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@cephei-ea
Welcome to my blog ♡
Hi! I’m Cephei :)
A warning that my writing is very angsty and I have trouble writing without including angst.
Blog Rules:
General:
When you’re reading something and you can tell it’s AI but you can’t prove it
this fanfic shit is easy
I want to start making SMAUs but isnt that bordering on degeneracy? not to mention a lot of work
The Ex Files
Synopsis: you got into an accident and lost your memories. to learn about what happened and how you ended up in the hospital in the first place, you must start at the beginning and contact your six exes
and perhaps on your path to recovering what you lost, you may end up back together with the one who loved you most...
Warnings: angst, memory loss, reader's morality questioned, flawed characters, realistic depictions of relationships?, crude language, modern/non curse au, each men's part can be technically read as a standalone but they are part of the series
Gojo ⊹ Geto ⊹ Choso ⊹ Toji ⊹ Nanami ⊹ Sukuna
The Ex ⊹ The One
Just a wittle something I couldn't stop thinking about
This is genuinely peak.
DAYDREAMS OF THE ROMANCE, DAYDREAMS OF YOU ! - h. higuruma
°•*⁀➷ synopsis : higuruma, your unrequited love, turns out to be your assaulter’s defense lawyer.
・❥・requests : rules
・❥・characters : higuruma hiromi.
warnings : mdni, 18+, implied assault (did not go into detail), unrequited/one-sided love, angst, not proofread.
・❥・wc : 1.6k
・❥・masterlist
a/n: i wish people wrote more angst with higuruma. he fits the aesthetic perfectly. i would love to read more angst with him involved.
p.s: read this with frank ocean's american wedding if you can
You used to believe that quiet boys were the kindest.
It was just an assumption, because in high school, Hiromi Higuruma barely spoke unless he was answering a question or correcting someone. His tone was always calm and measured, making teachers nod in approval.
He was like a margin note no one thought to read carefully. He wasn’t popular, but he wasn’t ignored either. He simply existed on the edges of everything,
But you read him carefully.
You sat near the windows, two rows behind him. The seat was destined to be his; the late afternoon sunlight would stretch across the classroom and catch in his hair.
He always seemed distant, eyes lowered to a textbook or a case study even back then, already serious in ways most teenagers were not.
And you.
Poor, delusional you.
You convinced yourself that there was something romantic about that seriousness, thinking it profound.
He never noticed you.
Or at least, that’s what you believed.
You had memorized the slope of his shoulders, the way he tapped his pen against his desk when thinking, or the subtle furrow in his brow when someone said something he disagreed with.
You built an entire story around those details. In your mind, he was misunderstood. In your version, he would someday look up, really look at you, and realize that you had been there all along.
But he never did.
And you never said anything.
Years passed, and life moved the way it always does.
You stopped thinking about him as often, though sometimes his name would surface unexpectedly, like a song lyric you hadn’t heard in years but recited perfectly.
The first time you saw him again, it was not under the warm classroom light.
It was under the sterile brightness of a courtroom.
You didn’t recognize him immediately. The suit came first. Then the posture; straight-backed, composed.
His hair was longer now, his face sharper, older, defined by experiences you knew nothing about.
Then he spoke.
And the years collapsed in on themselves.
“Miss [Name], can you clarify your statement regarding the time of the incident?”
Perhaps this had been the first time he ever spoke your name out loud. You couldn't remember, your version of him blurring seamlessly with reality.
Reality?
What was the reality?
The reality.
You were on the witness stand.
And he was standing beside the man who had hurt you.
When the prosecution informed you who the defense attorney would be, you thought it was some kind of cruel coincidence.
Leaving high school hadn't meant leaving him behind completely. You had kept your daydreams alive with whatever crumbs the internet had on him.
Hiromi Higuruma was now a criminal defense lawyer, known for his relentless cross-examinations and his unwavering belief in the legal process.
You had read an article about him once, months before any of this happened, and felt an odd flicker of pride. He had done well for himself.
Although, you had never imagined you would meet again like this.
He didn’t hesitate when he began questioning you. His tone remained controlled and devoid of personal inflection.
“Is it possible,” he asked, flipping through his notes, “that your recollection has been influenced by emotional distress?”
The question wasn’t shouted. It wasn’t accusatory. It had been precise.
