#disappointed but not surprised is the summary

[sofiasworld00]

A Birthday To Remember

Jude Bellingham x reader

Summary: on her birthday he surprises her with the trip of her dreams.

Warnings: fluff, some spice.

Word count: 5k (i think)

The day started with a sigh. Your eyes fluttered open to a pale wash of sunlight spilling into the room, the familiar warmth of the duvet cocooning you. It was your birthday. While the dozens of messages on your phone from friends and family made you smile, the absence of a specific text stung a little.

Jude.

He’d kissed you goodnight the previous evening, mumbling something about an early start for training. But there’d been no hint, no small indication that he’d remembered. You bit your lip, trying not to let disappointment creep in. Jude was busy—his world spun fast, and you were used to its demands. Yet, today of all days, you’d hoped for something.

With a sigh, you got up and began your day. Breakfast was simple, your favorite tea brewed just right, but you ate alone. The silence was punctuated only by the occasional ding of birthday messages, though none were from him. You told yourself you wouldn’t dwell on it. Jude had done so much for you in other ways—this wasn’t worth feeling upset over.

Then, just as you settled on the couch to scroll through Netflix, the front door creaked open.

You froze, heart skipping, as Jude stepped inside. His familiar frame filled the doorway, his dark curls slightly windswept and his cheeks flushed as though he’d been in a hurry. He wasn’t empty-handed—his arms were filled with a bouquet so large it looked like he’d bought out the entire florist. Roses, lilies, and delicate daisies overflowed from the arrangement, their fragrance reaching you even from across the room.

“Happy birthday, love,” he said, his voice warm and steady. A small grin tugged at his lips as he took in your shocked expression.

“Jude…” you breathed, setting your cup aside and standing. “What are you doing here? I thought you had training.”

“Training can wait,” he said, stepping closer. “You can’t.”

Your eyes softened, your lips trembling as you fought back tears. “I thought… I thought you forgot.”

He placed the bouquet gently on the table before cupping your face in his hands. “Forget you? Never,” he whispered, his voice tender. “Now, go pack your bags. We’re leaving in an hour.”

“Leaving? Where?” you asked, bewildered.

His grin turned mischievous. “It’s a surprise. Just trust me.”

Less than two hours later, you were boarding a private plane. Jude’s hand never left yours, his thumb tracing soothing circles against your skin. He was unusually quiet, his excitement evident in the sly glances he kept throwing your way.

The flight itself was an experience. The seats were plush, the service impeccable, and there was a chilled bottle of champagne waiting for you. Jude poured you a glass, toasting to your special day with a wink.

“To the love of my life,” he said, his voice full of affection.

By the time you landed, your curiosity had reached its peak. As you stepped off the plane, the view stole your breath. The island was a paradise—pristine beaches with soft white sand, crystal-clear waters shimmering under the sun, and lush greenery framing the horizon.

“Welcome to your birthday getaway,” Jude said, wrapping an arm around your waist.

The resort was secluded, with its own private villa perched on a cliff overlooking the ocean. Inside, the space was decorated with balloons, candles, and a birthday cake so intricate it looked almost too good to eat.

“Jude,” you said, your voice trembling. “This is incredible.”

He pulled you into his arms, his lips pressing softly against your forehead. “Nothing’s too much for you, babe. You deserve all of this and more.”

That evening, Jude had arranged a private dinner on the beach. Lanterns hung from the trees, casting a soft glow over the table set for two. The waves crashed gently in the background, the air filled with the faint scent of salt and flowers.

“You really went all out,” you said, your fingers brushing over the chilled stem of your wine glass.

“I wanted this to be perfect,” Jude said, his gaze fixed on you. “You’re perfect.”

Heat rose to your cheeks, and you averted your eyes with a shy smile. He always had a way of making you feel like the center of the universe. The meal was delicious, each course meticulously prepared, but it wasn’t the food that held your attention—it was him.

After dinner, you walked along the shore hand in hand. The moonlight bathed the world in silver, and the ocean sparkled like liquid diamonds. Jude stopped suddenly, pulling you close.

“I love you, Y/N,” he said, his voice low but steady. “You’re everything to me.”

Your heart swelled, the words wrapping around you like a warm embrace. “I love you too, Jude.”

Back at the villa, the atmosphere shifted. As soon as the door closed behind you, Jude’s hands found your waist, pulling you close. His lips brushed against yours, soft at first, then deeper, more insistent.

“I’ve been waiting all day for this,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down your spine.

His fingers trailed up your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You tilted your head back as his lips moved to your neck, his kisses slow and deliberate. His hands slid to your hips, gripping you firmly as he pressed you against the cool glass of the sliding doors. The contrast between the cold glass and the heat of his body was dizzying.

“Jude…” you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

He smiled against your skin, his breath warm as he whispered, “Say it again.”

“Jude,” you repeated, this time louder, the word carrying a mix of need and affection.

He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bedroom. The world outside faded, leaving only the two of you. His touch was tender but intense, his focus entirely on you. Every kiss, every caress was purposeful, as though he were committing every inch of you to memory.

The next morning, you woke to the sound of soft laughter. Jude was already by the pool, talking to a group of fans who had somehow spotted him despite the resort’s seclusion.

You watched from the terrace, your heart swelling as he posed for pictures and signed autographs, his humility shining through in every interaction. When he noticed you watching, he excused himself and walked back over, his smile apologetic.

“Sorry, love,” he said, sitting beside you. “I couldn’t say no.”

“I wouldn’t expect you to,” you said, leaning against him. “That’s one of the reasons I love you.”

The rest of the trip was a perfect balance of relaxation and adventure. You spent lazy mornings by the pool, Jude lounging beside you as he read or scrolled through his phone. Afternoons were for exploration—snorkeling in coral reefs, hiking to hidden waterfalls, or wandering through local markets.

Every evening ended the same way: the two of you tangled together on the terrace, a glass of wine in hand as the sun dipped below the horizon.

On your final night, Jude took your hand as you sat by the pool, the water shimmering in the moonlight.

“I want more moments like this,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Just you and me, away from everything. Nothing else matters as long as I have you.”

Tears pricked your eyes as you leaned into him. “You already have me, Jude. Always.”

As the trip came to an end, you couldn’t stop smiling. Jude had gone above and beyond to make your birthday unforgettable, and he’d succeeded in every way. On the flight home, you rested your head on his shoulder, his hand laced with yours.

“Thank you,” you whispered. “For everything.”

“Anything for you, love,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

And as the plane soared through the clouds, you knew that this was just the beginning of a lifetime of love and adventure.

please let me know if you want more of jude! and please send in requests because i have no imagination. thanks for reading!

[cognitiveoverload]

Pillow fort (Spencer Reid x reader)

summary: You get home early, only to find your husband and daughter reading in a pillow fort.

tags: afab!reader, established relationship.

wc: 0.6k

It’s almost seven in the evening when you get out of the taxi in front of the house, but to your surprise, the lights in the house are off. Sure, Spencer didn’t know you caught an earlier flight, but he’s supposed to be home with Lyla by now. Did he take her somewhere? Maybe to have dinner with your parents? Or did they go to Dave’s house again?

Letting out a disappointed sigh, you open the front door and walk inside, already planning how you’ll pass the time until the others come home. A bath sounds nice for starters, preferably with a glass of wine and some music, because you can’t stand the idea of staying here in complete silence. Yes, taking care of your daughter can be tiring, but you love her more than anything, and if the price of being alone is being away from her, you’d rather not want it.

You pull the suitcase next to the bottom of the stairs, contemplating whether you should empty it or take a bath first, but then your train of thought is interrupted when your ears pick up a faint noise from upstairs. The worst case scenario, the idea of an intruder in the house, is already setting off the alarm in your brain, and you wish Spencer was here with you.

But when you pull out your phone to dial 911, a familiar sound breaks the silence. “We’re in my study!” your husband calls out.

Dammit, you almost had a heart attack. What are they doing up there? Shaking your head, you begin to move in that direction, already planning to have a nice long chat about scaring you with him. But when you reach the door, your anger disappears, and your heart is filled with warmth at the sight of the pillow fort they built in the middle.

Spencer and Lyla sit next to each other inside, using a flashlight to read a book together. Well, or rather your daughter reads and her father waits for her to catch up. Either way, they both look happy, and you can’t even be mad at them for not greeting you when you kneel in front of the entrance.

“Hey, you two. What are you doing in the dark?” you ask with a smile.

Your little girl reaches for the flashlight Spencer is holding for her, then she begins to shake it. “We have a flashlight, Mom, it’s not completely dark,” she corrects you.

A humorless laugh leaves you, but you don’t say anything. A little smartass, just like her father. Your eyes turn to the man in question, only to find him watching you with a wide smile on his face. Raising an eyebrow, you urge him to say what he wants.

“You’re home early,” he notes.

Nodding, you sit back on your heels. “Thought I would surprise you.”

Spencer reaches out for your hand, and you take his without hesitation. “Well, consider me surprised. Answering your question, we’re studying.” You tilt your head to the side, waiting for a little more straightforward response. “Literature. Well, Russian literature.”

“Please, tell me it’s not realism,” you say with a sigh. When your husband shrugs with a nonchalant smile, you roll your eyes at him. “Spence, she’s eight.”

“It’s Gogol’s Overcoat. Just a short story, but she loves it.” To confirm her father’s statement, Lyla begins to nod with a happy smile on her face.

Nodding, you squeeze Spencer’s hand twice, then drop it to stand up. ”Well, while you two bookworms are reading here, Mom will go and have a nice, long bath now. Knowing you, young lady, we’ll have another fight about bedtime anyway.” Before you leave, you lean down and blow a kiss to them. “Love you both.”

[wendichester]

⋆.ೃ🪩*• comfort zone,

summary. you find sam at a standford party

pairing. sam winchester x reader

wordcount. 790.

The party was a cacophony of thumping bass, too-loud laughter, and the occasional sound of something breaking in another room. Sam Winchester, standing awkwardly near the kitchen, wondered for the hundredth time why he let his roommate talk him into coming. This wasn’t his scene—had never been his scene—but apparently, “bonding” meant standing shoulder-to-shoulder with strangers in a sweaty house.

He sighed, his gaze drifting to the patio doors. The faint glow of the pool lights called to him, a welcome reprieve from the chaos inside. Grabbing a drink from the counter—more for something to hold than to actually drink—he made his way outside, hoping to avoid any more forced small talk.

That’s when he saw you.

You were sitting on the edge of the pool, your legs dangling in the water, the ripples catching the soft light and reflecting it back on your face. A red solo cup was balanced in your hands, but your posture screamed disinterest. You weren’t talking to anyone, your focus on the water instead of the lively groups scattered around the patio.

For a moment, Sam hesitated. He didn’t want to intrude. But something about the way you seemed as out of place as he felt compelled him forward.

"Mind if I join you?" he asked, his deep voice cutting through the quiet hum of the pool filter.

You looked up, startled at first, but then your expression softened. "Sure," you said, shifting slightly to give him room. "As long as you don’t splash me."

Sam chuckled, sitting down a careful distance from you. "I’ll try to restrain myself."

The silence between you was companionable, the muffled sounds of the party fading into the background. Finally, you broke it.

"Not your kind of party either?"

He shook his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Not really. Too many people, too much noise. What about you?"

"My roommate dragged me here," you admitted, rolling your eyes. "Said I needed to ‘get out of my comfort zone.’” You used air quotes, a wry smile curving your lips.

Sam laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Sounds familiar. My roommate said the same thing. He thinks I’m too much of a shut-in."

"Well," you said, glancing back at the house, "I’d say we both technically fulfilled our social obligations by showing up."

You laughed softly, the sound wrapping around him and easing the tension in his shoulders. From there, the conversation flowed naturally. You talked about your classes, shared complaints about professors, and swapped favorite late-night study spots. Sam found himself relaxing more than he had in weeks, drawn in by your easy humor and the way your eyes lit up when you spoke about something you were passionate about.

As the night stretched on, the cool air made the hairs on your arms stand up. You shivered, but before you could even comment on it, Sam was already shrugging out of his sweater.

“Here,” he said, holding it out to you.

You blinked, surprised. “You don’t have to—”

“You’re cold,” he interrupted gently. “Take it.”

You hesitated but relented, slipping it over your head. The fabric was warm and soft, and it smelled faintly of Sam—woodsy and clean. “Thanks,” you murmured, tugging the sleeves over your hands.

He gave a lopsided smile. “Looks better on you anyway.”

Conversation kept flowing and by the time you notice, it's almost 3 am. You stand up, stretching and yawning, Sam feeling a pang of disappointment.

"I should head out," you said reluctantly, glancing at your phone. "Got an early morning tomorrow."

"Yeah, of course," Sam said quickly, standing as well. But he couldn’t let you leave without saying something—without ensuring this wasn’t the last time he saw you.

"Wait," he blurted, his cheeks flushing as he stepped forward. "Can I… Can I get your number? Only if you want, I mean. No pressure."

You paused, a smile tugging at your lips as you rummaged through your bag for a pen. Gently, you took his hand, your touch sending a thrill through him as you carefully scrawled your number across his palm.

"There," you said, stepping back with a playful grin. "Don’t lose it."

Sam stared at his hand like it was some kind of treasure, his heart pounding. "I won’t,"

As you walked away, you glanced over your shoulder, catching his gaze one last time before disappearing through the patio doors.

Sam stayed rooted to the spot, the night air cool against his skin, the faint scent of chlorine lingering in the air. For the first time in a long while, he felt something light and hopeful stir in his chest. He didn’t know when he’d call, but one thing was certain: he wasn’t letting you slip away.

want be part of the taglist.ᐣ ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ⋆ @deans-daydream ⋆ @ariasong11 ⋆ @ambiguous-avery ⋆ @itsdearapril

[codiinsight]

Champions Of Her Heart | L.Bronze x O.Batlle

Summary: Lucy leaves Barcelona before Ona can admit she's in love with the English girl. What happens when both girls meet again in the Champions League final.

A/N: Requests open, 4.8K words

The pitch stretched endlessly before Ona Batlle, a sea of green bordered by roaring fans draped in Barcelona and Chelsea colours. Every warm-up sprint felt heavier than usual; every practised pass was a little slower. She was in the biggest match of her life, and yet her mind wasn’t on the game. It was on her.

Lucy Bronze.

Ona’s gaze darted across the field, her heart betraying her as it sought out the unmistakable figure in Chelsea’s neon away kit. Lucy moved with grace, her every movement sharp, deliberate, and powerful. She hadn’t changed—not in her stride or quiet confidence. It was infuriating.

“Focus,” Ona muttered to herself, forcing her eyes back to her own team. The pressure of the Champions League final was enough without her letting old, unresolved feelings cloud her judgment. But even as she tried to shake the thoughts away, Lucy’s laugh—low and effortless—floated across the field, teasing her resolve.

22 months had passed since Lucy left Barcelona, 22 months since Ona had watched her walk away, taking a piece of Ona’s heart with her. She’d wanted to say something then, to stop her, to admit the truth she had been too scared to face. But she hadn’t. And now, here they were—not friends or teammates, but enemies in a match that demanded nothing less than perfection.

“Ona,” Alexia’s voice broke her thoughts, the captain’s steady presence grounding her. “Are you with us?”

“Yes,” Ona replied quickly, adjusting her shin pads as if the superstitious ritual would somehow refocus her mind. Alexia remained silent, but her eyes spoke volumes.

Ona was distracted. And distraction in a game like this could be deadly.

————-

June 17th.  2024, One day after Barcelona’s final match day of the season.

The Joan Gamper training ground hummed with a quiet energy. A mix of routine and recovery drills echoed in the background as the weight of Lucy Bronze’s departure hung in the air.

Moving from teammate to teammate, Lucy shared hugs, laughs, and casual promises to stay in touch. Each is filled with the weight of unspoken emotion. The sun dipped lower in the sky, painting the field in warm golds and long shadows. From afar, Ona Batlle stood with her arms crossed firmly over her chest.

Lucy’s departure wasn’t a surprise—well, not anymore. The headlines had splashed across every sports site in the last week, announcing her move to Chelsea. When Ona first read the news she stared at her phone in disbelief, hoping and praying it was a mistake.

But the unexpected confirmation came swiftly.

Lucia Roberta Tough Bronze was leaving sunny Barcelona for Chelsea.

The last Ona had heard, Lucy was extending her contract with Barca. So the fact that Lucy hadn't told her before it was announced to the public gnawed at Ona, leaving a dull ache in her stomach.

As Lucy embraced their Captain, Alexia Putellas, the sound of her carefree laugh only sharpened the ache in Ona’s chest. She wasn’t truly angry, not entirely—but the sting of disappointment was undeniable, raw, and lingering. Lucy had been her rock, her mentor, the steady hand guiding her through the chaos of football and fame. Yet, in this pivotal moment, Ona had been sidelined, finding out about Lucy’s decision as though she were nothing more than a bystander.

When Lucy’s gaze finally turned to Ona, she froze, suddenly unsure what to say. Lucy’s expression softened, and a small, almost apologetic smile graced her lips as she closed the distance between them. For a moment, Ona considered walking away, but her feet stayed rooted.

“Ona,” Lucy said gently, her voice warm, familiar, and far too casual for the moment. “I was waiting for you to come over.”

Ona blinked, her throat tightening. She opened her mouth to reply, but the words tangled and twisted before they could form. Instead, something quiet, almost instinctive, slipped out: “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Lucy frowned slightly, leaning closer as if she hadn’t heard. “What was that?”

Ona dropped her gaze, feeling her cheeks flush. Her voice sank to a near whisper, barely audible even to herself. “You didn’t tell me. I wanted you to tell me. Before everyone else.”

Lucy’s brow furrowed, the initial confusion contorting to realisation. “I…” she began, but whatever explanation she had planned dissolved into the space between them. Instead, she reached out, pulling Ona into a tight embrace.

The warmth of Lucy’s arms around her was both comforting and unbearable. Ona’s hands hovered awkwardly at first, but instinct took over, and she clung to Lucy as if she could stop her from leaving.

“You’ll be fine,” Lucy said softly, her words meant to reassure. “Take care of this place for me, okay? Make sure Capi doesn’t make Mapi run too many laps” Her hand lingered on Ona’s shoulder, a gesture that felt far too final.

