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azure-thorns · 3 months ago

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further continuation of pitfighter!vi | part 1 | part 2

sypnosis. vi left an impression on you more then you thought she did. but, you left even more of an impression on her. and you can’t control a feeling like that, can you?

warnings. dom!vi, lowkey hate sex, use of a strap on, lots o angst !! (in the beginning), uhh i tweaked the timeline a lot so this doesn’t exactly follow everything going on. bear w me!

damn.

you were surprised vi stayed true to her word. it was two months since she initially left. you tried to move on with your life, forget her, and try to remember that she was with that someone that she mentioned.

if she stayed, that means she’s happy. right?

right?

stupid feelings. truth was, you wanted her to come back. she wasn’t just any other client to you at this point.

god, how did you get yourself into this mess? you vowed to not get involved with a client. yet, here you were.

“you seem distracted.” your friend, and co-worker says while she combs through your hair. you’d gotten close to her over the past two months, her being your only viable source of comfort in the moment.

you frown as you look into the mirror.

“it’s nothing.” you shake your hand, glancing down to your hands.

“are you sure?” asta cocked a brow as she placed the comb down. “come on. you’re acting so weird lately.”

you run your thumb over the indents of your palm, following your fingers.

“well..” you start, “i.. there was a client. around two months ago. she was..” you snort, “different, that’s for sure.”

“.. okay..” asta looks into space as she thought.

“she told me she wasn’t coming back— that she couldn’t. her heart was taken by this enforcer girl. said she couldn’t give her up.”

asta is quiet for a second. you turn to look at her. “.. so, what i’m getting from this, is you’re getting your heart involved in a client you took twice.”

“what?” your back straightens. “no! no, my heart isn’t involved, i’m just.. curious. that’s all.”

“uh-huh, okay.” asta snorts with a roll of her eye. “who is this, anyway?”

“oh, uh.. her name is vi.”

asta’s eyes widen so far her eyebrows shoot up. “the fucking vi? as in the vi everyone here hates?”

“i guess so.” you frown.

“hah! no way you’re falling for that little sadistic fuck.”

“asta!” i cry.

“i mean, seriously, y/n! she’s no good, especially for you.”

“i’m a whore in the undercity. i’m not exactly amazing.”

“still, though. i can’t believe you wound up having to take her as a client twice, i mean, are you alright after that?”

you glare. then, you smile at the memory. “actually..” you feel a blush creep on your cheeks. “you’d be surprised. it’s not just her that got to take control.”

“you.. vi? being submissive? oh, you’re crazy.”

“crazy good.” you snort, pushing off your chair. “besides, i’m not falling for her.”

“yeah. sure you aren’t.”

“i mean, i can’t, anyways. i’ve already made that mistake before and i’m not about to make it again. my heart is never being involved with my clients ever again.”

asta takes a second to respond. then, she says, “you know, sometimes it isn’t all that bad.” she shrugs. “i met my husband through this business.”

“it does more harm then good. plus, aren’t you two having problems because of the job that you met in?”

“well.. kind of. but still.” she places a hand on my shoulder, “not everything in your life has to be dictated because of what you do as a job to survive. it’s rare you feel a connection with your clients, right? especially you.”

“i don’t have a connection with her.”

“you keep telling yourself that.” asta chuckles, “that’s what i said about my husband before he started courting me.”

“whatever!” i cry, pushing her hand off me. “i have a client.”

“don’t go imaging it’s vi!”

“ugh, shut up asta!”

a week later, you’d made up your mind. obviously, vi wasn’t going to come back. it’d be best for you to just move on.

your hands tighten around eachother.

so damn stupid. you were so damn stupid. your feelings were so damn stupid— she went to you out of convenience, nothing more.

she was under the influence, on a sex drug nonetheless. you went too far with her. you never should have given in to her pleads in the first place.

“come on, slow-poke.”

you still.

“slow-poke is a bit cocky for you to say. i recall you saying i was moving too fast, when i tried to—“

“okay, are we seriously talking about that right now?”

you’d recognize that voice anywhere. it was haunting your thoughts for the past two months.

and you don’t dare lift your head. you feel your breath pick up as you glance forward.

your breath catches in your throat as your eyes land on her. on vi. what the hell was she doing here?

without another thought, you flick your hood over your head. your body curls in on yourself, staring at your feet as you walk forward, moving past her.

“you used to be all over me,” a posh, matter-of-fact voice says. “now, you can barely even look at me.”

“we’re on a mission, caitlyn. we’re not talking about our relationship right now.”

her voice becomes louder as you grow near.

“when will we?”

“soon! just.. just not now.” vi grumbled.

you try to ignore the warmth in your skin as you knock shoulders with her as you pass.

“hey! watch where you’re going—“

vi stops herself as you glance over your shoulder.

you watch as her eyes flicker, the redness seeping into her skin as she flushed.

“wha.. y/n?” she says in almost a whisper.

your eyes glide toward the girl beside her. a pretty woman, with sharp features and rich, navy hair, tied into a ponytail. she held herself so well.

no wonder vi was so enveloped in her.

vi feels like her heart is about to burst out of her chest. she glances toward caitlyn, who gives you a weird look as you stare at her.

what. the. fuck.

that’s all vi can think.

her eyes flicker between you and caitlyn.

vi watched as you slip the hood off your head. you bring your head up with an inhale, forcing a strong front.

“.. hey, vi. funny seeing you here.” you say in that soft tone that’s been haunting her thoughts and her dreams for months since you’ve been apart.

“you know this girl?” caitlyn says as she stares at you. you glance toward caitlyn, brows furrowing. she stared at you like you were filth— and you probably were, body being tainted by the hundreds of hands that have touched the most vulnerable of all— your body.

vi swallows. “yea.. yes, um—“ she closes her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose. “old friend.”

old friend? really?

you glare at her.

“can i, um.. can i have a second to talk to her? alone?”

vi’s hand rests on caitlyns shoulder. her skin looked so soft— so clean.

you try to ignore the flame of jealousy in your chest as caitlyn’s hand rests atop of vi’s, before nodding her head once.

“don’t take long.” caitlyn lets her hands drop to her sides. vi gives a small nod, shoulders relaxing as caitlyn steps back, moving out of earshot.

and then she turns to you.

“i thought you said you were never coming back.” you frown as your arms cross on your chest.

“this isn’t me coming back.” vi says curtly. “we’re on a mission.”

“a mission? are you some sort of enforcer now?”

vi says nothing.

you freeze.

“you.. you’re an enforcer.”

“temporarily.” vi raises a hand, “it’s not anything to do with—“

“just go.” you spit. “an enforcer from zaun. it’s not an honour to be labelled that, violet. you’re a pawn in whatever plan they’ve conjured up.”

“it’s a plan to help zaun.” vi says in a whisper as she glances at someone passing. she winced. “can we talk about this elsewhere? preferably not in an open alleyway?”

your eyes shift to the caitlyn girl she treasures so much. she’s staring at the two of you.

“or we could just not talk.” you push off the wall you’d been resting on, “continue on with your mission. you have no use of me, by the looks of it.”

“actually, i do. someone we’re looking for passed through babettes brothel, and we need a—“

“i’m not helping you with this.” you shake your head. “find another worker there to interrogate.”

“y/n.” vi says firmly.

“stop saying my name like that.” you narrow your eyes. “just because you were my client doesn’t entitle me to help you with your stupid investigation. you were a client to many there— ask them.”

“i was more then just a client and you know it.”

her face tightens with anger.

“not really,” you tut your tongue, “you paid, and i gave. nothing more.”

“you can’t be serious.” her hand finds your arm, and she leans closer, glancing around. “you took my virginity. that’s not nothing.”

“you were hardly a virgin when we first met.”

“yeah, not in.. that sense, i wasn’t.”

you hated that she was right. virginity was a prized thing for most people— hell, you used to hold principles like saving your virginity for marriage. and now, look where you were.

but, much like other people, you never forgot your first. a boy from piltover— you were young and naive, much like violet.

“i should have never done that.” you shake your head, “that was too far of me.”

vi’s eyes soften. she glances back at caitlyn, before looking to you. she steers you away, moving out of eyeshot.

“it’s not that i.. regret it. if that makes any difference.”

you huff.

“you said you weren’t coming back. yet, here you are.” you gesture.

“for a different reason.” she tightens her grip on my arm, “come on. help me with this investigation and i’ll leave you alone. for good.”

but that isn’t what you wanted. you didn’t want her to leave— you didn’t want her to be her right now, with her new prized girlfriend, but she was still here. you hated how your heart jumped with glee at that fact.

you inhale a deep breath, clenching your jaw.

“fine. i’ll help you.”

vi exhaled in relief. “thank you.” she whispers. her hand loosens on your shoulder, before slowly slipping off, her fingers trailing over your skin.

“what’s the big deal, anyways?” you furrow my brows.

“cait will tell you everything.” she cocks her head behind her. you nod your head, and follow her as you walk back to caitlyn. it hit you that she was tall, and it made her even more menacing— towering over you with a mean look on her face. you couldn’t tell if that was just her face, or she just didn’t like you. probably both.

“so she’ll help, then?” caitlyn says, turning to vi.

vi nods. “yeah.”