It felt worse than cruelty would have.
You forced yourself to meet his gaze. “No.”
He studied you then, properly, and for the first time you saw it—the flicker of recognition. It was brief but unmistakable.
He knew.
Still, he continued.
Each question peeled something back, exposing inconsistencies that were small, human, normal under trauma. But in court, every detail mattered. He wasn’t attacking you personally. He was testing your narrative, dismantling it carefully.
Because that was his job.
You realized something slowly and painfully: he wasn’t being heartless.
He was being consistent.
In high school, you once dropped your books in the hallway after someone bumped into you. The sound echoed, drawing attention from a few students nearby. He had looked up from his own stack of papers, his eyes meeting yours for three seconds.
Three seconds had been enough for hope to bloom in your chest.
Then he stepped around you.
It wasn't that he was being unkind. He simply hadn’t felt responsible.
You told yourself back then that he was shy, that he didn’t know how to approach people.
You never considered that it might simply mean indifference.
The trial lasted weeks.
Every session felt like reliving something you desperately wanted to leave behind, but what unsettled you most wasn’t the presence of the man who had hurt you.
It was Higuruma’s composure.
He listened carefully to every testimony and objected only when necessary. He presented his arguments with clarity, almost convincing, and that made you hold your breath.
You hated that you still admired him.
That small part of you, the young girl from high school continued to put him on a pedestal even as he stood addressing the judge.
The version of him you loved had been built from admiration.
But this version.
This version of him was real, Tangible.
Formidable.
And he stood against you.
One evening after a particularly grueling session, you stepped out of the courthouse to find rain falling steadily onto the pavement.
You were exhausted, emotionally scraped red and raw, when you heard your name spoken quietly behind you.
You turned.
He stood there without his jacket, sleeves rolled up slightly.
And for the first time, he looked less like a defense attorney and more like the boy you once watched from afar.
“I was hoping we could talk,” he said.
There was no edge to his voice, yet you hesitated.
Of course you did. But nonetheless, you nodded.
The café across the street was nearly empty. You sat across from each other at a small table by the window.
“I didn’t recognize you at first,” he began. “Not until you were on the stand.”
“That’s...understandable,” you replied evenly.
He watched you carefully. “I remember you.”
Your fingers tightened around your cup.
“You sat near the windows,” he continued. “You used to write in the margins of your notes, doodling instead of writing.”
The memory startled you.
“You noticed?”
“You did stare a lot.”
He wasn't scrutinizing, just stating. But the embarrassment caught up to you anyways.
“I didn’t know you liked me,” he added after a moment.
Heat rose to your face despite everything.
“I didn’t,” you said instinctively.
He almost smiled. “You’re not very convincing.”
He knew? All this time.
You wanted to break down that very instant.
And while you debated with yourself, silence stretched between you.
“I believe you,” he said quietly.
Your breath faltered.
“What?”
“I believe your testimony,” he clarified.
Just a tiny bit of hope...
“But belief isn’t evidence.”
and then it was gone.
The words settled heavily.
“You believe me,” you repeated, “and you’re still defending him.”
“Yes.”
There was no apology in it.
“If I choose cases based on personal feelings,” he continued, “then I compromise the integrity of the system. Everyone deserves defense.”
“And what about me?” you asked softly.
His jaw tightened, pausing for a moment, but his expression remained composed.
“I can’t be subjective.”
That was when something shifted inside you.
He wasn’t cruel. He wasn’t secretly malicious. He simply believed in structure more than emotion.
The boy who stepped around your fallen books had grown into a man who stepped around your pain for the same reason; it wasn’t his role to intervene unless the system required it.
You had mistaken quiet for kindness, and perhaps quiet is kindness.
But his quiet had always been a boundary.
The verdict came on a gray afternoon.
GUILTY.
The word echoed through the courtroom, heavy and final. Relief washed over you, mingled with exhaustion so deep it felt bone-settled.
He didn’t react outwardly. He gathered his files with the same precision he had displayed throughout the trial.
When the room emptied, he approached you, your own lawyer standing a few steps behind you, not wanting to intervene, but just to keep an eye.
“There won’t be an appeal,” he said. “There are no viable grounds.”
