A Reminder

a reminder

sometimes the first of the fauti harbingers, the director, need to remind those that are below him in rank who is really in charge, who holds all the cards, and who fucks their favorite little attendant the best. as a reminder.

contents: pierro x reader, childe x reader, fauti agent!reader who is afab and gender neutral, Dubcon, Power Imbalance (Reader cannot say no to their boss/leader/almost religious figure but is enjoying themselves), fingering, oral (reader to character), rough sex, biting, marking, reader is referred to as a 'beautiful' and a 'toy', reader is described as smaller than Pierro but no other terms are used, Childe Gets Cucked(tm)

a/n: this took me a really long time and has made me super anxious but fuck it. we ball. i hope you enjoy it, i'm pleased that i managed to keep going with it when my brain told me to quit.

Tartaglia, the youngest harbinger, sometimes should be brought in line. He is never egregious in his actions nor is his loyalty ever doubted but all must be reminded of their place.

That is what Pierro, the first and leader of the harbingers, believes and it is what spurred him into action this evening.

Of course he noticed how Tartagila chased you, hunting you down at any moment to tease and torment you. It was no secret to anyone else either, that you were the favored attendant of the 11th harbinger, that he touched you whenever he pleased, tugged at your clothes to catch a glimpse of you, pulled on your hair, and always had his eyes set on you the moment you appeared in the room. You were his distraction and it was becoming something of a nuisance- especially when Tartagila would pout if you were assigned somewhere else for too long or when he was denied permission to take you abroad.  

It wasn’t as clear if you returned those affections either, because even if you didn’t there isn’t a possibility you’d ever deny one of the harbingers something they wanted. When Tartaglia touches you too much or asks you a risque question, you light up red and stammer out a placating response. Pierro wondered if Childe had ever coerced you to his bed and claimed you yet– for surely if he wanted to he could have you. You had no right to say no, to him or to any of the Harbingers. 

Which is how you ended up in this predicament, standing before him. Your expression partially was hidden with the mask you wore, as all of your station did, but your lip trembled. You would never refuse Pierro, the first Harbinger and the one all answer to. When he first addressed you and ordered you to his office, to say you were terrified would be putting it lightly. The fearful and worried glances that your co-workers cast at you. The atmosphere chilled you more than any ice in the Tsarita’s realm but like a good, loyal member of the Fauti you nodded and replied with a quiet “Yes, My lord.”

What were his intentions with you in the beginning? He had wanted to punish Tartagila for getting too loud, too cocky, a reminder of the low rank he placed. To get rid of you, to harm you, or give you away as a reminder of his place in the pecking order.

But there is something to you, Pierro notes. Perhaps he can find himself agreeing with Childe’s infatuation with you, as he examines the nervousness in your form and the curve of your body even in the uniform.

His intentions change drastically the moment you stepped into his office and the door had shut close. 

Despite the nervous energy you exude, you keep your posture strict and your head lowered. Pierro sees the way your throat bobs when you nervously swallow and await what he has to say. 

He lets out a huff of air as he resigns himself to his decision and removes his elaborate cloak, draping it over his desk chair. It feels far too intimate for someone like you to witness; yet you cannot help but take in the way his clothes frame his broad shoulders and form. You would never deny that you believe him to quite handsome, and your heart beat quickens at the thought. 

He settles behind his desk, hands clasped over one another, and his visible eye not covered by the mask is as cold as the never melting snow. 

“You are trembling, like a petrified rabbit.” 

You swallow a yelp that threatened to escape and came out only as the smallest of squeaks that undoubtedly he picked up on– indeed you were like prey. “I am sorry, Lord Harbinger.” You manage out and he is slightly impressed by your ability to keep your voice as even as you did.

“No need,” He takes in your form and you shiver, feeling the way he studies you, thinking him to be scowling and not imagining what he wants to do to you first. “You are right to fear me. It shows you know your place.”

“Thank you, Lord Harbinger.” You wince at how fast the words tumbled out of your mouth. 

“There are others who would be… in need of a reminder.”

You blink, confused before he beckons to you with a flick of his hand. “Come here.”

You are breathing hard as you approach his desk, closer to him than you or any of your comrades have ever been to the director. Your steps are tentative and cautious, and you stop just before his desk but he beckons you again, a harsher, irritated, gesture that makes fear crawl through every nerve and you stumble forward. 

He is satisfied when you are standing right in front of him and his chair. Your posture is straight as possible and it feels like your heart is threatening to burst. Despite that you stand over him, the aura that surrounds him makes you feel impossibly small. 

“Tartaglia. You are often assigned to him, correct?”

There is a slight tilt to his lips as he watches you stiffen, watches you react as you panic. You believed you were to be punished for fraternization (albeit unwillingly, you are simply a loyal and dutiful attendant to the younger harbinger)

“I-”

“The Childe is so easily distracted by you,” Pierro says and while you dare not make eye contact with him, his gaze is starting to make you feel heat in a way that you should not in this frozen land, not in front of the first of the harbingers. “I believe… I understand why, now.” 

Your mind can’t process the words he just spoke, all fog and heavy until you feel a large, warm hand slide over the fabric of your uniform. You feel like you’re falling off the tallest peak, You think it’s a trick of your mind until you look to see his hand around your hip, sliding along your curves.

“You will not deny me.” He speaks it as a question but every aspect of him tells you it’s a demand. You nod your head vigorously.

“Of course, Lord Harbinger. I would never.”

He hums in agreement, a deep sound from his chest, and he’s tugging you closer to move you to him until you’re touching his knees. He manipulates you with ease, positioning you until you are sitting across his lap. You don’t dare to touch him so your hands sit idly before he pulls them to his shoulders. 

You are not sure if anyone has ever been this close to Pierro and lived to speak of it. You’re not sure if you will live to speak of it. 

Where you are unsure and timid, Pierro is confident in what he wants. His hand cups at your hips to pull you closer onto his lap and his other hand grips your chin so that you look at him.

“I do not desire a mere object, so do give me your best efforts.” His hand then moves to slip the mask off your face, showing him your nervous eyes and flushed cheeks. 

For a moment, you worry if your bare face is not to his liking; insecurity flaring up inside you. But then he pulls your chin in and presses his lips against yours. You stall but only for a moment, remembering his words and parting your lips to let his tongue inside, to let him kiss you as he pleases.

You would never think that you would be in the lap of the First of the harbingers, kissing him and tasting his tongue; which you found to taste sweet and you leaned into him to have more. You had thought if he was going to use you as Tartaglia does, he would simply have you over his desk or against the wall and would not care to caress or kiss you. But instead, he is sensual with his touches and seems more interested in making you melt under him. 

You fear you are a participant in some sort of punishment but the way he handles you is more of a reward than anything else. Your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt and you whimper into his mouth when he angles your head to the side to have more access to you.

When he pulls away, you are flushed and heaving; your lips swollen and wet. His expression is dark with desire as they watch how helpless you become. 

You try to form words, to say something, but all that comes out is panting. His hand slides down your chest, fingers methodically working at the buttons and clasps of your uniform’s shirt. The moment there is enough give for him too, he slides his hand into your shirt, easily slips under your undergarments, and cups at your breast. Although gloved, the mixture of the chill air and the heat from his hand makes your back arch and thighs squeeze together for just a bit of relief. 

His thumb rubs gentle circles over your nipple that sends heat throughout your body before he is opening more of your shirt until your chest is bare to him. The cold air and stimulation have your nipples hard and he returns to toying with them just a bit longer before he removes his hand.

Pierro holds his hand up to you. “Take them off,” he orders and you obey with a quick nod for you do not think you could make any words come from your throat right now. You slide the glove off his hand and before you even know what to do with it,  his thumb is pressing down at your lip to make you open, and then his fingers are in your mouth.

His gaze on you is intense and he is mesmerized by the way your spit coats his thick fingers. You make a mental note of his pleased hum and lick and suck on the digits in a deliberate way to show him just how well you would take care of other parts of him. 

And, clearly, this was a correct move because his lips part ever so slightly and his fingers push deeper into your hot mouth. You tighten your lips around them and suck, fluttering eyelashes as you dare to look up at him. A Squeeze on your waist and the throb of pressure beneath you tells you it is to his liking. 

To know that he desires you makes you feel hot all over, makes you ache. You would never believe yourself to be worthy– and still, you do not– but you do not wish to disappoint him.

He pulls his fingers out of your mouth, spittle following in a trail from your lips. His hand that had been holding your waist moves up your back, causing you to lean back and he is soon pulling at the buttons of your pants. He is far less careful and slow than he was with your shirt and you can feel the thick pressure that is pressing hard against your ass with every movement you make. 