Ona wanted to say something, anything to stop her, make her stay, and admit what she had been too scared to voice before. But the words lodged in her throat as Lucy stepped back, her gaze filled with a mix of fondness and regret.

Lucy turned, walking toward the locker room for the last time, her figure fading into the golden light. Ona stood there, rooted to the ground, watching her leave. And for the first time in years, she felt utterly alone.

She stayed there long after Lucy disappeared. The muted sounds of her teammates continued around her, but it felt distant, like background noise in a dream. The weight of the moment pressed on her chest, a heavy reminder of all the things she hadn’t said.

She ran a hand through her hair, trying to shake off the overwhelming urge to cry. This wasn’t how she had imagined things. When the rumours about Lucy’s transfer started circulating, Ona had brushed them off as mild gossip. Lucy belonged here, at Barcelona, with her. The thought of Lucy leaving had always seemed impossible—until it wasn’t.

“Ona, ¿estás bien?” a voice called out from nearby. It was Alexia, jogging over with a concerned look. “You’ve been standing there for a while.”

Ona forced a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she lied, brushing invisible dirt off her training shorts. “Just thinking.”

Alexia studied her for a moment, her eyes clearly seeing through the facade, but she didn’t press. Instead, she slung an arm around Ona’s shoulder. “Vamos, let’s go home”.

Ona let herself be guided back to the rest of the team, her movements automatic. But her mind stayed elsewhere, replaying Lucy’s goodbye repeatedly and with it, the ache of words left unsaid.

————-

Thursday 21st May 2026 (matchday -1)

The hotel lobby was dimly lit, the hum of soft jazz music playing over the speakers. Ona had just come from a final team meeting, her mind buzzing with strategies and set pieces for tomorrow’s Champions League final. The stakes were high, the tension even higher, but none of it compared to the jolt that shot through her when she saw Lucy standing by the reception desk.

Lucy’s back was to her, her familiar silhouette unmistakable even after all these months. She was dressed casually, in a hoodie and track pants, her posture relaxed as she chatted with the receptionist. Ona’s heart skipped, her pulse quickening.

She hesitated, silently debating whether or not she should leave before Lucy noticed her. Unfortunately, the decision was taken out of her hands as Lucy turned, her eyes meeting Ona's almost instantly.

A brief flicker of surprise on Lucy’s face was quickly replaced by a soft smile. “Ona,” she said, her voice carrying across the room.

Ona swallowed hard, her feet moving toward Lucy before her brain had a chance to protest. “Hola,” she managed, her voice quieter than she intended. “I mean. Uh.. hi” she coughed softly.

For a moment, they just stood there, awkwardly searching for the right words. The last time they had seen each other, Lucy had been walking away, and Ona had been too afraid to stop her. Now, here they were, brought together by chance—or maybe by fate.

“You look good,” Lucy said finally, breaking the silence.

“Gracias,” Ona replied, shifting to her feet. “You too.”

The conversation felt awkward and unnatural as if the months of distance had built a wall between them that neither knew how to climb. Ona wanted to ask so many things—how Lucy had been, if she was happy at Chelsea, and if she had ever thought about what she left behind—but all she could manage was, “How’s Chelsea treating you?”

Lucy gave a small shrug. “Good. Different, but good.” She paused, her eyes flicking over Ona’s face. “And you? How’s Barça?”

“Same,” Ona said, her tone clipped. She wasn’t sure why the conversation felt so forced.

Another beat of silence passed, heavy and loaded. Lucy cleared her throat. “Well, I guess I’ll see you out there tomorrow,”

“Yeah,” Ona said, her voice almost a whisper. “See you out there.”

As Lucy turned and walked away, Ona’s chest tightened. It felt like their goodbye all over again—unfinished, unresolved. And yet, deep down, Ona knew tomorrow wasn’t just about the game. It was about Lucy. About the chance to finally say everything she couldn’t before.

————-

The stadium hummed with anticipation as fans flooded the stands, their chants echoing across the pitch. The Champions League final between Barcelona and Chelsea was set to be a clash of titans, but for Ona Batlle, a storm was brewing inside her chest. She stood on the pitch during the pre-match inspection, the watered grass dampening her trainers, her gaze scanning the familiar faces of her teammates.

And then she saw her.

Lucy Bronze. Lucy stood on the opposite side of the pitch, laughing at something one of her Chelsea teammates had said. Even in the midst of a team huddle, Lucy’s presence seemed larger than life, magnetic in a way that Ona couldn’t ignore. Her carefree movements, the way she threw her head back in laughter—it all made Ona’s heartache with an intensity she wasn’t prepared for.

As the two teams drifted closer, mingling briefly in the spirit of sportsmanship, Lucy’s gaze found Ona’s. It was only a second, but the look was loaded, carrying the weight of their history.

“Lucia!” Alexia called, pulling Lucy into a quick hug. One by one, other Barcelona players greeted their former teammate with smiles and light-hearted jabs about her “traitorous” move to Chelsea. Ona stayed at the edges of the group, torn between approaching and staying invisible.

But Lucy noticed her anyway.

“Ona,” Lucy said, her tone soft as she broke away from the others. “Hey.”

“Hi.” The word came out too quick, too stiff.

Lucy’s brow furrowed slightly as if sensing the awkwardness. “You ready for this?”

Ona shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Always.”

There was a pause, the noise of the other players fading into the background. For a brief moment, it was just the two of them standing in the middle of the field, the enormity of the game overshadowed by the unspoken tension between them.

“You’ve been playing well this season,” Lucy said, her voice laced with genuine happiness.

“Thanks.” Ona hesitated, then added, “So have you.”

Lucy smiled; it was the kind of smile that made Ona’s stomach flutter and her confidence shatter. “I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

Ona bit her lip, debating whether to say what was on her mind. But before she could muster the courage, the moment was interrupted by a call from Lucy’s coach, Sonia Bompastor.

“Guess we’ll finish this on the pitch,” Lucy winked, her tone lighter now.

Ona nodded, her throat tight as she watched Lucy jog away. This wasn’t just a game anymore. It hadn’t been the moment she saw Lucy in the hotel lobby.

————-

The match was everything the fans had hoped for—intense, aggressive, and impossibly tight. Both teams were evenly matched, and every touch of the ball felt like a battle.

Ona had spent most of the game locked in focus, shutting out everything except the play unfolding around her. But when Lucy came barrelling down the right flank, the ball at her feet, Ona felt her stomach tighten. She had watched this play countless of times in training and studied Lucy’s every move. But knowing what made Lucy tick didn’t make her any less dangerous.

As Lucy advanced, Ona made her move, stepping in to block her path. But Lucy was quicker, her body driving forward with an unrelenting force. The tackle came harder than necessary, sending Ona sprawling to the ground.

Pain flared up her side, spreading like wildfire as the impact angered the small Spaniard. For a moment, she remained motionless, her mind struggling to catch up with the shock.

When she pushed herself up, Lucy was standing over her, her breathing heavy, a flicker of concern in her eyes. But Ona’s frustration boiled over and before Lucy could say anything.

“¡Eres una idiota! ¿Qué te pasa?” Ona snapped, the words sharp and cutting.

Lucy blinked, momentarily taken aback. “Ona, I—”

“No, me hables,” Ona interrupted, her voice low but seething as she climbed to her feet. She brushed off the dirt on her kit, glaring at Lucy as if daring her to respond.

Lucy hesitated, her jaw tightening. “It’s a game, Ona,” she said finally, her tone defensive but laced with something else: guilt, maybe.

Ona’s glare didn’t change. “Sí, pero necesitas calmarte,” she spat before turning on her heel and jogging back into position.

Lucy stayed rooted for a moment, watching her go. The frustration between them crackled like a live wire, but there was no time to resolve it—not now. The game was still on, and the stakes were too high to let personal feelings take over.

———-

The scoreboard read 2-2, the match teetering on a knife’s edge as the final minutes ticked away. Both teams pushed with everything they had left, bodies flying, boots colliding, the intensity electrified the stadium.

Ona sprinted down the left flank, chasing a long ball that skidded across the grass. Her legs burned, and her lungs begged for air, but she didn’t let up. She couldn’t. This was her moment—a chance to tip the game in Barcelona’s favour.

But as always, Lucy Bronze was there. Ona had barely taken two touches when Lucy closed the gap, her presence looming like a shadow.

Ona tried to cut inside, but Lucy anticipated it, stepping in with precision. The two collided again, this time with even more force. Lucy’s tackle was clean but aggressive, and Ona hit the turf hard.

This time, the frustration that had been simmering since the last tackle boiled over. Ona scrambled to her feet, shoving Lucy back with both hands.

“¡No vuelvas a tocarme así!” Ona shouted, her spanish cutting through the noise of the crowd. Her chest heaved, eyes blazing with anger.

Lucy stood her ground, her jaw clenched, a flicker of defiance in her eyes. “It’s football, Ona,” she shot back, her tone sharp. “What do you want me to do? Let you score?”

“¡No necesito tu permiso para ganar!” Ona snapped, her words fiery and unrestrained. Her accent thickened with her rage, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people on the pitch.

The referee was quick to intervene, stepping between them with a sharp whistle and a warning glance. The crowd roared in anticipation of a yellow card, but the referee kept the cards in her pocket, urging them to keep playing.

As they moved back into position, Lucy leaned closer, her voice low so only Ona could hear. “I’m not your enemy, Ona.”

Ona shot her a withering glare, her voice just as quiet but seething. “You left, Lucy. What does that make you?”

Before Lucy could respond, the game resumed, forcing them both back into the fray. But the tension between them was far from over.

The match pressed on with relentless energy, both teams desperate to break the deadlock. Lucy and Ona seemed drawn to each other like magnets, with every play pulling them into another clash and every collision sparking unspoken tension.

Midfield chaos erupted as Aitana Bonmatí darted through Chelsea’s lines, her footwork impeccable. Just as she prepared to deliver a decisive pass, she was caught from behind by a mistimed tackle. The crowd gasped collectively as Aitana crumpled to the ground, clutching her ankle.

The referee’s whistle blared, and players from both teams rushed to her side. Medical staff hurried onto the field, creating a circle around Aitana as murmurs of worry spread through the stands.

Ona hovered nearby, her heart in her throat. Aitana was one of their strongest players, a leader on and off the pitch. If she couldn’t continue, Barcelona’s chances would take a severe hit.

Lucy stood on the edge of the group, her face tight with concern. Despite the rivalry between their teams, her respect for Aitana was clear. But as the medics worked, her eyes found Ona.

It was a quiet moment in the chaos. The shouts of coaches and the buzz of the crowd felt distant as Lucy stepped closer.

“Ona,” she said softly, her voice carrying despite the noise.

Ona didn’t turn, her gaze fixed on Aitana. “What?” she muttered, her tone clipped.

Lucy hesitated, then took another step, her voice lowering. “I never meant to hurt you. You know that, right?”

Ona stiffened, her hands balling into fists. “Why now, Lucy? Why say this now?”

“Because I didn’t have the courage before,” Lucy admitted, her voice unsteady. “Leaving Barcelona was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. And I didn’t tell you because… I was scared.”

Ona finally looked at her, her expression a mix of disbelief and anger. “Scared of what?”

Lucy’s gaze dropped for a moment, the vulnerability in her eyes unmistakable. “Of staying. Of what that would mean—for me, for us. It was easier to run.”

Ona’s breath caught, her mind racing. The confession felt like a crack in the armour Lucy always wore, but it wasn’t enough to erase the hurt. “You didn’t even give me a chance,” Ona whispered, her voice trembling. “I—”

But before she could finish, the referee signalled for the game to resume. Aitana was being helped off the field, her injury serious enough to force a substitution.

Ona and Lucy stood frozen for a moment longer, the world moving around them. Finally, Ona shook her head, stepping back. “We’re not finished,” she said quietly, her voice resolute.

Lucy nodded, her jaw tightening. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

And with that, they returned to their positions, the weight of their unfinished conversation hanging in the air as the game surged forward.

Extra time loomed on the horizon. Every touch on the ball, every run, every tackle carried the weight of a Champions League final.

Ona Batlle’s legs burned as she tracked Lucy Bronze down the right flank, her breath coming in short, sharp bursts. Chelsea had just gained possession, and Lucy was charging forward with relentless determination, the ball glued to her feet.

Ona didn’t hesitate. She surged forward, her timing impeccable as she slid in for a clean tackle, sending the ball spinning out of bounds. The crowd erupted, but neither player celebrated. Lucy rose first, offering Ona a quick glance, something between respect and acknowledgement flickering in her eyes. Ona ignored it, her focus unyielding.

With 10 minutes left in regular time, Chelsea launched a desperate attack. Lucy pushed higher up the field, her eyes scanning for an opening. When the ball came to her, her touch was perfect, setting her up for a long-range strike. But Ona was there again, darting in to close the space.

This time, the collision was harder. Lucy’s momentum carried her forward, tangling her legs with Ona’s. Both went down with a thud, the impact drawing gasps from the crowd and groans from the players on the pitch.

Ona winced as she hit the turf, her arms bracing her fall. Lucy was beside her, her chest heaving, her face etched with frustration and something deeper—something only Ona could see.

The referee blew her whistle, signalling a free kick for Barcelona. Lucy sat up, running a hand through her damp hair, clearly annoyed but not arguing the decision.

As Ona pushed herself up, she couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at her lips. “That the best you’ve got?” she said, her voice low, her Spanish accent thick.

Lucy let out a short laugh, shaking her head. “You’ve always been impossible,” she muttered, though there was no malice in her tone.

“Someone has to keep you in check,” Ona shot back, her expression softening despite herself.

Before Lucy could respond, the referee’s sharp whistle urged them back into position. The brief exchange hung between them like a truce, unspoken but undeniable.

———-

With less than a minute on the clock, it was Barcelona’s turn to make a desperate push. Ona sprinted down the left flank, her eyes on the ball as Alexia threaded a perfect pass into her path. The Chelsea defence scrambled to close the gap, but Ona was too quick, cutting inside the box.

Lucy was there.

The moment felt inevitable, their paths colliding one final time. Ona made a last-ditch effort to cross the ball, but Lucy’s challenge came fast and hard. The two went down together, the ball ricocheting off Lucy’s foot and into the net.

The stadium erupted around her, a deafening wave of sound crashed around her, but all Ona could hear was the sharp beating of her heart.

Colours of blue and red filled her eyes as her teammates came rushing towards her, but her eyes weren’t on them.

Her eyes reached Lucy’s, devastation of the own goal clear on her face. Her hands rested on her head as she tried to regulate her breathing. Their stare lasted for a second, a small underlining tone of acknowledgment.

Ona felt a swirl of emotion reach her chest as the small Spaniard jumps to her feet, her teammates crashing into her with their arms wide. Smiles stretched across their faces, their cheers drowning out the small twinge of sadness for Lucy in her heart. This was more than a game- it always had been.

———-

The whistle blew, signalling full time.

The roar of the crowd was deafening as the Barcelona players erupted into celebration, their elation palpable as they embraced, collapsed onto the pitch and raised their arms to the heavens.

Ona Batlle stood amidst the chaos, her heart pounding for reasons unrelated to the game. The weight of the match began to lift, replaced by the lingering tension from her encounters with Lucy.

Lucy stood at the edge of the pitch, watching the estatic Barcelona players with a disappointed expression. Her teammates consoled each other, pats on the back and murmured words of encouragement passing between them. Lucy accepted them with a nod but quickly slipped away from the crowd.

Ona saw her retreat, the familiar figure moving toward the quiet of the tunnel. Her body moved before her mind caught up, her boots crunching against the turf as she followed.

She found Lucy leaning against the cool concrete wall, her head tilted back, her eyes closed as she took deep breaths. Ona hesitated, the noise from the stadium fading behind her, leaving only the thundering rhythm of her own heartbeat.

“You always disappear when it gets hard,” Ona said, her voice steady despite the swirl of emotions inside her.

Lucy’s eyes snapped open, her expression guarded. “What are you doing here?”

“Looking for you,” Ona admitted, stepping closer. “Because I can’t let it end like this.”

Lucy straightened, crossing her arms over her chest. “End like what?”

“Like we’re strangers,” Ona said, the words tumbling out before she could stop them. “Like there’s nothing between us when there’s… everything.”

Lucy’s shoulders sagged slightly, her defences cracking. “Ona…”

“Let me finish,” Ona interrupted, her voice firm but soft. “I’ve spent the last twenty two months wondering why you didn’t tell me you were leaving. Why you didn’t give me the chance to say anything.”

Lucy sighed, her gaze dropping to the ground. “I told you—I was scared.”

“You’ve said that,” Ona said, stepping even closer now, her tone gentler. “But what were you scared of? Because I’m standing here now, Lucy. I’m not running.”

The vulnerability in her words cut through Lucy’s armour, her jaw tightening as she fought to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to break free. “I was scared of how much I felt for you,” she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Scared that if I stayed, I’d mess it all up. That I’d lose you completely.”

Ona’s breath caught, the truth settling between them like a fragile glass waiting to shatter. “You almost lost me anyway,” she admitted, her voice trembling.

Lucy looked up, her eyes locking onto Ona’s. “I know. And it’s my fault. But I’m here now, Ona. If you’ll let me be.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and raw. Ona hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer, her fingers brushing against Lucy’s. “Don’t run again,” she whispered.

Lucy shook her head, a small, bittersweet smile tugging at her lips. “Not from you. Never again.”

And then, in the quiet of the empty tunnel, away from the noise and chaos of the world, Ona reached for Lucy, pulling her into an embrace that spoke of forgiveness, longing, and a promise for what was to come.

_____

A few months had passed since the Champions League final, and with the season over, the weight of the world seemed lighter. Barcelona had won the trophy, and Lucy and Ona spent that summer reflecting on everything—their careers, their emotions, and the unspoken connection that had finally been brought into the light.

Now, they found themselves on a quiet beach, far from the flashing cameras and the pressure of the pitch. The gentle sound of waves crashing against the shore filled the air as they sat side by side, their toes buried in the warm sand. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, and for the first time in a long while, neither of the girls felt the weight of the world on their shoulders.

Lucy glanced over at Ona, her lips curving into a small smile. It had been a long time since she’d felt this at peace.

Ona, her sunglasses perched atop her head, looked back at Lucy, her expression soft. “Can you believe this is our reality now?” she asked quietly, her voice carrying just enough to be heard over the waves.

