, but you would never stand beside him in the way a true equal would. You were given power, yes, but it was the power of proximity, of favor, of submission. It was not a power you had earned; it was one granted to you, as disposable as it was intoxicating.

You had once dreamed of a life beyond the towering walls of his palace, a life that might have allowed you to breathe freely. But those dreams had been dashed the moment you were forced into the role of his concubine.

There was no escape from him. You knew there wasn’t. There had never been an escape. The day he had chosen to claim you, everything you were meant to be. Everything you wanted to be, everything you had thought you would become had disappeared into the depths of his enormous shadow. 

Your identity, your autonomy, was swallowed whole by the magnitude of his presence, by the demands of your new life. And that life, that existence, was all you had now. There was no way out, no alternative future you could imagine for yourself. What other path could there be, when the path you walked had been forged by him alone?

From the moment you were wed to him, the life you had known before was gone. If you could even call it a life, all of that still had faded into a distant memory. The world outside the gates of Ryomen Sukuna’s own cage of a temple no longer existed in any meaningful way to you. He would not let you call anything else a life. This was it for you, you like to remind yourself. 

The life you led now was one of excess and emptiness, a strange and quiet paralysis that seemed to have no end. And these days drifted by with little difference between them, like a fog that refused to lift. At times you find yourself in this loop, this pattern and sometimes that terrified and unnerves you. 

Each morning was marked by his presence, each night by the silence that followed him as he left you to your thoughts. Each morning a wife, a mother, a companion, a devotee, an appendage living to attend him. You had become nothing more than a part of his world, a fixture, a thing of consequence only as long as it pleased him.

And yet, despite the isolation, despite the weight of it all, there was a strange solace in the company of the children, your beloved Chiharu and Chizuru. They were your only companions in a place where companionship seemed like a forgotten concept. They were not like the other servants, who whispered in fear of Ryomen Sukuna's wrath.

No, Chiharu and Chizuru had become your refuge, your small rebellion against the suffocating presence of your fate. Their laughter, their quiet moments of shared solitude, their warmth against your own.

If you were being honest, these were the few things that reminded you that you were still a person, still capable of feeling something beyond the cold indifference of your existence.

But even their companionship felt bittersweet. You were still bound as a mother, a role you didn’t know you could ever play. And least of all to a man who has caged you, who has trapped you to live for these small joys. And most days, you do not know why you were happy to be caged in the way he has done so.

At times, you could not forget the life you had lost in the same breath as you enjoyed their company. You could not forget that every smile they shared with you was a fleeting thing.

It was a momentary escape before the relentless gravity of your life as Sukuna’s concubine pulled you back into its orbit. You were once a girl, a young girl who thought there was freedom in being who you were. And now there was none.

The stagnation was crushing. Most days, it would have crippled you to the futon had the chain not dragged you before your godly husband. In the beginning, you had tried to find meaning in the smallest things, you had no other choice.

You tried to enjoy the gifts he gave you, the rare moments when he’d look at you with something other than indifference, the fleeting sense of purpose you derived from serving him. Even the garden that you had so loved, the garden you spend most days on. 

But all of that faded over time. It became a game you knew the rules too well, a routine you could not break. A cycle of karma that not even any of the most enlightened would escape. And as the years wore on, you realized that there was no way to move forward, no way to escape the confines of the life that had been thrust upon you.

Perhaps that was the point. Perhaps there was nothing else for you, besides this existence, this eternal, unchanging existence. The notion that there could be something more. That there was something outside the sphere of Sukuna’s control. But that seemed like a distant fantasy. It always has been. 

You, a woman of such this age, have nothing. You had no future, only the present, and even that was as mutable as the wind. So much of your life, so much of your time, had been spent in quiet resignation to what you could not change. 

And yet, despite it all, the nagging question still lingered in the back of your mind: was there anything beyond this? Could there be a life that was truly your own again? But those thoughts, too, were dangerous.

To even entertain them was to invite the inevitable conclusion that perhaps your life could never be different, that the cage you had stepped into was the only life that would ever be yours.

The life you led now was a strange mixture of privilege and confinement. You lived in a gilded cage, surrounded by every luxury, every indulgence, but bound by the unyielding weight of your position.

You were bound to Ryomen Sukuna, bound to a life that was neither fulfilling nor free. You were forced to adapt, to find meaning in the moments you could, to seek whatever small joy you could find in the fleeting company of those you cared about. But it was never enough.

And perhaps, in the end, it would never be. Perhaps there would be nothing else but this. In this life, this existence, stagnant and unchanging. Nothing was belonging to you. But you belonged to him. And that will have no end, you had known this by now. The only question that remained was how long you could endure it before the weight of it crushed everything else out of you

Your life has been spent being the wife of a god, a title very few could ever claim to have. And yet it was an intriguing life, you were forced to lay a claim to. You were both exalted and insignificant, revered by the masses but ever aware that their reverence was borrowed from him. 

He was a god, an entity whose very presence reshaped the air you breathed, and you—just a mortal bound by time and flesh—stood at his side. Not as an equal, never that, but as someone he had chosen. For all its complications, it was a position of power few could ever dream of.

Yet, the days blurred together in a rhythm that felt both comfortable and stifling. Your life was one of contentment, a steady hum of satisfaction born from privilege only he can bestow, the security only he could ensure, and the untouchable place he carved out for you in his world. But lately, you’d begun to wonder was contentment all there would ever be? Could it be something more?

That evening, as the torches burned low and cast dancing shadows across the cavernous hall, you sat opposite your husband Sukuna. He lounged on his position with a casual grace that belied his overwhelming power, his crimson eyes fixed on you with their usual intensity. He had come and visited you for the night, and had supper with you. 

It was rare that you were the one visited by your husband. But since you were still recovering from your previous illness, your healer had told you to stay put. Your husband relented in a rare moment to come and bring himself to you. It wasn’t a far walk, anyway. He had moved closer to your hall, after all. Habits had become as important to him too, you supposed.

“You’ve been quiet, little one.” he said, his voice cutting through the stillness. It wasn’t an accusation, but it wasn’t entirely idle, either. “Why?”

You hesitated, gathering your thoughts. “I’ve been… thinking, my lord.” you said at last. “About us.”

His lips twitched in a faint smirk. “Us? Little one, you think of such a concept of us too often.” he echoed, his tone teasing. “It makes me think about how mortals are always fascinated by the idea. But go on.”

You stepped closer, emboldened by his permission. “I feel content, my lord.” you began, meeting his gaze directly. “You have given me everything I could ever desire—luxury, protection, status. I lack nothing. And yet…”

“And yet?” he prompted, his eyes narrowing slightly, his curiosity piqued.

You took a steadying breath. “And yet I wonder where it leads. Is contentment all there is, or is it just the beginning? Does it grow into something more, something greater? What could we become if we let it?”

For a moment, silence stretched between you, heavy and expectant. Sukuna rose from his cushion, his movements deliberate and precise, the weight of his power radiating from him with each step closer. His crimson gaze was sharp, piercing, as though he could see the very threads of your thoughts.

“You speak boldly for someone in your position, little one.” he said, his voice low but not unkind. “Most mortals would be grateful for what they have and dare not ask for more.”

“I am grateful, my lord. I hope to reassure you of this.” you replied, your voice firm despite the nervous energy thrumming in your veins. “But gratitude doesn’t erase curiosity, my lord. Doesn’t it intrigue you? What might this contentment lead to? What might we become?”

He let the sake cup rest between his fingers, tapping it lightly as if pondering his next words. Ryomen Sukuna let his scarlet gaze remain fixed on you, piercing and unreadable. Your husband’s smirk softens into something closer to contemplation.

“You mortals.” Sukuna murmured, the faintest note of amusement still in his tone. “So fragile, so fleeting, and yet… endlessly curious. Perhaps that is your one redeeming trait. That, and your audacity.”

You tilted your head, emboldened by his words, though his presence still felt like a weight pressing down on your chest. “And yet, my lord, it’s that curiosity that you find entertaining, isn’t it? Without it, would I have lasted this long at your side?”

His smirk widened, his sharp teeth glinting again as the firelight danced across his face. “Bold and clever as always, little one.” he remarked, swirling the sake in his cup before setting it aside.

“You’re right, of course. I could have discarded you long ago, and yet… here you stand. Thirty years is a long time for a mortal to hold my attention.”

“You give me too much credit, my lord.” you said, giving him a soft smile as you took your own cup of sake and drank it slowly. “I’m here because of your will, not because of anything I’ve done.”

Sukuna’s scarlet eyes narrowed slightly, his smirk fading. He stepped closer, his towering form casting a shadow over you. “Do not diminish yourself so quickly, little one.” he said, his voice low but firm. “There is a reason you remain, though I may not deign to explain it to you. There isn’t any need to do so. Some truths are better left unsaid.”

You nodded, the intensity of his words striking a chord deep within you. “Then perhaps, my lord, we let the path reveal itself in time. Whatever lies ahead, I’ll stand beside you as long as you allow it.” 

As long as time forces me to stay by your side, you want to say. But you did not say. You do not think your husband could take such a truth. You only continue to drink the remainder of the sake on your sake cup. You hum as the burn of the alcohol inflames your throat.

He hummed again, his gaze softening for a fleeting moment before the sharpness returned. “Do not mistake my curiosity for sentiment, little one. You are mine, and that alone grants you the privilege of standing where you do. But I will say this. There have been few that have intrigued me as you do. Let us see how far that intrigue will take you.”

There was a heaviness in the air, a weight to his words that you couldn’t quite place. Yet beneath it all, there was a flicker of something else, something unspoken. It wasn’t love; You had known that as much. Ryomen Sukuna was not a god who entertained such mortal emotions. But it wasn’t indifference, either. It was too tender to be anything like indifference. 

A small smile touched your lips again, this one softer and more genuine. Even if you knew that you shouldn’t. You can’t help it when it comes to him. “As long as you see such intrigue in me, my lord, I will remain.”

He chuckled, low and resonant, as he turned back to his throne. “We’ll see, little one. We’ll see.”

Silence engulfed the room once more, thick and almost suffocating. You busied yourself with the sake, tilting the bottle with practiced care to refill his cup. He watched you as you did so, his gaze heavy and intent, though his expression betrayed nothing. 

You had insisted on performing this task yourself. It wasn’t much too heavy, as the other tasks. If anything, it was a small ritual, perhaps, but one that held meaning for you. He was your guest, even here in your own chambers. You always did this to guests you were fond of, even if there were few. A servant could have done it, but somehow, that felt… wrong. 

When the cup was filled, you stepped back, placing the bottle carefully on the tray. You hesitated then, your hands briefly clenching at your sides as you gathered the courage to speak. The enormity of the question weighed heavily on your tongue, but at last, you stepped forward, lifting your gaze to meet his.

“My lord, I have a question for you.” you began, your voice steady despite the tension you felt. “Have you ever thought about what you would do when I’m gone?”

His scarlet eyes snapped to yours, sharp and unyielding. The words hung in the air between you, their weight almost tangible. You looked at him as you put the sake vessel on the side. He looked at you, as though you had just grown another head on you.

“When you’re gone?” he echoed, his tone as unreadable as his expression. It wasn’t incredulous, nor dismissive—it simply sounded as though the concept were foreign to him.

“Yes. Or if I disappear. Of course, I have no plan on leaving, my lord. But I….I am curious.” you said softly, meeting his gaze even as your heart pounded in your chest. “When I’ve passed from this world. I am mortal, after all. My time is finite.”

You paused, searching his face for any flicker of emotion, any sign that your words had struck a chord. You take a pause before you continue. “Do you think there will ever be anyone who could take my place by your side, my lord?”

The silence that followed felt like an eternity. Ryomen Sukuna’s gaze turned distant, his crimson eyes narrowing as though he were looking at something far away, or deep within himself. His sharp features remained impassive, unreadable, and the weight of his presence pressed against you like an invisible force.

“No, little one.” he said at last, his voice low and steady, yet carrying an edge of finality. “I have not thought of it.”

The admission, simple as it was, sent a shiver through you. You looked at him, as he shifted. He frees one of his inner arms off his haori, the one you had recently made. Your husband seemed tense at the thought. You had never brought up this question before. It was never a topic of conversation. How could it be, to a god like him, who can never be confronted by such things?

“In thirty years, little one.” he continued, his tone thoughtful, “I have not entertained the thought of your absence. Mortals are fleeting—here one moment, gone the next. But you…” He trailed off, his gaze sharpening as it returned to yours. “You are different.”

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. “Different… how?”

“You have lasted, that much is evident.” he said, his voice carrying a faint note of something you couldn’t quite place. “Longer than most. Perhaps it is your curiosity. Perhaps it is your audacity. Or perhaps it is the way you serve without groveling, question without defiance. That… is rare.”

You lowered your gaze, his words settling heavily in your chest. “And when I’m no longer here to intrigue you, my lord?” you asked gently, your voice barely above a whisper. “What then?”

He was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable once more. Then, with deliberate slowness, he lifted his sake cup, drinking deeply before setting it down with a soft clink. He purses his lips into a flat line before he takes to speaking once more.

“I do not waste thought on things that have not yet come to pass, little one.” he said finally, his tone clipped, though it carried an undertone of something else—something unspoken. “But the thought of someone else standing where you do… does not sit well with me.”

Your breath caught at the admission, small as it was. “Then perhaps, my lord…it is a sign..” you ventured cautiously. “It is a sign that I have left some mark, however small.”

He tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “Do not mistake my words too much, little one.” he said, though his tone lacked its usual sharpness. “You are here because I will do it. Nothing more, nothing less.”

“And yet, my lord…..” you replied softly. “You have willed it for thirty years, for which I comly.”

His crimson gaze narrowed, but he said nothing, the silence once again stretching between you. For all his power, for all his dominance, Ryomen Sukuna seemed, in that moment, almost human, just as he was long long ago. For a moment, a god like him was caught between the eternal and the fleeting, the invincible and the inevitable.

The tension in the room was palpable, the kind of silence that held more weight than any words ever could. Sukuna didn’t speak, but his gaze lingered on you, searching for something even he couldn’t seem to name. You couldn’t name it for him either. You did not know enough of his feelings to give it such a concept.

You stepped back, lowering yourself onto the cushion across from him, your hands resting lightly in your lap. “It is not the sentiment I seek, my lord.” you said gently, your voice barely above a whisper. “But I wonder—what does my presence truly mean to you? After thirty years and such a life lived, a home and a family… I find myself curious.”

He leaned back slightly, the movement languid yet deliberate, his crimson eyes narrowing as if calculating how much to reveal. “You are bold to ask such things, little one.” he said, his tone carrying a faint edge of amusement. “Few have dared to question their worth to me and lived to tell of it.”

“I have nothing to lose by asking, my lord. Lest of all as your concubine.” you replied, lifting your gaze to meet his once more. “And perhaps you have nothing to gain by answering. But I still wish to know.”

For a moment, his expression remained unreadable, a mask of stoic indifference. But then his lips curled into a faint smirk, his sharp teeth glinting in the flickering firelight. The expression of his face echoing against the clear surface of the sake on his cup.

“What does your presence mean to me?” he echoed, as though testing the words. “A mortal might hope for love, for devotion. But you know better than to expect such things from a god.”

“I do, my lord.” you admitted. “I’ve never asked for those things.”

“Then you know me well enough, little one.” he said, his voice low and almost growling. “Because what you have is far more rare: my attention. My boredom is a rare thing to keep at bay.”

Your breath hitched slightly at the admission, simple as it was. “Is that so?”

“You intrigue me.” Sukuna continued, his tone almost casual. “You question, yet you do not defy. You serve, but not as a simpering fool. You know your place, and yet you do not grovel. It is… refreshing.”

You allowed a small, tentative smile to cross your lips. “Then I suppose I will take that as a compliment, my lord.”

“Take it however you wish, little one.” he said, his smirk widening. “It is the truth. And that is why you remain.”

Silence befell the two of you again, but this time it felt lighter, less oppressive. Sukuna reached for his sake cup once more, lifting it to his lips as though signaling the end of the conversation. But you weren’t finished. Not yet. 

You were a vixen for that, you admit. You had pressed his buttons enough. Perhaps it was the sake, or perhaps it was your own old age talking to you. Yet you couldn’t help it. You just kept talking.

“And when I am gone, my lord?” you pressed gently, your voice soft but insistent. “Will there ever be another to hold your attention as I have? There is a harem of yours, my lord. I wonder if they will enjoy your own favor too when I am gone.”

He froze mid-sip, the question catching him off guard. Slowly, he lowered the cup, his gaze darkening as he studied you. Ryomen Sukuna had looked more serious about that than your previous inquiry. As though he had such spite and surprise over such a question all at the same time.

“I do not waste thought on what has not yet come to pass, little one.” he said again, though this time his tone lacked the sharpness it had held before. It was softer, almost reflective, though it still carried the weight of his authority. “You ought to stop it.”

“But my lord—” you began, the words tumbling from your lips before you could stop them.

“There is no one like you.” he interrupted, his voice cutting through your protest like a blade. The statement was simple, but the finality in his tone made it feel as if it were etched into stone. “Is that what you want to hear, little one?”

You froze, his words wrapping around you like a vice. They weren’t meant to comfort, yet they struck somewhere deep within you. Slowly, you lifted your gaze to meet his, searching his crimson eyes for something more, something unsaid.

“If it is, my lord?” you asked, your voice trembling with a mix of curiosity and trepidation.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, though it lacked its usual cruelty. “Then are you satisfied with such a reply?”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy with meaning, their weight pressing against your chest. You considered them carefully, turning them over in your mind as you tried to decipher the emotions that stirred within you. Was this enough? Was this the answer you sought?

“I think….” you began cautiously, your voice barely above a whisper. “I am not dissatisfied, my lord. But I do not know if I am satisfied, either.”

His smirk widened, sharp teeth glinting in the firelight. “Typical of you, little one.” he said, his tone carrying a faint edge of amusement. “Always seeking something more, even when given an answer.”

“Perhaps, my lord.” you replied, a small, wry smile tugging at your lips. “Or perhaps I simply wonder what lies beneath your words, to avoid a puzzle. After all, you have always been a man of many mysteries which mere mortals cannot unravel.”

He tilted his head, studying you with an intensity that made your pulse quicken. “And you, little one, have always been bold enough to peel them away. But heed this from me. Some truths are better left undiscovered.”

You held his gaze, the firelight flickering between you like a silent witness. “And yet, my lord.” you said softly. “You tolerate my curiosity.”

“For now.” he replied, his tone a mix of warning and amusement.

“Thirty years and my lord will keep saying such a thing.”

“I shan’t stop now, little one.”

Silence fell again, but this time it felt different. It was charged, yet not oppressive. There was an understanding between you, unspoken but undeniably present. You had asked your question, and he had answered in his own way, cryptic yet revealing.

Perhaps there was no satisfying answer to be found in such matters, no concrete resolution. But in that moment, the weight of his gaze and the faint, fleeting softness in his tone were enough.

It was a reminder that, in his world of chaos and power, you were still something unique  to him, Something he acknowledged, even if only in his own, inscrutable way.

“Then perhaps, my lord.” you said softly, looking up to him. “What we share is enough. Perhaps it is better not to dwell on what will come after.”

He hummed, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. “You are wise for a mortal, little one.” he said, though there was a hint of begrudging respect in his tone. “Perhaps that is why I tolerate your questions.”

“Perhaps.” you replied, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “But it is also rather likely that you tolerate them because they remind you of something you’ve long forgotten, my lord.”

He tilted his head, his smirk returning. “Careful, little one. You tread dangerous ground.”

“I always do, my lord.” you said simply.

His rare laughter rumbled low and deep, resonating through the room. “Indeed, you do. And perhaps that is why you remain.”

══════════════════

THINGS HAD STARTED TO GET BACK TO NORMAL WITH TIME. The healers were happy to deliver the news that your body was getting back to normal. A news welcomed by your husband, with his own approval. The gods had indeed given you the return of your health. And it shows. 

You were able to stand up without any need for a servant’s aid. The color slowly returns to color the echoes of your cheeks, and the heaviness in your chest easing day by day. And with each passing moment, you felt your strength returning.

It was as though the very act of regaining your health was reclaiming a part of your soul, one that had long been overshadowed by weakness. As your body healed, you were falling to the reality of coming back to your even more mundane life. And along with it knocked your duties as the highest ranking concubine to Ryomen Sukuna. 

It was not a task to carry without such heavy weight on your shoulder. He expected you to be the best. And in the past thirty or so years, you have done your best to be impeccable. You had to do your best, to look worthy of being beside a god–husband.

Though you were often confined within the vast walls of the palace, sheltered from the world outside, there were times when Sukuna deemed it necessary for you to accompany him wherever he demanded you to be. Of course, it wasn’t just for companionship. It was too much of an effort to expose his dominion over mortality. 

Your presence by his side was not just a reflection of your role as his concubine, but a reminder to the people that even the gods had ties to the mortal realm. That he was a divinity holding the hand of humanity with a tight grip.

You had become an extension of him in some ways, a constant reminder that he controlled not just the heavens, but the very fate of those who lived beneath them.

The petitions of the small folk were always the same—prayers for blessings, requests for mercy, or cries for clemency. The villagers would kneel before him, faces pressed to the ground, their voices trembling with the weight of their fear. 

They would beg for protection from the dangers of the world outside the palace walls or for the mercy of a god whose whims were as unpredictable as the weather. You have seen it many times before. The tension in the air was palpable, the villagers’ desperation hanging thick as they made their pleas.

Ryomen Sukuna was ever the imposing figure, even when he had been a human being. His presence alone is enough to make the air seem heavier, more charged. His crimson eyes would sweep across the room, scanning the petitioners as though he were not a god to be appeased, but a predator sizing up prey. 

His answers were rarely kind to anyone, and his mercy even rarer. For those who were lucky, he might grant their requests, if he feels as though the request was sound enough by his standards. For those who displeased him—well, the consequences were often swift and final. 

You have seen your husband tear apart people in front of you and at times, he becomes lenient and lets people off. It was of course a rare mood of mercy, to feel such leniency. On most days his thirst for blood was ever so present, you try to hold yourself together. You don’t know what your husband does.

But of course there will be corpses sometimes. An act, a will that he imposes on people as a god. You don’t ask about where the bodies were. You never do. Not even to Uraume. It was none of your business, it was not your place. But you could still smell it sometimes. Of course, you hold your tongue upon the matter.

Today, you had assumed, would be no different. You stood beside him, composed as always, your hands folded neatly in front of you as you observed the eastern villagers bowing before him with such reverence. Sukuna’s scarlet eyes flickered briefly toward you.