“i can’t promise i’ll actually be of help to you.” you cross my arms on your chest. “just because i agreed to tell you what i know doesn’t mean it’ll be any use.”

“worth a shot, right?” vi shrugs. i give her a brief nod.

“we can’t talk about this here.” caitlyn says.

you sigh. “we can go back to my house. it’s just ‘round the block. but again— i only have an hour.”

they give a nod of agreement. you inhale a deep breath, before paving a way back toward your house.

suddenly, you felt unconscious about your living space. you hadn’t cleaned it, and there was no doubt clothes left on the floor, leaving it a mess. you mentally curse yourself as you unlock the door, pushing it open.

“make yourselves comfortable.” you mumble, kicking some clothes out the way.

vi doesn’t take another glance at the house as she walks inside, following behind you. caitlyn hesitates, looking around the messy room, before following suit.

i grab a glass of water, jumping up onto my counter.

“alright. so, what did you need me for, exactly?” i look to caitlyn.

caitlyn slowly turns her head toward you. “oh— yes, um..” she clears her throat, obviously distracted. “a few days ago, someone passed through the brothel you work at.”

she fumbles through her bag. your eyes glance toward vi, who leans against the counter parallel to you, crossing her arms on her chest. the blue outfit just looked so.. off on her, yet, she still held herself the same.

she didn’t seem that bothered by the mess— partly because she’s seen it before, and partly because she’d already been in your house, in your bed—

stop it.

caitlyn places a sheet of paper on the island. i pick it up.

“have you seen this girl?”

your eyes move around the paper. you had seen this girl before— quite an oddball, but she was funny. blue hair, tied into long braids. your eyes train on the JINX — PILTOVER, WANTED.

“uh.. yeah.” you nod. you’d never expect her to be a wanted criminal, but who wasn’t down in the lanes?

“how? where did you see her last?” caitlyn says. there’s a gleam in her eyes as she leans closer.

“well.. maybe two or three days ago she came around the brothel during my shift. she was a client.”

vi pushes off the table abruptly. “you took my sister as a client?!” she stalks toward you.

“well, yeah.” you shrug. your eyes widen as you realize. “we.. no, she didn’t want anything.” uou chuckle at the memory, “she just wanted to talk.”

vi seems to calm down, her shoulders slouching. you give her a brief look, before turning to caitlyn.

“she.. i don’t know why she came to a brothel to just have a chat, but she isn’t the first one to do that. it’s honestly not that weird for clients to just want to talk like normal people when they have no one else.”

“i didn’t give it that much thought. i don’t remember much about her.”

you glare at vi. “not that it’d be any of your business what happens with my clients.”

vi puffs a breath of air through her nose, ripping her gaze away from you. she didn’t understand why she was so.. so jealous, so riled up over the memory that you still worked at the brothel, that you still took clients, that other people were touching you.

she had no right to be possessive, yet, here she was.

“.. anyway.” caitlyn clears her throat, brows furrowing as she senses the tension between you and vi, “what can you tell me about her? did she say anything about where she was going?”

you shake your head. “we talked for the hour she paid for, then she left. that was it. i didn’t see where she went.”

caitlyn sighs in frustration. vi looks to her, “this was a big waste of time.”

“it was the only lead we had.” caitlyn pushes off the wall. “if we ask some of the other workers, they’ll probably have seen the direction she went.”

“at this point we’ll miss the last departure. it’s too long of a walk back to piltover if we want to be safe.”

“we can’t leave while the trail is hot! if we wait another day, it’s just another night wasted.”

you h ump off the counter. “just stay here.” you place your glass in the sink, “i have a guest bedroom.”

that was a horrible idea.

it was like your mouth was on autopilot as you say this— stuck on the fact that if vi left now, you’d never see her again. it was stupid if you to offer, yet, you couldn’t stop yourself from doing it.

caitlyn glances toward you. then to vi. she raises her eyebrows as if to say, “well?”

oh, and vi was even more stuck. seeing you again drove her crazy— much less sleeping in the same house again. no doubt it’d grab at her head, keeping her awake at the last memory in this very house.

her chest puffed as she tried to regulate her breath. she wasn’t sure if she could handle herself in such close proximity to you again. it’d surely drive her mad.

but, she too was stuck on the fact that this might be the last time she saw you.

so, vi nods. “sure.” she chokes. her voice is tight as she avoids her eyes, glancing down at her feet.

you huff at the memory of your shift.

“the guest bedroom is just down the hall. make yourselves comfortable.” you move past them, shoulder grazing with vi’s— on purpose, on accident, you couldn’t tell. “i’ll be back soon.”

you still as you see caitlyn move out of the kitchen, glancing around. once she was out of earshot, you back up a few steps.

“oh, and, vi?” you lean closer to her, moving to her ear. “try to control yourself. i can sense your tension from a mile away.” you rest your hand on vi’s shoulder. “if you want me to take care of that.. another time, yeah?”

you pull away without another word, giggling under your breath. you pat vi’s shoulder as you slip away, grabbing your coat and bringing it around your shoulders.

and as you close the door, you leave vi’s head in utter shambles again.

she stands in the same spot, mind processing your words.

try to control herself? after you’ve just said that, and you’re looking like the most beautiful women she’s laid her eyes on?

fat chance.

she’ll get you eventually.

you were released early from your shift, as the night was slow. you kind of dreaded getting back to your apartment, knowing both vi and caitlyn were there.

you wanted to help them. honestly. but you werent sure what would.

your mind recalled the memory of that jinx girl.

you remembered you tried to advance on her— assuming that’s what she wanted, like many other clients. but she stopped you.

she surely wasn’t well. rambling on about life and death, about family, and about how no one can be trusted, and all that.

and after that, she disappeared as soon as she payed. you turned to say goodbye, but she was already gone.

you huff as you open your apartment door, slipping your coat off your shoulders. you hear laughing from your living room, and walk toward it.

as you turn the corner, you see caitlyn and vi laughing together.

“vi, i’m serious!”

you linger in the background as you watch them.

“i mean, the look on my fathers face. he couldn’t believe it at first.”

“well, you won’t be able to get rid of me, anyway.”

your face tightens as you watch her place her head on caitlyns shoulder. she spins a pen in her hand.

“i’m the dirt under your nails, cupcake.”

you decide to leave it alone there.

you step back, running a hand over your neck. so she was happy. you grimace as you walk down the hall, entering your bathroom.

“stupid.” you’d whisper to yourself.

here you thought you had vi wrapped around your finger. but really, you were wrapped around hers.

asta was right, anyway. she was no good for you, and you were no good for her. she was right in the fact that your heart was involved. it was involved tenfold.

you were stupid to ever think that you and vi had a chance.

you were a whore from the undercity. she’s an enforcer now.

nonetheless, she was still from the undercity. she was still a zaunite, just like you.

you strip yourself of your clothes. you step into your steaming shower, and let the water run over your body, your hair.

you close your eyes as you try to drown out your thoughts.

it wasn’t until midnight you left your bathroom.

the house was quiet. you deemed that they had gone to sleep, and move toward your room.

you throw on one of your favourite sets— a gift from a reoccurring piltover client from when you used to work there. you loved the silk texture, the white pearly fabric.

and since you hadn’t eaten much today, you move toward your kitchen.

you huff as you walk down the hallway, quiet against the hardwood floor. you grab your glass from the sink, turning on the tap.

“y/n.” a voice says behind you. you jump, spinning around.

“oh. it’s just you.” you sigh in relief as your eyes land on the familiar black of her hair. vi sauntered toward you, leaning against the counter.

“i.. i had a question.” vi whispers. her voice is laced with sleep— she had stayed up to talk to you. alone, finally.

you stare at your hands as you pour the water down the sink, picking up a bag of pretzels. “and what’s that?”

vi bit her tongue. then, she spoke. “what did you mean, before?”

you furrow your brows.

“when you said.. if you want me to take care of that.” vi shuffles. “you said, another time.”

you still. youd forgotten youd said that— mostly to test the waters around her.

“what did you think i meant?” you hum, placing a pretzel on your tongue. you lean your hip against the counter parallel to her.

vi says nothing.

“look— if you’re gonna act clueless, whatever.” you scoff. “but don’t rope me into something that’ll just cause a mess.”

you turn away from her.

as you move, your stopped by a hand on your wrist. she yanks you backward, your back landing harshly on her chest.

you gasp.

“i don’t really care if it causes a mess.”

you feel her breath on your shoulder. her hand smooths over your hip, pulling you against her.

“you’ve been messing with me ever since we bumped into eachother in that alleyway.”

you stare harshly at the wall in front of you. her thumb dips into the fabric of your shorts, resting it there.

“and you show up in these little shorts and expect me to contain myself?”

you feel her lips against your ear.

“what’s with the sudden switch up?” you say breathily, head leaning against her shoulder.

“you know what you’re doing.” violet scoffs against your ear. you feel your skin blaze alight as she presses her lips to your neck. you feel her tongue glide across your skin.

“violet.” you say harshly. you’re not sure how you feel about the sudden change in the air— vi wasn’t the girl she was last time she was here, no, she was how she was in the brothel the first night you met.

this girl really did give you whiplash.