As soon as he is granted access, you find yourself gasping out a plea, for his large hand engulfs your cunt and is harshly palming and rubbing at you over your undergarments. He watches your expression so intently, as you gasp and writhe and squirm on his lap. You feel your hand that is around his shoulder get tangled in his hair, and you babble out an apology that comes out not nearly coherent enough– especially when his thick finger curls and presses so easily against you over the thin fabric that is soaked with your slick.

“So wet,” he comments, tone low and husky as he watches how you pant. “Aren’t you chilly?” You have no idea how you could be when he is making you feel this hot all over. “Spread your legs.”

You do as you are told and are rewarded by him slipping under the fabric that covers you and teasing your entrance with his middle finger. You whine, you roll your hips against his hand shamefully but he does not seem to mind. Instead, the hand supporting you move to the back of your head, grabbing your hair and pulling your head back. His mouth captures your cries so hungrily as he sinks his thick finger inside your heat. 

The wet sound of his finger thrusting in and out of you is so, so loud to you– despite your loud panting and whines and the sound of Pierro working against your mouth. He bites and sucks at your lower lip and you’re lost in the sensations he gives you with each deep thrust of his finger. 

“What a good little thing you are.” He murmurs against your lips and a lewd moan escapes you, the loudest noise you’ve made. And he is so entertained by your reaction to his praise, another slight curve to his lips, and more so when he slides a second finger in and the sting brings tears to your eyes.

“Does Tartgalia bring you this much pleasure?” He asks, his pace increasing until he is thrusting in and out of you at an unbelievable pace, palm occasionally pressing down on your swollen clit that pulses pleasure through you. “Has he ever made you feel this good?”

“N-no, no–” You gasp for air, lungs empty and your heart race as you find yourself hurtling towards your peak. “No, never– Not like you, My Lord-” One hard press of his hand has you breaking apart and he watches with rapt interest the way your moans escape and your eyes shut and your head falls back— the expressions you make are wonderful indeed, he thinks. His fingers slow their thrusting as you ride your high out, clenching so tight around him and coating his hand and thighs with your arousal. But he doesn’t seem the slightest put off by this, pleased with how you fall apart in his grasp and the control he has over you. 

Although it seems so… wrong to you. You are panting, feeling the aftermath of such an intense orgasm, and are being held by a man so high in power it’s dizzying. You can feel how hard he is and the first emotion to rise is guilt. Shame. 

“My… my Lord Harbinger-“ you are so breathless, the words are hard to form. “May I please submit a request?”

Pierro lets out a chuckle, a deep rumbling noise, at your professionalism despite your state. He leans into you, casting hot breath over your lips when he asks; “What is it?”

“Let me bring you pleasure,” Your hand grips his shirt, such a bold move from you but you need to steady yourself. “W-with my mouth- on my knees. Please.” It wasn’t right, you think, he should be using you and you should be pleasing him.

“So eager.” He said before kissing your lips once more, his palm rubbing between your legs just a bit more before he releases you. “Granted.”

You feel unsteady and your legs wobble as soon as you stand and the way his hands stabilize you by holding onto you makes you yearn for him- year to please him. So you are quick to kneel down to him and make your way between his legs.

He leans back in his chair and is pleased at the sight of you working at his pants— on your knees, desperate to have him in your mouth, to please him and worship him. Pierro is not one to display his desire so blatantly, but still he groans when he feels your hands touch his aching cock, hard and wanting.

You note how large he is, how thick he is. Dread creeps up in you as you imagine if he intends to take you with it. It would split you open and you can't tell if the thought of it arouses you or terrifies you— with determination you set out to make him cum with your mouth so that you may escape such a fate.

Your hands grip his thighs, feeling the hardness of his muscles, as you lean in and give him a tentative lick on the head– and you hear the slightest sigh from him and feel a hand find its place on the top of your head. He doesn’t grip your hair or force you down, he simply rests his palm as you slowly lick and kiss his cock.

It’s shameful how much this makes you ache, even after you were so generously given pleasure from him, but to know that he is hard after kissing you— that he wants you and is having you… It makes you feel like nothing else in the world and you channel that in determination to please him the best you could.

One hand wraps around his shaft as you wrap your lips around the tip and you look up with half-lidded eyes to watch his expression. He is watching you but you can see the flush forming on his face, the way his eyes are so dark with need. The salty taste of his precum fills your mouth as you suck on him, taking in more and more of his cock.

It is so big and far too thick, your jaw aches with how much you open for him and drool mixed with cum drips down your chin. Your eyes shut tightly as you feel tears start to form but you do not give up your efforts, taking in as much as you can. When he hits the back of your throat and you try your best not to gag, you whimper around him and a louder groan escape him and his fingers curl in your hair– you know you are doing good. 

Only the best for your Harbinger.

Sliding back until his cock releases from your mouth with a slick pop, your hand glides over his cock with ease thanks to the fluid that coats it. A long lick to the thicker vein along his cock and you take him back in your mouth, as far as you can, and his hips cant up into you. 

Another glance up to him and his head is lolled back against the chair, his eyes shut, and he is taking shallow breaths, and oh you want to reach down between your thighs, where you are aching so desperately, at the sight of it. But you have already been selfish, you think, you must serve him more.

You quicken your pace, even as your jaw stings and aches, bobbing your head up and down faster and faster, hollowing your cheeks as you suck, suck, and suck; to bring him to his peak so that when–

He yanks you by your hair and you are pulled off his cock, and you cannot prevent the cry of pain and shock you give out. You see his chest is heaving now and he is staring at you and his cock twitches and throbs- flushed red and glistening, denied its release.  

Had you thought wrong? Did you not please him as well? You attempt to apologize, but your voice comes out as a rasp and your throat is sore. You feel fear crawl into you at the thought before he releases his grip on your hair and motions you to stand.

“Strip.” He commands. While breathless, he does not lack for his dominating presence and you are removing what is left of your clothes faster than you ever have before. 

Your body shakes and you’re not sure if it’s fear or the chilly air or both, but you are obedient and await his next command. He rises from his chair and in a flash, his hands take your shoulders and you are spun around until his chest is warming you and you’re being bent over his desk. 

You shudder, anticipation mixed with fear, and your hands grip at the edge of his desk as you brace yourself for what is to come. Hands– now both bare– roam up and down your body, your breasts to your stomach and hips. Squeezing and feeling every inch of you.

“You are,” You feel the tip of him press against you, so thick and already too much, and you whimper. “Captivating.” 

He splits you open, slow and shallow thrusts as you take him in bit by bit. His girth is far more than anything you have ever experienced and shameful cries escape you. You bite at your hand in an attempt to silence yourself but he bends over you, his body much larger until you feel his hair tickle the back of your neck. His hands planted firmly on the desk next to your shoulders.

“You need not silence your cries, I find them to be quite pleasing.” And he thrusts harder, too much of him going in, and you jolt again the desk and cry out. Every cry and sob that comes from you makes his cock twitch inside of you, and when he bottoms out in you you don't think you've ever felt this level of fullness. 

He slides out, then again thrusts back into— harsh and with a resounding slap against— and soon he is fucking into you hard. Every hard thrust makes you jolt and your thighs sting from being slammed into the edge of the desk over and over. He is panting and grunting from atop you, the way you cry out and your cunt clenches around him makes him almost lose himself in you. He bites and kisses your skin, leaving mark after mark. Hands dig into your hips hard enough to bruise. He aches to spill himself inside you, to fuck you full, to feel you cum on his cock.

But then there is knocking at his door. You freeze under him in terror but he is expecting this, he does not relent. Instead his thrusts become less deep, slowing to grind against you instead, and he straightens and stands while you’re still wrapped around him. 

“Enter.” 

You are chilled to the bone, terrified and embarrassed as the door swings open, and whoever is will see you in such a state–

You are met with the wide-eyed, shocked expression that decorates Childe’s face.

“Tartaglia,” Pierro greets without stopping his thrusts, using his grip on your hips to slam you back against him- to make you cry out and watch as Childe winces. “You’re late.”

The door shuts behind Childe, whose eyes do not leave your trembling, fucked out face. His eyes reflect no light and bare no emotion but you can still see how he winces at every small whimper that escapes you. 

“Apologies, Director.” His voice has the slightest quake to it and you can’t bare to keep looking at him, not with the way Pierro’s cock in you feels and hits at a spot inside you that makes you cry out and drop your head down. “I was caught up.”