Lucy shook her head, letting out a slow breath. “No. It’s been… a whirlwind.”

They sat in comfortable silence, fingers intertwined as the air between them was thick with unspoken understanding. The tension of their previous encounters, the questions and fears that had loomed over them, now felt like distant memories, fading with each passing day they spent together.

“I never thought I’d be here with you.”

Ona turned her head, raising an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”

“Because I didn’t know if I’d ever have the courage to actually be with you,” Lucy admitted, her voice quieter now, almost as if she were afraid to disturb the moment. “I was so caught up in the fear of losing everything... I almost let it slip away.”

Ona reached out, her hand gently brushing against Lucy’s. “You didn’t. We didn’t.”

Lucy’s heart skipped a beat at the touch, and she met Ona’s gaze. “You really meant it, didn’t you? When you said, we’re not finished.”

Ona smiled softly, her eyes shining with affection. “Yeah. I did.”

The connection between them was undeniable. In the peacefulness of this vacation, surrounded only by the vast ocean and the sky above, their bond had become something real, something worth fighting for.

Lucy reached out, her fingers threading through Ona’s hair. “You know,” she said with a smirk, “I think I’m starting to get the hang of this.”

Ona chuckled, her heart lighter than it had been in ages. “Starting to, huh?”

Lucy shrugged playfully. “Hey, one step at a time.”

“Just don’t run off again,” Ona teased, her voice full of affection.

Lucy’s smile softened. “Never again.”

They sat there for a moment longer, the sun sinking lower in the sky, the world slowing down around them. For the first time in months, there were no games to play, no expectations to meet—only the feeling of each other’s presence, grounding them both.

Then, as the sun finally dipped beneath the horizon, Lucy leaned in, her lips brushing softly against Ona’s.

The kiss was slow and tender—a promise in the quiet night. When they pulled away, Ona spoke first, her voice barely above a whisper.

“This is it, isn’t it?”

Lucy smiled, her eyes full of warmth. “This is it.”

They leaned back against each other, the cool breeze from the ocean wrapping around them like a blanket. There was no more uncertainty, no more fear. They had each other, and that was enough.

[heeseungiez]

nothing i don’t have | pjs

part 5: like the old times

pairings! park jongseong x reader, ft. huening kai x reader

summary! it was supposed to be simple, you and jay would fuck whenever either of you felt horny — no feelings. but it was hard not to catch feelings where park jongseong was involved. so you took the easy way out: you ended it.

genre! texts, written fic, college au, love triangle (corner)

content warnings! written part (500+ words)

author's note! very late very short update but i'm swamped with uni and work and group orders </3 failed english syntax, fell from the stairs and i have 5 more exams next week, idk what i'll do (probably play love and deepspace)

previous | masterlist | next

You really wanted to have Heeseung’s legendary Shin Ramyun.

But you couldn’t, in good conscience, leave Kai to fend for himself at a party. Your heart wanted to take you to Jay’s apartment, but your head reasoned that it was better this way. Were you even ready to be around Jay like this? In a setting different than band practice or lectures?

Like a total weirdo, you sat outside of Yeonjun’s house on the porch by yourself. Did that mean you left Kai on his own inside the house though? Not at all. Because realistically, Yeonjun was a good friend of his, and they were close enough for him to have gone alone. But he wanted you with him. 

You should be touched, right? Kai invited you to a party — to go there with him. As his girlfriend. Something Jay had never and would never do with the type of relationship the two of you had. But still, you’d rather be with Jay and his friends right now, and it made you feel terrible toward Kai.

He was trying so hard to make you forget Jay. And you adored him. You cared about him. So much. Yet everything between the two of you felt so… friendly. Kai hadn’t even initiated anything with you yet, and you’d been together long enough, right? More than a month was enough, surely.

You sighed and ran a hand over your face as you stared at your notifications. Jay’s messages to you were displayed on the screen, changing from worry to disappointment. You couldn’t bring yourself to reply to him. The idea of explaining yourself terrified you. Because not telling the truth was much easier than lying. 

A pair of hands sneaked around your waist. You let out a scream as strong arms lifted you up on your feet, and as you were turned around, Kai put a hand over your mouth to silence you, wide-eyed. 

“Please, don’t scream. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said helplessly, taking his hand away once you were calm and not convinced you were being kidnapped. 

“Kai,” you breathed out, burying your head in his chest while trying to slow down your beating heart. He scared the fuck out of you. 

He wrapped his arms around you again, rubbing circles on your back. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean to do that. Are you mad at me?”

“No, of course, not.” You shook your head, reciprocating his embrace. “But don’t do that again.”

“I won’t.” He kissed the top of your head. “You’re not having fun, are you?” he asked, and another question was on top of his tongue, but he swallowed it because the last thing he wanted to do was bring up Jay. Though as far as Kai was aware, you always seemed to enjoy parties whenever he was around. 

“I just have a lot on my mind,” you said. “I don’t know—”

“If you want, Taehyun isn’t at the dorm right now,” Kai proposed randomly, and you looked up at him in surprise. “We could go there?”

“You want to go to your dorms? Just the two of us?”

“Unless you don’t want to? I mean, I just thought… since we’re officially boyfriend and girlfriend now…” Kai scratches the back of his head nervously before shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. 

You smile. “No, actually, I’d love to,” you replied.

permanent tag list: @moonpri @addictedtohobi

nothing i don’t have tag list: @samsayssam @sillydallyz @semisemirin1i82 @mora134340 @bananna-12 @lonelylandofan @fakeuwus @tkooooop @en-chantedtomeetyou

[hb-writes]

The Storyteller

Summary: Following the family's difficulties with James, Victoria, and Laurent, Mia starts having nightmares. Carlisle gives them both the gift of comfort and familiarity.

Characters: Carlisle Cullen & Mia Cullen (OC)

Twilight (Mia Cullen) Masterlist

Comfy-vember 2024 Masterlist

—

Mia woke tucked into her father’s side while he read, the house around them still and quiet.

“What time is it?” Mia asked as she stretched. The clouded morning light filtered through the windows, and had her father been human it would have been too dim to read without turning on the light on her bedside table. 

“8:13,” Carlisle answered as he finished reading a sentence and glanced at Mia. “You can go back to sleep. Get some more rest.” 

Mia should have been in her homeroom class, but she wasn’t surprised that her parents let her stay home after back to back nights of next to no sleep, her evenings riddled with far too many nightmares and far too little REM. 

“Where’s mom?” she asked, remembering that it had been her mother who she had fallen asleep beside in the first place, Home and Garden Television on in the background as they lounged on the couch.

“At the store…and your siblings are at school,” he continued, knowing that her next inquiry would be after them, her brothers and sisters. 

The hint of a smile tugged at her lips as she imagined who had fought against that particular declaration—Edward, she assumed and maybe Emmett as well, but they didn’t want to raise any flags. The Cullen family missed enough school as it was. No need for them to stay home when the forecast called for rain today and sun later in the week. 

“I thought you had to work today,” she said, because his working a day shift this week had been a topic of conversation. It wasn’t often he did it, but a few times a month when the weather permitted, Carlisle worked at the ER during the day. 

Carlisle took a performative breath. He had hoped his daughter would simply fall asleep. She needed the rest more than she needed the answers to these questions, but it seemed she was intent on staying awake for now as she shifted to sit up in bed. 

“I thought we could spend the day together instead.” 

“Doing what?” 

“This,” he answered. “Resting.” 

Carlisle noted the slight disappointment that clouded over her features. 

“But I’m not tired.” 

Carlisle raised an eyebrow. He knew his daughter was tired, but he also knew she was stubborn. And he knew that alone time was sometimes a novelty for the two of them. A precious gift that they both cherished. Carlisle was rather certain that was the reason why his wife had gone out shopping despite having as full of cupboards as they needed.

“I’m not very tired,” she amended. “I slept.”

“For” —Carlisle glanced at his watch— “three hours, Mia. You need to rest. We both need to.” 

“You aren’t resting,��� she argued, nodding toward the bound pages open in his lap. “You’re reading.” 

“For fun,” Carlisle answered. “For you. It’s a gift.” 

Mia’s eyes narrowed as she looked at the “book” he was holding. It wasn’t a traditional book—neither soft or hardcover—but a hefty pile or 8 x 11 pages bound together with a plastic ring binding. 

She lifted the pages to see the cover. 

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince 

by J.K. Rowling 

FINAL DRAFT - NOT FOR DISTRIBUTION

Mia let out a squeak as she dropped the cover onto her father’s lap. “This isn’t even out yet. How did you—How did you get this?”

Carlisle shrugged. “A friend.” 

The next book in the installment wasn’t expected out for another month or so. Finding an early copy had been a recent endeavor, something he had been working on as a gift for Mia. He had asked around to his contacts, knowing that eventually he would find someone with the proper access or influence to obtain a copy. After the trouble with James, Victoria, and Laurent, and with the stress of the end of the school year, Mia had been stressed. She had been having nightmares for weeks, but they had become more prominent over the last few days. It had been luck more than anything that the manuscript had arrived when it had. 

They had read all of the books together—Carlisle and Mia—and Mia had practically grown up alongside Harry, Ron, and Hermione. 

“How far have you gotten?” she asked. 

“I’ve just finished chapter 6.” 

It wasn’t very far, but it was far enough that Mia knew what her father had been doing—reading ahead so he could tell her the story himself as he had always done with she was little. Mia readjusted suddenly, settling her head against the pillows, and facing her father as she pulled the blankets up over her shoulder. 

“Would you like to hear it?” Carlisle asked. 

Mia nodded as he set the manuscript aside and shifted to turn toward his daughter, the smooth cadence of Carlisle’s voice a comfort as he told her the story from memory. 

Because Carlisle worked overnights, it was usually the others who tended to Mia’s nightmares—Edward and Esme, most often—so it was a rare gift for Carlisle to have this chance. A rare opportunity for them to spend the day together. Carlisle knew a day of rest with a shared book wouldn’t solve all of his daughter’s problems. It wouldn’t make finals any easier or erase the memories of the vampires who had caused their family and Bella so much strife, but he hoped it would help. He hoped the familiar routine and familiar characters would be a comfort for her as much as it was for him.

—

Twilight (Mia Cullen) Masterlist

Comfy-vember 2024 Masterlist

[written-and-readen]

Let Me Hear You

Jiaoqiu x fem!reader

Summary: You have to find a new way to relay your pleasure to him.

Warnings: nsfw (18+), fingering, penetrative sex, cumming inside, post-Wardance (2.5 spoilers kind of)

a/n: It's been a while since I've written for my husband

You’re not sure how much more of this you can take. Jiaoqiu’s loss of sight had made many things in your shared life different. It wasn’t until now that intimacy was one of things you had to figure out anew.

So, here you are completely bare and seated on Jiaoqiu’s lap. Like you, he’s shed all his clothes. His hardened shaft presses into your folds, which would previously have you begging him to put it in already, but you haven’t gotten there quite yet.

Jiaoqiu’s hands are currently roaming the expanse of your body. His touch isn’t as precise as before when he honed in on all your most sensitive spots immediately. Instead, his brows furrow slightly like he’s trying to map it all out in his mind, sloppily trying to reach every inch of you.

You stay patient while he runs his hands up your arms before coming down on your chest. A heat rises to your face as he shamelessly gropes your breasts, cupping them, palming them. It’s only when he pinches your nipple that he elicits a yelp from your mouth. His ear twitches at the noise. You figure he has to be playing with you when he quickly does the same to the other, trying to get the same reaction. Disappointment crosses his face when he doesn’t.

You bite your lip as he continues playing with your perky nipples. He rolls them between his thumb and finger, flicks them, and even takes one into his mouth momentarily. Only once he’s satisfied do his hands slide down your torso. He traces around your waist and hips before settling on your thighs.

Then, the Foxian leans in to begin nipping at your neck. Again, you’re trying desperately to be quiet as his teeth graze soft skin. A surprise push on your thighs accompanied by him reaching a particularly tender spot has you letting out a long moan, your clit dragging against his cock as he grinds you against him. His ear twitches again, flicking against your cheek.

“You know, I would like to hear you more, dear,” Jiaoqiu says.

“What do you mean?” You’d never been particularly vocal in bed, finding the obscene noises embarrassing. Jiaoqiu pushes you against his cock again, making you release another whine.

“How am I supposed to know if I’m doing a good job now that I can’t see?” You figure that’s true, but your face also flushes at the thought of him getting off to your moans. A hand on your cheek brings you back to reality. “You can just talk to me, okay?”

“Okay.” You nod. He goes back to sucking marks around your neck, noticing how you shudder against him.

“How does that feel?”

“G-good.” A slight moan catches at the end of your answer as he takes the opportunity of your mouth being open to move a hand to your clit. You feel his fingers run across your folds, no doubt noticing the juices that are a result of his actions and swiping them up.

“So wet,” He notes, “Care to tell me why that is?” A smile tugs at the edge of his lips. Of course he’s teasing you.

“You’ve been toying with me for the past hour. What else did you expect?” You mumble, but any answer is enough to please him.

“Well, I would hate for all this to go to waste,” He hums before pushing two fingers into your pussy. Your head falls on his shoulder while he scissors them, stretching your walls. “Tell me how that feels, dear.”

“Feels good—Jiaoqiu!” You keen as he hits just the right spot.

“Ah, how I missed you saying my name like that.” You don’t need to look to know how he’s smirking. You feel him speed up, and you shake when you feel your climax approaching.

“Close…I’m close,” You breathe out. At your warning, Jiaoqiu’s thumb presses into your clit, automatically pushing you into orgasm with a long moan. He continues working his fingers in and out as drops of your cum fall onto his cock.

“Good?” He asks with a tilt of his head.

“More than good.” You lean in to give him a quick kiss which he obliges.

“Ready for the next part?” Your eyes travel down to his dick, its tip prodding the entrance of your folds.

“Yeah, I think so.” The push into your pussy makes you think you spoke too soon.

“Such a tight little thing.” It’s Jiaoqiu’s turn to groan as he buries his length inside you. Your walls clench at his words, drawing another noise out of him. You start rocking your hips until Jiaoqiu’s hands begin to guide them up and down.

“How does that feel? Do you enjoy having me fill you up?” You can feel your mind go fuzzy as his cock repeatedly hit deep inside you every time you come back down onto it. Your inhibitions slowly start to fall as whines spill from your lips.

“Y-you’re so deep, Jiao. Keep going, please keep going.” He hums happily, tail swaying on the sheets behind him.

“Care to elaborate?” A touch to your clit has a symphony of moans reaching his twitching ears. He's teasing you. You know he's teasing you, but you don't care. If he wants to know, you'll tell him.

“I love the way your cock hits all the right places. Love how full I feel. I love you, Jiaoqiu. I love you so much.” Your voice slurs amidst the pleasure clouding your thoughts. His hand reaches to cup your face so he can pull you into a kiss, swallowing all your sounds. Your lips move clumsily against each other as he works your clit. Your hands hastily thread through pink hair, tightening at the same time your pussy does when you cum. Jiaoqiu can only follow suit at seeing you come undone around him. A gasp leaves you at the sensation of warm cum against your walls.

Jiaoqiu falls back onto the bed, taking you with him as you both catch your breath. You melt into his chest, twirling some strands of his hair around your finger mindlessly. Arms wrap around your middle, keeping you close.

“You did such a good job,” He murmurs to you, “I love hearing your voice, so grace my ears a little more often.”

[dooberific]

Damn that angst Harumasa oneshot was smth else 😭

Could you perhaps write an alternative happy ending? 💔

❝ 𝘚𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘏𝘰𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸 ➸ 𝘏𝘦𝘳 𝘝𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 ❞

harumasa x afab!reader

genre: hurt w comfort, fluff, you lived bitch 😎

summary: it was supposed to be a routine mission, it's a good thing you are there to help pickup the pieces

wc: 3.2k

this is a hybrid work, the start of new content will be marked with colored text!

There was a ring cut to your size. A thin and silver little band that lacked grandiose ornamentation. Diamonds and frills were never your thing after all, he could still see the little quirk in your lips at the memory of your colleagues rushing in with stones so large you thought them better fit for paperweights than proclamations of their belonging to another under the banner of love and marriage. “Practicality above all else,” you had claimed some months ago, thumbing at the simple band around your index finger. Your late mother’s ring.

He hoped you were the sentimental kind, your voice warbled over the line from the outpost in his ear as he smiled. “I’m just saying to be careful is all.” He asserted, fingers running aimlessly over the silver band resting in his palm. Your initials and his were cut into the inside. 

It was supposed to be your day off, the first you had taken in several months, but when H.A.N.D phoned you that they needed your section of the HSO to assemble for a rescue mission after a Defense Force team had vanished inside of Hollow Zero, well….you didn’t get the luxury of saying no, even if you were the Chief. 

“When am I not careful? Remember which one of us you’re talking to here, Haru.” You chided, the smile on your face so present he could hear it change the lilt of your voice. 

“Right, right, I’m talking to my beautiful, kind, intelligent and all around perfect girlfriend~” Though he hoped that title would be changing very soon, as he held the ring up to the light, the sun filtering through the window of your shared apartment dancing enticingly over its surface. 

You giggled in his ear, the sound warming him to the soul. He could practically see the way the corners of your eyes wrinkled in delight.  “That’s much better.”

The interference in the background of the call amplified, faint callings of your name cutting through the static. You sounded disappointed. “Sorry Haru, I gotta go.”

“It’s okay baby, duty calls. Just try to be home for dinner.”

“Wouldn’t miss a date night for the world, you better not peek in the closet while I’m gone! I want that dress to be a pleasant surprise later.” 

You fell quiet again as you pulled the receiver away from your mouth, yelling a response into the background. “They’re about to have an aneurysm over here,” you huffed. 

“I love you, Haru~”

“I love you too, (y/n)~”

That was a little after noon. It was now nearing midnight and the outpost was crawling with H.A.N.D uniforms and HSO stragglers. Countless outpost scientists shouldered through the crowd, chiming off readings and acting as if they just had a some great scientific breakthrough.

But you were still inside of Hollow Zero.

And H.A.N.D was beginning to withdraw. 

Even flashing his Section 6 badge failed to get him answers despite his insistence, earning little more than the shake of a head and a “this is above your paygrade, kid.”