“this is wrong.” you say, hand placing over the hand on your hip. despite your words, you lean into her touch. “aren’t you with caitlyn?”

vi stills for a second at caitlyn’s name. “one more night can’t hurt.”

“that’s what i thought the last time we met.” you hum, leaning into her touch. “one more night.”

vi spun you around, stalking forward, pushing you back until your back hit the counter. her arms caged around you, her eyes so dark, so unrecognizable.

all night, vi had been thinking about how you’re working your shift, having other people touch you. all night, she thought about you.

all she wanted right now was to distinguish herself from the others— to prove to you that unlike all the others, she cared. she cared for your pleasure, she cared for you, despite her mind screaming at her that she shouldn’t.

another wave of jealousy washes over her. she leans closer, hands gliding over your stomach, pushing up the silk shirt.

“you remember how you said to stop thinking so much around you?” vi says with a smirk, nose touching eachothers, her lips parted. you feel her breath on your skin, her hands on your stomach. they truly did feel warm, so calming, so right, unlike the others who have touched you there. you didn’t feel violated under vi’s touch, you felt.. comforted. it gave you a chance to actually feel the pleasure of another persons hand, rather then focusing on giving pleasure.

her hand splays against your back. her lips were so close to yours, merely one movement away. you wanted nothing more then to feel them again.

“that’s what i’m doing.” vi says, voice husky. “cmon.” she gives a toothy smile. “don’t leave me hanging here, cupcake.”

and it’s like everything changed.

your face closes to a deadpan. you push her off, slamming your fists on her chest.

“wha..” vi gives you a look of confusion.

“you’re so.. arrogant!” you lower your voice as you remember caitlyn is still there— the same caitlyn that vi had said that same nickname too a mere few hours ago. “and stupid!”

“what the hell are you talking about?” vi’s brows furrow.

“that nickname.” you spit. “you’d dare to call me that after using it on caitlyn?”

her mind recalls the memory.

i’m the dirt under your nails, cupcake.

her eyes widen. truth was, she was thinking about you when she said that. she said it because she’s your dirt underneath your nails. she came, and now she’s never going to leave, like a thorn in your side.

“really?” vi deadpans. “that’s what you’re worked up about?”

you purse your lips.

she lets out a chuckle that only fuels your anger. she takes a step toward you, before lowering her voice.

“i knew you were listening.” vi explained, “i was saying that to you.”

you still.

“though, this jealous side of you is kind of cute.”

“shut up.”

“just saying. now, can you stop throwing a fit? kind of holding myself back here.”

“ugh, shut up!” you cry before you grab her face, crashing your lips against hers. vi stilled for a second, taken aback, but she feels a rush of passion flow through her body.

her hands are on you in an instant— clawing, grabbing at your clothes so roughly. her lips are just as you remembered; soft. yet this time, they held a sense of dominance unlike the last time you kissed her.

she hummed against you. and you feel so much.. anger, hatred, jealousy, desire. vi was enjoying this way too much, and you hated that.

you feel her hands on your hips once more, her tongue gliding against your bottom lip, as if asking for permission. you give it by pushing your tongue past her lips, her own finding yours as they tangle and dance for a sense of dominance— to see which way will overtake.

but vi leaves no room for argument. her fingers dig into the skin on your thighs. you squeal as your brought from the floor, her hands holding you up as she picks you up.

your legs dangle loosely around her torso, hand smoothing into her hair, pulling, tugging, holding on so she’s forced to never leave.

you didn’t really know where you were going, but now, you were moving. her tongue glided through your mouth, running along your teeth, your tongue, your gums, everywhere, forcing herself through every part of your mouth until there was nothing left.

and oh, did you miss this feeling.

this feeling of passion, of lust, of desire. this feeling of recklessness. you both know you shouldn’t be doing this— but who can stop desire?

you realize she had guided you to your room when you feel your back hit the fur of your bedspread. she pressed herself between your legs, pulling away from you.

“fuck..” she whispered under her breath, hands smoothing up your stomach, cupping your barely clothed breasts.

“don’t talk.” you loose out, grabbing her face again and pulling her lips back onto yours. she takes that as an understanding, fingers unhooking every button oh so slowly.

you lift yourself off the bed to tear the shirt off your shoulders, throwing it to the side.

vi’s eyes flicker as she pulls away, looking at your body. her eyes land on your budding breasts. just so fucking beautiful. every bit and piece of you was perfect in violets eyes, and she hated how she felt that way.

“i missed you.” she whispers, both forgetting and ignoring your demand of silence. she pulls away, taking her jacket off of her shoulders. clothes fly in a haste, leaving you both naked in mere minutes— well, you naked. she kept her bandages on.

you can’t help the next thing you say. “missed me or missed my body?” you huff, sitting up on your elbows.

vi’s brows furrow. her nose twitches, before she crashed her lips back against yours without a word.

ah. got it. you’d think.

whatever. you shouldn’t have expected much with a hookup.

truth was, vi didn’t know. she didn’t know if her actions were based off purely lust, or something else. she tried not to think about it much— she couldn’t think much, anyways. you were just so soft, so beautiful.

her hands smooth over your body, and you were so drunk on her touch you decided not to care about anything else. her hands, touching you, possessing every part of you.

vi’s lips leave yours, trailing kisses down your jaw, onto your neck. you relish in the feel of her tongue, of her teeth scraping against your skin. her hands, smoothing over your thigh, toying with the strand of your panties. you feel your mouth go agape as her tongue glides over your neck, leaving red splotches, marking you.

you gasp as you feel her hands quiver over your clothed core, pressing so gently it made you whine. she was toying you, being so gentle when she knew you wanted her to be rough.

“don’t think i’ve forgotten.”

you couldn’t process her words— not when her fingers slipped underneath the cloth and dipped into your slick. your head throws back, a jolt of pleasure ripping all throughout your body. a shock to your nerves— finally, a touch that was pleasurable.

“oh, you’ve forgotten, haven’t you?”

your brows furrowed. what the hell was she talking about?

you let your mind fog again when her fingers dip inside of you, pressing so deep. you gasp, feeling your skin grow ablaze, the ache in your stomach only growing. you grasp onto the bedsheets, shocked at how fast this was moving— ten minutes ago, you were accepting the loss of whatever this relationship was. now you were thinking, what the fuck is wrong with me?

“you’re gonna feel everything i felt that night.”

she says this so close to your ear. you feel her breath on the shell of your ear, her teeth nipping at your skin.

“though, you won’t be under a drug like i was. i’ll just have to make up for that.”

her fingers press up as if to further move her point. you let your eyes close, body leaning toward her, hips pressing against her wrist.

“where do you keep those things, hm?”

“what the fuck are you talking about?” you huff, eyes slowly opening to look at her.

“you know,” she leaned closer. oh god, her eyes. that smirk. you were done for.

your brows furrow as you thought. her fingers slipped out of you, causing you to frown at the loss of her touch.

she ran a hand through her hair as she looked around, before reaching over you to open a drawer. your eyes catch on the glimpse of her bicep, a glimpse of the tattoo that ran down her back. gods, it only turned you on further.

“ah.” she says. you’d hear her fumble with something before moving back to you.

and your eyes shift to the thing in her hand.

one of the strap ons you owned— and never used, just by the sheer size of it. black, girthy, and big.

“nonono, violet—“you back away from her. she could not use that one, not now.

“oh, yes.”

there’s a certain gleam in her eyes as her hand grabs your hip, pulling you closer to you.

“told you.” she says as she leans back, fumbling with the straps. “i’m gonna get you back.”

you were in for it now.

for someone who’d never used a strap on before, you were pleasantly shocked.

you’d moan into your pillow as her hips slam against yours, over and over and over again. her hand smoothed over your back, pressing it down so your hips pushed up.

you’d never felt this.. this good, this full.

your entire body shook, every bone weak and practically useless. it took everything in you to hold yourself up, to not pull away from her, from her hips.

“oh—“ you groan, “vi!” you’d lost yourself, suddenly not caring about your voice. once vi realized that, she dragged her hand under to your chest, pulling you flush against her.

her hand moved over your mouth, silencing your cries.

at the new angle, she only pushed deeper.

your eyes widen, every nerve, every muscle twitching and shaking with pleasure. you couldn’t handle it, you simply couldn’t.

“not so tough now, huh?” she huffed, her voice out of breath and tight. you feel her being her hips back, just barely, before pushing back into you with such force you felt tears well into your eyes.

how could one woman have this much stamina?

you’d lost count at the amount of climax’s she’s brought you to.

she abruptly pulled out of you, flipping you over, pressing your back against the bed. it was like your body was drained of any sort of will— her strength easily able to manhandle you in every way she could, every position she wanted you in.

she placed herself back inbetween your legs. you saw that smirk on her face, so cocky and confident.

you couldn’t form words to comment something about it.

she brushed her hand over her forehead, inhaling a deep breath of air.

“i kind of like this.” she said breathily as she lowered her hand, aligning the tip of the silicone cock to your hole. as you feel her push back inside you, you let out a damned scream.

she’s quick to cover it, lips pressing against yours to silence your cries.

your legs touched either side of the bed, her hands pinning them down. your hips ached at the stretch— your core ached at the raw stretch the strap-on gave you, and as she pressed further deep inside of you, you swore you saw stars.