There was a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched you maintain your calm, knowing all too well that you were used to these proceedings. He might have expected the same of you today, for his observant, silent companion. But then something happened that shook the predictability of the day.

Your husband Sukuna sat on his ornate throne, a picture of unyielding authority, his crimson eyes scanning the room with a gaze that could pierce through souls. You sat just below him, silent and composed, as a steady stream of petitioners knelt before you and him, presenting their offerings and requests.

And then you saw her.

A woman, frail and desperate, stepped forward, trembling as she approached the dais. Her face was half-hidden by the shadow of her hood, but there was something achingly familiar about her posture, the way her hands clutched at the hem of her tattered kimono.

She knelt before Sukuna, bowing so low her forehead touched the floor. Her voice cracked as she began to speak, begging for mercy for food, for shelter, for protection from the harshness of the world outside these walls. You stared, your breath caught in your throat, as the woman lifted her face to plead.

It was her.

You’re sure.

It’s your sister.

Your eyes widened in shock, the air around you suddenly feeling thick and suffocating. The veil of composure that you had so carefully built over the years, the one that allowed you to stand beside Ryomen Sukuna with unshaken resolve, every bit of it had quickly crumbled. 

For the first time in as long as you could remember, you felt something raw, something vulnerable, clawing at your chest. It was like the world around you shifted and everything that had once seemed distant, cold, and manageable, now felt impossibly close and unbearably personal.

Memories of your childhood came rushing back in a torrent, vivid and painful in their clarity. The sound of her laughter echoed in your mind, carefree and full of life. You remembered how her voice would ring out through the house, her joy contagious as the two of you played together, running through the gardens, lost in your own world. 

The boys were always together, helping your father at the farm, but you and your sister always helped your mother with the home. You were each other’s best friend, you were certain of that, you remembered it all too well. It was a time when life seemed endless, when you hadn’t yet known the cruelty of fate, the demands of your duties, or the ever-present shadow of Sukuna’s power looming over your every move.

And then there were the tears. The hot piping tears you had wiped away when she was frightened, when she was hurt, when she needed comfort. You had been her beloved elder sister. Her protector then, just as you had hoped to be now.

Her small hand in yours, clutching at you with all the trust and love a child could offer, a bond so unbreakable, so innocent. Those hands, which once grasped at the security of your presence, now seemed so frail, trembling as she knelt before the god you were bound to.

The years that had separated you seemed to vanish in an instant, the time that had once seemed like a natural progression suddenly irrelevant. The elegant robes you now wore, the weight of your position beside Sukuna, the cold indifference you had learned to embrace.

All of it faded away as you saw your sister’s fragile form before you. She was no longer the carefree girl you once knew, but a shadow of her former self—worn thin by hardship, the lines of exhaustion marking her once-soft features. 

Her hair, once vibrant, now hung limp, her face gaunt with the strain of survival. It was as though the years had aged her in a way that was almost unrecognizable.  And yet, the essence of her remained embedded in that worn up body.

It was still there in the way she hesitated before Sukuna, still there in the flicker of recognition when her weary eyes met yours. The bond that had once been so strong, so certain, seemed to rise up again between you. 

Though it was now tinged with the bitter realization of what had passed, of what had been lost in the years that separated you. You couldn’t help but feel the weight of that loss, the deep ache in your chest as you remembered the sister you once had.

Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the sight of her, your heart pounding in your chest. You knew that she had come here, seeking mercy from the very hands that had shaped your life in ways you could never have imagined. 

She, too, had become a pawn in the web of fate, a victim of forces she had no control over. You had become the living embodiment of Ryomen Sukuna’s will, a silent witness to his power, his cruelty, and yet here was your sister. So fragile, so human, pleading for a chance at life in front of the god who held her fate in his hands.

You wanted to scream, to reach out and take her away from this place, to protect her as you once had. But as you stood frozen before her, you realized that there was nothing you could do. The ties that had once bound you were now entangled with the very power that had claimed your soul. 

The woman before you was no longer the same little girl, that little  sister you had once known. And you, in turn, were no longer the same person who had laughed and cried with her, who had held her close in the warmth of childhood innocence.

The room seemed to close in around you, and for a brief moment, you were no longer the concubine of Ryomen Sukuna, no longer the silent, unfeeling woman who had learned to wear a mask of indifference. In this moment, you were just a sister, desperate and aching for the woman who had once been your whole world. 

The stark reality of her fragile form before you shattered the fragile facade you had built for so long, leaving you raw and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t been in years. And in that moment, it became impossible to ignore the truth. You could never escape the bond that tied you to her, no matter how far apart fate had pulled you.

“Please, my lord.” she begged, her voice shaking, her hands trembling as they gripped the edge of her sleeve. “I ask for nothing more than a chance to live. My lord, I beg for your kindness.”

Your hand instinctively reached out, gripping the fabric of your own kimono as you tried to steady yourself. The room felt as though it were spinning, your heart pounding in your ears. You wanted to speak, to call out to her, to bridge the chasm that had grown between you. But you couldn’t. Not yet.

Ryomen Sukuna’s crimson gaze shifted to you, sharp and knowing. He had noticed your reaction, the flicker of recognition in your eyes. A slow, almost imperceptible smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. You purse your lips at him, almost unnerved by his smirk.

“Well.” he drawled, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “It seems this one has caught your attention, little one. Shall I grant her request, or would you prefer to speak first?”

His words were like a challenge, a test. Your throat tightened as you met his gaze, searching for any hint of mercy behind his sharp features. You swallowed hard, your voice trembling as you spoke. “She… she is my sister, my lord.”

The room fell silent, the weight of your confession hanging heavy in the air. Sukuna’s smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with interest. “Your sister, you say? How… intriguing. For you to remember such a thing after all this time, little one.”

Your sister’s eyes snapped to yours, her expression shifting from desperation to shock as she recognized you. “Sister?” she whispered, her voice filled with disbelief.

Tears welled in your eyes as you stepped forward, your hands trembling. “It’s me, sister.” you said softly, your voice cracking. “It’s been so long.”

Ryomen Sukuna leaned back on his throne, watching the scene unfold with an air of amusement and detachment. He hadn’t remembered any of your family, they weren’t that important even then. He doubts they were note even now. Even after your marriage to him, they had not risen in prominence to the level they would have had they married you to some warlord in the far countryside. 

Sukuna had taken you to wife when you were nineteen summers. A long time has gone on and passed. He would have doubted that you remembered such things from your youth. And yet, you did. You hadn’t seen your sister in so long, and yet you recognized her. Even after all that happened. Even if she had aged. 

But perhaps, you held onto the memories of things. You held on to so much of the past before him, he knew that much. Back then, he had not tied you into his gilded cage. You were free. Perhaps, you held so dearly that life because he wasn’t yet your tyrant. 

You turned to him, your brows furrowed. You shouldn’t even be looking at him about this matter. He had given you leave to do what you wished. It’s why he hadn’t moved. Whatever decision lay ahead, it was clear he intended to let you take the lead. But of course, it wasn’t as if he would let you decide. He was still the power in your relationship.

The tension in the room was palpable, every pair of eyes fixed on you and the woman who knelt before the dais. Your heart ached as you looked at her—your little sister, worn thin by the worst of life’s hardship, her once-vivid features now shadowed by exhaustion.

You stepped closer, your movements measured and deliberate, though your hands trembled at your sides. You couldn’t afford to falter now, not under Ryomen Sukuna’s piercing gaze, not in front of the villagers who watched with bated breath.

“What is your name?” Sukuna asked, his voice a low rumble that seemed to shake the air itself.

She flinched, her head bowing lower. “Kiyoko, my lord.” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Kiyoko, huh." Sukuna’s voice repeated, his voice dark and smooth.

It was as though the name were a foreign delicacy he was savoring. He stretched out the syllables with an almost unnerving precision, rolling them on his tongue as if the word itself held some sort of power he was trying to understand.

His gaze flicked back to you, a gleam of amusement sparking in his crimson eyes as his lips curled into a smirk, one that didn't quite reach the cold depths of his eyes.

"And what would you have me do with her, little one?" he drawled, letting the words hang in the air with a sense of deliberate weight. "Shall I grant her mercy for your sake? Or does her bloodline mean nothing to you now? They had forcefully married you to me, after all. For their rise on the ladder, of course."

The challenge in his voice was unmistakable, like a testing blade, and you could almost feel the sinister pleasure he derived from your discomfort. His words wrapped around you like a chain, each syllable tightening the hold he had over you. 

He had a way of making even the simplest question feel like a demand, a test of loyalty, of worth. His amusement at your predicament was palpable, though he masked it behind the veneer of his usual indifference.

Your throat went dry, and a cold shiver ran down your spine. You swallowed hard, your pulse quickening. His words stirred something deep within you, something that you had buried for so long. Memories of your sister, of the love you had once shared, now felt like fragile remnants of a life that was slipping away, just as your control over this moment seemed to be.

To plead for Kiyoko outright would be a grave mistake. You knew that much. That would be something Sukuna would see as weakness, a crack in the facade you had so carefully maintained. He had no tolerance for such displays. 

Yet, to remain silent, to withhold your plea, would betray the very bond that had once made your sister your world. Your mind raced, torn between the two forces pulling at you—loyalty to your husband Ryomen Sukuna, to the man who held you captive, and the love for the sister you had lost in the process.

"My lord." you began, forcing yourself to remain steady. Your voice trembled only slightly as you spoke, but you kept your posture firm. "She is my sister, and I cannot deny the ties that bind us." 

You paused, searching his eyes with a quiet intensity, the weight of your request pressing on you like a thousand unseen hands. "But I know well that mercy is yours alone to bestow."

“That you are very aware. Good on you, little one.”

You lifted your gaze, meeting his, refusing to look away, even as the storm of emotions churned inside you. "I ask not as your concubine, but as your humble servant. Please, grant her the chance to rebuild what has been lost."

The words hung in the air, fragile yet resolute. Your heart pounded in your chest, but you remained unwavering, despite the torrent of fear and vulnerability that threatened to overwhelm you.

You had to stay strong—for her, for Kiyoko, and for the woman you once were.

For a long moment, Sukuna didn’t speak, his gaze never leaving yours. His lips twitched upward slightly, and the amusement didn’t fade from his eyes, but something else flickered beneath the surface, something unreadable.

“So you would deny what has been done?” he said, his voice almost a purr now, sliding through the room with a calculated sweetness. "You would ask for mercy when you know better than anyone how little of it I am willing to give?"

His eyes glinted with something like curiosity now, and the smirk faded into something more thoughtful, though still dangerous. "Tell me, hm…." he continued, his tone shifting into something darker.  "Do you truly think that mercy will rebuild what’s been lost? Can you even rebuild what fate has already decided for you, little one?"

You stood your ground, even as his words pressed against you like a weight you could hardly bear. "I know the world is shaped by fate, my lord." you said quietly. "But surely, even fate leaves room for change. For hope."

Sukuna’s eyes darkened then, his smile sharpening into something more predatory. He leaned forward slightly, his voice low and deliberate. "Hope, huh?" he murmured, the word dripping with contempt. "Is that what you believe in? Hope?"

There was a long silence. You cannot speak. Not if you wish to jeopardize the case you mean to fight for. And for the first time, you saw something flicker behind his scarlet eyes—an emotion you couldn't name, an expression that seemed to shift with a subtle shift in his demeanor.

“You are brave, little one. Too brave for your own good.” he said finally, almost as if testing the words on his tongue. “Perhaps too brave. But courage doesn’t change much in this world. Not when it comes to me.”

You swallowed, the finality in his voice making it clear that the decision would not be easy. But you had done what you could. The rest was out of your hands. You didn’t know what would come next, but the small spark of hope you had ignited seemed to linger in the heavy air, and that, at least, was something to hold onto.

“Stand.” he commanded, his voice sharp and unrelenting.

Kiyoko hesitated, glancing at you before obeying. She rose to her feet unsteadily, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. Your husband looks at you for a moment, but you lower your head at the sight of his sharp eyes cutting through the soul.

“Look at me, girl.” Sukuna demanded. She lifted her gaze, her eyes wide and filled with fear. “Much better.”

“Your sister, my own concubine, has spoken for you,” he said, his tone cold and impassive. “She has pleaded your case, though she knows the risk of doing so. Tell me, Kiyoko—what would you do with the mercy she begs for?”

Kiyoko’s lips parted, but no words came. She glanced at you again, as though seeking strength in your presence. Finally, she spoke, her voice trembling but resolute. “I would live, my lord. I would work, I would serve, I would do anything to repay the kindness shown to me.”

Sukuna’s laughter broke the heavy silence, low and rumbling. “Anything, you say?” He leaned forward slightly, his crimson eyes glinting. “Then perhaps I will grant you this mercy. Not for your sake, but for hers.” 

He gestured toward you with a lazy wave of his hand. “Your sister’s boldness amuses me, little one. But it’s stale. Too stale to keep me intrigued. But it is interesting to see what will become of you here, little one.”

Relief flooded through you, your knees nearly buckling under the weight of it. Kiyoko’s weary eyes filled with tears, and she dropped to her knees once more, bowing low. “Thank you, my lord.” she choked out.

“Do not thank me.” Sukuna said, his tone dismissive. “Thank your sister. It is her value to me that has spared your life and given you a chance.”

You bowed deeply, your voice trembling as you said. “Thank you, my lord. Your generosity knows no bounds.”

As Sukuna leaned back on his throne, his expression was unreadable, though his scarlet gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary. He snickers, waving his hand to signal you to stand from your position.

“Take her to the servants’ quarters.” he ordered the guards, his tone sharp and final. “Let her prove her worth there. If she fails…” His smirk returned, sharp and menacing. “Well, you know the consequences.”

“Of course, my lord.”

The guards moved to escort Kiyoko from the room, but before she was led away, she turned to you, her tear-streaked face filled with gratitude and longing. “Sister, my dear sister.” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Thank you.”

You nodded, your throat too tight with emotion to speak. As the doors closed behind her, Sukuna’s voice cut through the silence. You tried to compose yourself again, but you felt yourself too emotional. You make your way towards your throne. But before you take your chance to sit, your husband looks at you and speaks.

“Do not think your sentimentality will sway me again, little one. I allowed this because it pleased me to do so. Remember that.”

You turned to him, bowing deeply. “Of course, my lord.”

But as you straightened and met his gaze once more, you couldn’t help but wonder if, despite his words, something more had stirred within him that day. You bowed your head once more and turned your position once again and sat down to continue the long day, all the while your thoughts echoed all over the place. Your sister was here. You weren’t alone anymore.

══════════════════

YOU WANTED TO SEE YOUR SISTER AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. But the day had not permitted it. So you had no choice but to wait until the sun met its lover and said goodbye. The dominant echo of the moon yawned against the still koi ponds. It was so quiet tonight, it could be the most peace that could be had in the past thirty years you’d spent here.

The brightly lit temple gardens were a sanctuary, a rare refuge from the opulence and tension that prevailed in Ryomen Sukuna’s earthly domain. The moon cast a gentle glow over the stone pathways, and lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, their golden light illuminating the blooms of jasmine and lotus scattered throughout. 

You found your sister Kiyoko seated on a weathered stone bench, her figure barely outlined against the lush greenery. They had finally let her have some air, you supposed. It’s hard to find that perhaps she could be someone who could be trusted.

But perhaps the way your husband looked at you all day, with your own concerns for your sister, had been a catalyst. A fresh breath of air is better than the draft of the servant’s quarters in this time of night.

She looked up as you approached, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. Her face, worn thin by the years, was still achingly familiar—the curve of her cheek, the shape of her eyes, even the way she held herself with quiet determination. The years had shaped you both differently, yet the bond you shared remained, unspoken but profound.

You sat beside her, the stone cool beneath you. “Kiyoko.” you said softly, your voice trembling with emotion. “It’s been so long, hasn’t it?”

Her lips quivered into a faint smile, through her eyes shone with unshed tears. “I thought I’d never see you again, nee–san.” she admitted, her voice raw with honesty. “When they took you, it felt like we’d lost you forever.”

The weight of her words pressed against your chest. You had never forgotten the pain of being torn from your family, not one day. Every single time you had thought about it, it was certainly  the bitterness of knowing you were a pawn in a game far beyond your control that always made you burn in furiosity. 

But it was also the fact that you will end up losing who you were and all you had known, to suffer constant misery in this gilded cage — to never see your family again, that perhaps makes you even more angry than ever before. 

More than anything, it was the thought that there was someone that truly loved you that you longed for. From what you remembered, you were loved once, by your family. And it made you angry and more grievous, to only think of it as memory.

“I thought about all of you every day, you know?” you said, your hands gripping the edge of the bench. “I wondered if you were safe, if you had enough to eat, if you were… happy.”

Kiyoko let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. “Happy? No, not after you left. Things were hard, nee–san. The village changed. We all changed.” She hesitated, her gaze falling to her hands. “Takashi… he passed. Sickness took him, and it nearly broke our father.”

Your breath caught in your throat. “Takashi?” you whispered, the name like a sharp blade against your heart. Memories of your mischievous, spirited brother flooded your mind. “How… How did it happen?”

Her voice wavered as she recounted the story. “It was during a bitter winter, not long after you left. Food was scarce, and sickness spread through the village like wildfire. We did everything we could, but Takashi… he was always so stubborn, so reckless. He hid how sick he was until it was too late.” 

“Don’t…..” You took a moment to breathe and looked her in the eye. You wanted to know, you wanted to see. To feel that same grief as though you were there. “Did he pass well?”

“Like a breath of wind.” She looked at you, her expression both anguished and apologetic. “He always said you’d come back one day. He never gave up on you.”

You closed your eyes, the weight of guilt nearly unbearable. “I should have been there, Kiyoko.” you murmured, tears slipping down your cheeks. “I should have been there to help.”

Kiyoko reached out, taking your hand in hers. Her touch was warm, grounding. “You couldn’t have changed what happened, nee–san.” she said firmly. “You were taken from us. None of this is your fault.”

Her words were a balm, though they did little to ease the ache inside you. “And Mother? Father? Are they…?”

“They’ve passed on, nee–san.” Kiyoko said, her tone heavy. “But allt these years, Mother lit a lantern for you every night. She prayed for your safety. Father… he was quiet a lot, but he worked the fields as best he can."

".....I see." You say, almost grievous at the thought of this unfamiliarity to this loss.

You haven't had parents in years, decades. And yet, you mourn that loss anyway, no matter how foreign it seems to you. You purse your lips in a flat line.

"And you have nieces and nephews, nee-san. They’re well. And growing too, despite the hard times.” your sister added, her voice brightening slightly. “They’re the light of the family.”

You couldn’t help but smile through your tears. “Nieces and nephews…..” you repeated, the words foreign yet wonderful. “I can’t believe it.”

“They’re wonderful, nee–san.” Kiyoko said, her smile growing. “Kenji’s clever, like Takashi, always tinkering with things. And little Hana—oh, she’s wild and free, just like you were.”

Her words filled you with a bittersweet joy, a flicker of hope amidst the sorrow. “I wish I could meet them.” you said quietly. “I wish they could know me.”

Kiyoko squeezed your hand. “One day, they will. I’ll make sure of it.”

“I should hope so.” You say, almost as though you were going to cry. “I have to live long and see them again.”

“You look so different, though, nee–san.” she said, her voice soft, almost tentative. “Healthier… stronger. I barely recognized you at first.”

The bittersweet smile remained on your lips as you tried to find the words. “And you… You’ve been through so much,” you murmured, your voice heavy with both admiration and sorrow.

Kiyoko’s gaze didn’t falter. “Perhaps, you also, nee-san,” she replied gently but firmly. “You have lived a life we can never know. As Sukuna–sama’s wife.”

Her words hung in the air like a blade, sharp and unyielding. You hesitated, the weight of her statement pressing against your chest. How could you even begin to explain? To confess your own misery felt selfish.

It was a betrayal of the unimaginable hardships she and your family had endured. What right did you have to complain about being unloved or neglected when you had never faced starvation, never braved winters without warmth or droughts without water?

Your fingers fidgeted in your lap as you searched for the right response. “Kiyoko, my little sister.” you began slowly, your voice barely above a whisper. “There’s so much they don’t know. About how I’ve lived, what I’ve become here. They might not understand…”

Kiyoko tilted her head, studying you with that same quiet strength she’d always possessed, even as a child. Her eyes softened, her hand reaching to rest lightly on yours. “Then tell me, nee-san” she said gently. “Help me understand.”

You swallowed hard, the vulnerability in her voice chipping away at the walls you've built around your heart. Taking a shaky breath, you looked out at the lantern-lit gardens, as if the beauty around you could somehow lend you the courage to speak. 

“When they married me to Sukuna, I thought… I thought I would become something more than just a girl from the village. I thought it would mean safety, maybe even respect. But it wasn’t like that. Not at all.”

Kiyoko’s brow furrowed, her hand tightening around yours. “What do you mean?”

You bit your lip, willing yourself not to cry. “I am here, yes. But I am little more than a possession to him. Perhaps a tool for his amusement, a symbol of his power over those who gave me away.”

The words tasted bitter on your tongue, but they poured out nonetheless. “He does not love me, Kiyoko. He barely sees me. My life here is gilded, but it is a cage all the same.”

Kiyoko’s breath hitched, her grip steadying you as your voice trembled. “I don’t suffer as you have, little sister. If anything, I live in luxury.”

You continued, your gaze dropping to your intertwined hands. “I have food, warmth, fine clothes… but those things don’t make a life. I don’t have freedom. I don’t have love. And yet, hearing what you and the family have endured… I feel ashamed even saying this.”

Her fingers brushed against yours, grounding you in the moment. “Nee-san.” she said softly, her voice carrying both sorrow and conviction. “You’ve suffered too. Just because your pain isn’t the same as mine doesn’t make it any less real.”

Tears welled in your eyes, and you shook your head. “I don’t want to burden you with this, Kiyoko. You’ve already endured so much. I just want you to know… I never stopped thinking about all of you. About the life I lost.”

Kiyoko’s hand moved to cup your cheek, her warmth anchoring you. “And we never stopped thinking about you.”

She continued, almost solemn. “Not a single day passed when we didn’t pray for your safety, wonder if you were happy, hope that you were alive. And now, seeing you here… even in this gilded cage, you are still my sister. That’s what matters.”

Her words broke the dam within you, and the tears spilled over, trailing down your cheeks. “I missed you so much, little sister.” you choked out, your voice raw with emotion.