You nodded, but couldn't smile. Even now, you were expecting something. Anything. A smile would have sufficed.
For a moment, neither of you spoke.
“I’m sorry,” he said finally.
Your eyebrows furrowed, an apology being the last thing you were expecting.
You searched his face for clarification, but none came.
He wasn’t apologizing for defending the man, nor was he apologizing for questioning you.
He was apologizing for something quieter; perhaps the position itself, the meeting of past and present.
You studied him carefully, maybe for the last time ever.
He was not the sunlit figure from your memories. He was not the romantic possibility you once imagined. He was a man who would always prioritize law over sentiment.
That didn’t make him evil.
It just made him real.
You had loved the idea of him, and you finally met the real him.
Your daydreams were fragile like glass. But in this moment, they didn't break like glass does.
They melted like glass does under the fire, dripping and moulding into something stronger, something the showed you the clear reflection of who he had always been beneath your quiet fantasies.
“I stopped loving you today,” you said.
The confession surprised even you, but it felt steady, true.
And his lack of any reaction hurt you more than you wanted to admit.
He didn’t interrupt.
"I feel like I'm meeting you for the first time."
Rain began falling again outside the courthouse windows, soft but persistent.
"It was nice to meet you, Higuruma."
A pause.
And then, he nodded once.
“I hope you heal,” he said.
The words were formal, almost distant, but they were sincere.
“I will,” you replied.
And for the first time, you meant it.
Later that night, you sat by your own window. You thought about the girl you had been; the one who believed that if she waited long enough, the boy she admired would eventually turn and see her.
He had seen you.
He just hadn’t chosen you.
And that realization, painful as it was, felt cleaner than any fantasy you had carried for years.
Daydreams are beautiful because they ask nothing of reality. They exist without consequence, without contradiction.
But love requires more than projection.
And sometimes the most merciful thing you can do for yourself is let the daydream end.
a/n: yep. not exactly how i wanted it to turn out, but at least i got the idea out of my brain and turned it into words.
I WANNA FUCK!
― a sneaky abyss mage hits you with an aphrodisiac!
pairings (separate): kaeya, xiao, itto, alhaitham, neuvillette, mualani, childe, dainsleif x reader
cw: explicit piv content, dubcon, semi-exhibitionism, spanking, slapping, biting, scratching, overstim, creampie, breeding kink, babytrapping? (childe), scissoring (mualani), praise, neuvillette has a dragon tail bc i said so but its not very relevant
kaeya
the spell hit him fast.
one second kaeya was joking with you over a drink, the next he was doubled over against the bar of angel's share with his hand clenched over his mouth, panting like he’d run from dragonspine. you barely had time to process the heat in his eyes before he was dragging you out the back door with a death grip on your wrist.
now you were pinned between the cold stone wall of angel’s share and the full length of his body, his thigh shoved between yours, coat pushed back, gloved hand under your skirt—in your panties.
“fuck,” he hissed, breath hot against your lips, “you feel that too, don’t you, pretty girl?”
you couldn’t answer—not with his fingers already sliding through your slick folds like he was starving, not with the way his cock strained against his pants, grinding against your thigh. he chuckled low in his throat, even as he panted like a dog in heat.
“abyss bastards must be getting creative,” he muttered, teeth scraping along your jaw. “should’ve known something was wrong when i started picturing you bent over the bar…”
he pressed a kiss to your throat, then bit it—not hard enough to draw blood, but enough to make you gasp and grip his shoulders. he moaned when you did, hips twitching. the sound was obscene.
“you’re so wet for me,” he whispered. “you like seeing me like this? all hot and desperate? hah… you always were a bit of a tease.”
you didn’t get a chance to shoot back. he yanked your panties aside with one hand and unbuckled his belt with the other, his movements clumsy and frantic—not like him. the spell had stripped away all the usual smooth bravado. his hands trembled. his lips were parted. and when he finally sank into you, the noise he made was almost vulnerable.
“ohh… fuck, fuck—archons, you’re tight—‘m gonna lose it,” he groaned, forehead pressed to yours. “shit, you’re gonna milk me dry, pretty girl…”
your back hit the wall with each thrust, hard and fast, the way only someone out of his mind with lust could manage. he couldn’t keep quiet—every breath came with a moan, a whispered praise, a filthy promise.