“god, oh, i— fuck!” you cry against her lips, hands gripping so hard on her back, nails digging into her skin, leaving crescent marks on her shoulders.

“shh, shh..” she hushed, hand smoothing across your thigh as a sense of comfort, yet, it only riled you up more.

she was so deep, so insanely deep— somewhere surely no one’s ever touched before.

“wouldn’t want anyone to hear you, would you?” she’d taunt, “see you in this position..”

her hips pull back, before bullying her way back into you, at such a slowed, tedious pace— to mess with you, no doubt.

you didn’t care. you didn’t care for anything— you couldn’t, not after this. you were sure you’d never felt anything like it— it was even better then the first night at the brothel.

“i— i can’t—“ you’d cry, head pushing into the pillow to hide your face. you just.. felt so fulfilled.

“oh yes, you can.” she mumbles, eyes flickering over every expression you’d made, engraving it in her mind.

her hips were flush against yours, filling you to the brim. her body pressed against your chest, her hands moving to grip onto the pillow on either side of your head.

“oh, fuck.” she said so softly, wincing as she felt the pressure against her own clit. then, her hips pulled back, and slammed right back into you. she found out, in this new position, it also gave her pleasure.

with how sensitive she was, even the short amount of pressure could help the ache between her legs.

a gleam found her eyes.

her pace became faster, harder, like a damned piston jolting inside of you.

you bite hard into your lip, hands falling limp and falling on either side of you.

“a little longer, princess..” she huffed into your ear. “come on, you can take it.”

“no, i—!” you cry, legs clamping around her torso. “mmmph—“

“just..” she let out a sharp exhale, adjusting her hips so the base hit her clit just right. she moaned into your ear, eyes rolling back, and the sight was just so damn beautiful.

you feel the cord in your stomach grow hot, your body shaking with every thrust she made.

at this rate, you weren’t sure how much you could handle— it was too much vi, so much vi, you were going to go mad. vi, vi, vi.

“oh, vivivi—“ you whined, your body riling itself up, again and again, over and over, each thrust bringing you closer to the familiar taste of an orgasm.

you were scared. scared of the feeling, of the pure pleasure that coursed through your body each and every time. scared of that feeling, of that blinding— oh, god!

your eyes shut closed, your legs clamped around her as that familiar snap of your orgasm flooded through you.

“say my name.”

“v..” you attempted. and then, you deflate against the matress. “vio..”

“come on, you can do it.”

her hips were relentless, forcing you through your orgasm. your body aches with overstimulation, threatening to burst with each and every second.

“say my name.” she says it more directly, nearly damn demanding you to. her voice is a growl against your ear, her hips picking up in pace.

“oh, violet!” you cry, voice cracking.

vi let out a loud moan, her head pressing against your neck, whining against your skin.

and then, she deflated above you.

your body jolts and shakes with every flow of energy, every flow of pleasure. you were so fulfilled, so full, finally getting what your body had been aching for, begging for.

a proper fuck.

a proper fuck from vi.

you had vi. and that was all you needed, even if it was only for the times being.

you yelp as she flips you over, resting you on her chest. she pressed her hips deeper inside of you, and you gasp.

“n.. no! no, no more.” you cry, your head falling against her chest.

“don’t worry.” she says as she caged her arms around you, hands resting tightly on your waist. her hands run up your back. “i won’t push you.”

you let out a sigh of relief.

you fell into a silence.

it was hard for your body to recover from your orgasms when the strap-on was still inside you, pressing into that spot. with every shift she made, you felt your body rile up again.

a beat of silence.

another.

you hear your click tick. you feel her chest go up and down with her breath. you hear her heart beat.

“i missed you.”

she says this so softly. her arms tighten around your torso, her nose nuzzling into your hair.

“not your body.”

a/n. uh.. hey.. sorry this took so long LOL anyway this kid kind of rushed i apologize and it kind of sucks but blushes thank u for all the support on this little mini saga that stemmed off a one shot 🤗

taglist. @just-levyy @princesssmars @thesevi0lentdelights @kissyslut @devotedlyelectronicartisan @cheyisagirlkisser @maracujais @n1shuu @vivispace @elliecoochieeater @izu-lu @wanna1be0 @honeybunbunnie @yariany02 @dumblilb @lalalalal16 @vyvvycg @ayooooohush @slvtformilfs @the-disaster-in-waiting (some of ur tags didn’t work im sorry :( )

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azure-thorns · 5 months ago

Text

monops's reflection.

yandere!jade leech x (female) reader x floyd leech cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, stalking, unrequited love, obsession, drugging, kidnapping/captivity, restraints, dark/possessive/violent thoughts, biting, blood, characters written as 18+ note - happy birthday, tweels!!! :D may you continue to be crazy.

Mostro Lounge is tranquil tonight, save for the occasional clinking of glass against glass and the soft melodies tumbling from your lips. You busy yourself with song while you wipe the surface of a table, bending forwards to reach the very back with the dampened rag. Jade finds himself eyeing your figure as you flit about, observing the way you wring the cloth free of excess water, your fingers curling into the sodden fabric as if attempting to strangle it. And then it’s promptly dunked into the bucket and wrung out again in repetition. He stands behind the counter and continues to dry the same glass he started on two minutes ago, its shiny surface reflecting his distracted countenance.

There’s something curious about you.

He can’t quite put his finger on what that something is. The more he analyzes you, the further he strays from a proper interpretation of your character. For a human who can’t use magic, you’re surprisingly selfless. You cheer your friends on in their academic endeavors, offering them your help whenever it feels like they might need it, and you carry your own weight at the lounge, boldly standing up to patrons who get too big for their britches. Jade wanted to pity you in the beginning, when customers had been rough and rude with you, but you’d dealt with every difficulty with a bright grin and a few choice words.

You’re strong; you never back down.

Jade sets the glass in its rightful place and reaches for another, all while keeping his mismatched stare on you. He wonders how much pressure it would take for you to finally snap. Would you still be able to smile then? Could you even manage to stay afloat in pessimistic waters with that blithe façade of yours? If he were to cut into you with knife and fork—with dreadfully sharp words and even sharper actions—would you allow yourself to bleed out? Or would you accept your fate and smile up at him from your porcelain plate, promising him you’ll patch yourself up because it isn’t a big deal?

When you act so cheerful, so blissfully ignorant to the beast who lurks behind, it sets a potent yearning aflame. A yearning to break you well beyond repair. A yearning to take that smile, chew it up, and spit it out until it’s the most devastated frown he’s ever seen.

“Good work today, Jade!” With a breathless huff—he wants to bottle that breath and each one that will follow—you set the bucket down and roll your shoulders. Exhaustion shadows your face, adding deceptive age to your youthful appearance. “Do you need any help?”

“I’m quite all right. Thank you, though.” He returns your smile with one of his own, the usual placid, tight-lipped thing that both eases and unsettles depending on the situation. His default expression, forever the same unless circumstances call for the other faces he’s stowed in his vast repertoire. “You’re more than welcome to head back if you’ve finished for the evening. I can handle the rest.”

“You sure?” The bucket is in your hands again, and you carry it over to the sink to empty the murky water into the basin. He notes the way your arms shake ever so slightly as you struggle to balance the heavy thing against the counter. “I don’t mind waiting here until you’re done.”

“Very well. In that case, I won’t take too long.”

He finishes drying the remaining lineup, arranging each on its respective shelf before wiping the counter for extra measure. He doesn’t have to do it, but he does. It never hurts to be clinically clean.

Floyd should be done with the stock count by now, he thinks, gazing at the door leading to the kitchen. I should check it just in case.

After folding his rag into a neat square and tucking it away, he strides over to the door, opens it a crack, and pokes his head inside. The kitchen space is devoid of life. With furrowed brows, Jade opens the door wider just as Floyd jumps out from his spot behind the racks. He’s holding the clipboard in one hand and flailing with the other. His attempt at a fright does nothing to startle Jade, but it does cause you to flinch back. You do that a lot. Jade’s noticed that you scare easily, often falling victim to Floyd’s pranks during your shifts. It’s all harmless fun, but sometimes Jade catches himself wishing for Floyd to push you just a little harder. A little rougher. Maybe one day he will and Jade will finally witness tears lining your lashes.

“F-Floyd!” you snap, humiliated.

“Gotcha, Shrimpy. You always fall for it, y’know? Like a silly, stupid Shrimpy.” He passes the clipboard to Jade on his way out and adds, “Pretty sure everything’s correct.”

“Is it?” Jade peers at his brother’s handwriting. “If you don’t mind, I’ll review it once more.”

“Be my guest. Wasn’t really havin’ a ball fillin’ it out anyway.” He shrugs and then beelines for you, lifting you into the air with ease. He spins you despite your protests. Nasally laughter soon overtakes silence. Floyd has always been fond of your reactions; he eats them up as if it’s a special treat. “I wonder if you’ll get sick. You get motion sickness, Shrimpy? Tell me! Tell me!”