They threatened to court martial  him if he kept accosting them. But they didn’t have you inside the Hollow like he did. The epitome of his happiness, the one he swore hung the moon and stars, his most constant companion, and the only one he could imagine waking up beside of until the day he expired. 

They didn’t have you, but they had the version of you that made their actions palatable. The “good soldier” and “valiant leader”. The slave to a public that didn’t care to know your name even as you shouldered their burdens as ceaselessly as atlas held the heavens. The one who signed up for a death job.

A chorus of shouts erupted, the flash of the medical units blazing to life under the white spotlights. 

Survivors.

He shouldered his way through the swell of the crowd with little regard for those he pushed aside. In a perfect world he would break from the crowd and see you standing there, a little worse for wear but alive and smiling like you just cheated the world. You would push past the medic teams as they chased you down to throw your arms around his neck, pressing a kiss to his lips as you gloated playfully.

“See? What’d I tell you? Safe and sound.” 

But you weren’t there. A cluster of five soldiers stumbled through the outer bounds of the Hollow—no, those weren’t soldiers, they were members of your faction carrying the torn uniforms of Defense Force operatives. They dripped with blood and grime, corruption marring their skin as they limped out, half-dragging others.

“Hey!” He yelled over the roar of the crowd as he grabbed one of them by the shoulder. His name badge shined under the lights. Kimura.

 “Where’s your chief?”

The man shoved his hand away, “Get off me man!”

He didn’t know where he got the strength as he grappled with Kimura before taking two fistfuls of his collar. “Where’s your fucking Chief? Where’s (y/n)?!” 

Multiple pairs of hands tore at his uniform from behind as they hauled him off, legs kicking as he wrestled against their pull.

“Where is she?”

“She’s stayed behind!” 

Kimura’s face was blank, his eyes distant and foggy as he stared at the ground. There were tears streaming down his face as he drew a ragged breath. “I’ve never seen so many ethereals, we were overran so quickly…Chief (l/n) and Deputy Chief Kato created a diversion to draw them away so we could get out.”

Kimura looked up with red rimmed eyes.

“I am so sorry.”

Hollow Zero had mutated. Or that was the story they were telling everyone now. The sensors at the outpost had registered a dramatic spike in etheric energy about 30 minutes after Section 2 had infiltrated, and by the next 20 the bangboo that accompanied you had stumbled out with fried circuits, the carrot it followed now expired as the interior of the hollow rearranged. 

It was supposed to be a standard recovery operation. You had done them hundreds of times in the past.

“I’m sorry, Asaba. My hands are tied.” The officer said with a shake of his head. “No one’s allowed in unless they are operating with their faction. You’re the only one from Section 6 here.”

He gripped his bow tighter. “Then I suggest you turn around and pretend you didn’t see me.” 

~

It felt like an electric current thrummed under his skin as he breached the Hollow. He didn’t bother to call the proxy or wait for the association to form a new carrot. There was no point, even as desperately as he clung to the idea of you being unharmed, alive, there was still a rotten crawl of doubt in the back of his mind that made the thought of wandering forever as an ethereal within Hollow Zero a more palatable choice than leaving here without you. 

He didn’t know how long he had wandered through the hollow, hair matted to his forehead from sweat as he cleared another broken wall, trying to survey as much of the warped landscape as he could. He doubled over, hands braced against his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He had overextended himself already, his chest constricted tightly as his breathing became shallow, a sharp ringing in his ears. He screwed his eyes shut, focusing on getting his lungs back under control.

In and out.

In and out.

There was a distant cry that met his ears with the sharp and hollow sound of clashing metal, one that twisted his gut in an iron grip as his head shot up.

You.

He didn’t know what he hoped to find when he fumbled over the rubble in your direction. Finding you was the sole focus of his mind for the past few hours, the rush of adrenaline carrying his mind past rational thought.

You. You. You.

It urged his tired legs forward, kept him standing as he rounded the corner and saw the torn back of your uniform jacket fluttering in the etheric breeze. 

You, despite all odds, were still alive.

A Hati screamed as your blade plunged between its armored plating, the etheric shell shattered at your feet as the creature collapsed alongside it, your body pivoting with deadly precision to bring your blade down upon the blazecrawler that leapt into your blindspot before an electrified arrow whistled past your face and knocked it from the sky, it’s body disintegrating before it even hit the ground.

“Haru?”

You looked utterly exhausted, your face smeared with grime and hair matted with sweat, but you’d never looked more alive and perfect than when the veins of acute ether corruption made the healthy pink of your cheeks and lips glow. 

“Haru, what are you doing here?” Your voice cracked, tongue fuzzy in your mouth from dehydration as you limped in his direction, tired eyes blazing with anger. “The ether is too strong, you shouldn’t be--,”

Any ounce of wrath or concern at his lack of prudence died on the tip of your tongue when he swept you up in his arms, face burrowed firmly into the column of your throat. His body trembled unnaturally against you, skin feverish. He clung to you like you were his lifeline, hands fisted into your torn jacket and hair as if he were afraid you would vanish at any moment if he loosened his hold even a fraction. 

His shoulders heaved once, twice before he pushed his face from your neck, hands cupping your dirty cheeks with his own dirt-caked nails. From this close you could see the ether burning under his skin, the fogginess that dimmed his brilliant golden eyes a matte honey as turquoise veins burst within the sclera and seeped into the pupil. His lashes were wet and caked together, face twisted in some hybrid of pain, anguish and relief as he kissed you like you put the very breath in his lungs to do so. Hungry and sloppy, more teeth and whispers of affection burning in millimeters of space seasoned with sweat, tears, and the sharp iron flavor of your split lip nipped and tugged with a tenderness that boiled in the depths of your belly as you cradled his own face in the state of desperation he rendered you in. 

A sharp stink pricked the skin just above his choker, his head snapping back with a hiss as the syringe in your hand clicked with completion. 

“Anti-ether serum,” You reassured, throwing the empty syringe off into the rubble before slipping another from your belt bag and sticking your forearm, lip pinched between your teeth. “Got lucky and found an old H.A.N.D cargo container. It’s old, but it works.”

You tossed it aside, offering him your hand with a smile.

“Let’s get outta here, Haru.”

~

It was a pure stroke of luck that you made it out of the hollow. No bangboo, no carrot, only the whim of walking in one direction and hoping the fissure you happened upon was the way out. The last recovery party stared at you like you had grown a spare head when you came stumbling over the rubble together, your face drawn tight with strain as you muscled the weight of Harumasa, the ether finally having worked him over to the point that his knees gave out and he couldn’t see, his consciousness spotty. How your own body had yet to give in was some blessing of genetics, the roots of corruption seeding deep and black as it began to pierce out through your skin. 

The wet kiss of the morning dew and the blazing of the rising sun warmed your skin despite the electrocharged sensation that left your hands trembling. You watched helplessly as the medical team swept him away from your side, your own strength finally giving out as you crumpled on the concrete before a flurry of hands hoisted you up and onto a stretcher, an oxygen mask forced over your nose. You watched as they shut the door of the ambulance across the way, a flash of dirty orange sneaker soles vanishing behind a thick metal plated door. 

You grabbed the medic nearest your side, his uniform collar bunching at his throat as you pointed and hissed.

“Make sure I’m there with him.”

~

If it was your own physical and mental exhaustion or a pharmacologically induced sleep, you weren’t sure, but the sterile ceiling of a hospital room expanded before your weary eyes like a blanket of snow, the rhythmic beeping of some monitor just out of sight keeping tune with your heartbeat. Your entire body felt stiff and tight, muscles screaming as your fingers twitched into a fist. You rolled your head to the side, staring at the empty bed a few feet away.

The nurses had to restrain you from how wildly you fought, ripping lines from your arms as you pushed yourself upright despite the lancing pain that seemed to ignite every nerve in your body, grappling with them as you demanded to know where he was, how he was, if he was even still alive as hot, angry tears stung at your dry eyes.

You didn’t stop fighting until the bed at your side was filled by a familiar body, albeit worse for wear. You were quite the pair, both looking like absolute shit as tired eyes and pained smiles passed between you. He had about ten more monitors and drips running than you did, his pale face gaunt and covered in a sheen of sweat. But his eyes were clear and dripping with adoration every time he woke up and saw your own scuffed face grinning back at him as if flaunting how you had cheated the world once more with a simple, “Good morning, sleeping beauty” easing past your lips. 

When he weakly reached his hand out to you, you weren’t about to refuse his invitation as you swung your legs out of bed and shuffled like your body had aged 80 years across the few feet that stood between your bed and his. You clasped his chilled fingers, pushing some of the many lines and wires that ran from his body to the side as you readjusted his arm, sliding up in the bed as you cuddled up against him. 

You felt his body relax, hand skimming your back through the thin gown you wore as you pressed your cheek against his chest. His heartbeat was strong under your ear, his lungs expanding and collapsing with a steady rhythm under your splayed fingers. 

“Haru? I don’t want you to dive into a hollow like that after me ever again.” you asserted.

“And I don’t want you going into hollows ever again, period.” Came his cool response, fingers drawing little circles along the curve of your spine. You felt him press a kiss to the crown of your head. “But we don’t always get what we want, so we’ll just have to trust each other to make the best decision, whether the other agrees with it or not.”

You didn’t want to admit that he was right, fearful still of his weakened constitution and the report you received on his care. 

He’s lucky to be alive.

It made you cling to him a little tighter, nestling closer to his side as your eyes screwed shut and you willed yourself to focus on the living, breathing and warm Harumasa and not the weak, confused and fearful one that gripped you with such ferocity even as his senses fled him in the bowels of Hollow Zero.

He played with your fingers for a moment before pressing something warm and circular against the meat of your palm, folding your fingers over it. Your eyes peeked open curiously, head lifting off his chest. 

“What’s this, Haru?” The question tumbled from your lips before you unfurled your fingers, staring at the item nestled in your palm before a harsh breath sucked past your lips.

It was a ring cut to your size. A thin and silver little band that lacked grandiose ornamentation. Diamonds and frills were never your thing after all, he could still see the little quirk in your lips at the memory of your colleagues rushing in with stones so large you thought them better fit for paperweights than proclamations of their belonging to another under the banner of love and marriage. “Practicality above all else,” you had claimed some months ago, thumbing at the simple band around your index finger. Your late mother’s ring.

“I had planned to give it to you somewhere a little more…sentimental than a hospital room, but I’m tired of waiting.” He cupped the back of your opened hand, thumb brushing against your knuckles. 

“I shouldn’t have waited in the first place.” He said with a rueful laugh. “You’re my person after all. Always giving the world your best, always thoughtful and selfless and so, so strong. You’ve never ran from your responsibilities, from yourself, toughing it out all on your own even when you had to shoulder my problems too.”

His thumb pressed over your pulse, his lungs stuttering for a moment as he caught his breath. “You’re everything I’m not. Every strength to my immeasurable weakness. My perfect reminder that the world is worth fighting to be in even when my body begs to give it up. It’s not much, but consider this me begging you to keep being the best half of my existence.”

You rolled the ring between your fingers, tracing the initials carved inside the band before peering up at him from under your lashes.

“In sickness and in health?”

He smiled feebly, his lips chapped and rough against the tender skin of your forehead where he pressed them, a promise whispered quietly into your flesh willed to be shared intimately and only with you.

“In sickness and in health.”

.

.

.

Your favorite coffee cup sat beside the pot in the kitchen, the rim stained pink from your choice lipstick. Your toothbrush sat in the cup beside his, your shampoo in the shower, your shoes by the door. Your picture was perched on the bedside table, your face radiant as your hand rested against his chest, his arm around your waist in front of the New Eridu Janus Quarter courthouse. 

Any more perfect and he would begin to question if soul mates were really determined at birth, given names that matched together like the pieces of a puzzle as beautifully as yours did when you assumed his surname and the title of the only family he ever truly had.

You still glowed, hair tousled and cheeks creased from sleep under the golden light of another morning. You sought out his warmth under the covers, flopping unceremoniously into his chest, your forehead pressed against his sternum as your weight relaxed into his body, sleepy murmurs of “good morning” tickling his skin. 

“What happened to, “good morning my handsome, perfect husband” hmm?” He mused as he threaded his fingers through your own, admiring the matched silver bands snuggly around your ring fingers. 

“ ‘S a mouthful,” You whined, lifting your head as you leaned in and nipped at his lower lip with a lazy, lopsided grin. 

Your eyes blew wide as he flipped you onto your back, trapping you beneath him on the mattress as he straddled your lap. “Well then my beautiful, perfect wife, we’ll just have to work something out then.”

There was a ring cut to your size, and it felt like a perfect adornment on your skin as he drew your hand up and pressed his lips against it with a grin. 

Rey 2025

[mikuni14]

2024

There were a lot of series released in 2024, I don't know if more than in 2023, but it seemed to me that there were a lot of them… because all this year I was aware of how many series I didn't watch while they were being aired. I know it sounds weird, but sometimes I had the impression that the more series were being aired, the less I started them. I didn't start many series because their plots weren't encouraging, I also started many but dropped them because they couldn't keep my attention with their story and characters. I admit with shame that there were also series that I watched with one eye, trying to more or less keep up with the story, while doing something else. My "hate watching" of series that I loved at the beginning and which ended in a completely unsatisfying way was even weirder if I'm being honest. What a strange year...

While trying to remember what I liked last year, it turned out that every time it was a series from 2023, so I finally checked the list of series from 2024 and… well, this year in terms of BL series was poor and weak in my case, especially when I compare it to 2023, when a lot of my favorite series so far came out, when I actually had a problem choosing the best ones, because there were simply so many of them. I also have the impression that a lot of series that came out in 2024 - which, although nice and cute - were a bit... about nothing. And sadly the older I get, the easier it is for me to lose focus and interest, sooo.. this trend is not good for me 😅

2024 was also a year that confirmed how "dangerous" is getting attached and invested to series and praising them before the finale. For example, my summary of 2023 began with me gushing about The Sign, which began then, and it is the biggest disappointment of this year and my personal "grief".

So here's my small summary of the series I watched in 2024 (it turns out that there are not that many of them, I'm such a horrible fan 😭):

Best BL series: Love For Love's Sake (which means that for the last 3 years my best BL series have been produced by Korea 😮). I should also include I Cannot Reach You, because even though the series is from 2023, I only watched it this year

Fun fact: the best series from Thailand this year in my opinion are: Dead Friend Forever and High School Frenemy, and from Japan Oppan, which are hard to call a BL, I think it says something 😀

Couples who had satisfying relationships: High School Frenemy, GreatTyme (4 Minutes), LFLS, I Cannot Reach You, Perfect Propose, JJMethas (TLDHLB), Cosmetic Playlover, Love is a Poison, I Became a Main Role of a BL Drama (both couples), Tan and his revenge (DFF)

Interesting, unique series that pleasantly surprised me with how different they are: Dead Friend Forever, 4 Minutes, Oppan

Series that started out 10/10 and ended up being an absolute disaster and made me the most bitter: The Sign, I Hear The Sunspot

Series that started out well and ended up being meh: Love is Better the Second Time Around, Last Twilight, Living With Him, Jazz for Two

Series with a good potential not fully used (which I still liked): Gray Shelter, Twins, The On1 One which wasted its potential in the finale which could be better imho, apart from that it's a very good series

The craziest series I've watched anyway: Twins

Best fandom experience: DFF (gosh I miss it 💖🥺)

Worst fandom experience: I Hear The Sunspot

New stars✨in my sky: SkyNani, Mio 💖💖💖

My obsessions this year: High School Frenemy, LFLS, DFF

2024 also gave me some problematic blorbos 😌: Way (Pit Babe), Tan (DFF), Great (4 Minutes)

Hot guys 🔥: GreatTyme (4 Minutes), SanVee (Century of Love), SaintShin (HSF)

Characters I think of fondly: all the guys from LFLS, Isumi (Sugar Dog Life), Jiang Tian (The On1y One), Tan (DFF), Shiba Ryoma (Love is a Poison), Ju (Century of Love), Saint (HSF)

Characters I enjoyed watching when they showed their love or when they seduced their crushes: San (Century of Love), Shiba Ryoma (Love is a Poison), Cha Yeo Woon (LFLS), Phum (We Are), Saint (HSF), Great and Tyme (4 Minutes)

Best kiss / hot scene 🔥:

4 Minutes

Century of Love

Love for Love's Sake

Perfect Propose

Unforgettable scenes:

LFLS (all the "fuck yeah I'm gay" scenes 😍)

DFF (my son getting his revenge 💖💖💖)

Cosmetic Playlover ("he's mine")

The Rebound (iykk 🤭)

👵🎧

4 minutes (their scenes were the best tbh)

Jack & Joker (hands hands hands)

Basically every scene from High School Frenemy (✿◠‿◠)

I wish us all the best BL series in 2025 🥳🥳🥳🥳

[itstheendofthegoddamnworld]

Swallowed Whole by The Flame (Messmer the Impaler x Tarnished! Reader) 15

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS | NEXT

Summary: Tarnished and Messer get familiar with one another.

A/N: Happy New Year All! I hope you're all doing well. Lo and behold, I have finally released the NSFW chapter. This will be 18+ so do please read the tags for this chapter.

This chapter is rated S for SUPER FUCKING SPICY🌶️🌶️🌶️ Warnings for this chapter: swearing, handjobs, p in v sex, oral (f & m receiving), cream pies, LOTS of bodily fluids.

A03 link

-

Chapter 15: Yearning

You didn't even remember how you got to the elevator without ripping each other's clothes off, for the serenity of being in Messmer's arms kept you relatively grounded. The ride-up feels like it is going on forever, a race to the upper floors, yet the thrill of being caught by someone seems to make you far too giddy.

The redhead has not stopped kissing you, his claws fingers finding purchase on your hips, dancing along your skin, leaving pinpricks over your exposed skin.

Your heart feels caged in your ribs, and you're aware Messmer must sense your excitement, and hear how fast it races. You're kissing him and sighing happily in his arms, aware that he's growing bolder in his touches, finding the extra time to squeeze skin in areas you didn't think would excite you. You let out an especially loud yelp when you feel something or rather someone grope at your backside, pulling back inches from his face to give him a playful scowl.

Messmer seems enlightened in his administration, but he's gentler this time with you so you don't fidget or squirm from the sensitivity.