Kiyoko pulled you into an embrace, her arms strong despite her frail appearance. “I missed you too, nee-san.” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “But we’ve found each other again. That’s what matters now.”

Before you could respond to her, the sound of footsteps interrupted your thoughts. You turned to see hand and hand, Chiharu and Chizuru, were approaching. Chiharu held the lantern for her younger brother. It was interesting, how their faces looked. Both of their expressions are curious but warm. 

You had never thought you could ever find the time to introduce your children to your family. You’d never thought you could. Not in any lifetime. But to see this become a reality now, for your sister to see the light of your life in front of them too, it was more than enough to bring you to tears of joy.

“Kiyoko, I’d like to introduce you to my children.” you said, gesturing toward them with a small smile. “These are Chiharu and Chizuru. They’ve been the light of my life.”

She looks at you for a moment and then to the children. Her eyes widened and stills at Chizuru, who was blinking at her. “These are your….”

“Chiharu is my husband’s eldest child, but I have raised her as my own.” You say tenderly eyeing the children with a smile. “But Chizuru, he is my own son. He is three years of age. A smart young boy already.” You stopped and smiled. “Go on, children. Bow to your aunt with reverence.”

You took the lantern from Chiharu and set it aside. The young girl helped her little brother to get into the position and made sure he was comfortable before going down and bowing with careful grace in front of you and Kyoko.

You couldn’t help but be filled with pride as you looked at them both. It was as if you felt that you had achieved the impossible. Your family knows of your children.

Chiharu raised her head. “It’s an honor to meet you, Kiyoko–sama. Your sister, my step-mother, has spoken of her family often.”

Chizuru smiled as he too raised his head. “Are you my auntie?”

“Chizuru—”

“It’s alright, it’s alright.” Kiyoko looked at them, her expression softening as she returned their bows. “Thank you to the two of you.” she said quietly. “For being born and filling her life with joy.”

“No, Kiyoko–sama.” Chiharu smiles at her kindly, shaking her head. “I should say we are more thankful. I would not have an easier and more comfortable life without her. And without your sister, I would not have my brother. We are more than grateful to you too, for loving my step-mother well.”

Your sister looks as though she was going to tear up too. “Then we can be thankful for each other, for the blessings that come because of nee–san being in both our lives.”

“I should think so.” Chiharu smiles once again at her. Chiharu looks at you. “We are sorry for suddenly visiting and disturbing your conversation, mother. We have come to bid you good night. Forgive us for not sending a messenger ahead.”

You shook your head at her. “That is no problem, Chiharu. It was not a bother at all. Good night. Have a good rest, hm? I shall see you in the morning.”

You embraced Chiharu who hugged you back in return, and smiled as you kissed her cheek. When it was Chizuru’s turn, he jumped into your arms and giggled as you embraced him back. You peppered him with kisses, making him laugh even more. You laughed as you let him go. You placed a kiss on his head.

“Go and make sure he doesn’t end up rolling off his futon again, hm?” You say as Chiharu took the lantern again and nodded. 

As the two left along with the entourage that was just a few meters away, you and your sister were left alone. As the silence between you echoed still as the starry night, the evening deepened with each passing hour and with that, the two of you seemed more content enjoying this moment together, even without saying anything to the other. 

Kiyoko touched your hand gently. “You’ve thrived here, nee–san.” she said, her voice tinged with both pride and sorrow. “But I see how much you’ve endured, too.”

You nodded, tears brimming once more. “I only wish I could have been there for all of you.”

Her smile was small but genuine. “You’re here now. That’s what matters.”

And in that moment, as you sat together under the twilight sky, you felt a fragile yet undeniable hope take root in your heart—a hope that, somehow, the bonds of family could endure even the deepest of scars.

══════════════════

YOU FOUND YOURSELF UNABLE TO SLEEP AT NIGHT. But what could you do, knowing that your nightmares were ever so present every single night? Ever since your since that day, you were a victim of such dreams which had no place to go.

You couldn’t find yourself and what was reality, when it comes to these dreams. You just couldn’t. And that terrified you. These nightmares grew more frequent with each passing night, clawing into your mind and leaving you restless and uneasy.

Your sister had tried to ease your pains with tea that your mother would make. But as time went on, the nightmares grew worse. It was always the same. It was a hauntingly vivid sequence that left you breathless and trembling. And you hated it. You hated every minute of it.

Each time, the child’s face seemed clearer, his dark eyes more piercing, his expression more sinister. The terror felt more real. The pain, the helplessness, and the oppressive presence of Sukuna—looming like a god indifferent to your suffering were etched into your consciousness with cruel precision. And tonight was no different.

In the dream, you stood in a barren landscape under a sky smeared with crimson clouds. The child appeared suddenly, his small figure emerging from the shadows. He didn’t look menacing at first. At first, his face was round, soft, innocent. He was truly a little baby, a beautiful one at that. 

Looking at you, with the tenderness and softness of a child to a mother, when he is first born. But as his gaze locked onto yours, something in his expression shifted. His eyes seemed bottomless, pulling you into an abyss of despair.

You wanted to move, to flee, but your body refused to obey. He stepped closer, his small hands reaching out. Before you could react, pain erupted in your stomach. It wasn’t a mere stab or cut. it was as if something alive and feral clawed its way through your body, tearing apart everything inside you.

You screamed, your voice raw and ragged, but no sound seemed loud enough to drown the horror. Blood poured out in torrents, staining the earth beneath you. The child’s grin widened, his teeth sharp and gleaming. You tried to fight, to push him away, but your strength ebbed with every passing second.

And then, as always, you saw him. Ryomen Sukuna. He stood at the edge of the chaos, a pillar of calm amidst your agony. His crimson eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, his expression cold and detached.

“My lord…..my lord, Sukuna, please.” you choked out, desperation thick in your voice. “Please… help me…”

But he didn’t move. His smirk deepened, a cruel twist of amusement playing on his lips. “You’re weak, little one.” he said, his voice echoing in your mind. “What use are you if you cannot endure?”

The words struck harder than the physical pain, piercing your soul. You reached out toward him, but before your fingers could brush his robe, the child gave one final wrench, and everything went black.

You woke with a start, your breath shallow and rapid. The oppressive weight of the nightmare lingered, pressing down on your chest. Your hands flew instinctively to your stomach, as if to check for wounds. But there was nothing. No blood, no pain. Only the ghost of the dream remained.

The room was dimly lit by the moonlight streaming through the windows, casting long, eerie shadows across the walls. The silk sheets beneath you were damp with sweat, clinging to your trembling body.

A knock at the door jolted you, and before you could respond, your servant slipped inside. Her gentle face was lined with worry as she approached. “My lady, my lady.” she said softly, kneeling beside the bed. “I heard you cry out. Are you alright?”

You pressed a hand to your forehead, trying to steady your breathing. “I’m fine.” you replied quickly, though your voice wavered. “It was just a bad dream. Nothing more.”

Her own weary eyes searched for yours, doubt evident in her expression. “Shall I prepare tea? Or perhaps a soothing ointment? You seem… troubled.”

“No, that won’t be necessary, do not worry.” you said firmly, though you forced a small smile to soften the dismissal. “Go back to bed. I’m fine.”

She hesitated for a moment, her concern palpable. But after a brief nod, she rose, bowing respectfully. “As you wish, my lady. If you need anything, please call me.”

You halted and then stopped her from leaving. She turns to you. "Please wake lady Kiyoko. Have her brew that tea for me, please."

"As you wish, my lady."

When she left, the silence of the room enveloped you once more. You leaned back against the pillows, your mind churning. The nightmare had felt so real. Too real. The child’s face lingered in your thoughts, his dark eyes burning into your soul. 

And Sukuna—why had he stood there, unmoving, uncaring? Was the dream a reflection of your deepest fears? A twisted manifestation of your doubts and insecurities?

You touched your stomach again, your hands trembling. Whatever the dream meant, it left a shadow you couldn’t shake. A foreboding that made your heart heavy and your mind restless.

As the moonlight dimmed, you stared into the darkness, hoping but not truly believing that a good long rest, a good sleep would bring peace. The following nights offered no reprieve. The nightmares persisted, each one more vivid and harrowing than the last. 

The child’s face, once haunting, became almost familiar, as though etched permanently into your psyche. His laughter, echoing with malice, stayed with you long after you woke, leaving your chest tight and your body trembling.

By the third night, your exhaustion became noticeable. The children were clever, they always have been, young as they were. Chiharu and Chizuru exchanged worried glances as they helped you dress for the day. The mirror reflected your pale face, the faint shadows under your eyes betraying your lack of sleep.

“Mother, are you alright?” Chizuru ventured carefully, looking at your cold tea and then to you. “Are you….are you sleepy?”

You hesitated, your lips parting as though to confide in him. But the words caught in your throat. He is a child. He does not need to know the sufferings of his mother. Why should he suffer the need to know the grievous nights of yours? That is too much of a burden, to a child.

And even then, what could you say? That your dreams were haunted by a child who tore you apart? That Ryomen Sukuna’s apathy in those dreams mirrored a deeper fear you dared not admit even to yourself?

“I’m fine, my little son.” you said softly, your voice steady despite the lie. “The temple can be… busy at times. Mayhaps, our aging mother is exhausted, you are right. Or perhaps I simply need fresh air. I should ask my lord to let me rest and enjoy the gardens.”

Chiharu put her own utensils down, looking at you with the same concern. “Would you like us to prepare the gardens for your morning tea, mother? A walk among the blossoms might ease your mind.”

“That would be lovely, Chiharu.” you replied, grateful for the suggestion. Anything to escape the confines of your room and the lingering shadows of your dreams. “Mayhaps that would be good. But for now, let’s break our fast.” 

She nodded her head. “Yes, mother. Of course.”

In the wide expanse of the gardens, the gentle breeze and the sweet scent of flowers offered some solace. The koi pond glimmered in the sunlight, the soft ripples breaking the surface as the fish swam lazily beneath. 

It was a day where the summer rain had come and ceased, you think. And so, it was a lucky day to have sunshine. Even more so for your children, who were now playing together and chasing each other, their laughter dancing in the beaconing wind.

You found a quiet corner beneath a blooming cherry tree, the shade offering respite from the midday sun. But even here, your mind couldn’t rest. Not even one moment. You wished you could but the images still flashed fresh on your mind. The child’s face loomed in your thoughts, and your husband’s own cruel indifference in the dream replayed like a broken melody.

Yet, soon enough, a shadow fell across the garden path, pulling you from your thoughts. You could feel the wind change as you slowly opened your eyes. Looking up, you saw Ryomen Sukuna approaching, his regal form cutting an imposing figure against the backdrop of the palace. His crimson eyes glinted with curiosity or perhaps amusement as he stopped a few paces from you.

“My lord.” Your lips echoed as he stopped at the edge of the shade. Uraume was behind him, a few distances away, with arms on their back as they silently followed their master. “You are here?”

“You seemed surprised to see me, little one.” He snickers at you, before taking a moment to look at the children. “Am I not allowed to visit your haven?”

“No….no, it’s not that, my lord.” You say to him, lowering your gaze. “It is just…..I never expected to see you today.”

“Oh? And why do you say that, little one? Is this not my domain, my temple?”

“My lord, you know what I…..” You stopped yourself from being exasperated, earning a laugh from him. “My misery is not a jest to laugh about, my lord.”

“I have lived nearer to your hall in these past three years, little one.” Sukuna retorts back to you, a sly smile on his face as he slowly sits in front of you. “I think it should be a given that this path would be on my way, should I go to the audience hall.”

You purse your lips into a flat line, feeling your eyes stare daggers at him. “That much is true, my lord. But it is not always within your desires to see what I or the children are doing.”

“You are my concubine and the children you speak of mine own loins.” He once more says, almost mockingly. “Should I not be allowed to enjoy both?”

“If my lord wishes to enjoy such a thing, I know he has many ways to do so.” You say to him, fumbling with your hands, as though to tell yourself that you were alright. “But for my lord to have come here, it is a different matter altogether, is it not?”

Silence triumphs between the two of you as the wind breaks against the wide expanse of the trees shading you. His eyes do not leave you for a moment as you try and sit up right, trying to slouch less. You were certain that it was unbecoming to do such a thing in front of your lord husband, even in such a setting. 

“Little one, you are clever. But I should hope you do not continue to do so, at the expense of the joy of it.” he said, his deep voice breaking the silence. “You are right, certainly. But I should hope that you do not let such cleverness diminish my reason.”

“Oh? And what reason does my lord come to my presence?”

“You’ve been… quiet lately.” He says to you. “At least that is what I heard from your servants. Well, not certainly only quiet. Perhaps troubled, even.”

“My lord, I told you that such servants spying on me for you are unwelcomed and unbecoming—”

“You shouldn’t tell me how I run my household, little one. Even your own is my own. It is I who shall decide how they should be run.” He scolds you loud enough for you to lower your head. “I come here out of concern and I shan’t renege my duty just because you feel admonished. Am I understood?”

You didn’t talk for a moment. 

His scarlet eyes narrow more.

There was something in them.

Things you couldn’t read properly.

You took one deep breath at him.

“Do I make myself clear, little one?”

“......Yes, my lord.”

“Now tell me, what occupies that restless mind of yours?” He asks you, crossing his arms on his chest. “Confirm what your servants say.”

Your heart skipped a beat. In three decades of marriage to this man, it was a rarity that he would ask you of your own feelings in this blunt manner. Much so in a way where concern was truly honest and genuine.

Certainly, your husband demanded honesty and truth. But it was a rare moment for him to decide to do it this way. To confront you when you were caught off guard, to corner you. 

But you wondered if you could do it well. If you could be honest with him about this. It was hard enough to wrap your head around being in the constant rush of horror with these nightmares. Yet it was certainly another to see if people would understand, much less the King of Curses.

It was terrifying to live through it alone, but the very idea of sharing your nightmares with him was both tempting and terrifying. He could perceive it in all the ways he could. Could he offer insight? Or would he mock you, dismissing your fears as childish? 

You rose to your feet, bowing low before him. “My lord…..” you began carefully. “It is nothing of importance. I am certain that my servants meant well, but it is nothing but weariness. I’ve merely been restless as of late.”

He studied you, his gaze piercing as if he could see through your facade. “Restless?” His smirk returned, sharp and knowing. “Do you think I'm a fool, little one? You wear your fear like a shroud. Now, tell me. What haunts you?”

“Should it not be real? I had just found my sister and found out what my family had gone through in such a time.” You argued back at him, almost like a petulant child. “Should this not leave me restless or weary, my lord?”

“Oh, little one. I hope your eyes do not give you away.” He retorts back at you, almost like he was going to laugh. “You would be so good at lying, little one — had your eyes not deceived me.”

You bit your lower lip, looking away at him. Of course, he can. Of course, he would read you. He has always been good at doing so. And you were not even certain how deep into your soul he could see. You looked at the children for a moment and then back to him. Should you really be honest with him about this? Should you tell him? 

More and more time would be passing and you knew he would not give in. He will not leave until he gets to the bottom of the truth you were hiding. You kept biting your lip, hoping that it would just bleed. But nothing, nothing came out as you brutalized your lip. 

Defeated, you lowered your head once more.The words were there, on the tip of your tongue. But fear held you back. If you spoke of the child, of the nightmares, would he understand? Or would his cruelty twist your confession into another game?

Sukuna moved closer, his presence overwhelming. “Speak, little one. I command it.” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for defiance. “Do not make me ask again.”

Swallowing hard, you lowered your gaze. “I’ve been dreaming, my lord. Nightmares… of a child.”

His expression shifted when you said those words, the smirk faltering for a fraction of a second. “A child?” he repeated, his voice laced with curiosity. “What child?”

You hesitated, your hands trembling as you clasped them together. “In my dreams, he tears me apart. From the inside. And you… you’re there. Watching. Unmoved. And I….I would watch, I would watch myself torn apart.”

The silence that followed was deafening, stretching out like a chasm between you and Ryomen Sukuna. His scarlet eyes darkened, the glimmer of curiosity or amusement vanishing like a candle snuffed out.

The smirk he so often wore was gone, replaced by an inscrutable expression that made your stomach churn. He regarded you for a long moment, his gaze heavy and unreadable, as if he were turning over some thought in his mind.

For a fleeting second, hope sparked within you. Could he say something to ease your fears? To make sense of the nightmares that clawed at the edges of your sanity? The thought was a desperate one.

Certainly, it was born of a yearning for answers, for meaning in the chaos that plagued your mind. But he said nothing. He didn’t move, didn’t speak—he simply stood there, his silence as cutting as any words might have been.

“My lord—” you began, your voice trembling with the weight of your plea.

“They are nothing but nightmares.” Sukuna interrupted, his tone sharp and final, as though sealing the matter with those words alone. “They are nothing of consequence.”

The tone of his dismissal stung deep and harsh, perhaps even sharper than you’d anticipated. It wasn’t that you expected tenderness. Ryomen Sukuna was never tender, he could not. But his abruptness carried an air of indifference that left you feeling hollow. 

You wished his words didn’t affect you so much, you wished it didn’t hurt you so dearly. But it does. Thirty years is a long time and yet, he still has hands that are cold. Hands that make you feel like it was stone.

Your hands tightened into fists at your sides, the frustration of being so easily cast aside mingling with the lingering fear the dreams had planted in your heart.

“Nothing of consequence…” you echoed softly, almost to yourself. The words felt like ash on your tongue, bitter and unsatisfying.

Sukuna’s eyes flicked over you once more, his expression hardening as if warning you not to pursue the matter further. “Do not let such trivialities cloud your thoughts, little one. You have other concerns, ones that matter.”

“Other ones that matter?” You asked towards him, looking him in the eye. “And what could they be?”

He does not speak for a moment. He stands up slowly, looking at the children and away from you once again. “I shall send for someone to make a tonic, to help with your nightmares. You should drink it, without question. Understood?”

“My lord, I—”

“Understood?”

You swallowed your pride and nodded. “Understood, my lord.”

He nodded at you and then walked away, the flowing fabric of his robes trailing behind him as he walked away, Uraume following suit just a little bit behind him. You stood rooted in place, the weight of his dismissal pressing down on you like a stone. 

The child’s face from your dreams still lingered in your mind’s eye, his haunting gaze refusing to fade, and Ryomen Sukuna’s indifference, that had only been a dream at one point, was now reality. And it had perhaps only made the spectacle of this misery more vivid.

As the garden fell silent again, you sank onto the bench beneath the cherry tree, your thoughts spinning. Sukuna’s words had done nothing to quell your fears, and the questions that haunted you remained unanswered. The dream felt too real, too visceral, to be dismissed so easily.

And though Sukuna had turned his back on your concerns, the image of his unyielding gaze lingered, a reminder that there was no solace to be found in him. You were left to face the shadows on your own, with only the faint rustling of the cherry blossoms as your solace.

══════════════════

YOU WERE SURE IT TAKES A LOT OF LEARNING EACH OTHER’S LANGUAGE, TO GET CLOSER. You had expected that, the moment you saw your sister Kiyoko. Thirty years. A whole lifetime beyond the years you had known her. You barely remembered the child Kiyoko had been. Those little snippets, fleeting images: a flash of dark hair, a high-pitched giggle, the small hand that once clung to yours. 

But the woman who now stood before you now was a stranger, built from experiences you hadn’t shared, shaped by years you hadn’t witnessed. Getting to know her was like deciphering a language you’d long forgotten, each conversation a painstaking translation of gestures, expressions, and shared silences. 

Yet, slowly, almost imperceptibly, you were sure that your sister Kiyoko had begun to weave her way back into your heart little by little as she served you in your home. Of course, you don’t treat her like all the other servants. You couldn’t. She was your sister first more than she was anything else. 

But she also had to find her way in the world. Your husband has spies in your midst. And so, she does her best to keep with her duties, all the while trying to have moments with you that few can be privy to under the candle light, laughing together as you both experienced the girlhood you never got to enjoy together.

Brushing each other’s hair, reading and writing poetry together, weaving silks and fabrics into clothing together, walking under the brisk sunlight on the best days and most of all, eating together and telling stories, as you would while you sat with each other during supper as children. 

You were sure that it wasn't the rekindling of a childhood bond, you knew you couldn’t. But this was close. This was certainly something that could come close to that. Just as much, there was that desire to enjoy this moment where you both were forging new relationships together, ont that could be stronger and more resilient than the fragile memories of the past.

And with this burgeoning connection came trust. Deep, unwavering trust. Among the sea of loyal servants who populated your own household, your Kiyoko was the only one that you could truly trust and call your own, from the blood of your blood who would never betray you. 

She had quickly become your anchor, the one person you could confide in without reservation. Secrets you’d guarded for years tumbled out in her presence, anxieties that had gnawed at you found solace in her understanding gaze.

Your lord husband Ryomen Sukuna, ever observant, had noticed this shift. He’d seen the way you sought Kiyoko’s company, the quiet comfort that radiated from you when she was near, even when she stood away from the crowd in the audience hall. 

He’d especially noted your reliance on her when it came to Chiharu and Chizuru, your precious children. He could see how much you would find yourself willing to put their safety at her hands during the nights when you needed reprieve.

Or those days when they would wander off endlessly through the temple grounds by themselves. You entrusted Kiyoko with their care without a second thought, a level of faith you hadn’t extended to anyone else.

The nearby hall was bathed in the warm glow of lanterns, their light dancing across the lacquered walls and the golden accents of the intricate carvings that adorned the space.

The rich aroma of the evening meal mingled with the faint scent of sandalwood from the incense burning in the corners. Despite the opulence, there was an undercurrent of tension—something unspoken that lingered between you and Sukuna.

He sat at the head of the table, his imposing figure relaxed but commanding. Every movement he made seemed deliberate, calculated. As you reached for your cup, his voice cut through the silence like a blade.

“You and your sister, little one.” he began, his tone deceptively casual. “ I have noticed that you both have become close.”

His words carried a weight that made you pause, your weary fingers tightening slightly around the porcelain cup. You looked up, meeting his piercing scarlet gaze. You nodded at him briefly before you drank.

“She is my sister, my lord.” you replied carefully. “It is only natural that we would grow close again after being apart for so many years.”

Sukuna leaned back in his chair, his sharp crimson eyes studying you with an unsettling intensity. He hums to himself. “Natural, perhaps. But closeness often breeds complacency. And complacency invites betrayal, little one.”

The insinuation struck like a slap, though you kept your expression composed. Setting your cup down, you responded, your tone firm but measured. “Kiyoko has endured hardships I can scarcely imagine. She has remained steadfast despite everything. I trust her implicitly, my lord.”