A covert smile stretches onto Jade’s mouth as he disappears into the kitchen, the door swinging shut behind him. While he goes over the numbers and corrects the errors Floyd’s made, he listens to you pleading with his brother to release you. Most of the numbers align with the remaining supplies and ingredients, and he adds his own notes in the margins so that Azul will know which are especially low and in need of replenishment. Checking his brother’s work isn’t a favorite pastime of Jade’s, but when it comes to the lounge and its success he’d rather look over a few numbers than watch sales plummet and listen to Azul’s endless slew of woeful complaints.

Once he’s made the necessary changes, he slips the sheet from the clipboard and heads back out. You’re in the process of chasing after Floyd, who’s holding your timecard above his head and dangling it like it’s a piece of bait. Part of Jade wants to enjoy the spectacle, but the other part is ready for the sweetness of sleep. For once he sides with the latter and clears his throat to get Floyd’s attention.

“Ah, you’re already done?” Having lost interest in the game, he drops your card at once. It flutters to the floor, and he watches with wide, gleeful eyes as you swoop down to catch it. “That all we gotta do?”

“I believe so. Azul’s staying late, so he will lock up.”

Jade sets the inventory sheet on the nearest table for Azul to find before retrieving and filling out his timecard. Floyd hasn’t even marked his hours yet, and Jade exhales an empty sigh and takes the initiative to write it in for him. It’s always been like this. Jade looks out for Floyd, not only because they’re family and have always done so, but because there are some instances where he’s much too careless.

It has been noted that the two of them are a package deal. A duo. A pair. Inseparable twins who balance each other with varying levels of insanity. Their bond is unbreakable, having been built from blood and the will to survive ever since they were vulnerable elvers. Floyd is a reflection of Jade, and Jade is a reflection of Floyd; that’s how they have lived. Like day and night, sugar and salt, and light and dark, they operate like clockwork, expertly in time with one another.

The center of their relationship has always remained the same, and Jade suspects it will never change, even after they’ve acclimated to human society. They are predators with finely honed instincts, masquerading above the water as humans. With razored rows of teeth and an insatiable hunger for unpredictability, the two of them function in a domesticated world. In order to survive in such a foreign environment, Jade has learned that they need each other, which is why it’s so salient that they get along most days.

And much like night and day, like a person with a shadow, one cannot exist without the other.

“See ya tomorrow, Shrimpy!” Floyd flashes you a jovial grin as you take your leave, but there’s a mischievous glimmer in his eyes. “I’ll be waiting…”

“Um, yeah… H-Have a good night.”

With your timecard now in Jade’s capable hands, he’s free to observe your handwriting. There’s nothing special about the way you write, but it still manages to mesmerize him. Every loop of each letter, messily intertwining like frayed strings of fate, adds charm to the script. It’s obvious you tried and failed to sign your name in cursive, but the fact that you even bothered to do so is cute.

It’s truly not that important, he reminds himself as he places the cards back where they belong.

“Shall we head back now?”

Floyd nods, stifling a yawn. As they walk through peaceful halls, he adds in a conversational tone, “Awfully boring when Shrimpy’s not around.”

Jade weighs that declaration and finds himself nodding in agreement. “Yes, I suppose it is.”

i. on a moonlit night, under an eave of twinkling stars, monops waltzes gracefully with the ghost of his other half. the shards of a shattered mirror reflect two sides of the same coin, of human and monster. when the clouds part and an ethereal beam encases the solitary monops, the illusion melts away into a fleeting dream.

Floyd is everything Jade is not: energetic, extroverted, and brash. Such adjectives can’t possibly describe Jade’s outward demeanor—the one he carefully orchestrates for public consumption. He’s polite and kind, soft-spoken and always wearing a smile despite the situation. He cloaks himself in a many-layered mask—a perfect predator with multiple disguises at his disposal. If he must shed a dozen skins to uphold his gentlemanly disposition, then he will gladly peel them away one at a time until he’s found one that fits flawlessly over bone. Jade could never hope to become what Floyd is, but what Floyd is not Jade is. And he is composed of qualities that reflect Floyd’s own behaviors.

He’s not ashamed to admit what he lacks. This is just a facet of life. You can never truly have everything you want. If the world was fair, everyone would achieve their goals without adversity. Any aspiration, no matter how small and insignificant, requires an adequate fight to be worthy of achievement. Survival is not much of a dream, but it’s the only thing Jade’s ever known as he floats through the world alongside his brother. His dreams are Floyd’s, or so that’s what he’s always told those who enquire. He shares these things with him because he does not have any to call his own.

Not yet, at least.

And sharing—it’s a word he knows well. Everything that Jade owns, Floyd owns as well. They share the same face, the same room, the same clothes. They might even come to share the same lover one day, should they both find their hearts pierced by Cupid’s miserable arrows. Jade has never been against the concept of sharing. It’s an acceptable way of life for him. He grew up practicing the concept, and it has taught him how to coexist with others. Sharing is an extension of the bonds he’s formed.

Still, he’s avaricious in some aspects. Hopelessly so.

There’s no denying the difficulty that arises when one wishes to share in the turbulent waters of the Coral Sea, where the natural order caters to the strong and crushes the weak, but splitting the essentials is what guarantees survival. And if it’s worked so well in the past, why should he stop now? Therefore, sharing will always be a priority, even if their desires are fraught with selfish envy.

Jade is watching you again.

You’re sitting in the courtyard with Azul, gesturing wildly as you recount a story he can’t hear from where he stands behind a stone pillar. Azul’s expression is soft with amusement; his lips quirk up in laughter, and his eyes never leave yours. Your cursive may be a mess and you might be feeble in the face of danger, but you certainly know how to enthrall others. If Jade didn’t know any better, he’d suspect you to be a siren. Night Raven College would be the perfect hunting ground for a predator of that nature. Perhaps once you’ve charmed Azul you’ll devour his heart and leave a streak of gore in your wake.

That’s impossible.

Jade is certain of this fact because he knows you’re not a predator. You are very much the harmless prey who has wandered into a den of ravenous beasts. He wonders if the thought that Azul may be dangerous ever crosses that empty, pea-sized brain of yours. He’s as much of a hunter as the rest of the students here, and with those eight tentacles of his he could easily send you to a watery grave. You wouldn’t have much of a chance to struggle, not unless Azul’s own benevolence grants you that futile hope. Thinking about it—about the thrill of a one-sided scuffle—has his heart racing, his palms wetting with sweat.

Oh, but you’re not meant to be Azul’s prey.

So get out of his eyes. Step off of the stage that entertains. Untangle yourself from unseen tentacles.

You are Jade’s.

From the moment the two of you crossed paths—from the moment you took up a job at the lounge and relied on him during your training—you belonged to him.

And he’s not quite sure he wants to share you with anyone.

Perhaps that dumb smile of yours hides something far darker. Perhaps your blood wouldn’t taste as delectable as he once hoped if it’s already been tainted by Azul’s silver tongue. In his own paradise, an ideal world constructed within the confines of his mind, you wouldn’t look at another man, another woman, another person. Not another living thing. You wouldn’t speak to another man, another woman, another person. Not another living thing. You wouldn’t know the tastes of sweet poison or bitter love unless Jade chooses to bestow these flavors unto you. You would only see him, only taste him, only adore him with those wondrous eyes—eyes that are so impossibly strong even when the harshest of insults are thrown your way.

So get the fuck out of Azul’s eyes. Step off of the damned stage that entertains. Untangle yourself from unseen tentacles before Jade slices all of them off at the root.

These feelings ignite a perilous, potent spark deep within his chest. Seeing you smile at Azul in such a casual setting—it’s not right. This terrarium display is wrong. So wrong.

The internal fuse has been lit and it’s nearing its inevitable implosion. Stop looking at him with those eyes. Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

If Jade could, he would slice your smile off and keep it for himself. Pin it to the wall like it’s a rare species of butterfly, your wings having been severed from the sky.

You’re unbearable.

He fears you wouldn’t belong anywhere in his ideal world, for if you found yourself in the depths of the Coral Sea he wouldn’t allow you to surface.

The most confounding specimen I’ve ever encountered.

Azul is an only child. His mother and step-father would miss him terribly.

— — —

Jade spies the delightful pep in your step as you skip past the bar later that same day. You’re balancing drinks and desserts on a tray as you make your way to a nearby table, and he’s immediately reminded of why he’s so drawn to you. You’re a puzzle he has yet to solve—an experiment he has yet to collect enough data from. If he could, he’d shrink you down to the size of his index finger and place you in one of his terrariums so that you could live out your tiny life amongst an array of plants. And Jade would be content to observe from above like a godly sovereign with the power to change your fate in a single snap.

Perhaps it’s not right to view you as a specimen or prey. Perhaps it would be better to regard you as a slab of meat, raw and uncooked, just waiting to be snatched up in his maw.

“Please enjoy!”

Your voice pulls him from his reveries. It’s a melody he’s come to savor in solitude. Naturally lilting, it’s the type of voice even the most jealous of souls would covet. He wants to reach deep inside your throat, grasp it for himself, and cradle it to his ear as if it’s a secret-spilling conch.

But claiming ownership of your sound isn’t enough. He wants to—needs to—devour your everything. Your body and soul, marking you as his, ensuring you’re kept under his thumb forever, seared into his own existence like a brand. Then your every breath will be his, and the blood that courses through your veins shall also become his. The darkest of reds might just suit you more than the aquatic hues of Mostro Lounge’s uniform.