With the elevator groaning to a stop, Messmer steps off with you, cradling you as he finds his room from memory.

You dare not overthink things: in realising what is about to take place behind those closed doors. It comes to you as a surprise how far the two of you have come: from sworn enemies to allies, to now, about to share a bed with Marika's firstborn and forgotten son.

The door swings heavy on its hinges, and the two of you go, Messmer taking the time to cast light with candles you must ask him how he does. The room glows with a soft ambience, waiting for what's to come. Messmer shuts the door with you still in his arms, messily throwing his helm to the side as he takes you to his large bed.

Placing you down gently, Messmer waits a heartbeat for you to adjust comfortably on the plush sheets before he joins you, careful in the way he climbs on top of you; his long, strong legs and arms trapping you beneath him.

You shudder from his mere size, exhaling lightheadedly as you take in the redhead. Messmer seems nervous, his golden eye taking you in as if slowly unravelling you with his mind alone to have you undressed.

Taking the hint, your hands dance over your collarbones, over the nightgown that is hiding all from Messmer's gaze, before one of his hands stops you. "Prithee, allow me," he murmurs with tenderness in his tone. You notice the way he is shaking, his hands visible hovering over you and uncertain where to even begin. "Are you..." you begin to ask, but he is already nodding, as if he knows what you are asking.

"Ah, forgive me for mine own lack of experience." He says, his wan skin rouging with colour as he looks away. You gently bring him back, giving him a reassuring smile. "It's alright, we can take it slowly."

Messmer is pleased to know you're not disappointed in his lack of conquests, though you do wonder how someone of Marika's stock, a prince who could have anything he wished for, did not have his fair share of those who wished to lie with him. Perhaps, it distracted him from his true purpose of Marika's ideals.

You jolt suddenly, your thoughts distracted and your mind goes blank when you feel a hand gingerly hold your left ankle, hovering upwards on your thighs. "I wisheth for thee to cometh undone from me first." He confesses earnestly, and it has your chest squeeze from how he wishes for your wants first.

Messmer himself, fears if he dares even look upon your naked form, he will combust.

You allow him to take his time in getting used to this new vulnerability, for you do not doubt that he is simply terrified of opening up to someone else. Obliging, your head lays back onto the pillow, sighing dreamily as he takes his time, loving the way his hands feel as they map over your body.

It is different from what you can remember of Godwyn's touches; his rough hands groped you when you sat in his lap, always needing to touch you in places you didn't wish to be touched. Messmer, however, was softer, touching you like you were fine glass, afraid you'd crack under pressure.

Messmer looks over every curve, scar and dip, from the way your skin glows beneath the candlelight, to the way your body reacts to every little touch. Messmer can feel himself growing excited, not even from seeing your naked form, even whilst his hands explore higher, he takes in every small movement that comes from you. He gauges your reactions, from the way your mouth hangs open slightly, to how you spread yourself a little more for him to get further access to you.

He gropes at your inner thighs, leaving your weeping sex alone for now as he dares not to pull up your nightgown despite how tempting it may be. He is a man of patience, and even he is impressed by how much is holding onto this longing.

"I has't seen many treasures, artefacts and wonders, but none has't did impress me as much as thee doth, mine starlight." His voice comes out hoarse, wetting his lower lip as he continues to inspect you. His hand reaches up, over your hips, along your stomach and hovering lightly over one of your perk breasts.

Your breath hitches, watching him silently, waiting patiently as you can for him to touch you there, only when he does, do you let the sweetest of moans that he's ever heard come from you. His large hand encompasses your breast, the perfect size for him as he massages it through the thin cloth of the shift, feeling the nipple harden beneath his palm. 

Messmer sighs musingly, swapping sides to give the other treatment, feeling you grow more fidgety beneath him the more he touches and gropes. 

He takes note of it, but continues his teasing, enjoying the way you squirm, your body reacting to him just as the way he anticipated. It does a lot to him to hear the way you whine, moan, and whisper his name in the sweetest of songs he's blessed to hear. "Messmer-" you whine, taking hold of the hand at your breast and redirecting him to cradle your face.

Messmer obliges, leaning over you to kiss you softly, enjoying the way his mouth feels against yours, your tongue darting over his bottom lip as he allows entrance. You're more than surprised to feel the long, slender tongue he has, and the way you feel completely consumed by him as the two of you deeply kiss, touching one another with urgency.

Eos and Fos hover above you, inspecting you, though, you do not feel overwhelmed by their presence, rather, acknowledging that they're one with Messmer and they don't make you feel uncomfortable. Eos moves so he's peering over from Messmer's left side, whilst Fos moves closer to you, flicking their tongue towards your salty skin.

Messmer pulls back to allow to give you room, his attention back to you, and with some permission through his facial features and your approval, he slowly raises your gown, giving him a full view of the lower part of your body. 

"Thou art divine." He is at a loss for words, saying your true name in the softest of voices, taken aback by the sight of your puffy lips and slickness, not a singular touch has been given but around it. He leans closer to your sex, inspecting it, leaving you flushed as a finger lightly touches the hood of your clit. You jolt upright, causing the both of you to lightly chuckle; it felt nice for the mood to not be so tense.

Propping himself on his elbows, Messmer gives you one look for final permission, "May I?"

You nod, hair slick to your forehead from the heat of the room to the tension building. With a kiss to your inner thighs, Messmer leans close, experimentally pressing his mouth to your slick folds.

"Oh, Gods." You cry, squeezing the sheets surrounding you, your sex quivering to the delighted sounds of Messmer, groaning from your taste. Messmer the Impaler is eating you out; The demigod who conquered all the land for this mother's name is moaning from your taste, begging for more. 

It is all that is needed for him to delve in, hearing your cries of approval; tugging your lower body closer to him as he begins his conquest. His long arms hooked underneath your thighs, giving extra room to continue to touch both your breasts as he sucked lightly on your folds, switching between that and licking your clit. The pleasure was intense, crying out his name as you clung to what you could.

"Gods! Messmer-"

"-There is nay God here, dearest," Messmer mumbles into your sex, looking up to make fervent eye contact with you before continuing. Your head rolled back to the pillows, trying your best not to squish his head with your thighs as he ate you out like a man starved. It didn't help the noises he made, groaning deeply as he swallowed your essence, drinking it up as if you were the finest of liquids, poured by the divinity.

The winged serpents ended up in between the two of you, tasting the air to the cries of intertwined sounds.

It didn't take long for the pressure to build in your lower stomach, the pressure building and building so quickly, that you didn't have time to catch up. "Fuck, wait, I'm-"

Your moans increased as your orgasm hit you, legs twitching and sex trying to get as much of Messmer's tongue as you came down from your high. Messmer didn't stop from his act, simply bringing you down from your high as he kissed your quivering sex. He pulled away to look up when your orgasm calmed, his mouth and chin were slick with you, but he didn't seem to mind in the slightest.

"Dearest, thy cries art the sweetest." He groans, touching his clothed bulge, desperate to be consumed by you.

It was hard not to notice how big he was, even when he was still fully clothed. You knew it must've been painful, that he needed to feel appreciated too. Propping yourself on your elbows, you reached towards him, taking in his nerves. "Allow me." You mused, placing your over his hand that was on the bulge and slowly replacing it with yours. He tensed, his cock twitched as soon as you made contact and he let out a long hiss. His clothed cock was heavy in your hand, tucked away but begging to be released. Straightening yourself up, you sat close to him on the edge of the large bed, slowly beginning to tug on his outer clothing, begging with your eyes to ask if you were allowed to do so.

Messmer followed, tugging first off his red fiery cloak, kicking off his sandals and greaves until he was left in the chainmail and breechcloth covering his erection. His fiery red locks were dishevelled, his skin flushed with colour as he nervously tucked his arms inwards to make himself look smaller. "I want to make you feel good, Messmer." You purr, stroking slowly over the bulge, watching as Messmer lets out a shaky exhale. Gritting his teeth, he widened his legs for better access, before muttering. "T'is... different."

You realise what he means, but it doesn't stop you. "That's alright." You slowly edge his breechcloth to the side, pulling forth the full length of him out. It sprung forth, and you couldn't help but immediately have a watery mouth. It was long and thick, maybe around eight or nine inches, with a long, thick vein that wrapped around the shaft. The head was weeping with precum, a bulbous head that to you, looked completely normal.

By now, Messmer was a mess, embarrassment had seized his body, his breathing shallow as he watched intently, trying to keep his hands to himself but failing terribly. "Dearest-"

"-You're so beautiful, Messmer." You speak, which earns him to have cheeks that match his hair. Stroking him lightly earned the most delicious of noises to come from the demigod; garbled whines, whimpering of your name and other things that were incoherent. The heat that came from his cock was immense as if you had dunked your hand into a pool of still-cooling lava rocks and they were scolding to the touch. 

"Prithee, I'm already so close. I cannot-" His moans were the prettiest thing: airy and light. Messmer bucked his hips in time to your strokes, crying out as he tried slowing down. "I shall cometh undone."

Eyeing the head curiously, you stepped it up a level. Leaning over his lap, the heat from his cock was almost overwhelming. "Wha- what art-" He did not have time to finish his sentence as you had given the tip of his cock a kiss, before taking the tip into your mouth. Messmer's head fell back, the grip on the sheets nearly ripped them to ribbons, his surprise came out as a whimper. You swirled your tongue over the head, taking in the warmth from his cock and the saltiness of the precum. You hummed lightly, twitching in your mouth in response.

Using your hands for the areas you couldn't reach, you began to take his cock in deeper, almost gagging when you reached halfway down his shaft, stroking the rest with your hands in time. One of Messmer's hands came to your hair, stroking your locks as he didn't put pressure on you to try and deepthroat him. Instead, you took as much as you could, with Messmer gathering your hair and lightly guiding you.

"Fuck." It surprised you how he would curse, the feeling going straight to your core. You carried on despite the pain in your jaw, all to hear his lovely sounds. "Ah, wait, if thee keepeth going, I shalt-!"

He surprised you by just how much he would come. You barely had time to pull away, luckily Messmer foresaw this and pushed you off his cock in time, cum erupting from his cock and shooting up so high, you thought it would hit the ceiling. Messmer came down from his high, his cock bobbing as ropes and ropes of cum came forth, landing on him, on your hands and thighs, narrowly missing your face and hair. You watched in stunned silence as he stilled, letting out a shaky "phew".

"Witchcraft." Messmer is just as stunned as you as you cannot help but erupt into quiet laughter. He was quick to wipe himself off, all the while, his cock still stood stiff, solid as a rod. You leant back down to lie down, hair spraying across the pillow, spreading your legs for him to see your glistening sex. "You may have me, Messmer."

He didn't need to be told twice, removing the rest of his clothing until he was naked as a babe, springing into action as he climbed above you. He helped remove your nightgown, throwing items of clothing to the ground, all whilst kissing you deeply. He spread your lips with his fingers, drinking in your moans as he worked your clit softly. His other hand stroked his cock in time, before he rubbed it along your slick folds, wetting his cock as he teased your entrance for as long as he could. 

"Art thee ready?" He murmurs against your lips, pushing lightly against your hole when you give the nod, Messmer's mouth falls open in a soft "oh" shape the moment the head begins to slowly push its way inside you. "Oh, fuck," he whines, appreciating your soft moans for him, his girth is taken by you, and you're thankful you're not a virgin, "Thee art... tight." He grunts in the back of his throat, stilling himself from ejaculating too early.

There is a warmth you've felt before, one that is currently snug in your walls. You wrap your legs around Messmer's waist, pulling him tighter, and closer. The redhead groans again, his arms visibly shaking as he ducks his head to hide in the crook of your neck. "If I move, I shalt-" He's muttering incessantly to himself, pushing his hips with tentative and shallow thrusts; he's fearful he will cum too soon.

"It's okay." You tell him reassuringly, that it is rather sweet he is trying to hold out for as long as possible for you to feel some pleasure. And indeed you are, his size is something that is unlike anything you've felt, but you somehow managed to fit him there thanks to the pleasure he gave you and for taking his time.

Messmer gives a small thrust after some minutes, gasping out words as he tries to get used to being inside you. His body language betrays him, the lull for pure, raw pleasure takes over a part of his mind, controlling some primal part of him he didn't know he had. He needs to mark you, needs to fuck you, but the fear of hurting you screams in the back of his mind. You place a hand upon his cheek, your thumb grazing the soft contour of his cheekbone, telling him all is okay, it is natural.

He intently watches your face for discomfort, finding none but the way your face contorts, for all words abandon, your mind a blank slate and nothing more than trying to fathom how Messmer is now fucking a Tarnished. And it feels amazing, not even a third of the way in, but both your bodies yield to the other, an electrifying passion overtakes you.

Clawed fingernails leave divots in your skin, not enough to leave marks or draw blood, but you hiss deeply, pushing your hips higher so Messmer has better access and control over his thrusts. It's only when Messmer pulls slightly back to inspect you, that his winged serpents have twisted around him, eyes on you and staring directly at your stomach.

"It that-" You realise what he's doing, shifting his hips as he penetrates deeper, earner a deeper moan to come both of you. It's enough to feel how deep he is now, but how you tightly squeeze around him. You wonder if the grip on his cock is overwhelming, but Messmer is so caught in the moment, his focus is directly on feeling how big he is inside you.

Messmer's thrusts are faster, deeper, giving into the carnal pleasure that you both wrapped up, you don't realise how loud you both are, certain the entire keep could hear your wanton cries and skin slapping. You're surprised how long Messmer is lasting for his first time, but it is a given since he is no ordinary man, blessed with longevity by his mother.

Ever the gentleman, Messmer finds your clit, matching the time to his sloppy thrusts. You suspect he's close, but it's the pleasure that's being torn from you so suddenly, the size of him and the way you've been curled with your legs practically on his shoulders. "Fuck-- I can't-- if you keep doing that-"

"-Doing what?" You realise it's not a question; he knows what he's doing. From the way his golden eye is intense and there is a sensuous half smile, his tone is part playful, part coy. The tone alone has you flexing your hips at him, trying to directly continue to pleasure building, shamelessly holding him for dear life as an orgasm is stolen from you.

"Oh fuuuuuck, Messmer, ah!"

The look he gives you almost brings you to your end; his hands find purchase in holding your thighs upright, driving himself into you as he sings the softest of pleasures only your ears are blessed in hearing. 

"Oh, Tarnished... grabbing me so well... so wet," he's not making sense, but from the way, he's not holding back, to the way his voice is growing louder and louder in pitch, he's completely and utterly close. The next thrust he drives into you is abrupt, he lurches forward, biting his bottom lip as his orgasm is ripped from him, the sounds of pleasure you both share as you feel the warmth that fills you whole. There is too much cum to even think, gushing out of you as you try to clench around him to keep it inside, failing when it falls down your thighs and onto the sheets.

His body relaxes as the two of you catch your breaths, Messmer stays inside you as he gives shallow thrusts to bring him down from his high, before he calms, letting go of your legs to manoeuvre you. Cradled from behind, his long arms cage you in.

"Art thee hurt?" He asks, kissing your forehead misted with sweat, his lips glossy with what looks like some bleeding from when he bit them too hard. His expression has softened as you look over your shoulder to look back on him. Shaking your head no, a sense of relief washes over him, as well as a tiredness you both didn't realise had taken over. It was after all, late still, and you didn't know how long into the night it was.

Getting comfy, Messmer pulls a blanket over you, a warmth surrounding you as your eyelids grow heavier. You can feel his serpents lethargically move around to watch you, certain that Messmer asked them to protect you whilst he slept.

Sleep is heavy on your mind, cradled in the arms of a demigod keeping you safe.

-

A/N: The best way I can describe how Messmer moans is if you just listen to the audio of when he pulls out his eye. I don't know what his VA was cooking, but it was the best ASMR content I've heard and I need 10 more hours of it. Even though this was a sex scene, I really enjoyed writing it with so much vulnerability. I LOVED writing Messmer in a more sensitive nature, and having him always being calm, and collected in everyday life, to being so unsure and needing the Tarnished to guide him - UGH! It's my Roman empire, I swear - writing about men being soft and whining in the bedroom department.

[achaotichuman]

A Proposition

Some people get sentimental about the new year starting, some people have a mental breakdown, some people are recovering from a wicked hangover, and others are mentally preparing to start writing 2025 on dates rather than 2024

I'm writing gay sex and sharing it with the internet. Here you go, internet. Happy New Year to all my fellow whores, I hope your 2025 is not disastrous and full of good things, here's what I hope will be one of said good things.

Summary:

The High Lords meeting is being held in the Night Court, and Lucien is bored out of his brains, but when he realises the Heirs of Night and Spring have slipped off, what would have once been a very boring day suddenly becomes the opportunity for something he'd never even thought of.

Fic below the cut or here on Ao3!

The Night Court wasn’t his favourite territory to visit, but it wasn’t the worst. Lucien had freezed his ass off in Winter, and whilst the Night Court had a bite to it, being in the Hewn City meant that there was temperature regulation in most rooms. 

Eris had scolded the six of them the night before this visit, had lined his younger brothers up like soldiers and given them the talking too of a lifetime.

“Don’t screw around. Don’t run off with any dalliances. Don’t provoke anyone. Don’t get into fights with each other. Toe the line.” 

The Heir had talked himself hoarse, it was a miracle he had a voice to use today. 

Of course, the warnings weren’t really aimed at Lucien, but all the behaviours Eris told them not to partake in were regular patterns amongst the Vanserras. Lucien couldn’t say he wasn’t guilty of jabbing Silas too much, or purposefully pushing Brom to the brink of insanity, at times.

Any other Courtly visit and Lucien may have wandered off on his own, ignoring Eris’ warnings in favour of his own curiosity. However, when they passed through the stone doors of the Hewn City. When they had sealed shut behind them, trapping them all in the dark depths of a mountain renowned for cruelty, Lucien had decided to stick close to his brothers. 

There had been a formal introduction, followed by the usual custom of mingling and small talk, as music played in the throne room, and people with stiff backs danced with their respective partners. Everyone on edge, as if waiting for a bear trap to snap closed. It had successfully killed any fear Lucien had, replacing it with tearful boredom as he resigned to dancing with a Lady named Mirassa, she had smiled and giggled and entertained him for some time. They danced for the majority of the night, until the merriments ended, and the High Lords were called to the meeting. Lucien left, and Mirassa’s disappointment had trailed after him long after he left the dancing. 