“so fuckin’ good, baby. taking me so well. gonna fill you up right here where anyone could walk out and see.”
you whimpered his name and he lost it.
one hand fisted in your hair, the other dragging your leg higher around his hip as he slammed into you with a growl. “say it again,” he panted. “say my name, beg for it—i wanna hear you sob it while i ruin you.”
your thighs trembled. your nails dug into his coat. and when your orgasm crashed into you like a tidal wave, kaeya snapped.
he fucked you through it, chasing his own release, rutting into your soaked cunt like a man possessed. when he came, he bit your shoulder to muffle the sound, cock pulsing deep inside you as hot cum spilled out around him, dripping down your thighs onto the cobblestones below.
neither of you moved for a moment. just panting. trembling. pressed together in the shadows.
then he tilted his head and smirked.
“…think diluc would mind if we used the spare bedroom upstairs?”
xiao
he warned you not to follow him.
the abyss mage had vanished into the night, but whatever cursed aura it left behind clung to xiao like smoke. he staggered onto the balcony, breath ragged, arm trembling as he gripped the railing like it was the only thing keeping him sane.
“don’t—come near me,” he snarled, voice hoarse, teeth clenched like he was in pain.
you’d never seen him like this. sweat glistened on his brow, hair stuck to his neck, and when he looked over his shoulder at you, his golden eyes were wide—wild.
“i can’t… i can’t control it. it’s crawling under my skin. my body’s burning.” his voice cracked on that last word, as if admitting it made the heat worse.
you stepped closer anyway. “xiao…”
“don’t,” he begged, backing into the shadows. “don’t say my name like that. i—i can’t—”
but then you reached out. you brushed your fingers against his and gasped at how hot he was—feverish, shaking.
he froze.
and when you looked up at him, wide-eyed, lower lip caught between your teeth in concern—
his last thread of will snapped.
xiao slammed you against the balcony wall in the blink of an eye, his body caging you in like a beast cornering its prey. his lips ghosted over your jaw, but he didn’t kiss you. he just breathed, fast and shallow, like he was scared that touching you would ruin everything.
“you looked at me like you trusted me,” he whispered, nails digging into your hips. “like i wasn’t dangerous. like i wasn’t… like this.”
you whispered his name again. that was it.
his mouth crashed down on yours—clumsy, desperate, teeth grazing your lips. his hands found your thighs, lifting you with ease, and his hips pressed against you, hard and already throbbing through his pants.
“i’m sorry,” he panted, forehead pressed to yours. “i can’t stop. i don’t want to stop.”
and he didn’t.
he shoved your underwear aside with shaking fingers, freeing his cock just enough to rut into you, his hips snapping forward with a raw, needy groan. you cried out at the sudden stretch—he was thick, trembling as he buried himself inside you in one hard thrust.
“fuck,” he gasped. “you’re… ngh—you’re perfect. too warm. too tight. i c-can’t…”
he tried to pull back—tried—but your walls clenched around him and his restraint crumbled to dust. he drove into you like a man possessed, every thrust harsher than the last, his voice a mess of choked moans and broken apologies.
“you shouldn’t be here,” he whimpered, “i was trying to protect you, i—shit, i’m going to cum—”
you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, anchoring him, and whispered “please. i want it.”
he shattered.
xiao buried his face in your neck, crying out as he emptied inside you, hips jerking, cum spilling deep and hot and fast. he trembled in your arms, still rutting shallowly like he couldn’t bear to be apart from your warmth just yet.
you stroked his hair. whispered his name again, this time with a smile.
he groaned softly.
“…you’re going to break me,” he breathed.
itto
“okay, but real talk—why do i feel like i’m gonna explode if i don’t stick it in you right now?”
itto’s voice was a breathy whine, his huge hands clinging to your waist like you were the last snack on earth. his abs were still glistening from your little one-on-one sparring match, and now he was hard—violently hard—bulging against his pants like his cock was trying to punch its way out.
“i’m serious!” he groaned, grinding into your hip with zero shame. “i was fine one second, then you looked at me with that little smile, and boom—boner. massive. painful. i think i’m dying.”
you blinked. “itto… you did get hit by a weird-looking abyss mage’s spell like, ten minutes ago.”
he stared blankly.