You cannot silence your moans even as they talk to each other; the sound of wet sound of him fucking you and the smell of your arousal cannot be ignored. Pierro once again yanks your head up by your hair, forcing you to face Childe once more. A rough thumb circles your clit and you cry out. 

“Our attendent is quite wonderful, Tartglia. I believe I’ve come to share your fixation.” Pierro states as if appraising the way your cunt squeezes him. “So beautiful, and so very obedient.” 

You blink away the tears in your eyes and see Childe’s strained face, the jaw his jaw is set tight and his fists are clenching, and– oh, the beginning of the bulge in his pants. 

“My dear little one,” you whimper at the pet name, “Who fucks you best?”

You can’t even begin to think, your mind is lost, and you cry out “You, my lord Harbinger- You, the Director- You, Pierro- You.”

“That’s right.” And you are rewarded with more strokes to your clit, a harsher thrust until you are flush against him, and you break once more. Pierro shuts his eyes tight as you cum against him, cunt sucking him in and the fluid that gushes out of you, and he does not stop the rocking of his hips. “I hope,” His voice is hoarse, breathless. “Our Childe will learn that, of Who comes before him. The one who is in control.”

Childe watches as you come apart on Pierro’s cock, as you grip at the desk and wail and make expressions he’s never seen. Watches you writhe in pleasure from someone who isn’t him and isn’t someone who he would dare go against. 

He sucks in a harsh breath. “I understand, Director.”

“Good. I’ll be generous and let you have your toy,” Pierro grips your jaw to pull you back up and sucks a kiss on your neck, loud and wet and leaving another, darker mark, and looks back to Childe. “Just remember who owns it. Isn’t that right, my dear?”

You’re fucked out, your mind is gone, drool and tears coat your face and you simply nod weakly in his hand. That curve to his lips is there again, and there is agony painted on Childe’s face as you respond.

“Of course,” Your voice is reduced to nothing but a sob, breathless and weak. “My Lord Harbinger.” 

Low-key wish he was real but that’s a death sentence for me so~

Hi do you write for Feitan because if so could I ask for Feitan having a young and dumb masochistic sister who is always wears revealing clothes which makes him constantly punish her, which doesn’t really bother her too much since she gets off to it.

If you don’t do Feitan you can replace him for Illumi, Chrollo, or Hisoka I’m not especially picky hehe~ thx.

WARNINGS || nsfw, incest, sex toys, name calling, face slapping, shibari, forced orgasms, begging + dacryphilia

You’re just so dumb. He wonders how you get through life when he’s not around because you’re just a little dimwit who’s only good for a good dicking.

Of course he feels sorry for you. You are his darling sister who he adores more than anyone else in the world but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t get angry at you and you seem to enjoy testing his patience before he loses control.

You make sure to wear the tiniest skirts and dresses whenever he brings his friends home and when you have your own friends over, you parade around like some cheap whore and nothing else. He should be embarrassed by your behaviour but he’s too fucking focused on your tits and the way they bounce whenever you move to fast.

He’d asked you not to dress like that when he had guests over, especially since it was important business and now they all seemed discarded by his slutty sister.

So no, he’s not going to give in no matter how much you beg. You look good tied up and helpless and he’s not stupid, he knows you enjoy this shit a little too much so he won’t make it easy.

“Please” You beg, gasping as the rope digs into your skin the more you move. It hurts so good but it’s not enough, it’s never enough.

He hasn’t even touched you yet. He watches from where he’s sitting, your legs shaking from the vibrating sensations inside your pussy. You’ve already cum three times and it’s starting to feel intense and it hurts. You just want him to touch you.

“Slut” He scoffs, walking over to the bed to grab your jaw

“I need you” You whimper, squeezing your eyes shut as he slaps your cheek

“Whore” He says, glaring at you as he starts turns up the vibrator to a higher setting

You scream, arching as much as you can or rather, as much as the ropes would allow. You’re so sensitive and sore but you know he can go all night, he enjoyed torture and since he would never actually harm you any other way, he took it out on your body and you couldn’t do anything to stop him.

He can’t help but stare down at your face. You were beautiful sure but there was something so special about your crying face since he knew you only ever cried for him. It might have been sick but he liked to make you cry, it got him hard in no time and he would fuck you senseless.

“Fuck” You cry out, trying but failing to get your hands free. You would be in pain the next day for sure but you never really learned your lesson and it would only be a few more days before you did it again.

You couldn’t help but want his attention on you all the time even if it hurt.

BUBBLE POP ELECTRIC | TIGHNARI

summary: tighnari really should have known better than to bring you up to the jungle to help him remap a flooded path--you always seemed to let the curiosity get the best of you and this time was no different than the rest.

warnings: fem!reader, aphrodisiacs, biting (tighnari bites hard enough to draw blood, not much tho), switch!tighnari, switch!reader, breeding, unprotected sex, thigh riding, dubcon (aphrodisiacs involved), implied marathon sex

notes: can be read in same universe as the other tighnari fic small taglist: @kxeyas @mxnjiros @manjiroscum @semisgroupie @dxlucs @tokyometronetwork

wordcount: 5.5k

REBLOGS FOR BOOST APPRECIATED — DISAPPEARED FROM TAGS. AGAIN

Tighnari never should have trusted you alone out in the Avidya Forest. No matter how many times he sat you down to show you what to avoid and what was safe, he knew that half of the time it went in one ear, out the other. You were not cut out for the outdoors, it was apparent from the first time he had met you lost and alone in the southern part of the forest, but you were adamant about staying around Gandharva Ville, and Tighnari wasn’t really sure why considering that most of your work was in Sumeru City.

“Tighnari,” your voice was soft and hesitant as you called his name, and Tighnari couldn’t help the sigh that escaped his lips, and he couldn’t help the way his shoulders slumped. You never sounded soft, much less hesitant, unless you believed you had done something you were not supposed to. And Tighnari could not imagine what that something might be considering he had mistakenly brought you to try to remap one of the main paths up to the Lokapala Jungle after a flood had torn it up. 

He rose to his feet from where he was kneeling on the ground next to a tree stump, making notes on parchment. Turning to face you with his hands on his hips, he pursed his lips, “What did you do now?”

His suspicion rose when he noticed you weren’t standing too far from him, hands hidden behind your back, a nervous expression on your face. Or was it nervous? Tighnari realized he couldn’t quite tell but something was clearly wrong. 

He took a few steps closer to you, which might have been a poor decision on his part because he wasn’t exactly sure what was going on with you yet. “C’mon now, what did you do? Answer me alre-”

The smell that hit him was more telling than any answer you might’ve been able to give him. Flowery, overwhelming, dizzying, his blood ran hot as soon as he inhaled the scent and Tighnari nearly stumbled mid-step. He screwed his eyes shut tight, trying to plug his nose and calm himself down through taking in deep breaths from his mouth but it just wouldn’t push away the searing feeling that was clouding his mind. 

“There was a flower, I thought it was nice looking, I just wanted to get a better look at it,” you sounded distressed, “It started making me feel odd, I figured I would bring it back for you to take a look at.”

A litany of curses and reprimands rose to his lips but he couldn’t force himself to push them out, too focused on trying to step away from the mind numbing scent before he lost control. You took a step closer to him, brows furrowed in concern but it only made it worse, “Get that flower away from here,” he was able to choke out but even when you tossed the flower away, he couldn’t force away the hot feeling running through his blood.

“Tighnari,” you called his name quietly, “I wasn’t thinking, I-”

It wasn’t on you, he wanted to say. He hadn’t thought to teach you about anything other than poisonous flowers and fruits, the more pressing threat in the forest considering if you had accidentally brushed by or eaten one, you might be dead before he even knew what you had done. Aphrodisiacs had been the last thing on his mind, especially considering there weren’t many in this part of the forest.

And it wasn’t like this was a big deal, he tried to convince himself, but the heat pooling in his lower stomach told a different story. Aphrodisiacs wear off after a day or so, it wasn’t like it was life-threatening, and it wasn’t like… Tighnari’s body shuddered, he let his eyes slide shut again as he tried to calm himself down. It wasn’t like he hadn’t had to deal with situations like this before whenever he went into heat. 

Turn away. Breathe in, breathe out. 

The only issue was that he had never gone into heat with someone around and he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with trying to let the aphrodisiac wear off when you were around and suffering through it too. He supposed it would be easier and more logical if… 

Tighnari pushed the thought from his head. No, he told himself, not an option.

“Tighnari,” you called his name again, and you were closer this time--he could hear it and smell it. His ears twitched at the sound of a leaf crunching beneath your foot. The scent of the flower clung to you, and it made his head feel murky, it took every inch of self-restraint to take another step away from you and he bit back another string of curses when you only followed him. “Tighnari, it burns.”