His lips curved into a faint smirk, though his eyes betrayed no mirth. “Trust, little one. You shouldn’t be secure about it.” he said, the word rolling off his tongue like a curse. “Trust is a fragile little thing. It is easy to give but far harder to keep. You may trust her now, but people change, little one. Desperation, jealousy, opportunity—these are the harbingers of betrayal.”

Your pulse quickened, the flicker of indignation sparking into something stronger. “Kiyoko is not like that, my lord. I assure you.” you said, your voice steadier than you felt. “She has never sought to harm me. I would stake my life on her loyalty.”

He chuckled, the sound low and chilling. “Stake your life, would you? How noble of a thought that is. And how foolish. You’ve learned much in my presence, yet you cling to naïveté. Trust no one. Not even those you love. Especially not them.”

His words hung in the air, sharp and unforgiving. You let a moment pass before you inhaled deeply, grappling with the mix of anger and hurt they stirred within you. Finally, a thought struck, and before you could second-guess yourself, you spoke to him once again.

“And do you trust me, my lord?”

The question was bold, and the silence that followed was deafening. Ryomen Sukuna’s smirk faltered, his crimson eyes narrowing as they fixed on yours. He did not answer immediately, his gaze intense and unrelenting, as though weighing the implications of your inquiry.

After what felt like an eternity, he said simply, “I trust you.”

His voice was quieter than before, yet the words carried an unexpected weight. They were not meant to soothe or reassure—they were simply the truth. The honesty of his admission startled you, and for a moment, you were at a loss for words.

“More than anyone? More than Uraume?”

“Did you hear me falter in those words?”

A small sad smile touched your lips, bittersweet in its sincerity. “Then you have nothing to fear from me, my lord.” you said softly. “You do not love me, so you should not expect betrayal from me.”

The room fell into a heavy silence. Sukuna’s expression gave away nothing, his inscrutable gaze locked onto your own. The moment stretched, the tension in the air palpable, but he remained silent, offering neither agreement nor denial.

Eventually, he turned his attention back to the meal, his movements deliberate and calm, as though the conversation had not occurred. You followed suit, though your thoughts swirled with the weight of his words—and your own. Though he had spoken of trust, his silence on the matter of love resonated louder than any answer he might have given.

The remainder of the meal passed in relative quiet, the weight of your conversation settling like a stone in the room. You ate almost mechanically, your thoughts too preoccupied to truly taste the food before you. 

Sukuna, as always, seemed unbothered, his demeanor exuding an air of control that you had long since come to expect. Yet, his silence lingered, a stark contrast to his usual sharp commentary. When the final course was cleared away, he rose from his seat with a grace that belied his imposing frame.

“Do not let your emotions cloud your judgment, little one.” he said, his voice low and even as he began to leave the hall. “Closeness is a luxury that often demands a price. Be sure you’re willing to pay for it.”

You watched him go, his words echoing in your mind. Closeness, it was a luxury. Trust, it was a risk. Love, it was unspoken. These concepts swirled together, leaving you more conflicted than ever. And more anything, a burden in your heart.

When the hall was empty save for you, you let out a slow breath, the tension in your shoulders finally easing. Sukuna’s warning lingered, but your heart rebelled against his cold pragmatism. Kiyoko was your sister, the last tether to the life you had known before. How could you not trust her? How could you let suspicion take root where love should flourish?

You could not sleep once you took time away from your husband’s presence after that. You felt restless, more than you should. He has stricken doubt in your heart, a place where it shouldn’t be. He who you had more reason to doubt has caused you worry in your heart over someone you can trust wholeheartedly. 

In the early morning sunrise, you found yourself in the garden, drawn to the calming presence of the blooming cherry trees. The sun slowly hung gracefully in the sky, casting a pale blossom of light over the temple grounds. 

You sat beneath one of the trees, your thoughts chasing themselves in circles. A soft rustling of leaves announced a presence, and you looked up to see Kiyoko approaching. She wore a faint smile, her eyes filled with warmth as she joined you on the grass.

“You seem troubled, nee-san.” she said gently, sitting close enough that your shoulders nearly touched. “Is something wrong?”

For a moment, you hesitated. Sukuna’s warning was fresh in your mind, his distrust of others so deeply ingrained that it felt contagious. But as you looked at your sister, her face illuminated by the moonlight, you felt the weight of your bond. She had been with you through the worst, her presence a balm for wounds you hadn’t realized were still open.

“No, sister.” you said softly, your voice carrying the faintest tremor of uncertainty. “I’m just… tired.”

Kiyoko reached for your hand, her touch grounding you in a way that words couldn’t. “You don’t have to carry everything alone,” she said. “Not anymore. I’m here for you.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you leaned into her embrace, letting her words soothe the turmoil in your heart. For now, you chose to trust her, to trust in the bond you shared. Whatever the cost, you couldn’t let Sukuna’s cynicism poison the one piece of your past that still felt pure. 

“I can trust you, can I, Kyoko?”

You couldn’t see your sister’s eyes.

But you didn’t want to look at them either.

You feared what you may find in her eyes.

“You can trust me, nee-san. With everything.”

You didn’t want to question her on that anymore.

══════════════════

YOU THINK THAT VERMILLION HALL IS BUILT WITH LAUGHTER. And without it, it was just nothing to be enthralled about. The Vermillion Hall was a hollow shell without Ryomen Chiharu’s laughter to fill its corners or her small hands tugging at your sleeves. Her absence was a weight you carried in silence, each hour marked by the echo of her absence. 

You had grown used to the stillness, to the ache of longing buried beneath years of concessions. But this, this part of it always felt different. You were sharing him with a ghost, after all. And you will always have to, so long as you live.

Yet, it was as if a piece of your heart had left with them, and now you were left trying to mend a void that could not be filled. And you have to admit that to yourself, as much as you should find peace with being the other woman for the rest of your life. 

Your husband Ryomen Sukuna had left for his pilgrimage to honor Ryomen Hiromi, his first wife, and you had watched him go without protest. He had loved Hiromi first and perhaps even last in this earthly world. 

And though that love was a thorn in your side, you understood it. Love, after all, was not something you expected from Sukuna, not for yourself, at least. Yet, the sting of his devotion to another, even one long gone, still felt fresh even after nearly thirty years of marriage.

You told yourself it was better this way. To not feel hurt, to survive in this life, meant to give way. To concede. To let him have this part of himself without interference. It was what you’d learned in thirty years of being his wife. Love was a battlefield, but it wasn’t yours to fight on. And yet, it still hurts.

Evening had fallen, and the gardens were bathed in the pale glow of the rising moon. Your precious son Chizuru sat beside you beneath a cherry tree, his small form nestled against yours as if to shield you from solitude.

He always noticed when you feel this way, even if he was just this small. Your little son had sensed your melancholy, his perceptiveness what most could even as grown adults.

“Do you think they’re thinking about us?” Chizuru’s voice was soft, almost hesitant.

You smiled faintly, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I’m sure they are, my little love. Your father… he cares deeply for Chiharu. This is a moment for her to remember someone special. Someone who is special to your father also. This pilgrimage is important for them both.”

Chizuru tilted his head up to look at you, his young eyes searching your face. “And for you, Mother? Is it important for you?”

You paused, the weight of her question catching you off guard. “It is important to me too, my love.” you answered finally, though your voice trembled slightly. “Because Chiharu will learn about her special person, and your father will have time to reflect on someone he loved very much.”

“But you miss them already.” He pressed on whining, his tone matter-of-fact. “I wish they could just come home. They can visit that special person some other time. We need them more than they do.”

“I do too, my love.” you admitted, your throat tightening. “I miss them terribly. But sometimes, to love someone means to let them have what they need, even if it hurts you.”

Chizuru frowned, his little brow furrowing. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

You laughed softly, though it was tinged with sadness. “Life isn’t always fair, my sweet love. But we do what we must. And we must live with it. Only then can we live life well.”

Chizuru nestled closer to you, his small arms wrapping around your waist. “I don’t want you to be sad, mother.” he whispered tenderly. “I don’t want us to be sad. Ever.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them away, forcing a smile for his sake. “I have you here, don’t I? That’s enough to make me happy, my little love. You will always be more than enough for me to be happy.”

The wind carried the scent of cherry blossoms, their petals falling like whispers around you. The night was calm, yet your heart ached with the weight of unspoken words. You thought of Sukuna, of the way he had taken Chiharu without hesitation, his devotion to Hiromi eclipsing everything else. 

You wondered if he thought of you, even for a moment. Did he consider how his choices left you hollow, or was your pain too insignificant for a man like him? Even after all this time, had he ever thought about your grief of being his other woman?

“Do you think Father loves you?” Chizuru asked suddenly, his voice small but piercing.

The question cut deeper than any blade could. You knew that your little son didn’t mean to say such a thing, he didn't know. You have only shown and taught him what he should know. You hesitated, your hand stilling in his hair. What could you say to a child too young to understand the complexities of love, or the lack thereof?

“Your father…” You paused, searching for the right words. “Your father values loyalty, strength, and duty. Those things are important to him.”

Chizuru frowned, his childlike honesty unyielding. “That’s not the same as love, mother.”

You exhaled, your heart heavy with the weight of his innocence. “No, it’s not.” you whispered. “But it’s what I have. Perhaps, it could be something like love, no one can know. But your mother has learned to make peace with it.”

“Then….then I shall love you most, mother!” Chizuru whispers to you, almost excitedly. “Until father can love you well, I shall love you most to make up for that in your heart.”

Your heart swells at your son’s words, as much as it does stun you. He was a boy of three and yet, he takes such responsibility for your grief and pain after all this time. You could feel the tears prick at the edges of your eyes. You smiled at him.

“My precious little love, you are truly the apple of your mother’s eye.”

He giggles. “Hm! And I will always have you as my own too, mother.”

You smile as you push your face on his tummy and tickle him. You didn’t want him to see your tears. He giggles and you stop. Soon enough, a good tender silence stretched between you, the truth too raw to continue. Chizuru’s arms tightened around you as if he understood the pain you couldn’t fully explain.

As the moon climbed higher into the sky, you closed your eyes, the ache in your chest mingling with the soft rhythm of his breathing. You would endure this, as you always had. But tonight, the weight of Sukuna’s absence, and the truth of your place in his heart felt like too much to bear.

Just in the flip of your head against the futon, you found yourself feeling the light against your eyes. The morning light filtered through the thin rice paper walls of your chamber, casting a soft glow over the room. 

You had woken before Chizuru, his small form still nestled in the warmth of his futon. He would not rouse for a while, you think. But you didn’t move as you continued to look at your precious son.

For a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to linger, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, before quietly slipping out of the room.

The air outside was crisp and cool, carrying with it the faint aroma of dew and blossoming wildflowers. You decided to take a morning walk, hoping the tranquility of the garden paths would ease your restless mind. As you wandered farther than usual, passing the bustling early risers in the village, snippets of conversation reached your ears.

“Did you hear? Another stone has been placed in the forest—on Sukuna-sama’s orders.”

“They say it’s beyond the outer banks, deeper in the woods.”

“What could it mean this time? Another shrine? A monument?”

Your curiosity piqued, and without much thought, you found yourself following the murmured directions. The forest loomed ahead, dense and shadowed, but you pressed forward, the intrigue too compelling to ignore. Sukuna’s orders were rarely questioned, and his intentions were often shrouded in secrecy. What could warrant such a gesture?

The trees gave way to a clearing, and there it stood, a massive stone carved with intricate designs and inscriptions you couldn’t fully decipher. Yet, what struck you wasn’t the stone itself but the small figure made of fine wood resting atop the stone.

Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes began to widen at the sight. You felt the air in your lungs disappear almost instantaneously. 

It was a babe. 

A boy at that. 

He couldn’t have been older than a few months old, his dark hair wild and untamed, his small frame dressed in fine robes bearing Ryomen family crest etched upon it. Your legs moved before your mind could catch up, and you knelt before the small stone and looked upon the small wooden figure. 

Then you turned.

It was that boy.

From your nightmares.

His wide, crimson eyes stared back at you with a piercing familiarity that made your heart lurch. It was like looking into Sukuna’s gaze, even briefly. And yet only softer, innocent. Your hand trembled as you reached for him, and he didn’t flinch. Instead, he tilted his head, his tiny hand reaching out to touch your face. 

“Mama?” he asked, his voice small and uncertain.

The word sent a shock through your system. 

“No…” you whispered, pulling back as bile rose in your throat. 

Memories surged forward like a flood, crashing against the dam of your consciousness. Nights in Sukuna’s chambers, his hands on your skin, his whispers that lulled you into a haze and afterward, the strange emptiness, as if you had forgotten something vital.

You stumbled back, your stomach twisting violently. The nightmares, they weren’t nightmares at all. They were memories, fragments of a truth Ryomen Sukuna had stolen from you. He had used your vulnerability, your weakness for him, and made you forget. Again and again, until this moment, when the truth stared you in the face. 

You were pregnant before.

And you hadn’t even known.

The nausea overtook you, and you turned away, retching into the grass. The boy, the babe who could have been your son, watched with wide, confused eyes, his small hands clutching at your sleeves as if to anchor you to reality.

Tears blurred your vision as the realization solidified. Sukuna had lied to you. He had taken something sacred, something intimate, and twisted it for his own purposes. And now, here was the result—a child you hadn’t been allowed to remember, much less cherish.

“What have you done, Ryomen Sukuna?” you whispered hoarsely, your voice breaking. The boy looked at you again, his innocent gaze cutting deeper than any blade. “What have you done to me?”

The boy reached out again, his tiny fingers brushing against your sleeve, but before you could say or do anything else, a shadow fell over the clearing. You turned sharply, your heart racing, expecting Sukuna or worse, one of his servants, sent to pull you away from this fragile, terrifying truth. 

But there was no one. Only a strange stillness, a heavy silence that wrapped itself around the clearing like a suffocating shroud. When you turned back, the boy was gone. Your eyes began to shake, your body became frantic as you screamed.

“No!” The word tore from your throat, ragged and raw. You stumbled to your feet, spinning in frantic circles, searching for him. “Where are you? Come back!”

The clearing remained empty, the stone as still and cold as the memories that had begun to claw their way to the surface. Panic surged through you, mingling with the despair already sinking its talons into your chest. You staggered forward, calling for him, pleading into the emptiness.

“Please!” you cried, your voice cracking. “I’m sorry! Don’t leave me again!”

But there was no response. No soft voice calling you “mama” and no tiny hand to hold onto. The small babe, that small boy—your son…he was gone, as if he had never been there at all. And he will never be anything else but that. Gone.

Your legs gave out beneath you, and you collapsed onto the grass, clutching at the earth as if it could anchor you. Tears spilled down your cheeks in torrents, hot and unrelenting, carving paths down your face as sobs wracked your body.

Why? Why would Ryomen Sukuna do this to you? Why would he take this from you, strip you of every chance of joy, even this child? Why has he robbed you of knowing him, of holding him? Of loving him? The questions spiraled in your mind, each one heavier and more suffocating than the last.

The pain was unbearable, a sharp, gnawing ache that seemed to tear you apart from the inside. You cried until your voice gave out, until your body trembled with exhaustion. And still, the grief wouldn’t relent. It consumed you, pulling you into its depths, leaving you gasping for air.

For the first time in years, you allowed yourself to break. To feel the full weight of everything you had endured—the lies, the manipulation, the loneliness. And now, this. A child you never knew you had. A child who had been taken from you before you even had a chance to love him.

The sun climbed higher in the sky, casting light over the clearing, but it brought you no comfort. You were alone, kneeling in the grass, clutching at the earth as if it could give you back what had been stolen.

You didn’t know how long you stayed there, weeping and trembling in the shadow of the stone. All you knew was that when the tears finally slowed, and the silence settled once more, you were left with one unshakable truth: Ryomen Sukuna had betrayed you once more in the cruelest way imaginable. 

And now, you truly had enough. You cannot stay here. 

You do not want to stay here. You hated him. You truly hated him. 

You wanted to escape this cage and leave him alone.

══════════════════

IT HAD TAKEN YOU A WHILE TO CALM YOURSELF. But when you did, you had decided on it. You wanted to leave him. You wanted to leave him once and for all. You cannot handle being in this gilded cage. You cannot do this, not for much longer. You cannot, you cannot handle being his wife anymore. 

You found your sister in the small courtyard garden, her hands busy weaving a garland of flowers for your Chizuru’s chambers. You took your haori off and then your shoes. When she turned, she found you. She gasped as you approached her, tears swelling down your face. You fell in her arms. 

“What’s wrong?” Kiyoko asked, setting the garland aside. “Nee–san?”

You didn’t answer immediately, your chest heaving as you struggled to keep yourself together. But it was futile—the pain and confusion overwhelmed you, spilling out in a torrent of sobs. You wanted to tell her something. But you couldn’t. She rubs the small of your back, cooing at you as she tries to stabilize your breathing.

“I can’t stay here, sister.” you managed, your voice cracking. “I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be his wife. I can’t… I can’t live like this.”

Kiyoko whispers tenderly. “Nee-san, calm yourself. What’s happened? Please, tell me.”

Her steady tone was an anchor, but it wasn’t enough to keep you from breaking. The words came tumbling out, fragmented and raw. “I don’t know what to do, Kiyoko. He—he lied to me, again. He’s taken so much from me, from us, and now… now I can’t stay here.”

Kiyoko reached for your hands, her grip firm but gentle. “Slow down, nee-san.” she urged. “What did he do? Tell me everything.”

You shook your head, the tears streaming freely now. “I found out… I found out I had a child. Another child. And I didn’t even know. He made me forget everything, Kiyoko. He took it from me, from my memory. I can’t stay here, knowing what he’s done. But I can’t leave Chizuru with him. I can’t—”

Your voice broke, and you buried your face in your hands. “And Chiharu… I can’t leave her either. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.”

Kiyoko’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a fierce embrace. “Shh, nee–san.” she whispered, her voice trembling with both anger and sorrow. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll figure this out. But you need to think clearly.”

You pulled back, wiping at your tear-streaked face. “I can’t think clearly. All I know is that I can’t stay. Not with him. Not after this.”

Kiyoko’s gaze was steady, her voice firm. “Then don’t. Take Chizuru and come with me. Run away from here.”

Her words stunned you, and for a moment, you could only stare at her. “Run?” you echoed. “But Chiharu—”

“Chiharu is strong, nee-san.” Kiyoko interrupted. “Stronger than you give her credit for. And if she truly means as much to Sukuna as you’ve said, he won’t harm her. Not when she is Ryomen Hiromi’s daughter. But you—you can’t stay here and let him destroy you. Not anymore.”

Her words hit you like a wave, a mixture of comfort and resolve washing over you. “But if I run, he’ll come after me, sister.” you murmured.

“Let him come.” Kiyoko said fiercely. “We’ll find a way. Together.”

The conviction in her voice made you falter, the weight of her loyalty and love grounding you in a way you hadn’t felt in years. For the first time, a fragile glimmer of hope began to take root in your heart. You could be free from this gilded cage. You wanted to. You wanted to be free.

“I don’t know if I’m strong enough, sister.” you whispered. “I want to but I am scared.”

Kiyoko squeezed your hands, her eyes blazing with determination. “You are. You will always be strong, sister. And I’ll be with you every step of the way. But you have to make the choice, nee-san. Do you want to stay and let him control you, or do you want to fight for your freedom—for Chizuru’s future?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with the weight of everything you had endured. You took a shaky breath, your tears still falling, but for the first time, you began to see a path forward. You nodded at your sister softly, but determined.

“I’ll fight.” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll fight for my son.”

Kiyoko’s smile was bittersweet, her grip on your hands tightening. “Then let’s make a plan, nee–san. Together.”

Kiyoko’s determination was a quiet fire, burning with purpose as she worked tirelessly to help you escape. Every moment, every action, was calculated with the precision of someone who had lived through too many trials and learned from them all.

You had no doubt she would help you escape, but seeing her so focused, so resolute, made the possibility of freedom feel real, not just a distant dream.

The plan was simple, but dangerous. You would leave under the cover of darkness, unnoticed by those who still served Sukuna. Kiyoko knew the right paths, the hidden routes you had never seen before, the ones that would take you far from the temple. She had arranged for a discreet exit, packed essentials, and made sure that Chizuru was ready.

The hardest part was the moment you had to say goodbye to the life you had known. But even that wasn’t truly a goodbye, no. It was a release. It was the freedom you sought and needed.

The relief you had so long prayed to the gods for. The chains that had bound you for years felt lighter now, the weight lessening with every passing hour.

On the night you were to leave, your sister Kiyoko gently woke you, her own eyes bright with excitement and resolve. You didn’t question her. You didn’t have to. You trusted her. There was no turning back. You took a breath and nodded.

Together, the three of you—Kiyoko, Chizuru, and yourself had all left the temple that had once been your prison for years. Your son continued to be sound asleep in your touch, wrapped in a loin cloth on your chest. You kept staring at him as you made your way through the steep steps with your sister. 

The night air felt colder than you remembered, the stars brighter than you could have imagined. As you slipped through the back gates of the estate, the quiet village beyond felt like a world away. And yet, in the deepest part of your soul, you knew that it was only a step toward reclaiming your life.

The journey to your old village in the East was long, but with every mile, a sense of peace began to settle over you. You were no longer looking over your shoulder, no longer afraid of Sukuna’s watchful eyes. Your thoughts were consumed with the possibility of a new life, of freedom, of a future you could build with your son.

Life was good. The mornings were filled with the laughter of children, the evenings with the warmth of a family you had missed so deeply. The simple things, like the smell of fresh bread or the sound of birds in the trees, became treasures you had long forgotten. And, for the first time in a long time, you felt at peace.

You were no longer in the gilded cage of Sukuna’s palace. You were home. And in this freedom, surrounded by the people who loved you, you realized that you had finally found what you had been searching for all along. A life where you could be yourself, without fear, without pain, and most importantly, without the chains that had once bound you.

It was good. And, for the first time, you could truly say that life was good.

══════════════════

IT HAD TAKEN DAYS AND EVEN WEEKS ON END IN TRAVEL. But you like to believe that it was worth it, you like to think so. Hard as it had been, this was the first time in thirty years that you had felt yourself able to breathe the good familiar air of your youth again. And to do so free from all the heartache of the world.

Your old village was a haven of peace, nestled in the rolling hills of the East, far from the oppressive shadows of your godly husband’s temple. As Kiyoko, Chizuru, and you made your way through the winding paths, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of relief.

The air was thick with the scent of earth and the soft hum of the village waking up to another day. You were going to enjoy it with them soon. You were going to live life in the sun, knowing what warmth looks like. There was no tension in the air here, no fear. You were free.