“oh. huh. that would explain the horny.”
you didn’t even get a chance to laugh before he was kissing you—sloppy, hungry, tongue already in your mouth and one of his massive hands groping your ass like he needed to memorize every inch. his other hand lifted you off the floor like you weighed nothing, slamming you down on the futon so hard it squeaked in protest.
“sorry! sorry,” he panted, already tugging your pants down. “i just—i can’t. babe, i need you. like, right now. right this second. please please please lemme cum in you, i swear i’ll be good—fuck—”
you tried to answer, but he already had your thighs pushed up and apart, cock out, flushed and angry looking, and he just lined up and shoved in with a groan so loud it shook the walls.
“haaahhh fuckkk, you’re so warm,” he slurred, eyes rolling back a little. “squeezin’ me so good, shit—babe, you made for this or somethin’?”
his hips slammed forward again. and again. and again. no rhythm. no restraint. just full-force, head-empty, dick-driven fucking. you were already gasping, clawing at his back for purchase, but itto was in his own world—moaning and muttering under his breath like a man in a trance.
“feel so good—ahh fuck, you’re takin’ it so well—y’like this? y’want me to go harder? i can go harder—”
“itto!” you gasped, seeing stars.
“fuck, yeah, say my name like that,” he groaned, hips pistoning faster. “archons, m’gonna cum, gonna cum—fuck, babe, i’m gonna—!”
and then he slammed all the way in and stayed there, cock twitching as he emptied himself deep inside you with a loud, wrecked moan. he didn’t even pause—just kept grinding into you, cum dripping out around his base, chasing that sweet friction.
“oh fuck, wait, you feel too good—i gotta keep goin’. just a little more, babe. c’mon. i’m so close. again. again.”
you whimpered, thighs trembling.
“...i think this spell’s still goin’,” he panted.
and then he smiled that dumb, hot, oni smile.
“guess we’re goin’ for round two, huh?”
alhaitham
he didn’t even flinch when the abyss mage cast it.
just let out a slow breath, adjusted his grip on his sword, and sliced the creature in two before it could vanish. you were panting behind him—relieved but shaken—barely even processing what had just happened before he turned to you with sharp, unreadable eyes.
“don’t panic,” he said, voice smooth, calm. too calm. “i’m aware of the spell’s effects.”
you blinked. “the what—?”
he was already walking toward you. unhurried. measured. the same way he read a book. the same way he always did everything.
“a focused aphrodisiac curse,” he said, sliding his gloves off. “localized. intensely hormonal. you’ll likely remain unaffected… but i’m already experiencing symptoms.”
you backed into a wall—gently, instinctively. his hand came up to cage your head, palm braced above your temple, and his mouth was suddenly much closer than it had been five seconds ago.
“which brings us to the solution.”
“w-what solution?” you breathed.
alhaitham leaned down and kissed you like he owned you—calm and composed but deep, tongue sliding over yours with slow, obscene confidence. by the time he pulled back, your head was spinning and your thighs were pressed together tight.
“the more i fuck you, the more the curse burns itself out.”
you gasped, but he was already sliding a hand down to your waistband. no shame. no hesitation. just firm, steady fingers tugging at your clothes like he’d already decided.
“you’re wet already,” he observed, voice low. “good. that makes this easier.”
and then he had you turned around—facing the stacks, bare ass pressed against his hips—and slid inside like he knew your body, like it was another formula he’d memorized and solved.
“you’ll tell me if it’s too much,” he muttered against your ear, hips rolling slow and deep. “but i don’t intend to stop until it wears off.”
your mouth dropped open in a soundless moan. he was thick, perfectly curved, bottoming out with every stroke like it was nothing. every time you tried to steady yourself, he’d just grab your hips tighter and fuck you harder—his voice still maddeningly even.
“look at you. arching for it already.”
one hand slid up your spine and curled gently around your throat—not choking, just there. a silent reminder of his control.
“do you like this?” he whispered. “do you like being used to stabilize my symptoms?”
you whimpered—no words, just a shaky nod—and he groaned low in his throat, pace picking up.