He forgot. Tighnari briefly let his eyes shut as realization hit him. His sense of smell was more sensitive than yours, and his body processed the aphrodisiacs more quickly--so where he was immediately hit with the intense need for sexual release, it hit you slower, a simmering pain that would shift into what he was currently feeling.

He forced his gaze back to you, noticing the uncomfortable expression on your face. And he tried to open his mouth to say something to you but his tongue felt heavy and his body felt fuzzy, he almost instantly forgot what he was trying to say to you. He couldn’t help the way his mind began to wander, eyes drifting down your body.

Focus.

“The flower is an aphrodisiac,” Tighnari finally said, and he nearly bit his own tongue when he noticed the confused look you gave him, forgetting that you were not from up north in Snezhnaya, where flowers like this did not exist. “It’s releases an agent that stimulates sexual desire. It’ll start as a burning sensation, which I am sure you are feeling right now, and it will shift into an increased need for pleasure soon.”

He spoke as logically as he could with the way all of his nerves were fired up throughout his body and it was hard. But he had to focus on anything but the way his entire body was hot, the way his breath was heavy and erratic, the way he could barely draw his eyes from you.

He had to set up a tent for the night because he was certain that neither of you would be able to make it back to Gandharva in this state. You were still all the way up north by the jungle. He swore everything around him felt slow as he got to work--his body sluggish, unmotivated to do anything except try to release the burning pleasure that was pooling in his lower stomach. 

He could hear you still standing over at the edge of the small clearing, he could smell the way your body was reacting to the aphrodisiac, the sweat from the anxiety and the burning and more unfortunately, the pheromones that your body was releasing. Not for the first time, Tighnari cursed his sensitive nose for putting him in difficult positions although this one was different from the rest--he was used to nausea after rather disgusting smells, he was used to the way tears would spring to his eyes at the rotting scent of the Withering, he was not used to being overwhelmed by a scent that drove him halfway into a frenzy he usually only experienced during his heat.

And it was only going to get worse, he realized mournfully, swallowing thickly as he laid out a mat beneath the tent. Once you finally started feeling the full effects of the aphrodisiacs, and your body started reacting to it properly, Tighnari was not sure how he was going to control himself.

He genuinely couldn’t tell if time was moving too slow or too fast--all of his movements felt slow and clunky, a far cry from how he was usually able to move swift and agile even through the densest parts of the forest. He did not like it, between the physical impediments and the way he couldn’t even get his mind to focus, he felt vulnerable and vulnerability was not something that was good when deep in the forest.

He knelt next to his bag again, fumbling with an incense that Tighnari hoped would calm him down but as he moved to light it with trembling fingers, his body stiffened, hair on end when he realized you were walking toward him. His mouth went dry and he placed the incense on the ground, turning his head to look at you from the corner of his eye. 

Your arms were wrapped around your torso, and he could see the way your body was shaking, and he could see the nervous look in your eyes as you approached him. He wondered how long it had been since you originally came in contact with the flower--you had been missing for around a half-hour while he was trying to figure out just how severely the path had degraded before you had shown back up. 

It had to have been a while, he realized, noticing the scent of your arousal was getting stronger rapidly, breaths coming out in short, uneven puffs. 

“Tighnari,” your voice was soft and airy, an underlying whimper to your tone that had him scraping his tongue against his teeth trying to get himself under control. He shut his eyes as his vision started to tunnel. Breathe through your mouth, he told himself, but it wasn’t helping, if he were being honest. It felt as if your scent was seeping through his skin, being absorbed into his blood, burrowing into his bones. He couldn’t get free of it, it was overwhelming every cell in his body and Tighnari didn’t know what to do. 

“Don’t come any closer,” Tighnari spoke as firmly and sharply as he could but he had a feeling that it did not come out half as firm or sharp as he intended for it to. 

You did not listen, and Tighnari swore that he stopped breathing when you came to kneel on the ground next to him, thigh grazing his--and he was grateful for the fact that he wore pants out into the forest, because no matter how many times he told you how stupid it was, you insisted on wearing the outfit he had met you in. Rather short and impractical for hiking considering one brush against the wrong plant would give you rashes all over your legs--and Tighnari wasn’t sure he would be able to handle your skin touching his if he had been wearing shorts. 

“Tighnari,” you spoke his name again, and Tighnari had to physically swallow the groan that was building, throat bobbing when you leaned in closer. He turned his face away, letting his eyes slide shut again as he tried to ignore you as best as he could. He wondered how you couldn’t tell that he didn’t want you coming any closer. A part of him wondered if you did notice, and didn’t care, but he dismissed that thought rather swiftly--you reeked of desperation, and you reeked of need, and every little instinct of his pleaded with him to give in and give you what your body was begging him for. 

No, he told himself, trying to keep a hold on his self control.

Hazy and dizzy, everything felt muddled except for the burning sensation in his lower stomach. All he could smell was you, all he could think of was you, all he could feel was the pins and needles pricking at his skin, calling for your touch. 

Control yourself, he thought again, don’t-

You moved closer.

The thread of self-control he maintained thinned even further, his head drooped and his lips parted, he let out a shaky breath. He could feel your body pressed up against his side, he could feel the way your chest rose and fell rapidly against his arm, he could feel your breath fanning across the skin of his neck and his fingers twitched to pull his hood up to cover his bare skin. 

“Tighnari,” you said his name again, clearly trying to get his attention but Tighnari couldn’t force an acknowledgement past his lips because he wasn’t certain if the words he would let out in response would be coherent or not. “Tighnari, how long does this last? I-I feel so, I need-”

Tighnari couldn’t let you finish the sentence, fearing that if he did, what you spoke would be the last push he’d need for his self control to snap. 

“Twelve hours, give or take, we just need to wait it out and-”

“No,” you sounded as if you were close to tears, and Tighnari couldn’t bring himself to look at you. His entire body froze and stiffened when you shifted onto his lap to try to face him. Tighnari let out a noise that he wasn’t sure if leaned surprised or needy. Straddling one of his thighs, Tighnari nearly choked as your knee pressed up against his cock, barely stopping his hips from bucking up to grind against you. He could feel you drenched through your panties, he could feel that way your hips were almost instinctively circling, trying to relieve the need for release—he cursed your impractical outfit yet again, this time for entirely different reasons. “No, Tighnari, we can’t wait twelve hours, I’ll die, I’ll die, I feel like I’m gonna die.”

Tighnari brought his hands to your hips to try to move you off but to his horror, he found his grip tightening and he couldn’t bring himself to try to push you off. 

“You won’t die,” Tighnari choked out, “It’ll pass quick and-“

You weren’t listening, and Tighnari’s voice faltered at the soft whine that escaped your lips as you began to rock your hips against his thigh—just enough to make his body shudder. He couldn’t push you off, he couldn’t let you go, he was drunk off the smell of you and drunk off of the feeling of you from just the barest of touches. He found his fingers digging into the flesh of your hips, subtly helping you move your hips. 

Tighnari was grateful for the loose pants he wore, otherwise he was certain that his cock would be straining painfully against the material. With parted lips and wide eyes, he watched raptly as your head fell back, eyes shut and lips circled in a silent moan as you slowly began to pick up the pace.

Tighnari felt like he might pass out. His head felt light, his body felt weak, and he could feel your slick leaking through your panties onto his pants, he could feel your knee unintentionally rubbing up against his cock with every roll your hips, his cock was painfully hard in a way he had never experienced before, even during his heat, and your scent overwhelmed him so intensely that he just couldn’t think straight.

His fingers pressed deeper into your skin, helping you grind down harder on his thigh more apparently now. He panted heavy, chest heaving as he unconsciously tried to shift your body closer so that your knee was pressed up more against his cock.

It’s fine, he told himself, he’d just help you get off. That was all—aphrodisiacs could be painful if not relieved. He didn’t want you to hurt.

But even as the thought crossed through his head, Tighnari couldn’t help the way a whimper built at his throat. His throat spasmed as he tried to swallow it, every primal instinct in his body urged him to take you against any and every available surface—press your back up against a tree to fuck up into you, chest down on the ground fisting your hair to rut into you from behind. He wanted to stuff you full of his cum over and over again, until you were dumb and drooling beneath him and he was weak and shaky above you.