Kiyoko turned to you with a soft smile, her face lit by the soft light of dawn. “We’re almost there, nee–san.” she said, her voice steady, but you could hear the excitement beneath it. “Just a little further.”

Your heart swelled as you looked at her, the sister who had helped you escape, who had never once faltered in her determination to see you free. “I can’t believe we’re finally here at all.” you said softly, feeling the weight of everything you had left behind beginning to melt away. “To be finally home.”

Chizuru, who had been quiet beside you, suddenly tugged at your sleeve. “Mother, what’s that?” he had asked, pointing toward the distant fields.

The sight of your little son, so innocent, so full of wonder, made you smile through the bittersweet emotions in your heart. “That, my love, is where we will make our new life. A place where we can be free.”

“But what about father?”

You take a moment to answer him. You could feel your heart pound at his words. But you shake it off and smile at your son. “We shall be happy there, my little love. We shall be very content there.”

When you reached the heart of the village, the familiar sight of the small cottages, the fields stretching out beyond, and the towering trees that lined the edges of the village brought a sense of calm you hadn’t realized you’d been missing. 

The air was thick with the scent of fresh earth and blooming flowers, and the sounds of daily life. It was the chatter of children, the hum of people going about their tasks, all of it almost felt like a melody that soothed the raw edges of your heart.

And then, the villagers came.

As if they had been waiting for your return all along, they gathered around, faces lighting up with smiles that felt like the warmest embrace. You hadn’t seen these people in so long, but it was as if time had not passed.

They were the people who had known you before you were swallowed by the horrors of Sukuna’s world, before you had become a name and not a person.

There was the elder Aiko, the woman who had been like a second mother to you when your own had been absent. Her weathered hands reached out to you, her eyes bright with a mixture of disbelief and joy.

“Child, is it really you?” Aiko asked, her voice trembling.

She pulled you into her arms before you could answer, and for a moment, all you could do was close your eyes and let the tears flow. These were not tears of sorrow, but of release. For the first time in so long, you felt safe.

“It’s me.” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion. “I’m finally home.”

“Home.” Aiko repeated, pulling back to look at you with a soft, knowing smile. “You’ve been gone so long, child. We thought… we thought we’d lost you forever.”

Behind elder Aiko, more faces emerged. Old friends, neighbors, people you’d grown up with. They all looked at you, as if in awe that you were standing before them again. The sight of them, their kindness, their welcoming faces, made you want to crumble, to fall into their arms and stay there forever.

One of the men, Taro, who had been a friend of your father, gave a hearty laugh. “Well, well, look at this! Our most famous girl finally came home! Your parents and your brother Takashi would have been so happy to witness this, you know?”

You smiled through the tears that still blurred your vision. “I wish they could be here to see this.” you said softly, more to yourself than to anyone else.

The weight of the years spent in exile under Sukuna’s thumb felt suddenly lighter in the warmth of their presence.

Kiyoko, who had been standing quietly beside you, smiled too. “It’s like nothing has changed, no?” she said softly, her voice tinged with wonder. She looked at you, her eyes filled with understanding. “This place is where we belong, nee–san. Where you belong.”

Chizuru, who had been shyly hiding behind your leg, stepped forward at the urging of a kind woman who knelt down to her level. The woman, a mother herself, smiled warmly. “You’re our precious girl’s little one, aren’t you? I can see it in your eyes. Such a bright child.”

Chizuru’s small face lit up with the compliment. “Yes, I’m Chizuru! My mother says we’re going to stay here now.”

The villagers laughed, their joy infectious. “Of course, dear.” the woman said gently, giving Chizuru’s hand a soft squeeze. “Welcome to our village.”

A little further away, a group of children were peering at Chizuru, their curiosity piqued. One of the boys came forward shyly, holding a small bouquet of wildflowers. “Would you like to play with us?” he asked, offering him the flowers.

Chizuru’s eyes widened, and he nodded eagerly. “Yes, I want to play!”

As your precious son ran off with the other children, you couldn’t help but watch your little one with a heart full of gratitude. He was free, too—free to be a child again, free from the oppressive atmosphere that had haunted him before.

Kiyoko, who had been watching you closely, finally spoke up. Your sister’s voice filled with quiet resolve. “This is where we’re meant to be, nee–san. It’s been so long. But you’re finally free. And you’ll never have to go back.”

You looked at her, your sister who had risked everything to help you escape, who had stood by you in ways no one else ever had. She was right. This was where you belonged.

You were no longer someone’s wife, no longer just a piece in Ryomen Sukuna’s game or played to the tune of his whims. Here, you were simply you. No titles, no expectations, no chains.

For the first time in decades, you could breathe without fear. The weight of the past didn’t disappear, but it felt lighter, more distant, as if it could no longer reach you here.

“We’re free, sister.” you said softly, the words tasting sweeter than you could have imagined.

Kiyoko smiled, her hand brushing against your arm. “Yes. Free. And you’ll never have to be anyone’s possession again.”

══════════════════

THE NEWS SPREAD FAR AND WIDE THAT RYOMEN SUKUNA’S CONCUBINE AND SON WERE MISSING. That was the whisper of the neighboring village, at least that’s what you heard. But perhaps, it was most certainly the truth.

You would not put it past your husband to go and be searching for you. Not when you had taken control off his hands and most of all, his own flesh and blood away from him.

Ryomen Sukuna was looking for you, and all of his associates were trying to locate you and Chizuru without fail. But so far, none have been able to find you. You had tried to make sure that there would be no trace of you, no sign that you had ever been here. 

You used every tactic you could think of to erase your presence from the records of your past life. Both of you had changed your names to mingle with people you knew. You had reverted to using old names that you knew your husband would not know of. You continued to do everything in your power to cover your tracks.

But you also knew that you would mostly be relying on the goodwill of the villagers who had opened their arms to you. They had to continue to keep their mouths shut and continue to pretend like nothing had changed or that anything else had happened.

So far, it has worked.

The peaceful rhythm of life in the village was everything you’d ever dreamed of, and you clung to it like the last thread of hope. The sounds of the village, children laughing, the chatter of neighbors, the rustle of wind in the trees had become a familiar comfort. 

You had never known what it was like to live without fear, without the oppressive weight of Ryomen Sukuna’s presence looming over you. Now, you know. Life had been… simple. And in its simplicity, it was more beautiful than anything you had ever known.

There had been adjustments, of course. The transition from luxury to the more humble life in the village was not easy. The comforts of Ryomen Sukuna’s massive complex of a temple were far removed from the reality of a small home in a tight-knit community. 

Cooking over a wood fire, washing clothes by hand, and dealing with the constant ebb and flow of village work had been a steep learning curve. At first, you had struggled with the roughness of it all and of course, your hands were not accustomed to the calluses of labor, and your body had complained at the physical demands placed upon it.

But as each day passed, you grew accustomed to it. You grew strong in a way you hadn’t known was possible. And with each small victory, like the first time you successfully cooked a meal from scratch or helped mend a fence, you felt more and more like yourself.

The biggest joy, however, was seeing your son Chizuru. The boy who had once been confined to the rigid structure of Sukuna’s training now ran freely with other children. They had welcomed him with open arms, and the sound of his laughter, so carefree and full of joy, filled your heart in a way nothing ever had before. 

He was no longer being trained for some cruel purpose, no longer being shaped into a weapon. He was just a child, playing with other children, learning the simplest of joys. He has tried to find himself climbing at the bases of trees or playing in the dirty puddles.

One afternoon, as you watched him from the porch, you caught sight of him laughing with a group of local kids. He had a huge grin on his face as he chased after them, his feet kicking up dirt in the warm, golden light of the setting sun. 

It was a sight you never thought you’d see, not after the years of grueling discipline and the cold indifference of Sukuna. This was freedom, and you could see it in your precious Chizuru’s eyes. He was happy here. He had found life here, as you had when you were a child.

“He’s happy, sister.” you said to Kiyoko, who had been standing beside you, watching him too.

Kiyoko smiled softly. “He is. And you’re happy too, aren’t you?”

You nodded, a slow, steady smile tugging at your lips. “I never thought I would be. But here… here I’m free. We’re free.”

Kiyoko looked at you, her gaze soft but steady. “I’m glad, nee–san. You deserve this. You deserve to feel whole again.”

For the first time in years, you felt whole. The pieces of you that had been scattered, lost, torn apart by the weight of your past were coming back together. You were no longer just the wife of Sukuna, a tool in his hands, or a prisoner in his games. You were you.

As the days went by, it was easier to forget the shadows of the past. The fear that had once ruled you, the constant vigilance, the anxiety over what might happen if Sukuna found you. All that had began to fade into the background. 

The villagers were kind, and they welcomed you without question, offering help when it was needed, but also allowing you the space to settle into the rhythm of life. You found yourself growing attached to the people around you, to the quiet comforts of this simple existence.

But even in the quiet moments, when the wind blew gently through the trees, you couldn’t completely silence the nagging fear that lived just beneath the surface. Sukuna was searching for you. He had to be. You knew him better than anyone, and you knew that he would not let you slip away so easily.

But for now, you could breathe. You could live. And the thought of that of just living was enough to silence the worry, if only for a while.

At the turning echoes of the night, you waited for your son to return. As you sat by the hearth, the soft crackling of the fire filling the silence, Ryomen Chizuru approached you. His small face was flushed from playing outside, his hair wild and tousled.

“Mother! I’ve returned!” he said shyly, holding out a small bouquet of wildflowers. “I picked these for you.”

You smiled and took the flowers from his hand, feeling a warmth fill your chest. “Thank you, my dearest love. They’re beautiful.”

He beamed up at you, his eyes sparkling. “I’m happy here, Mother. I like playing with the other kids.”

Tears stung at the corners of your eyes, but you didn’t allow them to fall. Instead, you hugged him tightly, pulling him close. “I’m happy too, Chizuru. We’re safe here. We’re home.”

And for the first time in so long, you felt the weight of your past truly begin to slip away. Here, in this quiet village, surrounded by the warmth of family and the laughter of children, you were no longer a prisoner.

You were free. And as the days stretched on, you held on to that freedom with everything you had, never looking back, never forgetting how far you had come.

══════════════════

EVERYTHING HAD BEEN WELL THIS DAY. The morning had started like any other. Chizuru was playing outside, his laughter echoing through the village as he ran with the other children onto the wide expanse of the rice fields.

You had gone about your daily routine, preparing food and cleaning, the familiar rhythm of life settling over you like a warm blanket. But as the sun began to dip toward the horizon, a sinking feeling settled in your chest.

Ryomen Chizuru was nowhere to be found.

At first, you thought he was just playing a little longer, perhaps hiding among the trees or in the nearby fields. But as minutes turned to hours, panic began to rise. You asked the villagers if they had seen him, but no one had.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat a painful reminder of the last time you had lost someone you loved. You could feel your body shaking as the light of day began to fade. You rushed to the edge of the village, searching through the forest, calling his name into the silence.

“Chizuru! Chizuru, where are you?”

Your voice was frantic, trembling with fear and desperation. The sun’s last rays barely touched the tops of the trees, the shadows growing long and heavy as the day turned into night.

Your breath was ragged, but you couldn’t stop. You couldn’t bear the thought of him being lost out here. You pushed forward, your mind racing with every horrible possibility, when suddenly, you felt a sharp pain at the back of your head. The world spun wildly, and before you could even comprehend what had happened, everything went dark.

You woke up with a sharp gasp, the cold of the forest floor pressing against your skin. You tried to sit up, but the dizziness overwhelmed you. Blinking against the night, you saw the flickering light of torches, the orange glow casting eerie shadows across the trees. 

Your heart thudded in your chest as you forced yourself to stand, only to find yourself surrounded by the villagers. Their faces were grim, expressionless. They stood in a tight circle, watching you with an unsettling stillness.

Your throat tightened, panic rising again as you searched for Chizuru. But he was nowhere in sight.

“Where is my son?!” you cried, your voice hoarse and filled with dread. But your question was met with silence.

And then, through the sea of villagers, a figure emerged. Elder Aiko.

Her gaze was cold, her ancient face marked with a solemn expression. She walked toward you, her steps measured, as though she were leading a ritual. She held her hands before her, as if in prayer, her voice rising in a chant that made your skin crawl.

“This is necessary, child.” she began, her voice like the sound of dry leaves rustling in the wind. “A prophecy must be fulfilled. It is your blood that holds the power to destroy Sukuna.”

Your breath hitched in your throat. You could feel your knees trembling, as the weight of her words sank in.

“A prophecy?” you asked weakly, barely able to understand what was happening.

Elder Aiko nodded, her eyes glinting with an unsettling conviction. “Yes. It is said that the child born of your blood, the child you love so dearly, will be the one to kill Ryomen Sukuna. And to prevent this, we must end his life. Only then can the gods bless us with immortality. And Sukuna is one of them. We must offer him as a sacrifice, for he is the key.”

A choked sob escaped you as you tried to move toward her, but strong hands gripped your arms, holding you back. “No! No, you can’t!” You struggled against them, panic clawing at your chest. “Chizuru is just a child! You can’t take him from me!”

But the villagers were unmoved. Elder Aiko continued her chant, her voice growing louder. “The gods demand it. They will bless us. If Chizuru is sacrificed, the gods will ensure that Sukuna will never harm this village again, he will bless it. And if Sukuna blesses us, we will be given a life eternal. The blood of a god runs through him.”

Tears blurred your vision as you looked around, but no one spoke. No one moved. It was as if they had already made up their minds, as if your son’s life meant nothing to them in comparison to the promises of immortality.

“Please, please. Let my son go.” you begged, your voice breaking. “Please, don’t do this. Chizuru has nothing to do with this. He’s just a child. He’s my child! He’s all I have left…”

But your pleas fell on deaf ears.

“Child.” Elder Aiko said, her voice soft now, but cold. “You must understand. This is for the greater good. For the survival of us all.”

The world around you seemed to spin. Your heart pounded in your chest, the sound deafening in your ears. You fought against the villagers holding you back, desperate to reach Chizuru, but they were too strong.

And then, a chilling silence fell. Chizuru was dragged forward, his small body limp, his face pale and streaked with tears. His eyes met yours, full of fear, confusion, and hurt.

“Mother…” he whispered, his voice barely audible.

You cried out for him, trying to break free, but the villagers tightened their grip. Elder Aiko’s hands rose to the air, signaling the beginning of the sacrificial ritual. She held a dagger high, gleaming in the torchlight, her face twisted in reverence.

“No!” you screamed. “No, you can’t! He’s my son, my child! Please!”

The air was thick with tension, and the flickering torchlight cast long shadows across the clearing, making the scene feel like a twisted nightmare. You tried desperately to break free from the villagers’ grip, thrashing in their hold, but they were unrelenting. The ropes were tight, and their hands were stronger than you could fight against.

"Let me go! Let me go!" you screamed, thrashing violently, your heart pounding in your chest like a drum of terror.

"That's my son!" you cried, your voice shaking with disbelief. "He’s just a child! He’s not a threat to anyone! He’s my son! You can’t—"

But no one would listen. Their faces were cold, unmoved, as if they had already made their decision. You felt your entire world slipping away, your vision blurring with tears. Despair clawed at your insides, but then, something more horrifying than anything else crept into the depths of your mind.

At the back of the crowd, you saw her.

Your once beloved younger sister.

The one person you had trusted more than anyone in the world. The one person you thought would never betray you. But there she was, standing with them, her face cold and distant, watching as your son was dragged forward.

Your breath caught in your throat. “No… no, this can't be happening. You… You’re not... you’re not with them.”

But she didn't say anything. She simply stood there, silent, her eyes meeting yours. And that was enough. The truth hit you like a physical blow.

"You…." you gasped, your voice breaking. "You… you betrayed me!"

A sickening wave of rage surged through you. Your knees went weak, but you couldn’t stop the flood of fury pouring out of you. Tears poured out of your eyes, over and over as you screamed at her, trying to free yourself.

"How could you?!" you screamed, your body jerking in the villagers’ hold as the ropes cut into your skin. "How could you do this? This is your own blood, your own flesh, and you—"

Your sister's expression remained unchanged, as though she were some cold stranger and not the person you had shared everything with. “This isn’t betrayal, nee–san.” she said, her voice cold, unfeeling. “This is for the good of all. Don’t you see? Your son’s death will lead to the prosperity of all. His death means a thousand years of Ryomen Sukuna.”

“Clouded my mind?” you snarled. “You think this is about him? This is about my son, Chizuru! My son! Your own fucking blood, sister! And you intend to kill him? For some nonsense of a prophecy?” 

You struggled even harder, pulling against the ropes as they dug into your wrists. The sight of Ryomen Chizuru being dragged to the altar, his face full of fear, made your vision swim. You continued to scream at her. “You foul bitch, I will kill you, I will end your life!”

“Say all the threats you want, sister. But you will thank me.” She smiles at you, guiltlessly and gleefully as possible. “Your sacrifice will bring about a new age.”

Your sister’s words twisted in your mind, forming a sick knot of betrayal. Your sister, the person who was supposed to be your closest ally, had manipulated you from the start. She’d drugged you.

She’d poisoned your mind with nightmares, with false memories, all in an attempt to separate you from safety, from where you could be protected. From Ryomen Sukuna. To drive you to this moment.

"You drugged me, didn’t you?" you spat, your words dripping with venom. "You… you twisted my mind, made me think I was losing my sanity! You made me remember all those horrible things, things I didn’t want to remember. Things I didn’t need to remember. And all for this? To turn me against my own flesh and blood?"

Her face was unreadable, but there was a coldness in her eyes, an indifference that cut deeper than any blade. “I did what was necessary.” she said, her tone detached, as if she were discussing something trivial. “You haven't seen it yet, nee–san, but this is the right path.”

“He?” You roared, the pain of the situation consuming you. “He’s my husband!” The words were out before you could stop them, the weight of your desperation making your voice shake. "And Chizuru is my son! What makes you think that my husband would forgive you—"

But she interrupted you, her eyes dark and resolute. “He will only bring destruction. Lord Sukuna will understand that. Your ignorance and your child are the key to his downfall. This must be done.”

You felt the ground beneath you shake, the world falling apart as the terror of the situation sank deeper into your bones. Your mind fractured, torn between disbelief and fury. This was your sister—your own flesh and blood—and she was about to be the one to help kill your son.

The blood drained from your face as a wave of helplessness and heartbreak engulfed you. You screamed, a sound that seemed to tear from your very soul, raw and guttural. Your son continued to cry, trying to move away from his constraints.

“NO! You can’t! I’ll never forgive you!” The words were like a curse, a promise that you would never be able to undo. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. Only the horror of watching your son be taken away filled your vision.

The villagers, her supporters, held their ground. They were unmoved by your screams, your rage. You were nothing now, a broken woman caught between the betrayal of her sister and the loss of everything she held dear.

And when the dagger rose again, you knew it was too late.

It was all too late.

The air was thick with smoke, the heat suffocating as the flames grew higher, curling like tendrils around the very earth itself. The ring of fire that had once been a symbol of your despair now felt like a suffocating cage, one that was closing in on you. 

The light flickered and danced across your tear-streaked face as you knelt on the ground, unable to move, unable to do anything but watch in helpless horror. And then, through the haze of smoke and fire, you felt it. A presence you so truly know. It was an all familiar, terrifying presence that chilled you to the core.

Sukuna.

Your heart skipped a beat, a mix of relief and dread flooding your chest as his figure emerged from the flames. His crimson eyes gleamed with cold fury, his posture regal and commanding. The power he exuded was unmistakable, and even the fierce heat of the fire seemed to bow to him.

Your bonds, which had been so tightly wound around your wrists, loosened as if the air itself had given way. You slumped forward, unable to keep yourself upright, but the world around you had already fallen into chaos. The villagers, who had once been so sure of their mission, now turned to flee in terror as Ryomen Sukuna’s anger consumed them. His power was like nothing they could have anticipated.

Without hesitation, he moved. He didn't even flinch as his curses tore through the village, each scream and cry a bitter symphony of destruction. You could see it in his scarlet eyes. Your husband didn’t care. These people had chosen to make an enemy of him, and they were paying the price for their arrogance.

It was a carnage.

Screams filled the air, but they were drowned out by the crackling of the fire, the rush of death. The far flung of this eastern village you had once called home was burning, the ground soaked with the blood of the men and women who had tried to sacrifice your son. But your heart was torn between the horror unfolding around you and the instinct to protect what little remained of your family.

He spared your family, it was all enough. You could see it in his movements, his cold precision. He knew exactly who to target, who to leave. The others, the ones who had come for Chizuru, were left broken, bloodied, their bodies already crumpled on the ground in pools of red. But your family? They remained, bruised and beaten, but alive.

Ryomen Sukuna stood before them now, his expression unreadable as he surveyed the wreckage. The fire danced behind him, casting shadows that twisted and writhed like demons of their own making. He didn’t even look at you at first, his gaze locked on the destroyed village before him.

But then, his scarlet eyes shifted. They met yours, and for a brief moment, something flickered in the depths of them, something you couldn’t quite place. It was only for an instant, but in that instant, you realized that he wasn’t just punishing the villagers. 

He was protecting you. 

He was doing this for you.

His voice broke through the chaos, cold and commanding. "Uraume." he called, his voice cutting through the smoke. "Take Chizuru. Get him out of here. And feed him the tonic. He must forget all about this."

Uraume, ever loyal, nodded quickly, moving without hesitation to do as Sukuna had ordered. You watched them, a sickening mix of relief and guilt swirling in your chest as they disappeared into the smoke, your son spared from the violence that surrounded you.

Ryomen Sukuna's gaze turned back to you, unwavering and implacable. His voice softened ever so slightly, but there was still an edge to it. You shivered as you looked upon him, bruised and broken.

"You are safe now, little one." he said. "I won’t let anyone take what’s mine."

But his words fell on deaf ears as your heart pounded in your chest. You couldn’t quite process the flood of emotions, the relief that your beloved son was finally safe, the horror of everything that had just happened, the overwhelming guilt for the destruction he had wrought.

You were free from his misery at that moment, yes, but at what cost? The village lay in ruins. Your sister, betrayed and broken, lay among the fallen. And once more, you were back into the fold of that gilded cage. Everything had been torn apart. Everything had gone to hell. 

And still you would end up in his arms. You would never find yourself anywhere else. You have found your place in the world. Unwilling or not, it was by his side you were bound to by fate. Perhaps now, your only choice in this life too. Your husband Sukuna stood there, his power absolute, his presence all-encompassing.