The meeting itself was a near disaster, with Beron and the High Lord of Spring, Elvin going at each other like cats and dogs. 

Elvin scared the shit out of Lucien, and not just because of his famously cruel nature. He looked like something fresh out of a nightmare. Handsome, yes. With long dark gold hair that appeared a light chestnut colour in the dark, and like gleaming yellow gold in the sunlight. Gold-speckled dark eyes, tall and well-built. Yes, he was handsome but…

The way he looked at people, like he could skin them with his gaze, dig his hands into exposed flesh, examine the bone. He was like a creature that took Fae form to deceive. Only here because of how intrigued he was by people and their strange forms. 

Beron and Elvin had been at it a long time, before even Eris was born. So, Lucien wasn’t surprised when they made the whole evening about their petty grievances. He sat in the seventh chair, at the back, in the corner, away from everybody. 

But it wasn’t long into the meeting that Lucien noticed two missing presences. 

The daughter of the High Lord of Night sat beside her father and mother, hands folded in her lap, despite how bored she looked. But there was something missing…

Rhysand. 

How had Lucien not noticed? It was like he was a thread pulled away from a piece of cloth, unnoticed, not missed. 

Lucien blinked rapidly, the feeling of their being something off persisting. It was then that he looked towards Elvin. 

His wife, Dahlia sat next to him, raising an eyebrow as she watched her husband bicker with Lucien’s father. She seemed somewhat amused, snagging glances at the Lady of Night, who fought to keep a smile off her lips at every glance from Dahlia. Lucien thought to note that for later. 

But there was something else… Baile, the eldest of Spring, and Aletris, the second-eldest sat beside their mother. Baile looked at though he had more than enough, and Aletris twitched every so often. 

Tamlin. The thought hit Lucien in the chest. Where was Tamlin? 

A knot formed in Lucien’s chest, it was not like the Tamlin to miss a meeting like this, his father would have his head. He was usually extremely punctual, heeding to the tight schedule his father demanded, bending in impossible ways to fit the expectations of others. 

But Rhysand… Rhysand did as he pleased. 

Lucien clenched his fists until the knuckles turned white. 

Tamlin befriended Rhysand almost a year ago now. Found him in the War Camps. Sounded about right, of course the spoiled brat of Night would find amusement in watching those beneath him train. But for whatever reason that Lucien wouldn’t understand, Tamlin had seen something in him and decided to get closer. Now, the two were practically attached at the hip. Every single time he and Tamlin saw each other, it was just, Rhysand this, Rhysand that. ‘Oh, Lucien, look what Rhysand showed me.’ ‘Oh, Lucien, Rhysand taught me how to do this.’ ‘Lucien, Rhysand took me to this place.’ ‘Rhysand, Rhysand, Rhysand, Rhysand’ It never ended. 

He was not jealous. He was not in the slightest. Tamlin had trouble making friends and Lucien was glad he had found someone else to have fun with. After all, because of their fathers, Lucien and Tamlin often didn’t see each other. Though Rhysand's father and Tamlin’s father didn’t like each other in the absolute slightest either, Rhysand was in the War Camps, which meant they were with each other from when the sun rose, to when it set. 

Of course, they would be friends. It didn’t mean Lucien had to like him. Or approve of him. 

Rhysand was bad news. Rhysand was cruel. He was unpredictable. He liked playing with people until he pushed them to the very edge, he drove them insane. He was spoiled, and reckless, and frustrating. 

And worst of all, Rhysand was a snarky, arrogant, handsome, cocky male. He was vile in every sense of the word and he knew it. He was a slow-acting poison, and Lucien was forced to just watch Tamlin drink him down. 

God, where were they? If Tamlin ended up with yet another bruise, broken bone, or scar from his father’s punishments because Rhysand made him late, or worse, convinced him to skip the meeting. Lucien would set him on fire. 

“Will you now?” A voice like cool silk floated down into his head. 

Lucien nearly jolted in his seat, but managed to catch himself. 

“Where is Tamlin?” Lucien addressed the Heir of Night. 

“With me.” Rhysand seemed to laugh, clearly amused at Lucien’s growing anger. 

“Figured. Where are you?” 

“Come find out, fox boy.” Rhysand taunted. 

Lucien blinked. 

“What?”

“They won’t notice, they’re under a minor enchantment. They won’t even notice you getting up and walking out.” 

“You can’t be serious.” 

“Do you want to know where Tamlin is?” 

Lucien took in a sharp breath. Yes, he did want to know where Tamlin was, and he wanted to get Rhysand far away from him. He wanted to pull him away from the Night Court entirely, and convince him to stop fucking drifting away from him. Godfuckingdamnit, Tamlin was his friend. Not Rhysand’s. Not anyone else's. His, fucking his, all his. 

Laughter, bright and full, once again bubbled in Lucien, not his own though. It came from Rhysand, speaking to him from wherever he was. It shocked Lucien back to reality. 

What the hell was he thinking?

“What the hell are you thinking?” Rhysand purred. 

“Get out of my head.”

“Come find me and make me.” Lucien didn’t know how, but he knew Rhysand was smirking. 

Fuck. 

Gently, Lucien eased out of his seat. Watching the faces of his brothers. Of the other Lords. As he came to his feet, not even Eris glanced his way. 

Quietly, he slipped away, to the door, resting his fingers on the doorknob, he glanced at Eris once more, and his empty seat. Sure enough, none of them noticed as he left the meeting. 

“Where are you?” Lucien muttered. 

“Go towards the higher rooms.” 

The higher rooms, the ones that were reserved for the High Lords. Bathed in purple luxury, and gilded with gold, they were specially made. 

Lucien swallowed hard. 

“What are you doing to him?” Lucien found himself asking Rhysand. Feeling sharp anger stabbing his core, he let all of his rage pour out into the entity invading his mind. 

“Oh you wanna spy on him now?” Rhysand mocked, “I’ll do you one better. Do you want to hear what’s happening to him? Then I’ll let you guess what I’m doing.”

Shit, shit, shit. Lucien didn’t know what he was thinking anymore, as he picked up his pace, going up the spiralling stairs, feeling a tug that grew stronger with every step. 

“Well, Lucie?” Rhysand demanded for his answer. 

Fucking Hell. 

“Fine.” 

There was a pleased hum from Rhysand that vibrated through his entire being, against every good sense, he shivered. 

Then another voice came into his head. Lucien nearly tripped, as his heart started beating out his chest, heat flooding his face making a pink flush spread from his cheeks to his ears and down his neck.

“Please. Oh, please, Rhys. Pleas- Fuck.” The words were breathless, interlaced with gasps and low whines. 

The connection quickly cut off, and Rhysand returned saying, “Is he still only yours now, Lucie?”

“You vile piece of worthless shit-” Lucien mouthed the words out loud, unable to contain the rage stoking higher and higher, as a pressure settled low in his gut. 

“Such language…” 

“Where. Are. You?”

“Why do you want to know, Lucien?”

Those words made Lucien stop in his tracks, staring at how far he’d come. The solid stone walls, the spiralling staircase behind him, the hallway stretched out in front of him. 

“You know what they say, Lucie.” Rhysand murmured, “Two is better than one.”

“I don’t know what fucking game you’re playing, Rhysand. But quit it.” 

“I’ll spell this out for you, Vanserra.” Rhysand said, “You can go back to that meeting, stay there bored out of your brains while you imagine what I’m doing to your beloved- No, don’t try to deny it. We both know you will. Or you can come find us.”

Lucien felt his whole body shake. 

“What’s it going to be?”

Fuck…

He didn’t even have to think about it. What did that mean for him? That he so easily gave in to this invitation? 

“Where are you?”

Lucien could practically feel Rhysand’s grin. 

They were in one of the highest rooms. The large door was heavy, locked. But as Lucien reached to touch it, he heard a click from the inside. The invitation was there. 

He couldn’t hear anything from outside, his blood pounding in his ears as he tried to imagine what could be happening. What they could be doing. What he was going to walk in on. 

“Fuck.” Lucien whispered, but he couldn’t stop his hand. He pushed the door open. 

He didn’t know what to imagine when he walked in- No, scratch that. He knew exactly what he was imagining, it was just nothing could compare to the real thing. 

The room itself was one of the smallest, it had to be the one made up specifically for Tamlin. Whenever a High lord visited, the chambers he was given to reside in were customised according to the Lord’s needs and preferences, the same was done for all whom accompanied him. But Lucien and Tamlin being the youngest, both got the scraps compared to what their superiors were given. 

But still the bed was large, in the centre of the room, it was decorated with dark, emerald green silk, and when Tamlin first came here, it was no doubt made up perfectly. 

It wasn’t perfect right now. 

But in Lucien’s head in that moment, it was better than perfect, because Tamlin was twisted up in the sheets. Sweat-slicked skin gleaming, back arched, his hair an absolute mess, face scrunched up in pleasure all the while, Rhysand was bent overtop him, his slender fingers fisting the back of Tamlin’s head, shoving his face into the mattress. They laid facing the door. 

Lucien’s breathing picked up, and heat shot straight down into his belly, as he shoved himself back up against the door, slamming it closed. 

The sudden noise alerted Tamlin to someone entering, Lucien could see the moment, those hazy green eyes snapped from his own cloud of pleasure, panic filling them as he quickly looked up. 

But that panic subsided as it gave way to disbelief when he locked eyes with Lucien. 

“Lucien,” Tamlin breathed out, Rhysand still over top him, pressing him down in the mattress. 

“Seems like the little fox has come to play, my love.” Rhysand murmured. 

Tamlin craned his neck back to stare at Rhysand confused, “What-” He shook his head, quickly grabbing the sheets tangled around them to try and protect his decency. 

But Rhysand’s strong grip held Tamlin firmly against him, “I mean it my love.”

“What?” Tamlin repeated a little firmer this time as he looked back at Lucien, his eyes still a little unfocused, no doubt trying to stay grounded, even as Rhysand’s naked form was pressed against him. 

“I should leave.” Lucien said, making no move to leave. 

Rhysand smiled so cruelly at him. Tamlin was breathing hard, his cheeks and ears scarlet red, his hands fisted in the sheets. His hair was an absolute mess, he was an absolute mess, and Lucien’s heart was beating faster. 

“You can leave.” Rhysand said, that smile refusing to leave his face. Lucien had the sudden urge to slap it off him. With his hand of course. Even though his eyes kept darting to his lips, “Or…”

“What are you doing, Rhys?” Tamlin hissed, shooting an apologetic look to Lucien, his eyes filled with embarrassment, Lucien wanted to cradle him close and present him with Rhysand’s filleted body on a silver platter. 

“Oh me and Lucien have been chatting.”

Tamlin’s face dropped, all at once, anger swallowed that fucked out look on his face as he purposefully shoved Rhysand back, but the older male still kept him down, “You’ve been mind-speaking to him! While we’ve been-”

“I should leave.” Lucien said again, this time his hand reaching for the handle behind him. 

“Before you run off and before he bites my dick off.” Rhysand spoke in a drawled, lazy manner. Looking at Tamlin struggling against him disinterested, “I have a proposition.”

“What are you trying to do?” Tamlin demanded to know. 

“Don’t try and tell me you wouldn’t have him sit in that chair and watch you if you could. I hear your thoughts, darling.” Rhysand replied, his eyes going towards Lucien at the end. 

“Rhysand!” Tamlin shouted, actually managing to shove him off this time. Rhysand took the push gracefully. Leaning back onto his heels, unlike Tamlin, who scrambled to grab a sheet to cover himself, Rhysand was perfectly content to let Lucien see every part of him. 

Lucien froze. 

Locked in a space between what his relationships with these two had been before and what it might end up being, he stared at Rhysand, then his eyes drifted to Tamlin. Lucien slowly cocked his head to the side. 

“You fantasise about me?” He asked, Lucien was surprised by how breathless his voice sounded. 

Tamlin’s face somehow got redder, and he glared at Rhysand.

But he didn’t deny it. 

“Now, back to my proposition.” Rhysand declared. 

Tamlin loosened a growl, but the Heir of Night simply waved him off. 

“Little Lucien made the trip all the way up here just to find you, darling. It would be rude to send him off so quickly.”

“Spit it out, Rhysand.” Tamlin growled. 

Rhysand rolled his eyes, then he looked towards Lucien, “I’ll be more direct then. I want to fuck you both.”

The room got infinitely hotter, though it wasn’t as if Lucien hadn’t been considering this. He’d practically agreed to it when he spoke to Rhysand through his mind. When he’d heard the way Rhysand had been making Tamlin sing out. 

Fuck. 

But Tamlin looked at him as though he’d threatened to light the whole of Prythian on fire. His mouth opened and he looked towards Lucien like he might apologise, but his words were stolen when he watched what Lucien did. 

With a cunning, graceful slowness, Lucien slid his jacket off as he stepped closer to the bed, “I wouldn’t be… opposed.” He breathed out. 

Rhysand’s eyes scoured him, raking over every inch of his body like he was a piece of art to be studied, understood. Lucien didn’t miss the way his mouth opened slightly, his blue eyes seeming to deepen in colour. 

Tamlin couldn’t seem to land on an emotion to feel, his face not hiding a single one as they flew through him, but underneath it all, Lucien could smell his arousal, could see the hardness he attempted to hide with the sheet. 

Images ran through Lucien’s head, what his friend’s cock looked like, what it’d feel like in his mouth, what his seed would taste like. Flicking his eyes to Tamlin’s lips, Lucien wondered if he was thinking something similar about him. 

“Only if Tam wants it.” Lucien added, not daring to look him in the eyes, instead his gaze roamed over his throat, the bruises there that were already starting to heal, all no doubt left by Rhysand…

The want to mark that milky, freckled skin with his own mouth was nearly startling. 

“Well, darling?” Rhysand asked, crawling across the sheets to grab at Tamlin’s waist pressing kisses to his skin that made him shiver, “What do you say?”

Tamlin’s breathing turned shallow, as he looked back up at Lucien who was no close enough to be nearly towering over him. 

“Are you sure?” He asked. 

“I would have left if I wasn’t.” Lucien assured. 

Rhysand cocked his head as if to say, “Well?”

Tamlin looked between the two of them, then his eyes drifted back up to Lucien’s. His voice was practically a whine as he said, “Please.”

That was all it took for Lucien’s restraint to snap.

He shoved one knee into the mattress as he leaned forward to capture Tamlin’s mouth in his own. Tamlin moaned as their lips met, opening up to let Lucien deepen the kiss. The fire Lord wanted to drag it out, he wanted to start slow, but he felt Rhysand sliding up beside him, dragging his tongue across Tamlin’s nipple, Tamlin’s hand fisting in Rhysand’s hair as Rhys started biting and sucking. The loud moan that was torn from Tamlin’s throat, was enough to make Lucien quicken the pace. 

Lucien grabbed a fistful of Tamlin’s hair, the blond loose curls soft and wet with sweat between his fingers. Tamlin’s other hand flew to his shirt, trying desperately to undo it. A claw slid out of his knuckle, and Lucien broke the kiss to lean back and undo it himself. Trying to preserve what clothing he had brought with him. 

Rhysand laughed lowly, and Tamlin’s head tipped back, eyes once again bright with bliss and pleasure. 

The Night Lord looked up briefly, locking eyes with Lucien, and understanding hit him all at once. 

This was about Tamlin. 

The blond had been stressed out of his mind as of late. In the few times Lucien had managed to be able to see him he hadn’t been sleeping or eating properly. Sometimes Lucien had to force him to lie down or eat even a little bit of a meal. Neither of them really knew what was going on, but for a little while now, Tamlin had been going to Hybern with his father more and more often, and every time he came back from those trips he looked worse and worse and worse. 

Tonight was about Tamlin. It was about bringing him as much pleasure, as much happiness, as possible. Gods, the man sometimes just thought too much. 

But how could he possibly think, if he was being fucked out of his mind?

Lucien quickly threw his shirt to the ground and crashed his mouth against Tamlin’s again as he fiddled with getting his trousers off. He was never wearing this many layers again. Not if they slowed him down from being able to finally fuck the male he’d been dreaming about. 

When Lucien finally was able to pull his trousers down and let them join the rest of the clothing scattered across the floor, Rhysand settled behind Tamlin, his hands going up and down smooth, toned thighs, while Lucien rested in front of Tamlin, their knees touching, his decency still hidden by the thin green silk sheet. 

“How do you want it, darling?” Rhysand murmured, his voice soft like silk as his lips trailed the line of Tamlin’s neck, Lucien watched, transfixed. His hands moved on their own, wanting to touch, to hold, to bite, bruise and suck. 

“I want…” Tamlin was breathless, his eyes falling closed as his head tilted back, practically begging for that soft spot between his throat and shoulder to be bitten. 

“Cat got your tongue?” Rhysand laughed, then he hummed, as his fingers buried themselves into Tamlin’s hair, “How about you make Lucien feel welcome, hm?”

The breath was stolen from Lucien’s lungs, as his cock twitched with interest, Tamlin’s eyes flicked down to it, his hand flexing slightly. 

Rhysand moved back, slipping off the edge of the bed, and then all of Lucien’s attention was on Tamlin. 

“Can I?” Tamlin asked, as he moved to kneel. Lucien felt his face go hot, as he opened his legs on instinct. 

“You may.” Lucien said, he watched as Tamlin grabbed the base of his cock, stroking slowly. A breath whimper left him, he was helpless to stop it, especially as those pink, plush lips ghosted over the tip of his dick. 

It was breath-taking. Tamlin, looking so utterly fucked, with his hair a mess, his skin a mess, his eyes staring up at Lucien, searching for approval, for his approval. Lucien’s cock started leaking as Tamlin’s tongue dragged along his shaft. 

The blond wrapped his lips around him, sucking on the tip hard, before starting to work his way down, stroking what he could reach. Lucien moaned and bucked his hips, feeling like he was being unraveled, he forced his cock deeper down Tamlin’s throat, grabbing at his long hair with one hand. 

“Fuck, Tam,” Lucien moaned, “You feel so good. Such a pretty mouth.”

The moan that left Tamlin, vibrated along Lucien, and he couldn’t stop the way his hips moved, making Tamlin gag on his cock. The sensation was quickly pushing him towards the edge. 