Oh, what he’d give to paint you in vinous vermillion.

“Jade, could you cover for me? I’m going to take my break now if that’s okay with you.” Jade must have scanned your hopeful expression for longer than normal because you begin to fidget in front of him, toying with the hem of your apron. “Uh, that’s fine, right?”

“Yes, of course. Go right ahead.” He sends you off with his trademark smile, dusting his destructive thoughts away.

After you’ve retreated to the kitchen, he turns his gaze on the patrons, listening to the noisy din of laughter and chatter. He overhears a group discussing peculiar textbook titles and how most of them are unnecessarily convoluted and complicated. One of the students brings up a title that didn’t make any sense to him and he describes his surprise when he learned it was a book full of love spells and potion recipes. His friends, as all close friends often do, crack jokes at his expense, prodding for more information on who he intends to enchant. The conversation is bland and juvenile, but it does manage to strike a chord of curiosity in Jade.

Love.

Jade has never known the true meaning of romance. Such a thing does not exist in his perfect world. In some lonesome corners of the ocean, merfolk reproduce because they must. Because it’s the only way to survive. It will be like that for him and Floyd in the future, lest they find themselves ensnared in true love’s deadly trap and choose to reproduce for the sole purpose of fickle feelings. To mate out of love rather than obligation—it’s not unheard of and he isn’t opposed to it. Many humans adopt this way of life.

Jade would like to try it for himself, but he doesn’t know how. He’s never known the answer to this question—the one equation he could never work out. Is his heart too small, or is he incapable of comprehending the complexities of romance? Perhaps neither is true. When he considers the requirements that must be met to qualify love as love, he realizes the adoration he feels for you is not fluffy or innocent. Can such a grand obsession be classified as love if it’s dark and spiraling, condemning him to horrific visions?

Jade does not gaze upon you with fondness. He looks at you as if you’re to be his next meal.

Even when he feels like breaking you would quell some monstrous urge within him, there’s another side that wishes to simply lock you away and protect you from the world and its inhabitants. Because it’s the world that will save you from him, but if you were imprisoned in his world, where it would be just you and him, no one could ever hope to reach you.

Jade isn’t entirely cruel. He would like to share his hobbies with you. He would like to live alongside you in the Coral Sea, tying his life to yours. It’s not an impossible desire, but he knows you wouldn’t be content with this arrangement. Not because it would be unwilling. Not because it would be Jade who has fallen for you and dragged you beneath the waves. It’s precisely because it’s the sea that you might object. You would have to adapt to life in a new, underwater environment. You would have to relinquish certain pleasures unique to the surface, abandoning your bipedal friends and family to live in isolation with him.

But isolation is better than the other terrariums that wait for you. He’ll smash all of them so that you’ll only know this one—the one with him.

Jade has been moving on autopilot for so long now that it finally occurs to him that you’re nowhere to be found. The longer he spends counting the lounge’s staff, the more his observations are proven true. You haven’t returned from your break, which is very unusual considering you’ve always been so diligent about time management. Responsible, that’s what you are. It’s one of the qualities that’s won Azul over.

He surmises it has also shocked his heart with bolts of not-so-lovely lightning.

Despite the bustling, crowded lounge, he slips inside the kitchen to search for you. Usually Floyd’s crowding around you whenever you have a moment to spare, but he isn’t anywhere in sight either. Jade knows his brother and his mood swings well. When he isn’t feeling the lounge, he’ll escape elsewhere until his mood has been restored. He can understand and overlook Floyd’s absence, but yours is inexcusable.

The chefs are hard at work cooking up delicious meals, and all kinds of savory scents blanket the air. Jade glances at the knife block tucked away in a corner, filled with blades of varying sizes, as he passes. After watching you for so long, he’s learned that you often spend your breaks in the storage room, away from the eyes of customers and Azul. Perhaps the space has become something of a comfort for you, or maybe you just like taking shelter in the kitchen.

A sharp gasp joins the chefs’ clattering.

Jade’s stare snaps towards the storage room door. He frowns when he notices it’s been left ajar.

As he approaches, he can make out the sounds of rustling fabric and salacious gasps. He peers through the sliver into the dimly lit space, a single yellow eye spying a terrible scene. It takes a lot to stun Jade Leech, but the view before him is stunning in a very crooked way. It sends a shockwave rumbling through his body, temporarily freezing him to his spot. Unable to look away, to preserve his eyes and mind, he watches. Every inch of him itches.

Bile claws up his throat with acidic fingers.

You’re pressed against the shelves, skirt hiked high and panties pushed haphazardly to the side. Towering over you, anatomy pinned to yours in a sinful connection, is Floyd. His hands are gripping your wrists as he rocks forward to slot himself deeper inside. You search for a solid hold to steady yourself, burying your head in your arm to muffle your keening cries.

“Please… It’s… S’too much. Hold on,” you babble, clinging like a koala.

Floyd leans in to nip at the shell of your ear, eliciting a shudder and a squeal from you. “Not happening, Shrimpy…” His lips travel along the length of your neck, pressing playful kisses into your skin. “You’re really so cute, you know that? So cute and soft… I can’t keep my hands off of ya.”

“We really—oh—really shouldn’t do—hah—this!”

Floyd hums, nonchalant, and slowly slides out of your tight, gummy walls. The tip of his cock prods at your pussy once more, glistening with the dew of your essence.

“Why not?”

“Seriously… What if someone sees us? What if—”

Your retort is cut short when he snaps his hips against yours, filling you in a single thrust. You crumple in his arms, tears gathering in your eyes.

Tears. Because of Floyd. Tears.

“So what if they do? I’ll get ’em good if they peep on my Shrimpy.” He licks a stripe up your neck and then sinks his pointed teeth into the area, hard enough to draw blood. You flinch against him, your pretty face contorting with a mixture of pleasure and discomfort while he laps up your blood. Floyd hums merrily, the sound coming deep from within his chest. “Shrimpy always tastes so yummy. I wanna do this aaall the time!”

“Wait, don’t leave any marks!”

“Oops. Too late.” Grinning boyishly, he grabs your chin and tilts your head up to meet his greedy lips. “Lemme kiss it better for ya.”

Jade watches you melt into the kiss, watches you become putty in his twin brother’s hands. Your eyes flutter shut for the briefest moment, only to flash open when Floyd begins to thrust into you. He sets a hasty, sporadic pace as he pursues an orgasmic high. Your sobs are swallowed in sloppy, open-mouthed kisses that leave you breathless and reaching. You claw at anything stable enough to support you, your fingers curling into Floyd.

A perfect fit.

While he stands there and takes in the sight of his brother claiming the angel he had hoped to someday make his, it dawns on him that the entire storage room is stained with the memory of you. Your smell, your existence, your everything—it lingers even when you aren’t here. It is imprinted on the walls and shelves; it is on Floyd. Your entire soul has been his long before Jade even laid eyes on you.

Now he knows why you frequent the storage room. Now he knows your secret.

He’ll open your torso and pry it out of you, crush it underfoot, and insert a new secret. A better secret. His secret.

Floyd finishes inside of you with a husky, satisfied groan, his arms wrapped possessively around your trembling frame while you bite back bawdy moans. Jade is overcome with a loathsome chill. You have never belonged to him. Not ever. Certainly not now.

“We should get back out there.” Your mumbling reaches his ears, subdued in the cramped storage room. “Before someone comes looking.”

“Don’t wanna. S’warm and cozy inside.”

“Floyd…” Greedy hands are roaming beneath your shirt. You squirm, attempting to pull yourself off of his softening cock, but he yanks you against his chest and holds firm. “We can do this again later. But right now I need to clean up and you have to work. If we take too long, someone will definitely come looking.”

Floyd rolls his eyes, unwilling to acquiesce until yellow crosses yellow. For a strained moment Jade holds his brother’s inquisitive stare, investigating his blank expression for an iota of emotion. The air stales between the both of them, unspoken accusations festering. And then Floyd’s dull hues brighten and a wide smirk blossoms on his lips.

“Fine, fine. We’ll get back to work now.”

An apocalypse rages within Jade’s terrarium heart.

ii. when he turns to the shards for a solution, the image that is offered is weak and hazy. if he is to live without his other half, he must find ways to fill in the blanks. and so it is said that the lonesome monops clutched the largest shard in a resolute fist and cut away the impression of his other half.

In some cases, Jade is Floyd’s shadow, a reasonable body double who is admired for his patience and persistence. Sometimes he’s the collar and the leash; other times he is meticulously unrestrained. Everything is an act, carefully curated for unsuspecting audiences. Floyd is all physical destruction. He is swift like a clean cut, devastating like a tsunami.

For the first time in a while, Jade cannot bear the face he sees in the mirror. It doesn’t feel like it belongs to him, for it is a reflection of Floyd. It’s a permanent reminder that the two of them are linked whether or not he fancies that. But Jade does not want to be the collar and the lash, nor does he wish to recall the day Floyd took yet another precious thing from him. This face is proof that even he cannot have anything for himself. It is evidence that he is bound to share and share and share until death. He will remain as the shadow, the dark, the salt, and the night for all of eternity, a two-faced creature lacking a true identity.