“you’re helping. so well, in fact, i might not stop even when it fades.”
your legs were trembling. your orgasm was building too fast, tight and unbearable and ravenous, and alhaitham just pressed his mouth to your ear and whispered:
“cum for me. now.”
you did, spasming around him, and he groaned like he’d been holding back for hours, slamming in deep and emptying himself inside you with a growl of satisfaction.
but he didn’t stop.
you flinched as he started moving again, slow and steady, already hard again, cock still stuffed inside your overstimulated pussy.
“the spell’s not done,” he said coolly, eyes half-lidded.
then he kissed your temple, softly.
“neither am i.”
neuvillette
it had been a quick fight. too quick for you to realize what the abyss mage had slipped into the room with—not until neuvillette turned to you afterward with wide, blown eyes and a tremble in his breath that made your chest seize.
“i—” he choked, his voice already hoarse. “i’ve been afflicted. please… please leave. i can’t—”
you took one step toward him, just one, and he shuddered, knees buckling slightly as he braced himself on the judge’s bench behind him. his breathing was ragged. his pupils had nearly eclipsed the soft blue of his eyes. and his whole body—
he was shaking.
“no,” you said quietly, “i’m not leaving you like this.”
that was when he snapped.
you weren’t even sure how fast he moved, only that suddenly your back was pressed to the polished wood of the bench, your legs forced open by large, trembling hands, and neuvillette was growling against your mouth as he kissed you like he’d been starving for centuries.
“i tried,” he rasped. “i tried to be noble. i tried to be good.”
he dragged his lips down your neck, his tongue darting out to taste your skin, and whimpered—an honest-to-archons whimper—as if the flavor of you was enough to undo him.
“but it hurts,” he choked. “it hurts so much. please let me… please—”
his cock was rock hard, thick and twitching in his trousers, already leaving a soaked, glistening patch on the front. he ground himself against your core like he couldn’t breathe otherwise—moaning deep in his throat as the pressure gave him momentary relief.
“i shouldn’t—do this,” he gasped. “i shouldn’t—use you this way—”
“but you need it,” you whispered, gripping his coat and pulling him closer. “don’t you?”
that was all it took.
he tore through your clothes—not with violence, but with urgency, reverence, desperation—and buried his face between your legs like a man sentenced to die. licked you until you were slick and dripping, trembling under his tongue, and then finally—finally—he pressed the head of his cock to your entrance and sank inside.
“ah—” he gasped, voice cracked and broken. “you’re perfect. too perfect. you shouldn’t—you shouldn’t let me—”
you cried out as he bottomed out. he was huge, stretching you wide, and every pulse of his cock sent a gush of wetness dripping down your thighs. he wasn’t even moving yet—just trembling, panting, holding himself back with visible agony.
“neuvillette,” you begged, wrapping your arms around him. “please. don’t hold back.”
his restraint shattered.
he fucked you against that bench like he was trying to drive the curse out of his bloodstream—deep, punishing thrusts that made your eyes roll back, your nails dig into his shoulders, your cunt tighten helplessly around him as slick soaked down your thighs and dripped onto the courtroom floor.
the whole time, he was moaning, whimpering things like:
“i’m sorry—so sorry—but you feel too good—”
“i need to cum—i have to cum—inside, inside—please—”
“won’t you let me breed you, mon ange? i can’t stop—i can’t stop—”
and you barely managed to scream his name before he came hard, hips slamming into yours as his cock throbbed and released a flood of hot, viscous cum inside you. the pressure was insane. it leaked out around him instantly, coating the wood below.
but he didn’t stop.
“still burning,” he whispered, voice wrecked. “still too hot. i need more—you—i need to keep going—”
and that dragon tail curled around your thigh as he started again, more desperate than before.
mualani
you should’ve known something was wrong the second her hands started trembling.
mualani was always warmth wrapped in sunshine. she laughed like wind chimes in the breeze, kissed you softly, and touched you like you were made of something softer than skin. there was always a flower in her hand and starlight in her smile. but now?
now she was staring at you like she didn’t know how to hold back.
the abyss spell shimmered faintly around her—silvery-green mist curling around her marked arms and flushed cheeks, catching in the light like dew. her lips were parted, giggling softly under her breath as she tried (and failed) to keep her thighs pressed together.
“oh,” she hiccuped, a little breathless, “i think i touched something i shouldn’t have… it tickled all the way up my spine. and now i can’t stop thinking about you. your skin, your thighs, your… everything—hahh, oh no, i’m so sorry, i sound crazy, don’t i?”