“S’not, s’not smart to be stuck in the forest like this,” you were nodding frantically, rocking your hips faster. Your hands ran up his body to cup his cheeks, forcing his face to angle up toward you. Tighnari’s breath caught when he caught your lidded gaze, pupils blown wide, lips wet and bitten from where you’d been gnawing at them. He wondered if he looked half as lewd as you did and the thought made him embarrassed. “Think it, think it would be better if we got it out of our system, yeah?”

And Tighnari wanted to tell you that wasn’t how it worked—that even if the two of you tried to fuck away the desire brought on by the flower, it would only be a momentary release, but the word were garbled in his head. He could barely think straight, much less speak, all he could focus on was how his cock was twitching in his pants every time your knee pressed up against it, all he could think about was you and the primal needs that were taking over his mind.

“I think that would be better, Tighnari,” you gasped out, a whimper slipping past your lips as you rolled your hips against his thigh again, “Don’t you?”

It won’t make it go away, he wanted to warn you again, but just as he was about to try to force the words out, your nails raked down against one of his ears and through his hair and any thoughts of protests were washed away in an instant as he let out a low groan, head tilted back.

You seemed to take that as some sort of okay because in an instant your lips were latching onto the bare skin of his neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, sucking gentle bruises, tracing patterns with your tongue. 

“Oh, g-“ Tighnari’s words were yet again cut off when you trailed your lips up from his neck to press them against his, moaning into your mouth as you moved to fully straddle his hips. You pushed your tongue into his mouth and Tighnari really couldn’t do anything besides try to keep up, lips sliding messily against yours, eyes rolling back as you dragged your tongue across his, hips rocking against his, your slick underwear slipping right over his clothed cock. 

Tighnari’s body was moving before his mind could catch up, one palm sliding around you, hand spread across your back as he flipped the two of you over, lips never leaving yours. As soon as your back hit the ground, Tighnari was pressed up against you, rolling his hips, breath shaky against your skin as he dragged his lips from yours to place wet kisses down your jaw and neck. 

Your legs wrapped around his waist immediately, hips jerking up to meet his as he bucked his cock up against your cunt. And Tighnari’s eyes nearly knocked back as you let out a loud keen of his name, nails digging through his top and into his back.

“Want you in me,” you gasped as Tighnari’s teeth scraped your neck, and the moan that he let out at your words was obscene. “Tighnari, I need you in me, ‘ll die. S’so hot, so hot.”

You were hot, Tighnari could feel your skin burning beneath his lips and fingers. He let out a muffled gasp when he buried his face into your neck, fumbling with his pants to try to pull out his cock.

“I’ve got you,” he said, but he wasn’t sure if his words were coming out correctly, too lost in the feeling of your body trapped beneath his, lost in the scent of you and that god forsaken flower. His vision swam as he finally pulled his cock out, body shivering when his fingers grazed it. “I’ll make you feel better.”

With his free hand, he slid his hand up your thigh to let his fingers curl around the waistband of your panties. He pressed the pads of his fingers against the damp cloth covering your entrance and his lips parted in a silent moan as he felt just how wet you were.

Your panties were soaked through, slick dripping down your inner thighs, stick and hot. He pressed a finger against your clit, rubbing a soft circle around it and your body was reacting instantly—hips jerking up to try to grind against his fingers, a cry escaping your lips, nails dragging down his shirt trying to pull him closer.

He slid your panties over to the side, fingers dipping between your folds and Tighnari’s mouth felt dry, head dizzy, body trembling when he felt just how wet you were. It’s only because of the aphrodisiac, he tried to stay logical. 

He tried. 

You were burning up, in genuine pain because of what the aphrodisiac brought on and Tighnari was in the same boat. Every little movement had his body screaming for release, every little thought surrounded you and your body and your scent. A part of him couldn’t help but wonder how bad his heat would affect him with you around if this was how bad an aphrodisiac affected him with you around. 

He couldn’t help the way his chest rumbled at the thought, imagining you with him while he was in heat, stuffing you full of his cum over and over and over again. His body heated up impossibly more, his eyes slid shut again, breathing slow, trying to control himself. 

If he were to continue to be logical, it would make sense as to why it would be smarter for the two of you to try to fuck the effects of the aphrodisiac away--being trapped deep in the forest like this, in this type of vulnerable state, was probably one of the poorest situations that Tighnari could imagine. Should the two of you get attacked, neither one of you would be able to concentrate well enough to fight off the aggressors. 

So this was just the smartest decision, he wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince himself or what. It wasn’t like he was just doing this to satiate his own need for release because he would be able to wait it out, he would. Although the way his cock twitched, body quivering with need, told him differently.

“Stop teasing,” you gasped as he parted your folds, finger tracing up to circle your clit gently. Your hips jerked up, “Stop teasing, Tighnari.”

And Tighnari swore that his name sounded heavenly on your lips, clouding his mind unlike any other. Tighnari was not keen on alcohol, it dulled the senses, but the scent of you, taste of you, feel of you was intoxicating and he couldn’t get enough of it. He was drunk on you in a way he had never been before, he needed more, it wasn’t enough--he had never felt so desperate and needy before and he didn’t know how to feel about it.

But he couldn’t really linger on the thoughts--not with your nails digging into his back and dragging down to his biceps, not with your soft moans, not with the hot breath fanning across his skin, not with the way you were grinding up against his hand, eyes teary and wide and pupils dilated as you begged him for more. 

He barely bit back the whimper on his lips as he reminded himself that he wasn’t doing this for himself, and for his pleasure, he was just trying to help the pain that the aphrodisiacs brought onto you subside. But from the way his cock throbbed as he pressed his tip against your entrance, slipping against the wetness, he knew he was barely even convincing himself.

He pushed himself inside of you slow—or he tried to at least, but the moment he felt your warmth wrap snug around his tip, he lost hold any thread of self control he might have retained.

His hips moved on their own as they bucked up into you suddenly, all of the breath ripped from his lungs as your walls squeezed and fluttered around his cock, sucking him in deep even as he tried to pull his hips back.

And you were no help, of course. Your body writhing against the grass, legs tightening around his waist, eyes squeezed shut, jaw slack, lips puffy and wet—god, he swore it was something out of his lewdest fantasies, the nights where he’d find himself up late at night thinking about you, hand unconsciously drifting toward his cock and the days during his heat where he would imagine you were there helping him through it.

“Feels s’good,” your voice was slurred and your eyes were half-rolled back as Tighnari began to rock his hips into you. “Faster, faster, need more.”

Tighnari could barely focus on what you were saying, breath heavy and shaky, arms trembling on either side of your head as he tried to control himself. The feeling of your cunt wrapped around his cock had him on the verge of passing out, the warmth was dizzying, had his legs tense and abdomen twitching as he tried to push back the orgasm that approached all too quickly.

His head dipped, sweaty forehead pressed against the side of your cheek as his pace shifted into a more frantic and erratic one. His body begged him to let go, that primal feeling taking over yet again--begging him to fill you up with his cum, stuff you until you were leaking onto the grass below and then keep going, filling you up again, and again, and again, until both of your bodies gave out, mark you up as his and his alone. 

Let go, and he nearly listened, a low groan building in the back of his throat as his face dropped to your neck, as his teeth grazed your neck. And he nearly lost hold of the thin thread of self control that he managed to snag back as his canines pressed into your skin. Don’t. 

With a whimper at his lips, he pulled from your neck. Doing this for you, he tried to remind himself, but his thoughts were garbled as your walls spasmed around him, as you cried out his name so loud that he swore the whole forest could hear you. And a part of him, deep, deep down, knew that it was bad--that the noise would attract unwanted guests, but the larger part of him was simply spurred on further. 

He grunted as he reached down, a hand hooking around your thigh to lift it to your chest. And perhaps he did recognize that he really was going against his words--if he were only trying to help you, then he would have pulled out after you had finished, let you recuperate from your high and bask in the momentary relief from the strain the aphrodisiac laid upon you.

And he knew that, breath shuddered as he snapped his hips into your faster, rutting into you at a pace that had you sobbing with each thrust. He could feel the thread of control ready to tear, and he made the mistake of glancing down--eyes falling upon where your bodies were connected, watching as his cock dragged in and out of you with every rock of his hips, watching the way your cum ringed around the base of his cock, dripping down to pool beneath the two of you.

At once, any self control he might’ve retained was gone, his mind felt numb as he brought his lips back to your neck--no intelligible thought running through his head besides you. He panted, abdomen tightening, body burning as he fucked his cock deep, deep inside of you. He could feel every inch of your walls fluttering around him, he could feel the way your hands slipped beneath his top, clawing against his back and abdomen, the way your free leg tightened around his waist while the other tensed and shook in his hold. He could hear the way you were crying out for him, sobbing his name, your cunt throbbing around him--you were cumming again, over and over again, eyes knocked back, drool pooling at the corner of your lips. 