In all of this, Lucien hadn’t been watching what Rhysand was doing. He didn’t even know where he was until he saw him return from somewhere in the shadows, holding a bottle of what looked to be oil. 

Rhysand watched as Tamlin worked Lucien with his throat, spit and precum dribbling down his chin as he sucked and stroked.

He was getting closer, his body was burning, everything was so hot. He felt so good. He looked so good. He was fucking perfect. Tamlin’s wet, hot mouth was bringing him so close to the edge, just a little bit more. Lucien’s moans grew louder and higher, his fingers curling tighter in Tamlin’s hair. 

“I’m gonna… I’m gonna cum. Tam, fuck-” 

Lucien just about nearly screamed when Tamlin was roughly yanked off his cock. Rhysand tutted as he kept Tamlin’s hair fisted in his hand, Tamlin’s neck bent back at an uncomfortable angle. 

“Not so fast, little fox, we still have so much to do.” Rhysand grinned, his smile only widening at the tears pooling in Lucien’s eyes from the stimulation, and the aching in his cock. 

Rhysand then leaned down and asked Tamlin, “Think you can take us both, darling?”

“Yes,” Tamlin all but moaned as Rhysand let go of his hair, his face falling into the mattress. Suddenly, that fire in Lucien’s core burned twice as hot, the heat threatening to consume him entirely. He and Rhysand locked eyes and that cheshire grin was suddenly on Lucien’s face as well. 

Being shoved back against the headboard, as Rhysand manhandled Tamlin over both their weeping cocks was not where Lucien thought he’d be today, but he wasn’t about to argue, especially not as he watched Tamlin’s face, sweat collecting on his brow, clutching his shoulders as Rhysand’s oil slick fingers stretched him out. Tamlin moaned, his head dropping into the crook of Lucien’s finger as Rhysand purposefully propped that sweet spot inside him. The Heir of Spring rocked back against his fingers, oil slicked up the insides of his thighs, his hips kept thrusting into the air, his legs trembling and Lucien needed to be inside him. 

“Are you alright, darlin-” Rhysand tried to ask, but Tamlin cut him off by taking Lucien’s cock in his hand, lining himself up and sinking down. 

Both males moaned as the head of Lucien’s cock stretched Tamlin’s wet, hot whole. Lucien’s fingers flew to his hips, digging into the flesh, digging red marks into the skin. All coherent thoughts went out the window as unbearable warmth shot like poison through his body. He wanted to cum so badly, his depraved imagination wanted to shove Tamlin down into the bed and watch as his cock sunk in and out of his hole, he wanted to fuck Tamlin until he was crying out his name, until he couldn’t think of anything outside of Lucien, and how fucking good he felt. 

Then Lucien’s attention was drawn to Rhysand, and how his hands had travelled to Lucien’s thighs, digging in there. Lucien’s eyes found Rhysand’s, and the Night Lord grinned that stupid fucking grin. That smile like he knew everything going through his head. 

Lucien’s mouth fell open as he remembered, Rhysand did know everything going through his head. 

“Our little fox wants to ruin you, lovely.” Rhysand whispered in Tamlin’s ear. Tamlin blinked his eyes open, staring into Lucien’s with that soft gaze that only Tamlin could give to him. Lucien bathed in it, he felt Rhysand’s hands roaming him, watching him, listening. 

He felt more seen than he had in his entire life. 

Tamlin’s hands tightened on Lucien’s shoulders as his eyes squeezed shut, moans, whimpers and high-pitched whines falling from his mouth as Rhysand pushed the head of his cock inside of him, his hole stretching to accommodate them both. Lucien looked down and watched as Tamlin took both of them, slowly adjusting to the intense sensation. 

All three of them were panting, little whines and moans escaping as Tamlin finally sunk down to the root. Lucien held so tightly onto him, trying his best not to lose his control entirely and just fuck without restraint. 

Tamlin crashed their lips together, kissing him hard, Lucien’s mouth opened, and Tamlin slid him his tongue. They both grabbed at each other, feeling more like wild animals than anything else. 

“You ready, darling?” Rhysand asked as his hands left Lucien’s thighs to grab hold of Tamlin. 

“Fuck. Me.” Tamlin ordered. 

And the two were happy to obey. 

Tamlin bounced up and down, his head falling back, leaving his neck exposed to Lucien’s bruising lips as the two of them fucked into him, not in sync but going hard and fast. Tamlin quickly got lost, Lucien manoeuvred himself to hit at a deeper angle, and Tamlin nearly cried when he started abusing that bundle of nerves deep within him with his cock. 

“I’m so close.” Tamlin cried, “I’m so close!”

Lucien was relishing in this, as his eyes rolled back, sweat dripped down his neck, his hair which had been brushed and styled to perfection was a mess, his clothes were somewhere on the floor, and he’d never felt so fucking good. Everything was good. Especially watching Tamlin ride both their dicks like he was made for it. 

One of Tamlin’s hands left its place on Lucien’s shoulder, grabbing the wooden headboard, scratching echoed through the room as Tamlin’s claws jutted out. And seeing that powerful display, seeing this male, so far above him in terms of just how much strength he wielded. Falling apart, impaled on dick, barely able to control himself, was what finally snapped all Lucien’s last remaining threads of self control. 

Lucien dug his heels into the mattress, digging his fingers so hard into Tamlin’s hips, bruises bloomed underneath them. He fucked up, harder and faster, hitting Tamlin’s prostate with every thrust. Rhysand leaned over and grabbed the headboard, seemingly feeling the exact same way, as they both abused Tamlin’s hole. The blond’s legs nearly gave out underneath him, but Lucien kept his grip strong. Just a little bit, just a bit more.

Tears filled Tamlin’s eyes as a scream was ripped from his throat, white cum shooting out over his stomach and Lucien’s chest. The other two weren’t far behind him, and just a few thrusts later, white heat shot through Lucien, his orgasm hitting him violently. His body twitching and shaking as he came inside Tamlin. 

Rhysand came, his teeth digging into Tamlin’s shoulder as he did. Then the three collapsed atop each other. Or… more just atop Lucien. 

After a few minutes were spent trying to catch their breath as their bodies refused to come down from the high, they finally found enough energy to get underneath the blankets. 

As clarity came back to him, Lucien blinked his eyes open to see the white ceiling above him, and a sinking feeling came to him, as he thought Tamlin and Rhysand might kick him out. Might say he had to go back. 

But, instead, he was cocooned in warmth, as Tamlin slung an around over his chest cuddling into his side, Rhysand curled around his side, his lips pressed gently against Lucien’s neck. 

“How was that?” Rhysand asked. 

“It was so good.” Tamlin answered in a breathless voice. The praise sent a pleasant warm tingling all over Lucien’s body. 

“Next time, you should show Luce your wings, he’d have a field day.” Tamlin commented. 

Lucien blinked, confused, he turned to Rhysand who was half-heartedly glaring at Tamlin. 

“You have wings?” 

“I am half-Illyrian, I inherited the wings… High Fae tend to be off put by them.”

“I wouldn’t be.” Lucien answered, sincerity lacing every word. 

Rhysand seemed unconvinced, but Tamlin reached over, lazily twirling a black hair strand around his finger, and Rhysand’s expression softened.

“Maybe next time. If you want a next time that is?” That grin returned as Rhysand traced circles on Lucien’s chest, the redheads breathing askew once more. 

“Maybe.” Lucien offered, normally this was where he’d quip something smart. But he fucked out of it. Having both these males so close to him, still covered in their shared fluids, still feeling that lingering warmth and tingling of pleasure. He couldn’t think if he tried. 

“I want a bath.” Lucien said. 

“Same,” Tamlin agreed. 

“Demanding, both of you.” Rhysand said deadpan, still getting up to go run the bath. 

Once he disappeared, Tamlin took in a breath and whispered, “So…?”

Lucien sighed, turning towards his lover, he said, “He’s not so bad.”

Tamlin smiled so beautifully, and Lucien kissed him. 

As they separated, Lucien heard footsteps, and looked up to seeing Rhysand looking down at him with an unreadable expression. He turned his head slightly away, “The bath’s ready.”

Lucien smiled, he sat up and tilted Rhysand’s face towards him, and kissed him too. 

[hexie-mountain]

well… rafa was right about saying some people might be okay with the secret and some people might hate it 😬 lazy writing aside and how they wiped a chunk of season 1 aside, im a bit let down about carlos’ insistence on total transparency with tk while not giving him the same back thats kind of my only hiccup with this.

im not actually surprised about the carlos-iris storyline cuz his coming out was the first big thing we learned about him, it nearly fractured his relationship with tk and possibly drove away past partners and overall he was just harbouring a lot of pain about his parents’ reaction to it. he also became more complex as a person cuz we saw 3 seasons of tk’s character growth and handling his addiction and past trauma and now carlos’ past is surfacing. people have their own past traumas and experiences and the being in a relationship is understanding how to make that work and how can you support each other and where to draw a line y’know?

and idk if im trying to give too many excuses or trying to make this make sense 😭 but iris was gone right after season 1 and so was michelle and it might’ve seemed like carlos didn’t have to worry about her anymore? and combining that with his surprise about tk coming back to him after their big post farmers market fight, i dont think he ever thought his relationship with tk or any person for that matter would ever get to this point so why bother sharing. cuz he should’ve explained why his parents dont know about tk but he didn’t so in my head it sort of checks out.

that being said, lavender marriages are a thing, gay people getting married to save face is a thing and so is this health benefits situation like i know people within my peer circle who married a gay friend to help them out while both continuing to date separate people 🤷🏽

especially if carlos was young when he made that decision, that sheer panic of coming out to parents and being on shaky ground and feeling like its only a matter of time or one misstep before the rug gets pulled out from under your feet and you’re cut off from the family. and he’s latino who probably grew up very integrated in the extended family and loves them enough to want them in his life. that what i make of this, just my two cents.

anyone who’s upset are completely entitled to that of course it is lazy and it feels like it backtracks all the progress made and i get why people might feel like they lost a little bit of love for the character.. i let out one big sigh when i saw the scene lol but im glad they’re not dragging this out and its a one episode thing cuz i dont think i can handle more of it.

[sonicunleash]

so i watched the sonic 3 trailer.

[yume-fanfare]

>europe tour

>it's the north only

[fushitoru]

i can't stop looking at his d—d—d—d—FACE!

pairings ⸺ (SEPERATE) boy next door!gojo x reader, wrestler!toji x reader, gym trainer!sukuna x reader, pizza delivery boy!choso x reader, husband's boss!nanami x reader, perv on train!geto x reader

summary ⸺ jjk men as overused p0rn/h3ntai plots! inspired by this awesome post by the talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular @/osamucide! pls check it out and the rest of his work :3

warnings ⸺ SMUT (mdni), consent is pre-established in all scenarios (but dub con just in case), everyone is of age (or older), exhibitionism, infidelity in nanami’s, pussy drunk men lol, not edited (as always), cowgirl, missionary, creampies, VERY public sex in toji’s, art by 3-aem, lmk if I’ve missed anything!

a/n lolll i'm ngl this was so fun to write. some of these scenarios are so funnny hELP. this one is also for some of the anons who are so obsessed w choso and sukuna in bridgerton au. wrote them for you 🫡 choso’s is my fav hehe

NEW: part 2 here

general masterlist

SUKUNA RYOMEN ⸺ HOTTIE'S PERSONAL TRAINER HAS A VERY HANDS ON APPROACH!

“Brat!” Sukuna’s voice cuts through the air like a whip. “Watch your back. You’re supposed to be hinging your hips back, not whatever lazy shit you were doing.”

He steps around to your side, the heavy thud of his boots on the gym floor adding to the oppressive weight of his presence. Squatting down, he sets his hips back in one smooth motion, demonstrating with sharp precision. “Like this. Not whatever the fuck that was.”

You glance at him, your legs trembling under you. Sweat clings to your skin, a thin sheen that feels heavy after the grueling thirty minutes with your personal trainer. Sukuna definitely takes the "tiger mom" approach, every tattoo on his body echoing the sharp, uncompromising authority in his eyes. Right now, those eyes bore into you, narrowed with impatience, his hands on his hips. His scowl is practically carved into his face—stone-hard and unmoving.

Breathing hard, you slump forward, hands gripping your knees as you gasp for air. Your heartbeat drums loudly in your ears. “Sukuna, g-give me a sec. I just—fuck—” You can barely string a sentence together between gulps of air. “I just maxed out. My legs are literally shaking.”

Sukuna clicks his tongue, shaking his head in disappointment, but his voice softens—just a little. “Fine. Catch your breath. But as you do that, let’s practice proper form.”

You nod exhaustedly, not being able to think very clearly. Wiping the sweat to prevent it from getting into your eyes, you put your legs hip width apart as Sukuna gets behind you to observe your form. You bend down, trying to sit back onto your hips as best as possible, but as soon as your ass grazes Sukuna’s crotch, you lose the form in your back in surprise. “Sorry—”

“That was wrong.” Sukuna’s voice is in your ear as he puts his hands on your hips, and you are dizzy with the contact. “Here.” Both of you squat down, Sukuna’s hard body moving right behind you, and at the lowest position, Sukuna’s thumb roves over the fat of your ass, and they leave your hips to trace up your back. “Your back should be neutral, otherwise you’re going to hurt yourself.”

“O—okay,” you breathily reply, dizzy with the way he was touching you. If you listened closely, it almost sounded as if you were whimpering. Unfortunately for you, it seemed like Sukuna was more observant than you had hoped because he was looking at you in suspicion, eyes raking up and down your figure to observe your appearance. Disheveled, chest rising rapidly, sweat dripping right in the middle of your breasts—

Sukuna, out of nowhere, grabs your hand and begins walking away. “Come with me. You’re not doing them right.”

Soon, you’re led into one of the gym’s stretching rooms—the private ones, the ones meant for Sukuna to help you after the workout. 

“Sukuna, what are we—” you breathlessly ask, but you’re quickly shushed by Sukuna as he hoists himself on the massage table.

“Come here,” he motions to his lap, and you wordlessly follow his directions, sitting directly on top of his lap, gasping as you realize there’s a bulge making contact with your pussy. “We’re going to try an alternative way of doing squats, one that involves a bit more cardio.” He pulls down his sweatpants, blushing, furious cock springing out as he pulls down your yoga pants.

Soon, you’re moaning as you slowly take in his cock, sliding down as his precum and your copious amount of slick mix and drip onto his pelvis. Your feet are on either side of his legs, making you squat every time you lower yourself down on his length.

“Fuck! You’re so tight.” He slaps your ass as you bounce yourself rapidly on his cock. “Pretended to not know how to squat just for me to put this fat cock in you, isn’t that right?”

You didn’t have the capacity to answer, just moan as his cock hits your spot. Unsatisfied with your pace, Sukuna flips you both over until your back is on the table. 

“Oh fuck yea,” Sukuna pants, hips pistoning into you rapidly, effectively fucking you into the table, and his quads are bulging in sheer strength as they clench and unclench in reflection of his pleasure. “Didn’t know my client had such a sweet pussy.”

KAMO CHOSO ⸺ SHE ORDERS BIG SAUSAGE PIZZA AND GETS HER DEEP DICK CRAVINGS FILLED! (the title is so ridiculous im crying)

“Your total’s $14.93. You’re five bucks short.” The delivery boy—an emo looking guy with hair in space buns—responds to the wad of cash and coins you had just given him. He couldn’t look any less bored than he was as he stared down impassively at you, hot, steaming pizza in one hand.

"Wait, but I ordered a small?" You ask him in confusion. "I couldn't possibly finish a large one by myself!"

He pulls out your receipt from where it was tucked into the pizza box. "Your order said a large." Upon glancing on it, you look that he was indeed correct—right next to your pizza, the size LARGE glared at you through the sheen of the reciept's paper.

"Oh," You said, dumbly, blinking in confusion. "Well, I can pay the rest in card if that's okay."

You get an impassive "I don't have a card reader."

"Oh, okay," you laugh nervously, hand going up to scratch the back of your head and fiddle with the rest of your fingers. "Okay, well," you squinted at his nametag, "Choso, let me just check the remaining cash I have. You can come inside if you'd like." 

He comes inside, dropping off the pizza you ordered on your kitchen counter as he makes his way to sit on your couch. You go to your bedroom, checking your desk drawer for any loose cash you may have stored but to no avail. Heart racing and nervous, you frantically search the upper shelf of your room, on your tiptoes as you look for your money jar, praying that there was a 5 dollar piece of cash lying around. Instead, your fingers crash against some book propped on it, tumbling down onto the floor with a large thud!

You hear footsteps coming up to your bedroom door. Choso, standing near the door. "You good?"

"Yea," you strain, still reaching up high to grasp at the jar. "I'm just trying to find somethi—”

The heat of Choso's body surrounds you as he presses closer to you, reaching up effortlessly to grab at the money jar. His groin presses against your backside, acutely aware of his breaths as he passes you the jar. 

Which is empty.

"Fuck!" you curse. You turn, looking at Choso in anxiousness, as you notice he hasn't backed away at all. "I'm sorry, but is there any alternative way to pay for the pizza? Again, I'm really really sorry for the hassle."

"You have to pay for the food in some sort of way," he says with a stony face. Your mind is racing, thinking of ways you could pay but coming up short.

As a result, you end up with your face stuffed against your pillow, the hot delivery boy plowing and drilling his cock into you. 

"Fuck, so irresponsible. Couldn't even pay for the pizza she ordered without a stranger's cock inside of her." At his dirty talk, you whimper and squeeze your pussy, Choso groaning as a result.

"What was that?" He grabs your hair and pulls your face up as his tongue traces the frame of your ear. "What were you trying to say, you cockslut?"

"'M sorry!" You squealed and babbled, eliciting little ah! ah! ah!'s as he continues bumping his cockhead against the gooey spot inside your pussy.

"Yea, you better be. Wasting my fucking time. I'm going to come inside, got it?" Choso growls as he continues pistoning his hips inside.

GETO SUGURU ⸺ ANIME GIRL GETS HER PUSSY FINGERED ON PUBLIC TRAIN!

He pulls you in for a deep kiss while rutting inside you. "Aren't you my good girl? Taking this cock for me like a good girl?" You squeal, blabbering nonsense as he fucks you into next Tuesday…

You read the smut from your favorite author on Tumblr, devouring each word while remaining stony faced as the train rocked underneath your feet. In the corner facing the doors, you made sure that you were angled in such a way that no one would be able to see the filthy things you were reading on your screen. 