But somehow, you could say that you were finally safe. 

The blood that stained the ground was not your son’s blood.

That was the only thing that you were glad about. 

And as you slowly stood, still bruised and grievous,  the world around you burned, but you couldn’t help but feel... something. Something twisted, something strange. In this moment, in this world of fire and destruction, you realized you were trapped between two forces. One that you loved and one that had brought you unimaginable pain.

But perhaps this was the only world you would ever know.

This is the only fate you were truly to be ever allowed in life.

The air was thick with the acrid scent of ashes and the smoke and most of all the harshness of blood. The village is a smoldering ruin behind you, one which you could not care for. The cries of the wounded and dying still echoed in your ears, but the worst of it had already passed. 

Ryomen Sukuna stood before you, silent, his crimson eyes flashing with a quiet intensity that matched the storm raging in your chest. He could feel it in you, you think. That unadulterated rage that only a mother could have.

Your family, your own blood, was kneeling before you, their faces contorted with fear. The very people who had once called you their own, now reduced to begging for mercy.

They had betrayed you, used you, and twisted everything you once knew. They had sought to take your child, the innocent life you carried, the child who had done nothing wrong but to be born into a world that saw him as a threat.

And now, they pleaded for their lives.

They begged for forgiveness.

But there was none to give.

Sukuna didn’t say anything. Your husband didn’t need to. His silence spoke louder than any words ever could. He had made sure the threat to your family was erased, that those who had conspired to take your child, your lifeline, were dealt with. But this? This was your reckoning.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a mix of rage and disbelief. For so many years, you had been blind to the truth. Your family, the people you had trusted, had orchestrated the horrors you had endured.

They had used your love for them as a weapon, manipulated you into submission. And now, with your son in your arms, your heart only knew one thing. They had to pay. And they must do so now.

The silence stretched on, suffocating. The only sounds were the choking sobs of your family, the desperate pleas falling from their lips as they crawled before you, their hands trembling with fear.

"Please, forgive us." one of them whimpered, their voice cracking under the weight of their terror. "We didn’t know what we were doing. We never meant for any of this to happen. You were always family... please...!"

Another cried out, "We thought we were doing what was best for you! For all of us!"

Your sister finally cries out. “Nee–san, please…..They forced me to do this, please spare my life!”

But you weren’t listening anymore. 

You had already heard enough.

Your gaze flicked to Sukuna, his eyes unreadable, waiting for your command. You didn’t need to ask him for help; he had already done his part. He had given you the power to protect your family, to protect the child who was the only thing left in this world that mattered to you. The one thing that kept you from falling into the abyss.

"I should have known." you whispered, your voice trembling with a mix of grief and fury. "I should have seen it. I should have seen you all for what you truly were."

They were nothing but shadows of their former selves now. They were all broken, pathetic, pleading for a mercy they didn’t deserve. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. They had tried to take everything from you. And you wouldn’t let them.

“You sold me off to Sukuna all those years ago.” You say, watching the fear in their eyes fester and grow. “To save this village. My memory is clear now. After all this time. How could I have forgotten? How could I have been so foolish…..Ah, such dreams of joy that I never was born to have.”

A sob escaped from one of the women, someone you once called sister, as she crawled forward, her face wet with tears. "Please! Please don't do this. We were wrong, I see that now. We never wanted to hurt you. Please!"

Your grip on your son tightened as you turned your gaze from her. "You already have, sister." you said coldly, your words slicing through the air like a blade. "You’ve already hurt me. And now... now you’ve hurt him. My only precious light in this world. My son."

Sukuna’s presence behind you was a solid wall, unwavering, but it was your own anger that filled the space. The rage, the betrayal, the years of suffering. All of it collided within you, and you couldn’t hold it back anymore. Not for them. Not for the family who had hurt you, who had tried to take away everything you cared about.

And for the first time in your life, you felt free from the chains that had bound you. The shackles of guilt. The chains of love. The weight of all that had been done to you, to your heart, was finally being lifted.

"You tried to take him from me." you said, your voice cold and detached. "But you will never touch him again."

And as the words left your lips, the world seemed to still, your heart pounding in your chest as you realized that the people you once loved, the people who had once been your family, had been nothing but monsters in disguise. They were no longer worthy of your mercy.

And neither were they worthy of the life they begged for. The fire in your eyes mirrored the flames of the village. As Sukuna's shadow loomed behind you, you felt no hesitation, no remorse. This was the moment everything changed.

Your son, your lifeline, would never be harmed again. And that, above all else, was all that mattered.

Your husband’s eyes, those sharp crimson orbs, glinted with something both dangerous and darkly amused as he watched you. He was, as always, unreadable in the depths of his presence, one who had the power to shape lives with a mere word or gesture. And right now, his gaze was on you, waiting.

"Revenge, little one." Sukuna said softly, his voice deep, almost contemplative. "You want it, don't you? I can feel it in your soul, like a moth burning into a flame. You want to take everything they’ve taken from you, to destroy them as they destroyed you."

You didn’t look away. His words rang true, but they didn’t hold the weight they once did. You had already crossed that threshold. The darkness inside you had long been awakened.

And now, you stood there, your heart hardening with every passing second. Your family, your people, had betrayed you, had taken from you in the most unforgivable of ways. But they were not your focus anymore.

You turned to face Sukuna, your expression cold, distant. The anger still pulsed in your veins, and the grief threatened to swallow you whole, but now, it was replaced by something else. A sense of clarity.

"I do want revenge, my lord." you said, your voice steady, resolute. "But it is not just for them. It's for me. For my son. For the life they tried to take from us. And yes, Sukuna… even for you."

His gaze flickered with amusement, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "For me?" he repeated, as if the very thought amused him. "Do you think you can destroy me? Or is it that you think I have wronged you too? After everything I’ve done for you… after the power I’ve given you?"

"You’ve wronged me in ways I cannot even describe, my lord." you replied, your tone cold but sharp as a blade. "And yes, I want revenge on you too. For the things you've made me forget, for the ways you've manipulated me. For the things you have put upon me."

Ryomen Sukuna didn’t flinch. He didn’t even seem fazed by your words. He knew the anger was there, the desire for vengeance, and he respected it. It wasn’t the first time someone had wanted to tear him down, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. But there was something different in your eyes.

"And yet, little one…." he continued, his voice low. "You don’t seem afraid of it. Afraid of me, of what I could do. But that can wait. What is it you want from me now, little one? I am your god, after all. I can give you everything."

His dark scarlet eyes held yours, the weight of his words lingering in the air between you. You thought for a moment, but there was no hesitation in your heart. You had already made your choice.

"I want revenge, my god." you said, your gaze unwavering. "But not on you. Not right now. So let me make my wish clear. You’ve taken enough from me. You can’t give me love, you can’t give me peace. You can’t give me goodness. But revenge—that, you can give me."

He raised an eyebrow at you, the amusement in his gaze deepening, though his smirk never faltered. Slowly, he reached down, drawing his blade from his side with a fluid motion. He handed it to you, the gleam of steel catching the light as he placed it into your hands.

"You want revenge?" he asked, his voice carrying the promise of something darker, more dangerous. "Then take it, little one. I can give you that. And nothing more."

You took the blade from him, the cold metal pressing into your palm as your fingers closed around it. There was a weight to it, a weight that felt heavier than just the steel. It felt like the culmination of everything, of all the betrayal, the grief, the bloodshed. 

It felt like the world was giving you the power to right all the wrongs, and you weren’t about to waste it. And so, you find yourself turning back to face your family, the ones who had once been your blood, your people, your foundation, you raised the blade high, your voice trembling but filled with purpose.

"Reap what you sow." you said, your words carrying the weight of everything you had endured, everything you had lost, everything you had become.

The silence that followed was deafening. Your family, those you had once loved, now saw the true extent of your resolve. And in that moment, you realized something. They were no longer your family. They were nothing but enemies now, and they would pay the price for their betrayal.

Sukuna’s smile lingered behind you, a dark approval in his gaze. He had given you the means to exact your revenge. He had given you power. And as the blade gleamed in your hand, you felt a surge of strength that was yours to command.

It was time for them to feel the weight of what they had done.

It was time for them to pay.

The air was thick with bloody tension. The quiet heavy as you stood before your betrayers. Your family, your once beloved family, now looked nothing more than prey, cowering in fear as they realized the power in your hands, the authority you now commanded.

Their faces, once familiar and comforting, had transformed into the faces of the enemies who had plotted against you. Their pleas for mercy rang hollow, like echoes in a void, as they begged for their lives, for a second chance. But it was too late for second chances. You had crossed the point of no return.

Your husband could only stand behind you, his presence like a shadow that loomed large, watching the scene unfold with a mixture of amusement and satisfaction. He had given you the power to destroy them, to claim your revenge, and now he waited. 

It was a game to him, but for you, it was something more. It was catharsis. It was justice. It was the moment you had been waiting for. The moment where you finally took control of your fate. Your eyes never left the trembling figures of your family as you raised the blade higher.

You could feeling the weight of every second that had led to this moment. You wanted to make them fear as your son has, you wanted them to wait as your son had done so in tears. You wanted them to suffer. Over and over again. That was now your desire.

You could hear the desperate sobs, the apologies spilling from their lips, but it didn’t matter anymore. They had forfeited their right to forgiveness long ago. You could scarcely care for any kindness. You don’t want it. You don’t have it. You don’t need to give it.

"You made your choices." you said, your voice cold and unwavering. "And now you will live with the consequences."

The words were a declaration, a sentence. They had wronged you in ways that could never be undone, and now you would be the one to decide their fate. You could hear Sukuna’s low chuckle from behind you, a dark satisfaction in his tone.

"Go on, little one." he purred, almost as if urging you, savoring the moment. "Show them the power they never believed you had."

For the first time in years, you felt no hesitation, no fear. The blade felt right in your hand, as if it had always belonged to you. You were no longer the wife of a tyrant, no longer the puppet of a man who had played with your mind. You were your own. And they would answer for what they had done.

You advanced, each step slow and deliberate, your family shrinking back, their faces pale with terror. But it didn’t matter. Nothing mattered anymore except the reckoning that was long overdue. And then, as you reached the closest of them, you raised the blade high, your gaze locked onto theirs, and with one swift motion, you brought it down.

The sound of the blade cutting through flesh was sickeningly satisfying, the thud of its impact resonating in the air. The first of them fell, their scream cutting short as they crumpled to the ground. 

You didn’t flinch. You didn’t feel guilt. You felt nothing but the sense of justice that had long been denied. The rest of them looked at you, horrified, and begged for mercy. But the words meant nothing now. They had betrayed you, and now they would reap what they had sown.

One by one, you took them down, their bodies littering the ground as their pleas became weaker, more desperate. Sukuna’s eyes followed your every movement, his dark amusement growing with each life you claimed.

Finally, it was over. The last of them fell to the ground, their life snuffed out in an instant. The silence that followed was deafening, the only sound the soft crackling of the flames in the distance. You stood amidst the bodies, the blood staining your hands, your clothing, your soul.

But you didn’t feel regret. You didn’t feel sorrow. You only felt the cold satisfaction of a long-awaited vengeance fulfilled.

You turned to face Sukuna, your eyes meeting his without fear. His smile was wide, almost pleased, and he stepped forward, his gaze lingering on the carnage you had wrought.

"Impressive." he said, his voice a low murmur. "You’ve come far, little one. You’ve become more than just a pawn."

You didn’t respond. There was no need. The act spoke for itself. You had taken control of your own fate, and in doing so, you had reclaimed a part of yourself you thought you had lost forever.

Sukuna watched you for a moment longer, then, with a satisfied nod, he turned and walked away, leaving you to stand amidst the destruction. You had exact your revenge. You had claimed your freedom. And now, for the first time in years, you were truly free.

Your son was safe. And for now, that was all that mattered.

══════════════════

IT WAS DAWN WHEN YOU FOUND YOURSELF AT ANOTHER VILLAGE. You were still full of the blood of traitors when you and Sukuna arrived at the inn. The metallic tang clung to your skin, the crimson stains marking you as a warrior and his wife—Ryomen Sukuna’s wife. 

No one questioned it. No one dared. The air inside the inn buzzed with silence, thick and oppressive, as villagers averted their gazes and shuffled away like shadows in the candlelight. They knew better than to keep quiet, or lose their lives trying.

You had been quiet the entire journey, your rage simmering just beneath your surface. Even now, as the blood dried, you clenched your fists, teeth grinding as the emotions clawed at you.

Anger, grief, hollow triumph. Sukuna’s sharp gaze followed you as you moved, your face a mask of stone. In the privacy of your shared room, he finally spoke, his tone low and laced with command.

“You’ve been silent long enough. Speak.”

But instead, you turned, stepping closer until you could feel the heat radiating off him. His expression hardened in warning, but you ignored it. Slowly, you tilted your head up and pressed your lips to his. It wasn’t gentle. Not at all. It was desperate. The kiss was a collision, sharp edges meeting sharp edges.

Ryomen Sukuna stiffened, stunned by the act. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his robes, anchoring yourself as you pulled back, your voice trembling, not with fear but with a deep ache. You looked at him, almost as though you were possessed.

“Make me feel something, my lord.” you said, barely above a whisper. “Anything but this anger.”

A moment passed. It was that stillness, heavy and charged, that triumph. Then his mouth curved into a wicked grin, all sharp teeth and cruel hunger. Before you could take another breath, Your husband Sukuna had all but hauled you over his shoulder with ease. He had been marred with laughter, deep and rumbling.

“If that’s what you want, little one.” he drawled, his voice dripping with a dark promise, “I’ll make you feel so much more than anger.”

He wasted no time at all, laying claim to you like the fearsome god of yours hewas. Your husband's hands were rough, his movements unapologetic. But they were familiar. They were what you cpuld consider safe in the sea of betrayals.

Ryomen Sukuna soon devoured you in a way that only he could. In a way that could make you forget. In a way that only he knew would comfort you and care for you and make him hated by you and revered by you to tears.

You knew it all too well how he was. Ryomen Sukuna was a god known for being possessive, demanding, yet intoxicatingly thrilling. You knew that well, better than anyone else.

His touch ignited every nerve, leaving no room for restraint or hesitation. You were his, and he intended to remind you in every way possible.

A shaky moan escaped your lips, your body trembling under his relentless pace. Your legs quivered as he shifted seamlessly, the sheer ferocity of his need leaving you breathless.

Sukuna’s grin widened, predatory and smug, as he leaned closer, his demonic breath hot against your ear. You whimper against him, almost like a wounded prey.

“Look at you, little one.” he murmured, his voice low and taunting. “Already trembling, and we’re just getting started.”

When he moved, roughly claiming you anew with his cocks, the sensation sent a sharp jolt through your body. Your hands clawed at his shoulders, desperately against his flesh.

Your mind a blur of heat and sensation. He growled in satisfaction at your reaction, his grip tightening as he continued to take you, utterly unrelenting.

Every motion, every touch, was calculated to unravel you entirely. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you locked in this primal, consuming dance.

And with every moment, Sukuna proved that he alone could make you feel this, too raw, vulnerable, and completely alive. Only he could make you feel good and feel hatred pasionately like this.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying desperately to keep your focus tethered to the present, the here and now. The way Sukuna overwhelmed you, the way his hands gripped you as though he might break you, the way his rough breath mingled with your ragged moans.

You clung to it like a lifeline, not wanting to feel anything else. Not the anger that gnawed at your insides, not the guilt threatening to drag you under. Just this moment.

The pleasure was all-consuming, a storm that battered against the walls you were trying so hard to keep upright. Every thrust, every growl, every bite against your skin shattered another piece of the barrier you built between yourself and the world outside. 

You wanted it to drown out the memories, the blood, the weight of everything you carried. Sukuna noticed, of course. He always did. His fingers dug into your thighs as he pressed you deeper into the mattress, his voice a growl against your ear.

“Don’t you dare run from this, little one.” he said, his tone dripping with command, with understanding. “Feel it. All of it.”

You shook your head, a low whimper escaping your lips. You didn’t want to feel—not the ache of your body, not the pressure building like an unrelenting tide, not the faint echo of shame that lingered just at the edges of your consciousness.

“I don’t want to—” your voice broke, tears threatening to spill as the pleasure and emotion tangled into something unbearable.

Sukuna’s grin softened, only slightly. His pace slowed just enough to torment, his hands roaming over your trembling body with a reverence you hadn’t expected. He leaned in, his mouth brushing your ear, his voice quieter this time.

“Then let me take it from you, little one.” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Give it all to me. Every shred of it.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Instead, you arched into him, your body betraying you, seeking more even as your mind tried to pull away. Sukuna’s laughter was dark, triumphant, as he resumed his relentless pace, his second cock filling you so completely it left no room for anything else. Not thoughts, not regrets, not fears.

You bit your lip, tears slipping free as your nails dug into his back. Dissociation warred with surrender, each wave of pleasure pulling you further into a place where nothing else existed but him. And in that moment, you let it take you. 

Because with your husband Sukuna, there was no escape. Only submission. Only this raw, unrelenting claim that tore down every wall you tried to build. Perhaps, that was what you needed. Perhaps that was what could stop everything else from making you fall apart.

The tears you tried so hard to suppress slipped down your cheeks, hot and unrelenting. Sukuna saw them, of course. His crimson eyes glinted with something between mockery and possession, the corners of his mouth curving into a smirk that only stoked the fire inside you.

"Good, good." he growled, voice thick with satisfaction as he drove into you again, the weight of him pressing you into the mattress, making you feel every inch, every ounce of his control. "Let it out. Don’t you dare hold back from me."

You couldn’t speak. Your lips parted, but all that came were gasping, shuddering breaths as the heat of him consumed you. Your hands clenched into fists, nails biting into your palms as you tried to anchor yourself, but Sukuna was unrelenting. He wanted you unmoored, completely at his mercy.

You squeezed your eyes shut again, willing yourself to disappear into the sensations—the sharp pleasure, the burn of his touch, the bruising grip of his hands on your hips. Anything but the world outside, anything but the blood and the weight of what you’d done.

But Ryomen Sukuna wouldn’t let you. He never did. His hand found your face, rough fingers gripping your jaw, forcing you to look at him. You could feel your hot tears poured against the drying blood on your flesh.

"Eyes on me, little one." he ordered, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. "You don’t get to run. Not from this."

Your gaze met his, and the intensity in his eyes struck you like a blow. You hated how he saw through you, how he stripped you bare in every way that mattered. From all that anger and all that bitterness to all that weakness and all that grief.

But there was no hiding from him. Not when you’d willingly placed yourself in his hands, no matter how much it burned. He took you as you are, accepted it all over and over again. As you have done the same with him.

He slowed again, rolling his hips with agonizing precision, making you feel every inch, every movement. You whimpered, your body betraying you as it responded to him, trembling, tightening. His smirk widened, cruel and knowing.

"There you are, little one." he murmured, almost tenderly, his thumb brushing over the corner of your mouth. "Feel it. Let it break you."

And it did. The pleasure crashed over you, dragging you under like a riptide, and you clung to him as though he were the only solid thing in a world gone to chaos. The walls you’d built shattered, leaving you raw and exposed, every emotion spilling over like a dam bursting.

You hated him for it. 

You needed him for it.

As your cries softened into broken gasps, Sukuna didn’t relent. He carried you through it and then began again, his hunger insatiable, his hold on you unyielding. His lips found your neck, his voice low and mocking against your ear.

"Don’t think for a second I’m done with you, little one." he said, his laugh rumbling against your skin. "I’ll make sure there’s nothing left of that anger. Nothing but me."

And he did. Over and over, until the only thing left was his name on your lips, his mark on your body, and the steady, consuming presence of the man who would never let you escape. Until you forgot everything all over again.

[kaiijo]

FRIENDS TO LOVERS — [KNB]

characters: aomine daiki, midorima shintarou, hanamiya makoto content: gn! reader, reader has implied tieable hair in midorima’s, toxicity (it’s hanamiya, no one is surprised) notes: scenarios inspired by prompt list here

aomine daiki ✶

aomine yawns again as he reclines against your pillows, sitting up only to peer at you. you’re working on homework that’s due in a couple of days, headphones covering your ears. you promised that you’ll order in food and play super smash bros with him when you finished, but it’s nearing eight and you’re still hunched over a problem set.

aomine groans loudly, “are you even close to being done?”

you move one headphone cup off. “i would be closer if you didn’t interrupt me every ten minutes.”

“i didn’t ask to hang out just to sit around.”

you roll your eyes. “you can go if you want, daiki.”

he sits up fully now, moving to the edge of your bed. “why’re you even doing this? s’not due ‘til friday.”

“some of us want to be good students.” you slide your headphones back on and turn back to scribbling out complicated equations on paper.

a couple of minutes pass again and instead of asking you anything, aomine stands up and shuffles behind you, reaching around and snatching the paper from underneath you. “hey!” you protest, shooting up from your seat and tearing off your headphones. “give it back, daiki.”

“no, you said you’d be done, like, two hours ago.”

“i swear i’m almost done!” you make a lunge for it and aomine just holds it above his head, his long arm adding to his already-massive height.

“no.” he smirks at the way your eyes furrow and your cheeks puff out. your head tilts to the left, and he knows that you’re thinking. he’s sure you’re going to try and jump of it again, so as a show, he stretches up further, the hem of his shirt lifting slightly. he swears he catches your eyes flickering down and something in his body sings a song of triumph and satisfaction at the motion. he can’t say why.

what you do next though is nothing that he expects. you stand on your toes, rest your hands delicately on his shoulders, and gaze up at him through your lashes. he startles; there’s something so… heated about your expression, about those half-lidded eyes.

“daiki,” you say softly. it’s almost hypnotic, the way you say his name, and he’s watching you with one raised eyebrow. the tips of his ears feel like they’re on fire.

he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing as his arm lowers, heading for the dip of your waist. he only snaps out of it at your victorious cry. “ha!” you take advantage of his still half-dazed state and push him firmly out of your bedroom door, closing it. the lock clicks into place and he hears you call on the other side, “one more problem, daiki, i promise. be a dear and set up smash in the living room?”

he walks down your hall automatically, the fire-like feeling spreading to his neck.

midorima shintarou ✶

takao holds up a porcelain statue of a cat. “what about this?’

“takao, what about that screams ‘midorima shintarou?’”

takao shrugs. “i don’t know, maybe it’ll be december 25th’s lucky item. does oha asa put out horoscopes ahead of time?”