He thought you would’ve been too sensitive to keep going, but you were holding him tighter, trying to rock your hips in time with his thrusts. 

“Tighnari,” you gasped his name and Tighnari inhaled sharply, inevitably a mistake as immediately your scent flooded his blood and the fog returned. All he could smell was you and your pleasure, all he could hear was the way you breathed out his name, chanting it over and over again, begging him for more. “Tighnari, I-”

Your voice cut off abruptly as Tighnari dug his teeth into your neck hard. He should be more gentle, he tried to remind himself, but he tasted beads of your blood on his tongue and could only let out another shaky moan, his hazy mind fully intent on marking you as his. His tongue lapped at the wound, nails digging into your thigh as he pushed your thigh flush to your chest while his tail wrapped around the leg you had holding his waist, his other hand coming up to cup the back of your head, pulling his lips from your neck to press them hard against yours.

He could feel your hands sliding up and down his body, nails scratching his skin, back arched up into him as you writhed beneath him again. He bit back another loud groan when he felt you cum around his cock again. 

Everything felt hot, spreading across his skin like a wildfire, the coil in his lower abdomen was tightening and begging for the release he was desperately chasing. His eyes screwed shut when you brought one of your hands to his head, accidentally tugging at one of his ears, and his lips parted in a cry of your name, his hips stuttered against yours before stilling, spilling his cum deep inside of you. 

His vision swam in the aftershocks of his orgasm, he felt oddly drugged and his chest heaved as he gasped for air. Body trembling and ears twitching, he tried to push himself off of you but his breath caught when he found his back to the ground, blurred vision slowly focusing in on you hovering above him. 

“Wh-”

“S’not enough,” you sounded distressed, and he wondered if the aphrodisiac was having a stronger effect on you because you just weren’t used to the wildlife in this part of Teyvat. “Tighnari, this is all your fault.”

Still half dazed out, Tighnari blinked, “My fault?” he gaped, trying to focus on your words instead of the way you rolled your hips slow over his. “How is thi-”

“You didn’t tell me about flowers like this,” you accused, but your voice lifted off into a giggle as you leaned down kissed up his neck and Tighnari could only tilt his head back for you, giving you better access to his sensitive skin.

“I warned you about the bright colors,” Tighnari protested, but his protest was weak even to his own ears as your teeth brushed against his skin. He bit down hard on his bottom lip, eyes sliding shut. 

“Well, perhaps your teaching methods just aren’t effective then,” you noted.

Offended, Tighnari propped himself up on elbows to look at you. “And how would you propose I make them more effective then?” he asked dryly.

But he was afraid he might have fallen right into whatever trap you had laid out for him, because the smile that spread across your lips as you looked up from his neck was nothing short of predatory and it had his instincts on edge. 

“I’ll show you once we get back to Gandharva,” you said in a way that had him itching to deny your proposal, but before he could open his mouth, your lips were on his and any thought he might’ve had was wiped from mind as you began to rock your hips faster.  

His hands came up to your waist as he moved his hips in time with yours, and as that aphrodisiac-induced haze began to sweep back over him again, he couldn’t help but feel he had landed himself in a bit of trouble once the two of you got back to Gandharva Ville.

I’m not dead. This is an incredibly niche market, I know, and not what’s typical for this blog, but it’s here and it’s here to stay. L honestly deserves more x reader stuff and if I’m the one who has to encourage it I’ll be the one to do it.

Am I Invited?

Your boyfriend was an odd man.

You were quite fond of him, but the fact that he was far from normal was emphasized by anyone and everyone he was willing to meet in person. Even if those who had seen him had decided to hold their tongues, you would have known how odd he was. When you had met him, you had understood that much; you had been a highschool senior, he a year younger, and the only reason you had met him at all was because he and who you assumed was his father had come to the coffee shop in which you worked. He had worn a mask obscuring his mouth– his father had claimed that it was due to a cold– and he had not spoken a word to you, instead studying you silently as you filled the order for them. Despite disheveled black hair and dark circles, he was pretty in a quiet, Victorian way, and you had a desire to speak to him in part because of how little he seemed to get out.

He was there, apparently, to study. He had been ordered a cup of coffee with ten or so spoonfuls of sugar– you had decided his father seemed not to be the type to make that sort of joke, and so you had made it as asked. When you brought him his drink, you decided to make a move.

“Here’s your sugar with coffee,” you had teased, placing the cup and a parcel in front of him.

He had stared at you a moment, scrutinizing you, before averting his eyes.

Awkward, you had cleared your throat. “Hey, man, I’m hardly one to talk.” You had smiled. “I can barely handle coffee without a mountain of add-ons. I’m a pussy; I drink tea.” Clearing your throat, you gestured to the paper bag. “That’s on the house, by the by. I hope you aren’t allergic; those cookies are the best thing we sell.”

On your word, he pulled the pastry from the bag: a simple peanut butter cookie by all accounts. Wordlessly, he broke off a piece and handed it to you.

It took you a second to understand what he was doing. “Oh, no, I couldn't possibly.” You put your hand up in protest. “It’s yours.”

He did not remove his hand.

You glanced around, awkward before taking the piece and popping it into your mouth. You were hardly opposed to cookies. Your smile grew meak. “What,” you laughed, “think I’d give you a bad cookie?” You tried to regain your confidence. “You wound me”

You were startled by how clear his voice was. “No, that’s not it.” He pulled down the mask, taking a bite out of the confectionery, swallowing quickly, and pulling his mask back up. “I was just checking something.”

“Oh.” You nodded, confused.

He took another bite of the cookie, uncomfortably nonchalant. “This is quite a good cookie. Is it made here?”

Your eyes shift to the side, any assuredness you had gone. He was studying you. “They’re made on-site, yeah.” You resisted the urge to slide your hands into your pockets. “The recipe’s ours, too.”

“Is it old?”

“The recipe? Yeah.”

There was silence.

It dawned on you how oddly he sat. He was not so much sitting, in fact, as he was crouched on the chair, feet flat against the seat. If it was a struggle to balance in such an unnatural position, he did a good job of hiding any difficulties he had maintaining it.

You slid into the chair across from him. It was a slow day anyhow. “This is a small town,” you pointed out. “We don’t get many new faces.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

“How so?” You rested your head on your hand, quietly satisfied at his letting you sit.

He shrugged. “I would assume it would be bad for business.”

“People like the atmosphere.”

“Sure,” he pointed out, “but I would imagine that you would want to have as many customers as possible.”

“Not necessarily.” You smiled. “If the atmosphere changed the people who come in would probably stop or complain if they didn’t have personal ties to the place itself. That’s not good for business either.”

“I suppose.”

Talking to him was a bit like pulling teeth. You took it he was not approached like this often. “Are you going to school nearby?”

“Why do you ask?”

You gesture to the folders stacked next to him. “I assumed that was for a project.”

He considered what you said for a moment too long. “Yeah.” He nodded. “Journalistic writing would count, I suppose.”

“Sounds like a blast. What on?”

He took a sip from his coffee. “Homicide case.”

Your smile widened. “So I was right. Which one?”

“You wouldn’t have heard of it.” He reached over seemingly absentmindedly, finger peeling at a corner of the topmost folder and letting it spring back into place. “It’s recent.”

“Try me.”

He stared at you for a moment, sizing you up. “Why do you want to know about it?”

“I dunno.” You shrank a bit under his gaze. “I want you to keep talking, I guess.”

He blinked, his head cocking to the side ever so slightly. “Why?” His voice was softer than before.

“I like it.” You forced confidence forward. “You have a nice voice, and I think you’re attractive, and you seem interesting.”

That was how you got his number.

The only time he ate decently was when you saw him. You knew this because he had lost weight; whenever he lost weight, it was because he had not eaten well enough or was stressed over his work or the news. He was doing both, you were sure, and though you had little time with him before he would fly back off to who knows where you were hardly about to let him leave on an empty stomach.

You saw him less than when you were younger. You never saw him much before– not as much as you had the first month you two had “been together”-- but weekends turned into single days, and once a week turned into twice a month. You never said anything. You doubted he was getting on with someone else; he did not seem the type, despite what your friends had to say on the matter. What did they know? They had hardly spoken a dozen words with him. You did not even mind much. You could survive without him comfortably enough.