“mua,” you murmured, hands on her waist, trying to steady her. “it’s the spell. it’s messing with you—maybe we should sit down—”
but she just let out another soft, high giggle, burying her face in your neck. “too late. i already want you. i already need you.”
and then she was kissing you—light and fluttering at first, like she was trying to be good, trying to keep her usual sweetness intact. but her mouth was hot and needy, and the little noises spilling from her lips betrayed her. her whole body trembled, glowing with that blue-yellow aura, her vision pulsing around you like plankton caught in a whirlpool.
she gasped when your hand slid up under her skirt, clinging to you like she was melting. “i’m sorry—i’m sorry—i just—can i…? can i feel you?”
you nodded before your brain could catch up. “yeah. yes. please.”
she giggled again, all breathy and dazed. “hehe… you’re warm. i love that. i love you.”
clothes came off in soft, clumsy motions—skirts pushed up, lips still brushing, chests heaving. she kissed you all over, from your cheek to your hipbone, humming delightedly at every sigh you made. and then, with her face flushed and her pupils blown wide, she pressed her cunt to yours.
“oh—oh, goodness,” she gasped, head falling back. “you’re so wet. that’s from me, right? i made you feel that good already?”
you could barely breathe, let alone answer. her slick skin was grinding against yours, hips trembling as she moved—slow, at first, and then a little faster, moaning softly each time her clit brushed yours. her legs locked around your thigh and she rocked against you in tight little circles, giggles tumbling into gasps.
“mua,” you whimpered, clutching her waist. “fuck—mua, you feel so good—keep going, please don’t stop—”
“‘course i won’t,” she said, almost drunkenly, her face glowing. “i could stay like this forever. pretty girl, pretty girl, you’re so soft. so perfect.”
her hands curled into yours as your slick bodies slid together, mess building between you. the moss below was damp with sweat and arousal, petals crushed under your bodies. you couldn’t stop moaning—your voices tangling in the air, high and desperate, hips grinding harder and faster until your thighs started to shake.
“i’m gonna cum,” she whined, voice all shaky and high-pitched. “please—cum with me—want you to make a mess with me—”
“i’m—fuck, yes, mualani, yes—!”
you clung to each other like vines, bodies trembling as the heat shattered between you. you came in sync—sobbing, grinding through it, her giggles dissolving into little gasps and praise.
she collapsed against you, face buried in your neck, giggling and sighing all at once. “oops.” she whispered, grinning.
your thighs were still shaking. “mua. you nearly killed me.”
“don’t be silly,” she said, eyes glittering. “i don't think this is wearing off anytime soon.”
and then she was sliding her leg back between yours again, breath catching.
“again?” she whispered.
you just pulled her closer. “again.”
childe
“fuck—! ajax—!”
he laughs, low and breathless, as he slams into you again—your knees sliding against the furs beneath you, snow melting into steam around your tangled bodies.
“you say my name like it’s gonna save you, pretty girl,” he pants, one hand tangled in your hair, the other squeezing your hips hard enough to bruise. “but it won’t. not from this.”
the spell hit him mid-fight, some abyss mage’s last-ditch effort before childe sliced him clean through. and at first? he brushed it off. laughed it off. “ha, what’s this? a love spell? cute.”
until he caught your scent.
and then it was over.
he dragged you into a half-collapsed tent behind enemy lines, tossed you down like a prize, and now? he’s ruining you—balls-deep, unrelenting, grinning even as he snarls.
“you sure this was a spell?” he growls, teeth grazing your ear as he fucks you through another wave of overstimulation. “because i’ve wanted to bend you over like this since day one. maybe the abyss just helped me along.”
your body jerks with each thrust, moaning his name like it’s the only word you know. he’s so deep it’s like he’s trying to breed you, to plant himself inside you until he can’t be removed.
“look at you,” he coos, licking a stripe up your neck. “so cockdrunk, so fucking needy. what’s wrong, sweetheart? don’t tell me you like when the enemy wins.”
you sob out his name, and he slaps your ass, cock twitching deep inside you.
“say it louder. let them hear.”
you scream for him—broken, breathless—and he fucking shudders.