“no, that’s why he listens every morning when it airs,” you reply, setting down a teapot from a bigger set. you thank the tired-looking cashier, who just waves drowsily as you two exit the shop.

the two of you have been shopping all day for midorima’s christmas present, wandering all over japan and into various tchotchke stores to look. he’s a notoriously hard person to please, especially with gifts, and neither of you want a repeat of the ‘grey’s anatomy incident’ where four people got midorima the same book last holiday season when he announced his intention to go to medical school. nor do any of you want to get that look from him that struggles to look somewhat grateful while being very, very obviously displeased.

“we’ve been walking all day!” takao whines, clutching his stomach as it lets out an ungodly rumble. you check your watch; you two have been out for at least four hours. you point at a small diner boasting american food. “would you be okay with that?”

“i’d eat you right now if you’d let me.”

you snort, “hard pass. come on.”

the hostess sits you two at a booth and you shrug off your heavy winter coats. you pick up a menu and glance over it, but when you go to ask takao what he’ll be getting and if he wants to split a large order of assorted fries with you, you see he’s not looking at the menu.

you definitely do not like the way takao is eying you right now. “what?” you ask defensively, hands flying to the top of your head to try and pet down at hair you presume has been ruined by your excursion. “do i look bad or something?”

“is that shin-chan’s sweater?”

fuck. you had forgotten about pulling on one of the sweaters midorima left at your house the last time you studied together. it’s insanely soft — a mix of gray wool and cashmere — not to mention extremely cozy and warm. you tried to return it to midorima before but he just pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and huffed, “wear it until you get proper sweaters. no, sweatshirts don’t count.”

you internally groan. you don’t need takao on your ass again about whether or not you’re sure you and midorima aren’t dating or if you like him like that. honestly, the only reason you haven’t given him a certain yes or no is because… you don’t really know yourself.

you don’t have proper time to answer before the bell to the restaurant chimes and you see very recognizable green hair. of all the time and places he has to show up. (well, he did text you this morning that your zodiac sign was the least lucky and to wear a blue watch in order to improve your fortune; you should’ve found the watch.)

“oh! shin-chan!” takao waves him over, giving you a sly look. “we were just talking about—” takao’s stupid hawk-eyes zero in on midorima’s wrist as he tugs off his gloves. he looks way too please with himself as he asks, “shin-chan, is that their hair tie?”

hanamiya makoto ✶

hanamiya steps out of the locker room shower, cracking his knuckles as he makes his way to his locker to dry off and change. he rolls his shoulders, toweling off his hair as he changes back into his school uniform. yamazaki and hara are prattling away, snickering under their breaths about the injuries they inflicted: sprained ankle, a hairline fracture, a minor concussion.

hanamiya doesn’t even turn around as he growls, “can you two shut up?”

to just bug him more, hara pops his gum. loudly. “who pissed in your cereal, captain?”

furihara drones, “you were sloppier today. almost got fouled by the ref.”

hanamiya doesn’t reply, yanking the knot of his tie down furiously. “fuck off.”

hara lets out a low whistle and seto asks, “does this have to do with your little friend? they got a boyfriend, right?”

hanamiya lets out a long breath through his nose and he spins around to face his teammate. “for now,” he says, slamming his locker shut.

“you got a plan, captain?” asks yamazaki as he digs through his duffel bag.

“when do i not?”

———

you greet hanamiya’s mother with a thin smile when she opens the door. her face lights up when she sees you and she pulls you into a warm hug, telling you that hanamiya’s in his bedroom and that you could go right up.

you wonder if she can see the glossy film to your eyes or if she was polite enough not to comment on it.

hanamiya’s sitting at his desk, head propped up on his knuckle. he languidly flips through pages but you know he’s not really reading the material. he’ll get away with it too and get an a anyways, the bastard. he glances at you. “you look like shit.”

usually, you could banter with him. it’s why your friendship works; you have a thicker skin than most and you give just as good as you take, especially when it comes to hanamiya’s sneering, half-joking insults. normally, you would have replied with something like “still better than you,” but instead, your frayed nerves snap and you feels the hot tears start rolling down your cheeks.

hanamiya’s simpering expression sobers up and he sighs heavily, ushering you to sit on the bed. “why’re you crying?”

you sniffle and tell him that the guy you’ve been seeing from your literature class broke up with you. just out of the blue told you that you two wanted different things and you were going to colleges in different areas and that wouldn’t work and he was sorry and… that’s all you gleaned because his words were so rushed as he scurried off as fast as he could.

hanamiya’s brow furrows sympathetically and he draws you into a hug, saying, “i told you i didn’t like that guy. fuck him.”

you sink into his arms. “yeah,” you mutter, “fuck him.”

as you relax against him, hanamiya can’t help but smirk to himself in satisfaction. someone who runs off after a little confrontation doesn’t deserve anything from you.

[adverbally]

Baby, Please Come Home

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles prompt “together” and the @steddiemas prompt “surprise” | wc: 955 | rated: T | cw: none | tags: future fic, established relationship, alone at Christmas, angst with a happy ending | dividers by @popmilky

“All the flights out are grounded and they’re rerouting everyone coming in. We’re just hoping they can get us in a hotel for the night, otherwise we’re sleeping on the floor of the terminal.”

Eddie sounds so far away through the telephone line. He’s with the rest of Corroded Coffin in New York City, where they’re apparently stuck in the blizzard of the century. The airport is completely shut down, just in time for the Christmas travel season.

“How long do they think it’ll take for the storm to pass?” Steve asks, biting at the cuticle of his thumb. He paces back and forth in front of the phone to work off his nervous energy. It might actually be making him feel worse, moving so much but not getting anywhere, but he can’t just sit here.

Eddie sighs. “No clue. But with how many flights need to be rescheduled, it might be a couple days before I can get home.”

Today is December 23rd, which means— “You won’t be here for Christmas,” Steve realizes.

He hasn’t had a Christmas without Eddie in eight years. Even when they were just friends, they spent the holiday together while Wayne was at work and the Harringtons were in Europe somewhere. Then there were Christmases in their first apartment in Chicago, on the road with Corroded Coffin, even a memorable tropical getaway where their drinks were garnished with Santa hats.

Steve won’t get any of that this year. It was supposed to be a quiet holiday, just the two of them. Now he’ll be alone.

Eddie has clearly come to the same conclusion. “I’m sorry, baby. I’d rent a car and start driving right this second if the roads were clear.”

“It’s not your fault.” He tries hard to keep his voice level and hide any evidence of the tears he wipes from his cheeks. “We’ll celebrate when you get back. Stay safe and say hi to the boys for me.”

Eddie’s voice goes soft. “Okay, sweetheart. I love you. See you soon.”

“Love you,” Steve manages to croak before the line goes dead.

The dial tone seems to echo in the empty apartment for hours.

Christmas Eve passes achingly slowly. Steve spends half the day on the phone, catching up with Dustin visiting his mom back in Hawkins and Robin and Nancy who are snowed in at home in Boston. He waits for Eddie to call, too, maybe with some sort of update on their flight situation.

Eddie doesn’t call.

He stares out the window of their apartment and watches the snow piling up outside. It’s nothing compared to what’s bombarding the east coast, but Steve has always liked the snow. A fresh blanket of white, covering the dirty pavement and muddy slush in the streets with something beautiful. He wishes Eddie were here, complaining about the cold and the ankles of his pants getting wet. Even better, snuggling up with Steve on the couch to watch It’s a Wonderful Life, just like they do every year.

Steve doesn’t try to watch it alone. Instead, he chokes down a frozen dinner and goes to bed at six o’clock so he can have a few hours where he doesn’t have to think about how much he misses Eddie.

It’s very late– or maybe very early– when Steve wakes up to the bed shifting beneath him.

In the dull blue light of the pre-dawn hours, he can only make out shapes. A dark silhouette with messy hair on Eddie’s side of the bed, looking just like Eddie does when he sits to unlace his boots.

Steve thinks he might choke on the wave of emotion that rises in his throat. It’s Eddie, undeniably. He can tell from the exhaustion in his shoulders and his quiet mumbles of frustration when he can’t undo the knot in his shoelaces.

Without thinking, Steve reaches out a hand to settle at the small of Eddie’s back.

Eddie looks at him over his shoulder, an apologetic grimace on his face. “Sorry, I was trying not to wake you up.”

“You—” Steve can barely get a word out before his vision starts to blur and his chest gets tight. The tears he hadn’t let himself shed all day are hitting him hard now, like the shock of Eddie making it home knocked them loose.

“Oh, baby, don’t cry.” Eddie shifts until he’s lying next to Steve, still wearing his jeans and an old henley of Steve’s. He smells like recycled plane air.

Steve doesn’t hesitate to roll into Eddie’s waiting arms. He needs the comfort, the reassurance that Eddie is real and solid and here. “I can’t believe you made it,” he mumbles into Eddie’s shirt.

“Me neither,” Eddie sighs. Already, his fingers are combing through Steve’s hair, trying to soothe both of them at once. “A seat opened up at the very last minute. I didn’t even have a chance to call and tell you I was leaving.”

“Remind me to be mad about that later.” He can feel Eddie’s quiet laugh rumbling through his chest. Steve smiles along with him. “God, I missed you.”

Eddie kisses his temple. “I’m taking you with me next time, I don’t care if it’s only for two shows.”

“Sounds good.”

“And no more holiday concerts.”

“Nuh-uh.” It comes out a little slurred, Steve’s voice feeling as heavy as his eyelids now that he’s comfortable and Eddie is with him.

Eddie is still stroking his hair in long, slow movements. “Go back to sleep, honey. I’ll still be here in the morning.”

Steve hums in agreement. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

Just before Steve drifts off, he thinks that Eddie might be the best Christmas gift he’s ever gotten.

[reiderwriter]

Unhappy Holidays

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're unlucky enough to run into Spencer Reid at holiday celebrations four years in a row. In the New Year, you're resolving to rid him from your mind forever, but you never were one to stick to resolutions 👻🦃🎄🎆

Warnings: SMUT 18+ minors dni, enemies to lovers, low-key work rivals, semi-public sex, car sex, hate sex, fingering, thigh riding, creampie, unprotected sex (no condoms but contraceptive mentioned), slight spoilers for s4 of Criminal Minds (but not really).

Prompt Request: #50"You're so fucking obsessed with me.” #82"Really? Because your pussy is saying something different, sweetheart.” #93"Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

A/N: This is my first submission for @imagining-in-the-margins November/December Office Party writing challenge! I'm sorry I've been so busy recently, but the holiday season really does take a lot of effort to get through at work lmao. Hopefully, I'll be able to post more over my vacation! For now, enjoy some very unserious smut~♡ (as if I write any other kind).

Here's a link to my masterlist, where you can find all my work!~☆

Working with the FBI was no walk in the park, which, from your desk at the opposite corner of the bullpen, Spencer Reid sure made it look like.

Working on adjacent teams for the last three years had become gradually infuriating. You were forever in the man's orbit, stuck dealing with the other women on your team sat giggling about him and his many stupid haircuts, and wondering just how far you'd fallen to have to stare at his stupid face 5 days a week.

If you were unlucky. His team did happen to be out on cases a lot more, whereas yours handled correspondence and consulting cases, a cushy and safe job.

It annoyed you to no end that you had multiple field-based qualifications, extensive fire arms training and were top of your class at the academy only to be relegated yo desk duty whilst boy wonder with his doctorates was allowed to trip over his own feet catching actual killers.

Other people wondered where your dislike of the man sprang from, and you could only let out a disgruntled squeak and tell them your horror stories.

A few months into your job, your been fresh faced and bushy tailed or however that saying goes, and overly eager to take any assignment that came your way. Even if the assignment was baby-sitting an injured Doctor Spencer Reid. He'd been shot whilst out on a case whilst trying to talk down an unsub, and you'd jumped at the chance to get to know him.

He was an office legend, of course, though those days it was more for his characteristic lack of social graces rather than the beauty he'd grown into. You'd been so eager to get to pick his brains, find out how he'd managed to score the position on the BAU at such an early age.

Reality had hit you square in the face when he'd spent a week ignoring you, making you run around like a headless chicken searching for hard copies of documents the FBI had digitised a millennia ago, and hadn't so much as spared you a glance.

The straw that broke the camel's back came as you were running back to him triumphant with a document he'd requested eight hours before and had let yourself into Penelope Garcia’s office quietly, only to hear him bad mouthing you.

“She makes me uncomfortable. I've had her out searching for useless files all day because I don't know what to do with her.”

“She's trying to help, Spencer, it's her job right now, cut her some slack.”

“Her job is currently getting in the way of mine. I even tried writing my own doctor's note so I could get rid of her, but Hotch wouldn't allow it.”

You'd dropped the file loudly on the table, watched the two spin around with horrified looks and turned silently and left the room.

He hadn't once tried to find you after that, and you let your apprenticeship under Doctor Reid quietly fizzle out as you got back to your regular work.

Your resentment still burned though.

Each time you'd been caught in the same elevator with him, you'd ignored him to an almost insane degree, enjoying the way he squirmed and tried to make small talk.

You'd been in contact with JJ and his Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner as well, through cases you'd recommended, but always maintained your cold shoulder.

The one place you could not ignore him, however, was a Penelope Garcia party.

After you'd slammed the file down on her desk, Penelope had guiltily sent you a gift basket filled with sweet treats and books, and had hounded you for a week to make sure your feelings weren't too damaged by her friend's stupidity.

You actually liked her, and found at least one silver lining to the storm that was Spencer Reid ripping through your life.

In the three years since the “incident,” you'd found yourself at three parties where Penelope in all of her heartwarming ways had tried her best to force a reconciliation between the two of you, to disastrous results.

The first was a Halloween party, and you'd been incredibly proud of your Princess Laia costume when you'd arrived. Only until you'd gone to the kitchen to top up your drink to hear Spencer Reid boring some guest or the other about how Star Trek was more advanced, and had a richer plot line.

Penelope had stepped into the kitchen just as he'd caught a glimpse of your (rather skimpy) outfit - yes, you'd chosen swimsuit Laia, yes, you were going to own it - and had immediately jumped into introductions, as if you weren't already intimately acquainted.

“Spencer! This is Y/N! She loves Halloween, too, she makes all of her costumes. You guys should talk.” She'd led the other guest away and left you there with Spencer as you'd awkwardly looked upon his own costume.

“Are you the Tenth Doctor?” You asked begrudgingly, noting his pin-striped suit and the shorter hairstyle he'd chosen.

“Are you a fan? I prefer the original show run more than the current stuff, but David Tennant has really been doing a wonderful-”

���I'm sorry, let me stop you there. I don't watch Doctor Who. I guess I prefer something with a… How should I say, richer plot?”

He'd snapped his mouth shut and didn't have chance to open it again before you turned dramatically and walked away from him.

The second party you'd been cornered into was just over a year later.

Having been stuck in the office over Halloween, Penelope was determined to get in one last celebration before Christmas steam-rolled every other holiday, and thus you'd been invited to her single-people-only-friendsgiving-potluck, and you'd found yourself having to navigate knocking on her door with a casserole dish in your hands.

Luckily a large hand had appeared from behind you and knocked on the door for you. Unfortunately, the sudden shock from the silent appearance of a man right behind you startled you so much that the dish fell straight from your hands anyway.

Penelope opened her door upon hearing the crash and you whirled on your would-be attacker.

It was Spencer again, eyes round in shock, hand still curled into a fist.

You took a calming breath as you gathered yourself, trying not to bite his head off. You wanted to scream and shout and rip his head out but you didn't, instead letting the fury drip into your voice as you finally opened your eyes again.

“That dish took me four fucking hours to make.” You huffed in anger once more as Penelope guided you into the apartment and poured you a glass of wine before you moved back to the entry hall to clean it up again.

Needless to say he didn't care to converse with you after that.

A few small parties in between had been blissfully Spencer-less and you'd lulled yourself into a false sense of security. That's when you accepted the Christmas party invitation.

As one of the unlucky few members of the FBI who had to stay out over christmas in case of some emergency or the other, you'd been grounded in Virginia, unable to travel home for the holidays. So Penelope Garcia's singles-only-Christmas-fun-time-Party was your last ditch effort to spend the holidays actually resting and eating good food.

Learning from last time, Penelope reassured you that there was no potluck, that she had prepared all the food herself, and all you'd need were a bottle of wine and a willingness to party.

You'd taken those recommendations as law and had immediately let yourself into a glass of mulled wine as you arrived, and - noticing that the party was Reid-free - had allowed it to raise your Christmas spirits slightly more than you usually would.

By hour two of the event, you were full of yuletide joy and swaying freely along to the tune of Silent Night.

Spencer’s late entrance really would have gone unnoticed by you had you not bumped face first into his chest as you spun yourself around in your dance, his hands quickly falling to your hips to steady you.

The few moments it took you to gather yourself were about as long as you needed to realised that he'd caught you in his arms underneath the mistletoe. And with your mind fogged by mulled-whatever-it-was-Penelope-mixed-into-that-punch, the part of your brain that objected to the very existence of Spencer Reid went silent, and the incredibly tiny and somewhat damaged part of your brain that instead saw him as attractive started shouting loud instructions.

Before your common sense could return, you pushed yourself up on your tiptoes to kiss the very warm, very close man holding you upright.

“Mistletoe,” you muttered as you clawed his arms off of you and took yourself straight to Penelope's bathroom to throw up.

So yes, your acquaintance with Spencer Reid had never been good, and you were perfectly fine with resenting him from afar, privately.

With three years of bad experiences under your belt, you weren't excited at completing your yearly tradition of horrendous interaction. Which is perhaps why you immediately and loudly protested Penelope’s New Years Eve party invitation.

“Y/N, it's a party. What's the worst that can happen?” She pleaded as she followed you down the corridors of the office building.

“I could see Spencer Reid. I could be forced to converse with Spencer Reid. I could get absolutely wasted and kiss Spencer Reid. There, three options, please accept my resignation from partying.”

“Y/N we both know you don't drink anymore, so at least one of those is unlikely to happen. And Spencer might not even come, he has tickets for an indie theatre from 6pm onwards, they're playing some Russian movie from the 60s that's like 4 hours long or something. So u retire yourself and tell me you'll come?” She had to take three or four steps for each of your own, not that you were so different in height but because you were practically marching in order to avoid the topic.

But you finally stopped and let out a sigh as you turned back to Penelope who stopped just before she ran into you.

“You're sure he won't be there?”

“I'm sure he RSVP’d no.”

“Fine. But I'm not drinking and I will still be expecting the Penelope Garcia virgin punch experience.”

“Bring the party poppers and you have a deal.”

“Done.”

–X–

Over the week since you'd accepted the invitation, you'd made peace with it. For the most part, you did love a Penelope Garcia production. There was something wonderful about your friend and her ability to brighten anyone's mood, an ability that was only heightened at holidays. She was like a glittered goddess gaining power when worshippers used her altar, except the altar was her house and the worship was a range of hallmark-induced holidays.

You arrived at the party at 10pm, and though that was the start time you'd been given, you weren't surprised to see a full house of Penelope’s team mates already in attendance. Derek Morgan, Jennifer Jareau and Emily Prentiss sat spread across the sofa in the living room area, and you noticed a few techie friends also grabbing drinks and chatting.

“Y/N, I'm so glad you're here! You remember everyone on the team, right?” She pulled you into a hug and then sat you down in the middle of the group, waiting for you to mingle and become comfortable before she ran off to more hostess duties.

“Of course, nice to see you guys.” You grabbed your promised punch and sat back comfortably, striking up a conversation with Emily about how bleak the dating scene had been recently.

“It seems like all the men around me are jackasses,” Emily muttered and you giggled along.

“I'm wounded,” Morgan shot back, a hand pressed to his chest in faux pain.

“Good. You're like a lion out there in the clubs stalking gazelles, it's like watching a nature documentary when you're out there.”

You almost snorted your entire drink up your nose as Emily finished, needing to compose yourself for a second.

“I guess the men on our team aren't great with romance,” JJ laughed and took a swing. “Hotch and Rossi have four divorces between them, and Derek here is a lost cause.”

“Our only hope is young Spencer. May he grow into a respectful young gentleman and break out curse,” Emily toasted.

“Oh that ship has sailed,” your laugh this time was bitter, your mood immediately growing sour with even the smallest mention of Spencer Reid.

“Ah, Penelope mentioned you had a problem with our boy wonder. Care to share?”

You opened your mouth to give your standard non-answer and move the conversation along, but you were interrupted.

“Yes, Y/N, care to share? I am slightly curious about that as well.” You turned around and there he was, and your stomach turned in disgust.

Just one time, just one party. You'd been having fun, and here he was to ruin it.

“What are you doing here?” you gaped up at him, unsurprised to see him still decked out in sweater vest and slacks even in his down time.

“I was invited.”

“You declined, Penelope said you had movie tickets.”

“Ticket, singular. And it was cancelled so here I am. What's your problem with me, Y/N?” His jaw clenched and he grabbed the back of your chair and leaned down. It was supposed to be intimidating, but you rolled your eyes. When he looked that attractive, veins in his arms popping out of the sleeves he'd pulled up, you couldn't see him as intimidating. His arms were distracting yes, but God that was nothing compared to his thighs. His pants were tight, and you thanked whatever Clueless tailor had sewn them, because you now allowed yourself a momentary lapse to enjoy the appearance of his lower body.

You tried to shake the thought of his attractiveness from your mind, reminding yourself where you were and in what company.

“I don't think I need to answer that. I think I'll enjoy holding it over your head instead,” you said, standing up and beginning to gather your things.

“Wait, Y/N, where are you going? New Year isn't for another 30 minutes.” Penelope scrambled over and grabbed your hand, pleading with you to stay.

“I'm sorry Pen, but there's just this very annoying bug buzzing around me, and I think I need to get away from it.” You said your goodbyes and excused yourself from the party, happy to have walked away relatively undamaged.

Fate had other plans, and as you stepped out of the apartment building ready to walk yourself home, a hand caught yours from behind as a voice chased you.

“Y/N, wait. I'll go. You go back inside.”

“And return with my tail tucked between my legs after making a grand exit? I'll pass, thanks boy genius.” You shook yourself from his grasp and made to walk away again, but he quickly matched your pace and stepped into your path, cutting you off.

“I can't let you walk home. It's like 40° out here, and your coat is more style than substance.”

“Get into a car with a stranger? I'm sure you of all people know how stupid that sounds.” You stuck a finger out and poked his chest, but he grabbed your hand and held it in place as he spat out his next words.

“I'm not a stranger, I'm the man you're obsessed with, Y/N. Big difference.” You laughed, mostly in shock at his indignance, but he stared at your face as serious as could be.