He would not stop staring at the television screen. You were sure his eyes would roll out of his head from how long he paid attention to it. International news. Not that he did not know any of what was being said anyhow— he always seemed to know exactly what was going on in the world at a given moment— but he never wanted it off. Even as you set a bowl of stew in front of him, he barely glanced over at you long enough to register it.

You sat down next to him, tapping him on the side of the head as you dug into your own bowl. “Soup’s up,” you tell him, turning down the television. “You’ll waste away if you don’t eat.”

“Will I?”

You smiled, taking the bait. “You will. Your body will shut down and go into cardiac arrest and I’ll have to call the ambulance to come to drag you off.”

He did not smile much these days, but something like it tugged at his lips. “Oh, you don’t say?”

“I do.” You took another bite of your stew. “And with how much work you do it’ll kill you, and I can’t afford to help chip in much for the funeral, so it’ll be a shitty little thing and you’ll be made fun of it for it by the other dead people.”

He balanced a chunk of meat from his stew, watching so it would not fall. “Oh, so there are more dead people now.”

“Don’t be stupid,” you wave him off. “Of course, there are more dead people.”

“Of course.” The spoon was slid into his mouth.

“Of course.”

The spoon came out clean. With a quiet hum of satisfaction, he began to eat. “‘Ts good,” he said around his food.”

“It’s beef.”

“I’m a fan.”

You nodded. “Good. You’ve gotten uncharacteristically thin.”

“Rapid weight loss is often a symptom of high anxiety.” He swallowed. “That’s probably why.”

You took another bite of stew. “Work?”

“Work,” he confirmed.

“What is it now?”

He paused. “How to put it…” He swallowed another spoonful. “An issue’s come up and neither I nor anyone in my department quite understands what it is. It is unlike anything we have ever had to deal with in the past, and despite how many resources are being put into solving the problem, we are no closer to a solution.”

“What sort of problem?”

“That’s the question.”

You blinked. “So is it a problem or not?”

He smiled dryly. “It’s certainly causing trouble, but it’s difficult to define, seeing as I hardly know exactly what it is outside of the fact that it has seemingly infiltrated every corner of the company.”

You take another bite of stew. “You really should quit,” you swallowed. “Your job, I mean. It’s bad for you.”

He considered it. “It would probably be better on my health, but I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“Because it is one of the very few things that give my life meaning.” He picked up the bowl, tipping his head back and drinking the rest of its contents. “I have no other skills outside of my job, you understand; I would be essentially nothing without it.”

It was odd how he described what he did. He never told you what it was, exactly, but he always talked as though whatever it was was an integral part of himself, like it was more than just a job. You knew enough not to ask; he had always been secretive in this regard, and you knew it would do you little good to pry. “That’s not fair.”

“It is.”

“That’s not true.” You smiled. “Personally, with or without your job, I think you’re pretty great. And if it’s as big as you make it out to be, I’m sure someone else would hire you if that was what you wanted.”

He pursed his lips. “I’m not sure that’s even something I would want,” he mumbled, almost to himself. “Again, it is essentially my whole life, what I do.”

“But it doesn’t have to be is my point.” You let your head rest on the back of the couch. “You can do whatever. You’re still pretty young; the world’s your oyster.”

“Shakespeare.”

“Hm?”

“That idiom. It’s Shakespeare.”

“What, really?” You smiled. “See? You could go into etymology if you wanted.”

He chuckled. “I think I may go insane if I did that.”

“Oh come on,” you push him gently. “It’s not that boring.”

“I would disagree.”

You give him a look. “Then how come you know where it comes from, wise guy?”

“I had to read Merry Wives of Windsor.”

“Oh.”

He watched you curiously. “Why are you making a face?”

Your cheeks heated up. “I’m not making a face!”

“You are, as a matter of fact.”

“It’s just like why?”

“Oh, it was hardly by choice.” He shrugged. “My caretakers insisted. Personally, I’ve never been much a fan, but it would hardly make sense if I did not pick up on at least some of it.”

“Bastards.” You stuck your hands in your pockets, settling in. “What else did they make you read?”

He thought for a moment. “Well, all of Shakespeare–”

“The fuck you mean all of Shakespeare?”

He blinked. “What do you mean what do I mean?”

“How many things has Shakespeare written?”

“Surprisingly few.” He very quickly seemed to tally on his hands. “Thirty-seven is the generally accepted number, I believe.”

“That’s a lot!”

“I’m well aware. I didn’t enjoy it much at the time.” He settled in next to you, leaning his body against yours. “But apparently an extensive knowledge of English literature was vital to my education.”

You draped an arm across his shoulders. “Your caretakers are just the lives of the party, aren’t they?”

“I don’t believe they’ve ever attended one.”

“Look at you, being snarky.” You leaned into him. “I’m so proud.”

He reached over, pulling you into his lap. “I can be snarky.”

“So has been demonstrated.”

“I can be snarky generally too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You learned very early on that when dating your odd boyfriend you were best to not ask too many questions. Not about work, not about his personal life outside of you, not even about where he stayed when he was not with you. You had never been to his place, never seen it. He went away a lot for his job, and the two of you talked a lot on the phone, but you had learned from how little he volunteered information to not ask him to divulge too much to you. In exchange, as a way of keeping things fair, he never asked too many questions about your life, never commented on your home or your loved ones unless asked, and gifted you hush money—which he never called hush money but always felt like it for how much of it you received— and offered you an unusual amount of legal expertise.

Your conclusion: your boyfriend was some sort of government worker/spy/lawyer.

“You know I’m using you, right?”

You looked up from your phone. The night of that conversation— the last conversation you have had with him, about two months ago— was on the last night of his week-long stay at your place. You had gone out of your way to make him good food before he went back to his diet of carbs and nothing else. He had been quiet all day, fidgeting more than usual, clingier than what was typical. You had asked him about it throughout the day, but he always brushed it off. “Hm?”

He had that look in his eyes that he did when you first met, that cold, calculating stare that made you feel like a patient on an operating table. He repeated the question.

You set the device face down on the table. “Use how?”

“Emotionally. Physically. Psychologically.”

“I mean,” you shrugged, “I wouldn’t say using—“

“You should if you don’t. It’s the appropriate word.”

You leaned against your hand, elbow on the table. “What’s your definition of use?”

“Any, really.” His shrug, a mirror of your own, was stiff. “For our purposes, let’s define the term as ‘to exploit one for one’s own advantage.’”

You could play this game. You laced your fingers together, leaning forward. “And how would you define exploiting, love?”

“‘To use in an unfair and selfish way.’”

“You would consider yourself selfish?”

“Impossibly so.” He never looked away from you, then. “Incredibly so. Our relationship is largely one-sided.”

You swallowed. You knew he noticed. “How so?”

He considered the question, eyes lowering ever so briefly before meeting yours again. “Well, it’s fair to say that you’re a caring partner. You’ve provided for my every emotional need for the past five years, you’ve let me stay in your home, you’ve cooked for me, cared to remind me of my humanity.” He folded his arms on top of his knees. “And in return for your unflinching hospitality I’ve largely neglected you; I’ve refused to tell you anything meaningful about my upbringing or my work or even who I associate with. I’m not traditionally attractive— I understand,” he cut off your protest, “that beauty is subjective but for our purposes, I’m not objectively beautiful— and I haven’t so much as let you stay with me. I only spend time with you for a week every two months or so, which is ridiculous considering how long we’ve known each other. Any reasonable person would be right to leave.”

You shifted in your chair, eyes focused on your fork.

“Why are we still in a relationship?”

“I like you.” You shrugged, picking up the plastic utensil and turning it over in your fingers. “I’m allowed to like you, aren’t I?”

He exhaled, a poor imitation of a chuckle. “I can’t imagine it goes much farther than a skewed cost-benefit analysis.”

“So what if it doesn’t?”

“That’s incredibly foolish of you.”

“So what if it is?”

“Don’t you find an issue in that?”

“So what if I don’t?”

He opened his mouth, sighed, looked down. He mumbled something.

“Pardon?”

“You don’t even know my name.”

You stopped your fiddling. “You’ve never offered it.”

“That’s my point.”

You inhaled slowly, trying not to get yourself riled up. “Are you trying to break up with me?”

“No.” The response was immediate.

“Why are you telling me all this, then?”

He paused.

“That’s what it sounds like.”

“Do you have any idea what I do?”

You chuckled, leaning back in your chair. “I mean,” you sighed, “I have something like an idea.”

His eyes are not cold like they were before. Dull, maybe, but that was nothing new. “Take a guess.”

“I dunno.” You buzzed your lips. “Spy? Government worker? Assassin?”

His lips twitched upwards. “Assassin?”

“Hey, you asked!”