“ohhh fuck, yeah. that’s it. let ‘em know you’re mine now. that this sweet little body belongs to the fatui’s number 11.”
he fucks you harder. deeper. his cock stretching you open like your cunt was made for him. and then he pulls you up by the hair, flush against his chest, his breath hot and shaky against your ear.
“i’m gonna cum inside you,” he whispers, biting down. “and when this spell wears off, you’ll still feel it. still leak with me for days. and if we’re lucky? i’ll knock you up too. make sure the abyss spell sticks with you for life.”
your thighs quake. your orgasm hits like a bomb. and behind you, childe laughs again, full of heat and madness and pure fucking obsession.
“guess we’re both victims of the spell now, huh, baby?”
dainsleif ― bonus!
you don’t remember how the fight ended. just the burst of dark magic cracking through your ribs like lightning, and then—heat.
not just arousal. not something manageable. no. it’s suffocating. a deep, clawing ache in your womb that pulses harder with every breath of dainsleif’s scent.
he drags you to safety. sets up camp. checks your wounds. all while you tremble, every touch of his gloved hands burning you alive.
you try to hide it at first—gripping your thighs, biting your lip raw. but your whimper gives you away, and his head snaps toward you.
“…it affected you.”
you nod, shaking. desperate. so fucking wet it’s dripping onto the furs. and dain? he just sighs. gentle. almost pitying. he pulls off his gloves with slow precision.
“lie back.”
“w-what?”
his voice stays calm. measured. but his eyes—glowing, unreadable—pin you in place.
“you need relief. you’ll burn through your own mind if you don’t get it. i’m not affected by the abyss’ magic... but i can offer you my body.” he pauses. “use me. however you need.”
your brain short-circuits.
then you’re climbing on top of him, fingers digging into his shoulders, sobbing his name as you sink down onto his cock for the first time.
and fuck, he’s big. thick. heavy. stretching you open perfectly—and you don't even care. you need it. you ride him like you’ll die without it, hips snapping down hard, tears spilling down your cheeks as your cunt flutters around him.
“dain—! dain, please, i can’t— i need more, i need—”
he grips your hips, steady but unyielding, holding you open as you bounce on him.
“shhh,” he breathes, voice like silk. “take what you need. i’m not going anywhere.”
and you do. you fuck yourself on his cock until your thighs shake and your moans turn hoarse. until your pussy is soaked and red and raw, clenching down again and again like it never wants to let go.
dain watches the whole thing. chest rising slowly, lips parted, but never losing control. just… observing. letting you devour him.
“you’re beautiful like this,” he murmurs eventually, one hand smoothing up your back. “even consumed by madness. so full of need… like the abyss carved its hunger into you.”
you cry out as another orgasm crashes through you, pussy milking him—and only then does he shift, just enough to thrust up into you once. a warning.
“that’s enough,” he says, voice low. “you’ve taken your fill. now it’s my turn.”
you blink through the haze—and then dain flips you. presses you into the furs and fucks you so deep you swear you can taste it, murmuring about how good you feel, how well you took him, how he’s going to fuck the abyss right out of you—
until you can’t think. can’t breathe. can’t exist without him.
and through it all, dain holds you like something sacred. a relic to be cherished. a temple overtaken by hunger and worshipped with every thrust of his cock.
a/n: can u tell who my genshin fave is idk
if I say “I’m gonna update my fic and post the new chapter soon,” please know that “soon” could either mean today or 2035
THIS PICTUREEEEE HNGNGNGN
Mementos (Geto)
CHAPTER FOUR
Genre: angst
Warnings: foul language
Word Count: ~2.6k
Mementos(Geto)
CHAPTER THREE
Warnings: violence and brutality, vivid descriptions of injuries, broken bones, blood, cursing, one night stand,
Genre: angst
Word count: 6.2k
meanwhile, in another timeline
unstoppable force meets immovable object
Cloud Strife & Tifa Lockhart in Final Fantasy VII Rebirth (2024)
i have 0 words omg 😻😻
cr: narutoss.ramen on X
I have inappropriate things to say.
Hmmm thinking he looks at you like this after an argument - particularly one where you're saying something bratty just to get on his nerves - "Yeah, leave- Shiu would be better in bed anyways."
Oh, girl, you are not making it outta there walking - or winning the argument.