However, the metro was slowing down and you looked up quickly—which was painful, considering you were so invested in the story—to make sure it wasn't your stop. As the rush of foot traffic simultaneously populated and vacated the metro, you paid no attention to the people behind you. After all, other people would be too busy on their phones to see what you were reading, right?

"You're going to take this cum, right? I'm going to breed you, my sweet, sweet girl." He laughs.  You take a moment to take in his pretty features. Long hair, beautiful face, all filled with lust for you...

You scan the words, blush evident on your face as your favorite writer has done it yet again. Adjusting, you squeezed your thighs for relief and toyed with the hem of your skirt, failing to notice the soft breaths trailing down the back of your neck just because of how enthralled and taken you were with the plot.

And then, a hand trailed up your thigh, catching you by alarm. You almost drop your phone in your rush to turn and look at the creep that was touching you, ready to beat the shit out of him. 

But when you do turn, you stop and widen your eyes. The man in front of you seems even prettier than the fictional man you were reading about, and you take him in as he rubs circles on your thigh. His sultry eyes rake down your figure, his lips pulled back in a knowing smirk. "That's some filthy shit you're reading."

Looking at him, your heart starts beating faster solely because of the promise of what his hands would do as they were currently softly stroking your thighs, getting closer and closer to going under your shirt. "I—I—uh sorry—I—"

"It's okay, pretty girl." He gives you a kiss on the side of your neck. "Continue reading it. Can you do that, baby?"

You nod, not trusting your voice. Coincidentally, you're at the part where the man helps the girl masturbate, rubbing and teasing her pussy up and down. The man behind you does the same, teasing your lips while refusing to delve inside your panties, no matter how badly you want him to do.

"That feel good?"

You whimper. "Yes—ah—it feels good. Please touch me on my pussy directly. Please."

The man behind you chuckles, and your knees buckle at how rich his voice is. You would join a cult for this man. "Since you asked so nicely, I will. Call me Suguru."

His fingers pull your panties aside and enters, soon knuckle deep inside your cunt, and as quietly as you can, you moan his name as he continues fingering you in front of all the strangers on the train. His hips press closer to your ass, and you throb even more at the huge bulge he’s sporting. He’s sloppily licking on the outside of your ear, right where you’re sensitive, and you shiver and lose yourself in the pressure even more.

The pleasure was building in you steadily and Suguru groans. “That’s right, take it all.”

You almost jump when the PA sounds. "The next stop is Shinjuku."

“That’s my stop. You have to cum before then, or you won’t be able to cum,” Suguru whispers in your ear, speeding up and hitting your g-spot with precision. There are tears forming in your eyes as you make an effort to stay quiet, especially with Suguru giving seductive kisses to your sensitive neck. 

“Fuck, you got so tight,” he groans. “Gonna cum?” He uses his thumb to rub fast circles on your clit, and you see stars. 

“I will—I will,” you cry, as the throbbing and pulsing sensation grows faster and faster until finally, you cum with a muffled cry, because Suguru has his fingers in your mouth to ensure you don’t scream out on this very, very public train.  “Squeezing my fingers so much, relax,” Suguru laughs, popping his slick-coated fingers in his mouth. “You gonna do that to my dick next?”

NANAMI KENTO ⸺ BEAUTIFUL WIFE HAS TO FUCK HER HUSBAND'S BOSS! (NTR)

“Mr. Nanami,” you scrape a hand through your hair and clear your throat. “You wanted to see me?” 

For a moment, your husband’s handsome boss eyes you down, catching on the top button of your blouse currently unbuttoned. You mainly did it because of nervousness, the heat of the room escalating with Nanami Kento’s presence. After a long bout of intimidating silence, he finally speaks. “I assume you can guess why you are here?”

You bounce your knee as you sit across from the man, and you suddenly start sweating. Of course you can guess. Your bum of a husband—the one currently under your charge—neglects to do his deliverables, choosing to take comfort in the fact that you were his higher-up to trust that he would not be getting terminated for his lack of responsibility. 

But what he doesn’t know is that you’ve been begging Nanami not to fire him, despite the propelling and clear reasons to do so. And you fear the day he finally chooses to stop listening to you. 

“Team leader, I’m going to need much more convincing. Your team has been decreasing in productivity ever since your husband joined, and it’s hindering the company,” he reminds you stoically. “I’ve seen you working overtime far too frequently to cover up for your spouse’s negligence.”

You wish time would speed up just to get this difficult conversation with. “I—I’m going to be honest, Mr. Nanami. I don’t have much warrant to continue having him on the team, but it would put my family in much…emotional conflict if this were to happen.” The said emotional conflict would really only be from your husband. You’re sure he’s going to take this as an excuse to drink himself silly, blaming you for not being able to keep him employed. Your throat dries as you finally meet eyes with your boss, silently pleading him to come up with a solution.

“I see.” Nanami crosses his arms. “I suppose there is a…favor you could do for me.”

At that, you perk up and nod your head frantically. “Of course. Anything.”

Which is why you find yourself bent over Nanami’s desk, his cock drilling inside you. He’s ripped your stockings, pulled up your miniskirt, and put your panties to the side as he moans about how sweet your pussy feels. “I’ve been waiting for this forever. Tell me, is my cock better than his?”

“It is!” you squeal. “You’re so—so big!”

Nanami moans as he ruts inside you, your walls squeezing him tight. “Darling, I c—can tell he doesn’t treat you right. You are so tight around me, pussy’s been waiting for a while for a real man.” 

You moan and curse, blabbering affirmations while his dick impales you. Even though Nanami is the one who’s owed the favor here, his hands wind their way around your body to rub at your clit, simulating you even more, making you sob. “Please don’t stop!”

“I won’t ever, sweetheart,” he pants. “I’m going to finish inside her, okay? Make sure to keep it in when you go home and greet your husband.”

FUSHIGURO TOJI ⸺ BABE GETS IMMEDIATELY DESTROYED IN NAKED WRESTLING (WITH AN AUDIENCE) (find extended ver here!)

Cheers surround you as you step into the arena. You know who your opponent is—-Fushiguro Toji. Even when you looked at his pictures earlier, you knew you were doomed. No matter what angle the photographer took the photos in, his muscles seemed to be bulging, effectively spelling out the sore defeat you were about to face today.

And there he is. Him in the flesh. He’s leaning against the boxing ring’s outer borders, head tilted back lazily while his manager, Shiu, was informing him quickly (and intensely) about the rules of today.

Nothing crazy. Only fuck when all clothes are off of her.

The way his neck is tilted back, compression shirt showing off his upper physique made you weak in the knees already. Additionally, judging based off of the bulge he seemed to be sporting in his grey sweatpants, you knew you were doubly fucked.

Shiu seems to be done talking, so he steps back and takes a seat. Toji leans his head back, rolling his neck to stretch it out, and in the middle of doing so, catches your eye.

You almost drench your panties.

His eyes darken, giving you a sultry look as he cheekily winks. While his cocky demeanor was warranted (he was much stronger and bigger than you), your cheeks heated up in both arousal and irritation.

The sound of a whistle is heard as music starts to play. The stadium’s screens flashes the cocky image of Toji, who saunters in the middle of the ring, flexing his muscles to his screaming fans.

When your signature theme plays, you do the same, to no shortage of fans yourself. You can feel everyone in the stadium, especially your male fans, rove over your figure. You’re wearing a very low cut top that displays the swell of your boobs and even tighter shorts that squeeze your ass and show off the shape of your pussy. As you walk towards Toji, you can feel his heavy gaze on you as you nervously shake his hand.

“Try to last long, okay?” Toji smirks, patting your shoulder. “I’ll try to drag this out as much as I can, but it’s gonna be fuckin hard if that ass is grinding against me.”

You glare at him, but there’s not much intensity there. “Yea, yea,” you huff. “For all I know, you’ll be my personal dildo today.”

And the fucker’s smile widens. “Let the games begin.”

Soon enough, the sound of the whistle draws you towards each other, keeping each other in a lock to tackle the other down in an objective to take off layers of their clothing. Your fans cheer when you have Toji underneath you for a split second, only for female ones to become more riotous as he easily overtakes you, pins your hands down, and wrenches your shorts off of you.

“Toji is currently in the lead!” The announcer’s voice in the stadium echoes of your defeat as you flail around, now bottoms only covered by your panties. Deciding to pull out your signature move, you maneuver so your thighs surround Toji’s waist and hump your hips against his bulge. This momentarily distracts and weakens Toji, and you take full advantage of it by overtaking him and now straddling him. You quickly take off his shirt, salivating at the muscles you see. The whole stadium, in fact, can his abs and pecs glistening with sweat.

Your attention is back to Toji as he chuckles darkly. “You’re going to regret that. I was going to drag this out, princess, but I gotta fuck the brat out of you.” With that, he puts his whole body weight on you and strips you down one by one.

The arena cheers as your lace bra is uncovered, your sweat shining on the screen as your breasts are displayed. Toji then unhooks your bra, and the roars get even louder as your tits pop out. He takes a moment to grope them, your whines ignored as he pinches your nipples. “What a sensitive girl,” he coos. “Too bad she was too weak. Now she’s going through to have to take my cock.

With that, he finally unveils your glistening pussy for all eyes to see and the crowd goes wild, chanting for Toji to finish inside you. Toji flips you over so you’re on your hands and knees and pulls down his pants.

You don’t look back at the monster that’s about to enter you for the sake of your mental health, but your legs are shaking in anticipation of his cock, slick dripping down your thighs.

“Fuck.” And Toji’s slowly entering you, the humiliating plap! plap! plap! of his hips against the flesh of your ass echoing multiple strangers watch your pussy get wrecked. “The fuck this pussy’s so tight for? Thought you were a slut?”

You’re tearing up, but not fucked out enough to prevent you from snarkily replying, “You’re not turning me on, small dick.”

He did not like that very much.

Toji drills his hips into yours faster and slaps your ass multiple times consecutively. “Yea, so why is she clenching so fucking much? Why is she dripping? Just for that, I’m going to come inside of your slutty pussy.”

The crowd chants cum, cum, cum! and Toji just does that. Ropes of his cum fill you, and you drop down in exhaustion to hear Toji declared as winner.

GOJO SATORU ⸺ GIRL GETS FUCKED BY PEEPING TOM NEXT DOOR!

You sigh, extending your back and un clipping your bra, letting your tits bounce free after a long, long week of college. It was finally Friday night, and with no one in the house due to a party the rest of your family was attending, you could finally enjoy your time home on the holidays, starting with a solo session.

You clench your thighs in anticipation as you scrolled your phone, seeking an audio you could masturbate to. And you were close to finding one, until you felt eyes on you.

These eyes were nothing new. The boy next door, Gojo Satoru, has also been your crush since middle school. Even though neither of you have ever made a move, you’ve made bold moves since starting college, stripping with the blinds open to give him a show. You had kind of had a sixth sense as to when the fucker would start watching you, and it flared as you slowly dragged your hands down. Bending over and shaking your ass, you slipped your skimpy shorts down your legs, giving him a clear view of your wet pussy.

But masturbating wasn’t enough for today. None of the college frat bros could make you cum, no matter how much they boasted about their fuckin roster, and you were tired of Satoru just watching. Just seeing him work out shirtless in his lawn, sun shining his sweat to give him a golden halo, was enough to make you sick, hungry for his dick. The way he was so shy and the mannerisms he had (as a loser) let you know he had a big fucking dick.

Needless, to say, you were tired of just fantasizing and speculating about his dick. Turning around, the moonlight allowed you to see the silhouette of his wrist moving up and down his length, even if he had tried to make his best effort to darken his rooms. Putting on your best show of an angry face, you grab your phone aggressively and dial his number.

The line rings, and he picks up. “Hey,” and you can tell he’s a little breathless. “long time no see. What’s up?”

“Cut the fucking act out,” you spit. “I know you’ve been fucking watching me, perv.”

Satoru’s panic is comically obvious over the phone as he rushes his words. “Wait, wait—listen, I—I can explain.”

“On how you’re being a peeping tom?” You glare at his window. “Come over, Gojo. Then I’ll listen to your fucking explanation.”

One thing leads to another, and now you’re spread out on your childhood bed, Gojo whimpering and whining as he plows his dick into your pussy. “You feel so—so good. M’ sorry—sorry for doing that. Your pussy is too good for me to look at.”

You laugh meanly and grab his chin. “You feel sorry yet, you pervert?” And Satoru can only cry out as you yank his head. “Remember, this is the only fucking thing you’re good at. Being my glorified dildo. Got it? Now, you’re going to fill me up only after you make me cum at least two times.”

a/n yea this was depraved….lmk what yall think tho 😭

comment and reblog I’d love to hear your thoughts! (also, requests are open heheh)

NEW: part 2 here!

[totalswag]

hii, I’m not sure if you take request still but if so is there a possible way you can do a drew x singer!reader one shot take on how Sabrina “arrests” her fans before performing Juno for being too hot but the reader does it to Drew during her shows please 🫶🏼

arrested for being too hot — DREW STARKEY

authors note THANK YOU FOR REQUESTING THIS!! my request box is still open so feel free to send me any ideas regarding singer!reader or regular fic ideas you’d like me to write. this was so much writing too. thank for all the love on my last fic lovies <3

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summary "arresting" drew, your boyfriend, during your show before performing your song from your new album.

warning(s) none!

You are on tour for your new album in-front of thousands of fans almost every night. You worked hard on this album and it turned out wonderfully. If it weren’t for the amazing fans of yours, you don’t know where you’d be in your career— they are the reason you are doing this.

Half way into the show— going amazing. The crowd tonight isn't disappointing you. Everything you've hoped for on this tour. You've performed eighteen songs and about to go onto your nineteenth. Played musical spin the bottle not long ago which was really fun.

Before Juno, you begin with a small "skit" where you call someone out in the crowd, arresting them for being too hot. This became a thing after your first show of the tour and doing it ever since. Plus, fans absolutely love it. Interacting with your fans has always been something you did and create those bonds.

Drew, your boyfriend, is attending the show with Madelyn Cline, a mutual friend and cast-mate of Drew's. You told him earlier today you wanted to arrest him in the middle of the show to get the audience excited and it would be fun.

Drew was all for it, and he didn't want you to tell him what you were going to say—he prefers surprises.

Your pink, glittering, dazzling clothing was sparkling in the lights. You pressed your free hand to your brow as though you were looking around for a call. With security, you could see Drew and Madelyn making their way to the front.

You begin by adjusting your earpiece while moving around the stage in your long skirt. "You guys know that moment when you are in a room filled with such beautiful looking people that you start to feel overwhelmed?" When fans applaud, you smile.

"Oh, girls, I think I just seen my future husband in the front row! Oh my god, girls, come here, come here," you say anxiously into the microphone, beckoning them over and waving your free hand.

You turn to face Drew as the girls approach you, asking, "Do you see that gorgeous looking man over in the front row with his arms crossed in the tan shirt?" You speak into the microphone aloud, pointing to Drew in the crowd.

Your girls joyfully waved at Drew while placing their hands on your shoulder. As Drew blushes on the big screen, the crowd reflexively turns up the volume in the arena. 

"What's your name handsome?" With your head cocked slightly to the right toward your shoulder, you inquire in jest. 

"Drew!" You can hear him when he places his hands on the side of his lips. He gives you a childlike smile and a flushed face.

You say, "I'm sorry I couldn't get that?" as though you couldn't hear him. Leaning forward more, you place your free hand behind your ear.

He shakes his head and utters "Drew!" a little louder. 

"Oh my Drew, I must say that you must be a magnet because you drew me in" brings a smile to your face. Your tone indicated that you were trying quite hard not to laugh, yet you kept your calm brilliantly.

Fans had their phones out, capturing the entire interaction. Nobody would have expected Drew to be the person arrested at your gigs since the tour began.

"Drew, you are under arrest for being too hot," you say aloud, smiling and pointing at him— fanning yourself, moving your hips side to side as the sound of sirens going off with blue and red lights behind.

You put your left elbow against your girls shoulder, "guys do you ever just see someone so good looking that you just don't know what to do and all your clothes fall off in that moment" your long skirt slips off smoothy.

"Like your brain just like malfunctions and like I just wanna handcuffed to you now like," one of your girls puts the pink fluffy handcuffs into your hand, you kneel down, "do you know what I mean? Will you take these from me?"

Drew is overwhelmed in this very moment— it's very obvious how much you are affecting him. Drew gives you a gimme me gesture with his fingers, ready to catch the hand cuffs.

He takes them in his hands, looks down, and feels the smooth texture of the fuzzy. He tilts his head to the side before slowly glancing up at you with a smirk—keep in mind that he's still on the big screen.

"We're gonna sing this one to you, Drew."

Juno's song intro starts playing. You wave goodbye to Drew and Madelyn as you return to the center of the stage. You could hear the two begin speaking to fans in the distance.

Drew and Madelyn met you in the dressing room following the show. After giving Madelyn a hug and thanking her for attending the event, you moved to approach Drew and put your arms around his neck while grinning.

"That was insane," Madelyn exclaimed, pulling you into a hug. "What about the full call-out and the handcuffs? Iconic! "You're the talk of the night; everyone is crazy about it."

You giggled as your face heated up. "It seemed right." "You should have seen his face!"

She laughs, "I got the whole thing on video, I'll send it to you later."

"I'm going to give you two some alone time, but you did such an amazing job tonight and looked so hot doing it," Madelyn adds, taking your hands in her and wiggling her brows. 

"Thank you, babe. I love you always," you say, hugging her before she leaves you and Drew alone. 

When you close the door, Drew comes behind you, placing his arms around your waist and kissing you on the cheek, making you laugh with the tenderness of his lips.

"I'm so proud of you baby, you did such an amazing job on stage and looked unbelievable in your outfits made me feel like the luckiest guy in the entire world." He expresses emotionally, which uplifts you. 

"Coming from you, it warms my heart baby. Forever grateful to have you in my life," you smile softly, leaning against his chest, feeling that sense of warmth you always feel whenever you are with him.

"And I'm forever grateful for you" he quietly responds, kissing the top of your head.

"So what are we gonna do with those pink fuzzy handcuffs?"

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