He smiled. “Let’s go with that.”

“What, you're an assassin?”

“Sure.” He leaned forward. “I’ve been asked to kill someone very important.”

You blinked. “I got it right?”

“No, but the comparison is somewhat apt.” He chewed on his thumb nail absently. “I’ve been tasked to kill someone very important. Because I’m killing someone very important, I’m going to be in a lot of danger.”

“Are they a dick at least?”

“I’m being serious.”

You crossed your arms behind your head, trying to relax. “If you’re an assassin, aren’t you always in danger?”

“This particular person is unusually dangerous.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“And because I’m going to be in a lot of danger, I may never see you again.” He broke eye contact. “I’m unable to get out of this, and this person has to die.”

You swallow. “Sure.”

“If I don’t get in contact with you for a month, I want you to assume that I’ve broken up with you.”

“And if I don’t agree?”

He sighed. “I can’t exactly force you to, can I? But you will be setting yourself up for disappointment.”

You looked up at the ceiling. “Am I invited to the funeral, at least?”

He considered the question. “Yes.”

You swallow again, hating the taste in your mouth. “Okay.”

He looked at you again. “Would you mind too terribly if I came over there?”

You said nothing. Your voice would crack if you did.

He took your silence as a no, standing from his awkward posture and kneeling at your feet. He placed his head on your lap, looking up at you. “May I have your hand?”

You let one of your arms down.

His hand was shaking as the fingers interlaced with yours. “I highly doubt that anything will happen. It never has before.”

Your eyes slid shut. You did not want to cry.

“I just want you to be prepared if something does.”

You never saw him again after that night.

Previous Works

I agree so much, there needs to be more Hisoka fics, heck more hxh fics period

Late Night

Contains: fem y/n, oc insert, smut, porn without plot, making out, wetness

FINALLY a new smut fic from me, lol. I’m so obsessed with Hisoka right now, I’m sad that he’s not that popular bc I miss all the other fics people wrote for him, I mean they’re still there but they’re not that frequent anymore. :”(

◢◤◢◤◢◤𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐒 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓 ◢◤◢◤ ◢◤

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It was the crisp hour of 2 o’clock in the morning; usually any normal person would be asleep, however Hisoka was wide awake, sitting on his knees with Y/n laid on her back spread out for him, the bed squeaked as he thrusted; if the other occupants in the arena suites were to hear them, Hisoka didn’t care; it served as a reminder, Hisoka gets to fuck his nice girlfriend while the other floor masters get nothing. Y/n’s butt was on his lap, leaving her exposed pussy at the perfect angle for him to slide his cock into. He had taken her three times already, she was filled to the brim with cock and cum. After that third load, she thought he was finished— but he took hold of her hip and pulled her back.

“Oh come to papa.” He snickered through grit teeth, “I’m not finished with you yet.”

Y/n’s soft, plush legs bounced back with the force of Hisoka’s mad intimate rhythm, along with her breasts.

The broad-framed magician’s soft, ginger hair had stuck to his forehead with the sweat that was rolling down his fit body, one hand on his lower back with the other holding Y/n’s hip, keeping her in place while he thrusted his pelvis back and forth. Hisoka grunted and groaned softly in pleasure; his hand moved up and down her waist, rubbing over her belly and feeling the slide punch deep within her every time he thrusted inward.

“Y/n, baby..” Hisoka groaned, looking down at her with narrowed eyes; eyes filled with passion and love.

It was a look he always bestowed upon her, in a moment of intimacy or not; Y/n was the apple of Hisoka’s eye, anyone could tell when she entered a room the man would light up, instantly striking up conversation with her and looking at her with that love struck adoration.

“Mmf! Hheeh.. u-uuhhff..” Y/n whimpered and moaned, her back arched while she turned over on her side; his cock twisted within her but Hisoka found a way to adjust himself. The man lurched forward, both of his large hands on either side of Y/n now, one of them holding hers. “After the day I’ve had baby, you’re just what a man needs.” Hisoka snickered through his grunts. Y/n looked up at him with a small pout, her cheeks were a bright pink and her eyes were glossed over.

After three rounds of non stop sex, Hisoka’s loads of cum began to spill out of Y/n’s full pussy, the wet squelches and noises were loud and made Y/n’s spin shudder with a mix of embarrassment and arousal. Their laps were soaked in both of their own messes, they were both tired and about ready to collapse; but Hisoka just kept going, chasing the release that always brought him satisfaction.

Oh this body.. he groaned, “H-hhahhhh..” he growled low in his throat, bringing one hand to slide down her back until he cupped her ass, feeling it bounce while he plowed her into his shared mattress. Y/n, such a sweet girl.. and a beautiful, soft body. He growled and smacked his pelvis against hers even faster, his hand squeezed her waist now. “You’re such a good girl.” Hisoka growled at her before rolling her over back on her back; he liked her better that way, it was hard for her to avert his gaze when she was like this.

And Y/n looked so submissive, so small under his large, muscled body. Sometimes if the room was dim enough, he would cast a shadow over her. That amused him.

The small thin vein going down the middle of his v line that curved down and coiled around his cock twitched slightly, his “happy trail” as Y/n referred to it. He remembers how he would always shiver in pleasure when she would gently drag her finger over it, then down to his clothed crotch sheathed by his boner, poking at the mound his cock made within it. Squeezing his bulge in her hand, giggling, “Squishy” before swiping a strand of her hair behind her ear and lowering her face to give it a soft kiss.

Y/n always lit a fire in the man’s loins.

“A good girl like you deserves all of my cum.” He licked his lips and leaned down, their lips molding together wetly. Hers were already coated with their mixed saliva. His slimy tongue entered her mouth and they slid together like snakes mating. His tongue filled her mouth out good just like his cock filled out her pussy.

Hisoka’s hips staggered and he plowed into her faster, the bed creaked and squeaked— if it broke then he could easily get Y/n to fix it without the embarrassment of hiring somebody else. “H-Hisoka.. H-Hiso.. mmm,” he could feel the heat from Y/n’s pussy, hot passion; she was close “Let go for me, babe. I’ll give you more cum.” He whispered into her, they panted on each other’s lips, their eyelashes fluttered against each other.

Grunts, groans and whimpers filled the room; along with wet slaps made from their intimacy. Hisoka finally came for the last time of the night, his sticky cum flooded her walls and mixed in with his previous loads. They were a panting mess, their bodies clung to each other as he stayed connected to her. Hisoka lifted her chin up with a finger to connect their lips for another wet kiss, where smooth lips rubbed against each other, their tongues lapped at each other.

“Uughh.. fuck..” Y/n whimpered and sat up on her elbows, looking down at Hisoka’s cock still buried between her legs, “Is.. s-so sore..” she mumbled and wiggled her hips away so that she could push his cock out. Hisoka held the side of her thigh while his other hand held behind her head, “Oh? Perhaps I went a bit too rough.” He chuckled softly and kissed her forehead.

“No shit.” Y/n mumbled before Hisoka gave her another kiss on the lips.

“Come on my pouty princess, let’s get you cleaned up.”

Hi~~

Just wanna say I love your posts you remind me of one of my best friends and I love it.

Can I please please please ask you to write on where everyone on the task force is like ten minutes from walking in the door and we insist on giving L head despite his protests thx~~

You’re shifting on your knees in front of him, excitement building as you tug his cock out of his boxers.

“My love, we do not have time for this nonsense. The Kira Taskforce will be here in a short while.”

You giggle and smile up at him.

“You’ll just have to be fully in the moment then, i’m sure you can do it.”

L shakes his head, sigh whispering out as you slurp the tip into your mouth.

“Dear, I do not want my colleagues to see me in such a compromising position.” He nearly chokes at the end of his sentence, your hands coming up to stabilize yourself as you begin to bob your head, saliva dripping down to the hairy base of his cock.

He tries to explain to you why you shouldn’t be doing this but you really don’t care, your thirst for him needing to be quenched. So he lets you have your fun, going at your own pace for a few minutes until he realizes how little time you have left and decided to take matters into his own hands.

He makes sure you nod your agreement when he asks if he can take control and then fists your hair with his strong hands as he thrusts his hips rhythmically, stuffing your poor throat full of his drooling tip over and over again until he finally cums. White seed spilling up and out of your pink lips before he pulls out and casually tells you to swallow.

Obediently, you do so with a innocent look and use his legs to help you stand up before kissing him on the cheek with a giggle and sauntering off.

From up the stairs you hear the Taskforce walk in barely seconds after your departure, nearly choking when you hear Matsuda ask what the white stuff on the ground is.