“Me? Obsessed with you? I'm not the one who followed a woman they're barely acquainted with out of a party filled with all of my friends. Sounds like you're projecting, Spencer.”

“Am I?” He questioned, stepping closer and grabbing your hip as he continued his questioning. “I wasn't the one who was sat there talking about me with all of my colleagues.”

“Well, I wasn't the one who turned up to a party I'd declined an invitation to.”

He was imperceptibly close now, hand gripping your hip so tight you wondered if it'd leave you with a mark.

“I certainly was not the one who initiated a kiss last year, Y/N. You need to face the facts, you're so fucking obsessed with me.” If his hands had you feeling dizzy, his words were completely knocking the sense out of you. Suddenly you returned to the person you'd been under that Mistletoe, and everything from his closeness to the rough edge to his voice begged you to do it once again.

“Go fuck yourself,” was about all the words you could manage as he finally let his lips fall down and crush into your own.

You should've pushed him away, but instead your traitorous body wanted to prove his point, opening up for him faster than you'd opened up to anyone else before.

His tongue flicked against your lips and you gladly let him explore your mouth, opening up to tangle your tongue with his.

He tasted sweet, like the punch Penelope had handed you earlier, only now you wondered if someone had accidentally laced it with how free you were being with your affections.

He resurfaced for air, but you didn't care if there was nothing in your lungs at all if it meant that his lips would engage your own in battle once again.

“Look how much you want me,” he smirked. “Look how needy you are after a single kiss, chasing my lips like that.”

“You and your big fucking mouth. I wish you'd shut up once in a while.”

“I'll make it my new year’s resolution.” His lips joined your own again, and you clashed hard, exploring as much as you could muster as he pulled you in the direction of his car.

“I'm not driving… home… with you,” you growled between kisses, trying not to put your teeth to his neck and bite down hard. You're not sure if that impulse was a murderous one or a kinky one.

“I'm not putting you in the front seat, Y/N, I'm putting you in the back. You should be familiar with the idea.”

Heat sparked between your legs, and you allowed yourself to be manhandled into the beat-up trash heap of a car.

He'd not taken his hands off you as he got you in, pushing himself in first and then pulling you by the hand that you'd unconsciously gripped hard. You immediately straddled his hips, skirt naturally riding up in the process. He noticed and looked curiously down at you, growling as you pressed your lips against his neck and grabbed you instead by the hair gathered in a ponytail at the back of your head.

“See, you're obsessed with me. Just admit it.” Without breaking eye contact, he dug his fingers into the material of your tights and pulled in opposite directions, leaving your underwear exposed to his wandering eyes.

“I'm not obsessed with you,” your voice needed conviction to land, but it came out as a lusty whisper, especially as he slipped his fingers inside your underwear and finally touched your aching cunt.

“Really? Because your pussy is saying something else, Princess.” He found your clit faster than you'd ever expected, rubbing slow circles into your skin as you began rocking your hips back and forth.

It was becoming hard to disagree with him, with each flick of wrist growing the heat between your legs. You attacked his neck again, hands practically ripping at his top buttons so you could muffle the sounds of your arousal against his neck, collarbone, chest, any stretch of that pale skin available to you.

He forced your hips to a stop with one hand as he slipped a single digit inside of your hole, gathering your arousal as he set a steady pace, thumb keeping your bundle of nerves occupied.

“Listen, Y/N, can you hear that?”

“I can't h-hear anything.” You had to grind your teeth together to get the words out with minimal interruptions of moans bursting from the pit of your stomach.

He leaned in close to your ear, nuzzling your neck and placing chaste kisses up towards your ear, finally pulling away just enough to whisper a single word in your ear.

“Liar.”

His hand stilled and pulled off you quickly and your eyes broke open, hands unconsciously fitting into his shirt as if you were worried he was going to leave you there like this, on the edge of pleasure but still so far away.

“Use my thigh. You've been staring at it all night anyway.”

“Jackass. You've only been here for like 20 minutes.”

“You can climb right out of this car if you want to, Y/N.” He tried to keep his tone light, but the death grip he had on your thighs, the very obvious tent pitched in his pants and the way his eyes couldn't go five seconds without undressing you told you you had more power in this interaction than he wanted to give you.

There was no way either of you were letting the other go unused tonight.

You relaxed your grip on his shirt and shifted your weight to one of his thighs. Lithe he may be, but lowering yourself down there was an unexpected strength there. He watched on curiously as you rocked experimentally against him. Back and forth you rocked, trying desperately to keep up his momentum or tempt him to help you out again.

It was time to let your voice back out, and you did, moaning without a care as you hummed his leg like a bitch in heat.

“You're enjoying this lot, huh, Y/N,” he muttered, and you watched as his hand worked his pants zip open, removing one of the barriers in the way between the two of you, as he began palming himself.

“What's that saying? Anything you can do, I can do better?” He growled at that response but didn't stop you. Instead he bought a hand down on your ass as you moved, so hard you jolted at the sudden pain. Your eyes shot open as your hips stilled, but you felt warmth grow between your legs.

“Yes, you definitely enjoyed that. Should I do that again, or do you think we should hurry this up and go back up for the countdown?”

You hesitated only a second before you pushed his hand off his lap, shifting your hips further towards his knees before letting your hand reach for where his had just been.

You didn't let yourself think about how big he was as you pulled his cock free, didn't let yourself wonder how he measured up against anyone you'd been with before. You didn't let yourself waste time thinking about how various office rumours were true, and definitely not a second was wasted feeling jealous about how those rumours were spread in the first place.

Instead you simply slammed your lips back against his, mouth opening to let your tongue engage his as you lifted your hips with his help and lowered yourself down on him.

You didn't have to rid yourself of sinful thoughts after that as he purged every single brain cell from your head, filling you so contently that there was simply no space for anything but him.

You locked up on top of him, clawing at his shoulders as you whimpered at the stretched, falling so he was balls deep inside you. You wanted to move, to use him for your pleasure, but your walls tightened every time you even thought about it as he stroked your hair through it all.

It had been some time since you'd last had a sexual partner, and you needed the few minutes to overcome the first uncomfortable bliss of it all.

“That good?” he whispered, but the harsh tone of earlier was gone, replaced only by unsure humour to break the silence.

“Been a while.” He nodded, kissing you again to distraction as he shifted your positions.

Cradling your neck and securing your legs comfortably around him, he lowered you against the backseat, pulling out slightly as you adjusted to the new angle.

“Better?” You nodded quickly, because it was. There was no more pressure on your legs, and despite the cramped space in the car, you had enough space to lie almost flat.

“Yes… thank you.” Just as his cutting tone had escaped him, you also heard your own tone softening, the sigh of contentment slipping past your lips almost sweet. Almost.

“Are you going to fuck me now, or what?”

He let out a shocked laugh, but lent down to shut you up with a kiss nonetheless. Bracing himself against the car door, his hips softly rocked into you, pace increasing until you were back to the edge of cumming, nails pressed hard into his skin until you were sure he was going to complain.

He didn't though, but kept up his thrusts, until your vision suddenly darkened and stars exploded in them, rolled back in your head as they were.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, where should I…?” He panicked, but you wrapped your legs around him, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him down to swallow his moan as he shot his load inside of you.

“Birth control.” You whispered when you finally let him go, gasping for air. “Contraceptive pill. No need to get the car dirty.”

He collapsed on top of you then, forehead resting against your own as you both caught your breaths.

The moment was silent, and you found the synchronicity of your breaths almost calming. Eventually you had to break apart, and he helped you up to a sitting position, but didn't break eye contact as fell back into his lap.

His hands stroked your back, dipping to your ass at times, but he didn't talk. Neither of you did.

The eye contact between the two of you was possibly the most pleasant conversation you'd ever had.

“I'm sorry.” He blurted, just as fireworks erupted into the night sky. Your heart shook, and you weren't sure of it was the shock of the sound, or the way the rainbow of lights illuminated his sincere expression.

“You don't have to apologise for cumming in me, Spencer.”

“Not that. Before. The casserole and the mistletoe, and the Halloween costume.”

“Wow. Um, okay. Apology accepted, I guess, though I'm not entirely sure why you're apologising now.”

He took a deep breath just as another set of fireworks went up.

“I pulled you under the mistletoe. It was Penelope’s idea, she knew how stupid I was being around you and sent me over. I saw it and took the chance.”

“Fuck. Why?”

“Because I was pretty useless at being chivalrous the year before.”

You climbed off his lap in a scramble and sat on the seat beside him, mind racing, trying to figure out where the hell he was going with this.

He turned to you, trying to keep your attention as he stumbled over the words.

“You couldn't knock on the door, so I wanted to help you, but I didn't think I'd scare you so much you'd drop it.”

“You didn't scare me it was a momentary lapse in my observational skills.”

“You shrieked,” a smile threatened to pull his lips up, they twitched as you flushed red.

“And Halloween?” You looked at him again now, trying to figure out what the hell was going on between the two of you.

“You refused to look at me for a year after we stopped working together,” he shrugged quickly running a hand through his hair and expelling a breath. “I don’t really know how to talk to women.”

“You just know how to piss them off?”

“Morgan says it comes naturally.”

“Yeah, well, Morgan is very wise.”

A brief silence stretched between you, or as silent as a night full of cracks, pops, whizzes and bangs could be.

“I don't get it. You tried your best to get rid of me when I was there to help you. I wanted to impress you, and you kept sending me on meaningless errands, and now you're saying what? You wanted my attention?” There was a quiet anger to your voice, but you were surprised to find it diminished and tired.

“I wanted you gone because you were distracting me, Y/N, not because I hated you.”

“Well, what's the difference, Doctor Reid? Please indulge me.” You huffed a little but kept your eyes on him, trying not to seem too desperate for his answer.

“I have an IQ of 187. Emily says when I'm around a pretty girl it's more like 52,” he fidgeted with his pants, forcing the words out.

“You're a pretty girl. We had a case to work and all I could think about was how to get you to like me. Hotch chewed me out like three separate times for being absent minded.”

He was looking anywhere but you, trying his best not to appear like a fool but you were locked onto him.

“Oh my god you're an idiot.”

“When you're around, yes.”

“And that means I'm equally stupid.”

“No, you just jump to conclusions and hold grudges. There wasn't anything really that stupid about your actions, though it could be suggested that not thoroughly thinking through the wording of the conversation you overheard-”

You cut him off with a kiss, pulling him down again mlby his tie.

“Oh my god, shut up,” you whispered as you broke apart.

“Does that mean we can do this again? Because I'd like to do this again?”

“Stop talking, start kissing jackass.”

He finally didn't argue with that, pulling you back into him as you sat under the stars in his car welcoming the new year.

[2hightocare]

WHAT YOU NEED ✷

Synopsis: Jungkook and you try getting into the Christmas spirit, but you end up getting fucked up against the kitchen counter.

Pairing: Jungkook x f!reader

Genre: established relationship au!

Warnings: smut, size kink, light spanking, squirting, creampie, unprotected sex (don’t b dumb nd wear condom.) fluff, cussing, Jungkook has a dirty mouth. a kms joke, hair pulling and choking

Word count: 2.3k

A/n: let’s not sayyyy.. when i say i was giggling and kicking my feet i am not fucking lying! (Jk had me on a chokehold istg😒) they flagged my shit… um

Is it barely November 1st? Yes.

Are you putting the Christmas tree up already? Fuck yeah.

Jungkook would clown you for your love for Christmas, and honestly, you didn't care because you loved everything about it. The decorations, the new flavored coffee menu’s, the gifts underneath the tree, and the cold. You loved wearing beanies, scarves, and thick hoodies. Something about this holiday takes you back to your childhood—the way you would gather with your siblings and parents in the kitchen, making sugar cookies to put under the tree for Santa.

Were you heartbroken when your parents told you they were Santa? Yes. You felt betrayed after they lied to you for thirteen years of your life. When you shared your story with Jungkook, he burst out laughing, sharing that he found out at age nine after catching his parents in the act, making you want to cry for him.

Now here you both were at 10:40 pm assembling the Christmas tree. Jungkook's mom gifted you both, which is much bigger than yours from last year.

“Oh my fuck—this is too big, baby." Jungkook admires the height of the tree with his hands rested on both sides of his hips. Your excitement rises at how many possible ways you both could decorate it.

"Well, I can tell you hate it,” your boyfriend jokes as his hands wrap around your bare waist from behind. “Your hands are cold,” you flinch. Your hands wrap around his, trying to pass him your warmth.

“And if we decorate it with tiny dicks?” You crack your neck upward to see his reaction. “I mean, go for it, baby."

You swat his chest as he burst into a fit of laughter. “You swear you’re so funny, huh?” You look at him with a serious face, your mouth twitching from trying to hold in the big smile that wants to come out.

Jungkook just shakes his head. “Wanna decorate today with last year's decorations, or we can wait till tomorrow and buy new ones, and instead we can bake Christmas cookies?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

Anyone in their right mind would be thinking we’re crazy for already baking Christmas cookies when December is in a whole month. But you both didn’t care.

…

“We should’ve gotten pre-made cookie dough.” Your eyes look around at the marble counter in front of you, filled with all the ingredients your mother-in-law told you to use. “On god.” Jungkook stands beside you. “You know what? Let me call my mom. We need a tutorial, I'm afraid.” You giggle as he pulls out his phone, opening up FaceTime.

The phone rings three times before the camera fills up with your mother-in-law smiling sweetly. "Hi, my babies!” She says first, Your face lights up. “Hi,” you wave a hand to the camera. “Hi mom!”

“You guys look adorable,” she motions to your guys matching pink hello kitty pajamas. “Y/n bought them; I had no choice,” he lied, knowing damn well he wanted to match first. “Sureee.” You rolled your eyes at him.

The call continued as Jungkook's mom gave you guys simple instructions like beating the sugar and butter with a whisk, which Jungkook took over because your hand started to hurt, and gradually adding flour to the mixture, which ended with both of you guys covered in white flour because Jungkook turned the mixer too fast. After wishing your goodbyes, you both slightly shake off the flour, and you put the dough in the refrigerator. Apparently, you have to let it be firm.

“So now we have two hours to wait. I say we fuck.” Jungkook slaps your ass, making you squeal. “You’re horny??” Your hands make their way to his hair, slightly pulling. "Hm, maybe,” he whispers into your mouth, and he gives you a slow, wet kiss. “I’m still sore from earlier." I mumble in between kisses. “Was I too rough?” His rough hands massage your ass. You shrug your shoulders in his embrace.

“Christmas movie, then?” He asks, “I’m so down."

….

“Shit takes like ass,” you say, finishing up the cookie.

Your boyfriend looks around for the long-gone cookie. “I don't know; let’s ask the audience.” He looks around for the invisible camera. “Bitch!” You swat his arm, and he burst out laughing, holding on to his stomach.

“You literally ate that shit up.” His head is thrown back, and the most beautiful laugh roars out of him. “I will kill myself genuinely.” You chuckle while trying another cookie without the frosting you guys tried making from a tutorial on Google.

“The frosting is ass, cause this is a bomb,” you stuff your mouth with the remaining of the cookie humming at the taste. “Am I weird cause I fuck with the frosting?" He dips his pinky nto the bowl where the white frosting is before sucking it off. “Never mind actual shit." His nose scrunches in disgust, and his tongue sticks out, making you giggle.

"No, seriously, why is it so bad?” Jungkook takes a sip of the milk he had served not so long ago. “I have no clue, baby, but the sugar cookie itself slaps." You take your half eaten cookie up to your boyfriend's mouth and say, "Open, ahh." He immediately follows commands and opens before you shove his mouth with the golden cookie. “Mhm,” Jungkook's face scrunches as he bobs his head up and down, savoring the heart-shaped cookie.

“Probably the best cookie I had in a while, not gonna lie,” he states, taking a bite of the gingerman's head.

“Do we have cinnamon?” You make your way to the drawer where you keep all the spices. “ Found it,” you make your way back to the cookie before sprinkling some on your and Jungkook's cookies before taking a huge bite. “Oh my fuck," you moan.

"Oh, my fuck indeed.” Jungkook shoves the remaining cookie into his mouth, moaning at how it melted in his mouth. "Think, I just saw stars.” You say this while he side-eyes you. “Haha no.” He says that before picking you up on the counter, he settles in between your legs.

“Horny still?” You ask again, "Yes, very, I’ll be a gentle promise.” He leaves open-mouth kisses on your neck before slowly sucking.

“No marks.” You moan, your fingers slightly tugging on his hair and making him groan. “Scarf season, princess.” He looks up with a smirk on his face, then continues his actions, sucking and licking your soft spot. You bite your lip, trying to be quiet. Jungkook slowly grinds into your clothed pussy causing you to slip out a throaty moan. “Fuck—“ you throw your head back, your legs caging him closer to where you most need him. “I need you to lose the clothes and fuck me.” Jungkook chuckles at your demanding tone.

“Yeah? Want my cock already?” His hands rub on your thighs. You nod your head, looking down at the imprint of his now-hard cock. You reach for it, but Jungkook slaps your hand away, making you pout. “Patience princess,” Jungkook's hands tug on the band of your pajamas, pulling them down and taking your underwear along with it.

You squeal as your bare ass feels the cold counter top, and your boyfriend laughs before throwing the clothes somewhere on the ground.

Your pussy clenches over nothing, and you go to press your thighs together to relieve some of the tension, only for Jungkook to hold them wide open. He pulls his hard cock out of his pants, giving himself two pumps before slapping it on your wet center. Your gaze fixated on his dick on your pussy, your lips between your teeth moaning slightly when your boyfriend gives it another slap with his dick.

“So wet for me, baby,” he says, giving it another slap. "C'mere," Jungkook's picks you off the counter from your arms, “bend over. ” He orders.

You quickly follow his command, your juices dripping down your legs from how wet you were already. Jungkook spreads open your legs some more before making his way in between them, giving your ass a slap. “Fuck—“ you clench your thighs together as he soothes the red mark he just left. “Fuck, when are you going to let me fuck this ass.” Your boyfriend asks you, giving you another spank, making you squeak.

“Never,” you moan, making him chuckle under his breath. “Worth the try.” He jokes before sinking down into you, both moaning at the feeling. You felt so full. Jungkook is so big, stretching your pussy deliciously. “So big shit," you moan, your cheek pressed against the counter as he fills you up to the hilt. “You can take it, baby,” Jungkook says between gritted teeth. He felt you clenching around him, having him on the verge of coming right there in an instant.

“Always so good for me, baby. Want me to fuck you so good, huh?” He whispers into your ear, and you clench around him, earning you another spank, ripping a loud moan out of you. “Fuck me," you stutter over the pleasure your lower belly is feeling. “That’s what I like to hear, baby,” Jungkook says before pulling his cock out, just leaving the tip in before slamming into you. Your mouth hangs open as he repeats the movements over and over again. “Fuck just like that,” you grip to the edge of the counter, your eyes close immediately, as his rough hands compare to your smooth skin, hold tightly to the sides of your hips, pounding into you from behind.

“This cunt is mine, right?” Jungkook groans, sliding his cock in and out of your walls. You could only reply with a loud moan. But that’s not enough for Jungkook; your boyfriend wraps his hand around your hair, pulling you upward and arching your back in the process. “Use your words, princess.” He orders in your ear, his movements never halting.

"Fuck—your pussy! Only yours,” you spit out whatever words you could make a sentence out of. “Fucking you dumb, huh?” He lets go of your hair and moves his hand around your neck, adorning it like a necklace and applying some pressure. "Mhmm,” you moan, trying to open your eyes but shutting close after Jungkook slams into you again.

The room fills with the wet clapping sounds, groans, and moans that keep spilling out of your guys mouths. Your fingers find your sensitive clit, applying pressure and drawing small circles. "Fuck—I'm gonna come!” Your legs shake beneath Jungkook, and his arm wraps around your waist in case your legs give out on you.

“Yeah baby? Gonna come for me?” He slaps your hand away from your clit replacing it with his. Your back arches against him, and his cock continues hitting your g-spot repeatedly, sending you over the edge.

“Oh fuc—“ Your words are cut short when the pleasure in your belly finally snaps, and Jungkook's fingers furiously move on your pussy, making you scream into your hand. Wetness pools on your feet, dripping down your legs. “Fuck so hot when you squirt,” Jungkook continues fucking you through your orgasm, the overstimulation has you shaking underneath him. “Too much fu-fuck,” you head drops to the counter. You clench, sending Jungkook over the edge.

“Coming,” your boyfriend's head drops to your shoulder, his movements becoming sloppy, springs of cum shooting inside you, moaning at the feeling.

His movements come to a halt, his mind foggy, his cock throbbing when he pulls out, making you whine, feeling empty.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck,” Jungkook mutters under his breath as he sees his cum dripping out of your hole. Without a second thought, he shoves it back in with his index finger. “Aw shit,” you moan at the sensitivity.

He chuckles, kissing your shoulder blade. “You were so good for me, baby.” He leaves open-mouthed kisses all over your back, breathing heavily. You are trying to catch your breath, and your legs feel like jelly, not being able to move from your current position.

“Mhm,” you hum softly, your eyes closing. "Baby, don’t fall asleep on me,” Jungkook smiles at you, picking you up in bridal style, making you to squeal.

"How the fuck can you be so cute after just getting railed?” Your boyfriend moves your hair out of your face as you try to snuggle into his chest. “You play too much,” you mumble.

Jungkook lays you down on the bed before disappearing into your guys bathroom; a couple minutes later, coming out changed and with a warm rag in hand, “here, baby open,” he coos motioning to your legs. You do as he says. He slowly cleans and wipes your center, making you moan from oversensitivity. “Almost done,” he says before giving a last swipe and throwing the rag somewhere in the room.

“Do you want a pill, baby?” He asks against your cheek, to which you nod. He stands up, walking to your side of the closet and getting you something comfy to wear. “Here. Be right back.” Jungkook leaves the clothes next to you and leaves the room.

As you change into your clothes, Jungkook waltz’s in with an ibuprofen and a glass of water on his other hand. “Here,” he says, waiting for you to poke your head out of his hoodie before handing you the small pill.

You swallow the pill without any complaints before dropping down on the bed. “So tired.” Your eyes close before you even hit the pillow, making him chuckle. “Worn you out, huh?” He teases before dropping beside you, pulling the covers over both of you. You immediately cuddle up to his side, feeding off the warmth he radiates. Your leg is over his torso, and your hand is on his chest.

“I love you, princess.” He whispers into your hair, leaving a small kiss on your forehead. “I love you; now let’s go, mimi’s." You kiss his clothed chest, hoping he can still feel the kiss.