Neither of them addresses the elephant in the room. If Floyd shows any indication that he wants to bring it up, Jade sweeps the topic away before it can poison his mood. He knows as well as Jade does that it’s not worth bickering over, even if their hackles raise whenever they look at each other.

So Floyd’s been fucking you in the storage room. What’s so traumatic about that? Really, it shouldn’t come as a surprise, but the image still persists in his head like a ruthless phantom. He’s left lying awake at night, sifting through that memory and the ones that came before it for any inkling of what went wrong. Was it his own patience that cost him? Was it the fact that Floyd could charm you in ways Jade just couldn’t?

They have the same face. So why did you choose to love his other half?

Without Floyd, Jade feels incomplete. That’s his family—his only brother. He shouldn’t hate his kin, but he can’t just sit with envy and frustration and pretend as if it’s okay.

The mirror reflects his grim countenance, sneering at him with troubling familiarity. Cracks spiderweb along the length of the glass, extending outwards from where his fist landed. Pain sparks beneath bruising knuckles, masterfully hidden under the pristine fabric of a pure-white glove.

The terrarium is filling with foul things, and Jade doesn’t have enough control to stop the invasion.

— — —

“It’s been really slow today, hasn’t it?” you ask, looking to Jade for his input.

“I’ll admit it’s unusually quiet.” He glances at you, a gentle smile tugging at his lips. He’s tired, but it hardly shows. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No, not at all! I welcome the break. Still… It’s weird. Mostro Lounge almost always has lots of customers.”

“I suppose it’s less work for us.”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

Heaving a relieved sigh, you rest your elbows on the counter, content to watch the few patrons lingering in the lounge. Jade’s eyes travel along the length of your back, over the the dip and swoop of your spine when you bend forward, and he’s immediately brought back to the day he discovered you and Floyd in the storage room.

“I’ve got it!” you announce moments later, lighting up like a bulb. “The reason it’s so quiet.”

“Oh?” He raises a brow, feigning ignorance.

“It’s because Floyd’s not here. Everything’s super lively when he’s around.”

“Is that so?”

“Mhm. It’s a shame he’s not scheduled today. Oh, but it’s not so bad when it’s just the two of us. We’re a good team!”

“I couldn’t agree more.”

“I’m happy we can talk like this. It feels like we never have the chance to speak during work and I’m always worried I’ll bother you if I try to start a conversation.”

“You couldn’t possibly bother me.” Jade pauses to ruminate on his thoughts before adding, “Well, you were awfully troublesome in the beginning. Ah, don’t look so upset. I’m only admitting my feelings.”

“Am I still troublesome?” You cross your arms over your chest, pouting.

You are. Very much so, I’m afraid.

“I tolerate you now.”

“That doesn’t sound any better!”

Jade chuckles. “It’s merely constructive criticism. Take it in stride.”

“Ugh. You’re the worst.” Despite that, a smile creeps onto your face.

It’s the same smile you show Floyd, so therefore it has no meaning. It’s not special.

Jade abhors it. He should be the one in that storage room with you. It should be Jade who touches and lavishes you with filthy praise before inevitable destruction. Consolation before bruises and bite marks. Sugar before salt. Love before lust.

You can’t possibly fit in his make-believe terrarium now—not when your heart lies with Floyd. Just what is his brother to you? What do you possibly see in him that you fail to see in Jade? They are the same. They are mirror images of one another. There is no difference.

So why won’t you look at him with admiration in your eyes? Eyes he’ll gouge out for beholding another man. Why won’t you kiss him in secret? Lips he’ll sew shut for touching a mouth that isn’t his. Why won’t you beckon him into that cursed storage room and pull him flush against you, joining together in bodily matrimony? A body he’ll cage to prevent it from fleeing. Why can’t you love him until the very feeling is leaking from your pores? Leaking like the blood that will run far and red when he transplants his love into your chest. Why must you associate yourself with the other half—the better half?

The half that’s won.

It doesn’t matter if Floyd’s willing to share. Jade isn’t feeling charitable. He doesn’t want to cut you up into tiny shreds and share. You’re for his enjoyment. This is a non-negotiable fact.

Perhaps he’s the worst just as you claimed. Because if he was the best he’d have you. Because if he was the best he wouldn’t feel the need to mourn a gutting loss. Because if he was the best he wouldn’t feel the need to fall back on a nasty trump card. But when fair play fails, one must resort to sordid schemes in order to secure victory. You can’t expect to climb the corporate ladder without stepping on a few rotted rungs in the ascent, courtesy of those who came before.

It’s fine if he plays dirty. After all, his feelings have never been defined by purity.

“You seem tired. Would you like me to fetch you something to drink?”

“Mm, yeah. Could you? I’d hate to trouble you.”

“It’s not a problem. Will tea be suitable?”

“Sure. I could go for chamomile. I heard you’re great at making tea, so I know it’ll be good.”

“I still have much to learn, but I’m flattered you hold me in such pleasant regard.”

“I doubt you could ever fail. You’re always succeeding. I’m actually kinda jealous. How are you so good at—oh! Someone needs me at table three. Be right back.”

Jade nods, replaying your words in a loop. I doubt you could ever fail. You’re always succeeding. But he has failed. He’s failed and it’s eating him alive because you’re so close and yet out of his reach.

You spread your wings like a good social butterfly and abandon your place at the counter. Jade’s left to prepare your tea in peace. He chooses from the vast selection lining the wall—chamomile just as you suggested—and goes through the motions of filling the kettle with fresh water. He’s working on a time limit here, so he withdraws his magic pen, mutters the proper incantation, and waits for the telltale hiss. Even though he would like to prepare it with the utmost care, he must be hasty and stealthy if he wants to slip the special ingredient in without garnering unwanted attention.

Luckily, you’re trapped in a conversation with a friend and won’t be returning to his side anytime soon. That’s another trait he’s learned about you. Just like Floyd, you adore chatting. It’s not difficult to hold a conversation with you, especially when you’re the one leading it. You shine when you speak. He needs to snuff you before anyone else comes to seek your light.

Perhaps it’s this intoxicating quality of yours that caught Floyd’s heart. Jade can’t quite ascertain when he started looking at you from less-than-friendly angles or what the exact catalyst for your relationship with his twin was. It must have begun as a wicked fascination. An innate curiosity with the surface and its humans. How else could Floyd have fallen for you if he rarely spoke with you? Was it your strengths that earned his approval? Was it your humanity that left him impressed?

It’s not fair, but Jade won’t whine about it. He’s not a child. Whining won’t solve anything.

He must love you until you shatter.

The kettle whistles, thus yanking him from his innermost contemplations. He lifts it, minding the burning surface, and pours the water into a porcelain cup. Steam rises and furls like wispy, ghostly fingers. He could keep the vial hidden in his pocket and serve you a normal cup of chamomile. But the situation isn’t normal and he can’t just charm you as he normally would.

That didn’t work, so he must cross that method off his list and resort to what’s next. It’s only natural to fight for the thing you cherish most, so he shall do just that.

If Floyd hasn’t broken you yet, he certainly will.

You’re back at the counter just as he finishes stirring it in with the now darkening, tea-tainted water. Jade hands it to you, reminding you that it’s still hot. It’s an empty warning. He couldn’t care less if the liquid scorches your tongue. Let it burn, he thinks, his eyes narrowed as he watches you blow on it so it’ll cool faster. Perhaps then you’ll stop tangling your tongue with him.

Sometimes love is as unforgiving as the deep sea, turbulent and harrowing. Sometimes you must kill the one you love to truly understand the feeling—to dissect it down to the biological, scientific level.

Like always, he observes you while you drink the tea throughout the remainder of your shift. You look so sleepy, your eyelids fluttering and snapping open. You’re slipping; he can see it. Jade wonders what face you might show him later—what emotion will reflect in fragile eyes.

He knows it won’t be love, but that doesn’t stop him from hoping.

iii. separated from his other half, monops is unrecognizable—a hollow monster who has lost fractions of his humanity in a selfish effort to dispose of unnatural characteristics. he cannot hope to find his own personality amidst the mess in his tower, so he sits before the broken, bloodied shards once again. his other half meets him there, shattered and in pieces as he stares.

You shift in your sleep, just barely breaching the surface of consciousness. Jade placed you on his bed after carrying you from the lounge to his and Floyd’s room, where he proceeded to bind your arms and gag you. You look mostly peaceful tangled in his sheets, an oblivious thing who knows nothing of the mountains he’s had to scale in order to arrive at this point—at the glorious top.

Floyd’s not here, but Jade suspects he might have already known what was coming. They’ve always known how to read the other. Maybe it’s telepathy.

Or maybe not. They’re just aware of the other’s monstrosities. That’s all there is to it.

It’s then when your eyes snap open. Jade doesn’t bother to hide the smile crawling onto his face as he watches you come to, slowly assessing your surroundings. It doesn’t take long for you to start struggling once you’ve registered the tie binding your wrists together and the gag shoved into your mouth. Your voice comes out muffled, but your nostrils are flaring. Your eyes are widening. He can smell your fear—taste it on the tip of his tongue.

It prickles his skin, sets it on fire.

Jade sits primly at the edge of Floyd’s bed, content to study you from a distance. You’re writhing desperately in an attempt to loosen the restraints. He’s tied them well. It’s a technique mastered and put into practice. You’re not getting out of this.

“You fainted.”

You startle, turning your head to look at him. The fear seems to diminish for a moment before it returns in full force. Your glassy eyes are pleading: Why?

“It’s not wise to overwork yourself. You should prioritize your health more.”

Oh, is this it? Are those tears? Already? When he hasn’t even done anything to you yet? Have you really been this weak all along?

You try to talk despite the gag, and the attempt is so pitiful that Jade crosses over to tug it down from your mouth. Saliva strings from the gag. Messy.

“Jade! What the hell?! Why am I tied up? Why am I in your room?”

He frowns. “I’ll admit I’m rather…displeased.” He could unleash the torrent right now, but he won’t. Not yet. “Perhaps you might know why my mood has soured?”

“I… What? Is this because I fainted? Look, I’m sorry. I’ll take better care of myself. Please don’t make this a big deal.”

He tilts his head, confused. “I don’t quite care that you fainted.” He seizes your chin and forces you to meet his mismatched hues. “I care about the company you keep.”

“The company I keep? I don’t understand. What are you—”

“Give it some thought.” His fingers dig into your cheeks. Hard.

You yelp, attempting to pull away. He doesn’t release you. “I don’t know what you mean! Seriously, what’s all of this about? Did I do something wrong? Please… Please let me go.”

“You’re getting there.” He lessens the pressure on your jaw. “Come now. You’re so close.”

“Jade, please—��

“This is regarding your involvement with my brother,” he begins, and horror settles on your face. “Ah, so you are following. Wonderful.”

“Did you… Did you see us?”

“More than I ever wanted to see, yes.” He smiles thinly and releases you. “I thought it was such a dreadful, ugly thing to behold. My own kin lusting after the only thing I’ve ever loved to such a degree.” He swipes a faux tear from his eye. His voice drops to a threateningly low decibel next, and darkness passes over his features. He looks scarily grotesque. “It made me so ill. Seeing you in that closet with Floyd… Watching you talk to Azul—to everyone else—makes me so ill. I fondly contemplated the most troubling things.”

“W-What?”

“It truly is a conundrum.” He sighs as if unloading a heavy burden. “To feel so strongly for something that even love and hate become one and the same… I want nothing more than to strangle you whenever I see you with Floyd, with Azul, with anyone who isn’t me. I want to cut into your torso and make you suffer tenfold for what I’ve had to endure.” His fingers curl around your ankles, sliding down to reach your shoes. He unties the laces, sliding both from your feet. And then he’s grasping them, rubbing circles into your soles. “I want you to look at me no matter what, even when you’re a shredded, bloodied mess.”

“You… You’re joking, r-right?”

“Am I?” He smiles again, but it’s wider this time. Exhilarated. Excited. “Should we see who’s laughing when I sever your feet at the ankles? He peels your socks off next, tossing them over his shoulder. “Do you think that’s a fitting punishment?”

“Fuck no! You’re insane!”

He hums his acknowledgement and reaches for your skirt. Your heart drops into your stomach, every muscle tightening with raw terror. Instinctively, you kick out at him. Your foot slams into his chest. If it hurts, he doesn’t let it show.

“Don’t you dare touch me, you creep! Stay the fuck away!” By the third kick, he catches your foot. And he stares at it. Quietly. Expressionlessly. There is nothing in his face. That horrifies you. “Jade… Jade, I’m sorry. Can we please… Can you please stop this?”

“Am I truly that undesirable? You would rather have Floyd than me?”

“Yes, of course! Floyd’s not a fucking pervert like you!”

Jade’s laughter is sudden and short. It trembles through him like an earthquake. “Forgive me. It was so funny I just had to chuckle.” A smug smile takes up residence on his face. “Do you really think Floyd is so pure? That he’s the perfect partner all humans dream of?”

“He didn’t outright admit to wanting to murder me so, uh, yeah, he’s much better than your crazy ass!”

Jade squeezes your foot once before setting it down on the bed. He crawls over you, his hands snaking up your thighs. “That’s a shame. You’ll think differently soon enough. He just hasn’t given you reason to fear him yet.”

“I highly doubt—hey! Don’t touch there!” You struggle again, your breath coming in short, helpless huffs. “Let go of me. Please. Jade, let go…” Your voice trails off, spotted with distress.

His hand settles over your clothed pussy next. Two fingers press up against that sacred spot, tracing the area experimentally. “This is that warm and cozy place, yes?” You shake your head at him, lips trembling. He smirks, vicious and mean, and strokes slow, soothing lines up and down the outline. “Is it your safe day? Ah, but perhaps love is stronger than medicine. Stronger than all of the filth Floyd’s emptied in you. What do you think?”

“No… No, stop!”

“It really did sicken me—the thought of you and Floyd. Together. Forever. If you were to fall pregnant, I’d have to take a textbook to your stomach. The alchemy textbook. That one would inflict the most damage, you see,” he admits with a pleasant hum. He watches the spreading wet patch with predatory glee before gazing back at you. “But you’re not pregnant, right?”

“I’m not! I’m not!” You gasp when his fingers dip into the waistband of your panties, harshly tugging them from your skin. And then his fingers are inching towards your pussy. “What are you—stop! No, no, no! Floyd! Floyd, help!” You squirm beneath him, kicking and screaming. “Floyd! Floyd, help me! Please! Anyone—someone—please help!”

A shadow passes over your face for a second before his hand comes down upon your mouth to silence your incessant shrieks. Your sobs are softer now, each plea spoken into his palm. Jade exhales slowly, composing himself.

“You’ve said his name more than enough. Say it any more and I’m afraid I’ll have to remedy this bad habit. Just how much do you value your tongue, I wonder?”

Before you can even think of struggling further, he’s switching the positions. Sitting back against the headboard, he tugs you onto his lap. You try to get away from him, but he holds you steady. The gag is fastened around your mouth once more, tighter this time.

“Now, now. You’re not going to escape, so there’s no point in exhausting your energy. Pointless pursuits are never rewarded,” he chides, tutting. He pulls his magic pen from his pocket and flicks it in the air once. A mirror materializes, displaying your disturbed expression in the glass.

Your mind blanks out then, logic overridden with the intrinsic desperation to survive. Is that really you looking back? It can’t be. The (Name) you know has never looked this fearful. Her face has never been this warped with panic.

But then you feel something stiff prodding you from behind, and the horror triples. You squirm again, much more forceful, sobbing into the gag and shaking your head as if that will earn you a sliver of sympathy from him. He continues to hold you against him with one arm while the other reaches to pull himself free from the confines of his pants and boxers.

“We have the same face, so there’s no need to cry. If it really helps, just think of me as Floyd,” he teases, and it sickens you. Makes you feel so gross and filthy. You want to step out of your skin, travel to a place that isn’t here, disappear into the tile and never return. Tears trace down your cheeks in salty rivulets. You can only produce blubbery whimpers now. His erect cock curves up towards your stomach. Jade lifts your skirt to get a better view. The mirror reflects it all in crisp detail. “What do you think? Is it bigger than his?”

His knuckles trace your cheek, uncharacteristically tender.

“It will seem that way when it’s inside, won’t it?”

In response you shift in his lap, tugging at the tie tightly secured around your wrists, and he merely chuckles. It’s delightful, really, the way you move like captured prey. Your chest heaves when the fleshy head of his cock presses shallowly inside your pussy, sampling wet warmth. You pray it’ll end fast. You pray he’ll be gentle. You pray he’ll skin you alive so you’ll never have to spend another second in this body. Anything but this.

Jade doesn’t grant either of those prayers, for he lifts you up slightly, aims for home, and slams you down in one brutal thrust that punches the air from your lungs. You choke on your tongue, biting down so hard that your teeth split the skin on the inside of your cheek. Blood pools into your mouth. It stings, but nothing hurts more than the unwanted intrusion. Shamelessly, much to your horror, your walls affix to him in an attempt to accommodate his girth. Without intending to, you catch yourself in the mirror. The stretch is sinful, your pussy wrapped snugly around him, and he’s slotted all the way to the hilt.

It’s torture for you.

It’s a twisted relief for Jade. A triumphant euphoria.

He exhales a shaky breath, his lips peeling apart to reveal a row of sharp teeth. In the mirror he looks every bit the predator he’s meant to be: cruel and cutthroat, staking claim on a stolen prize. His fingers dig into the meat of your hips as he rocks you up and down, occasionally bucking his hips to meet your soft, plush ass.

“It’s strange,” he manages through his grunts and groans, his breath hot on your nape, “I imagined this would feel more gratifying than any other gruesome thrill. Mm, but it’s not—” he slams you down again, reveling in your muffled wailing, “not nearly enough.”

Your eyes, wet with tears, question his reflection. You watch with bated breath as he slides your collar away, leaning in to press his lips to your neck. Your pulse stutters in his mouth, a jittery, fearful thing.

He inhales the pungent scent of sweat and sex, the scent of your fear, the scent of himself on you. From head to toe, externally and internally, you are covered in him, wrapped around him, molded to his very shape. You’ve gone stiff in his arms, too frightened to move a single muscle, but it only serves to excite him more. He needs to bear witness to all of it—to every inch of you, stripped bare and wired with anxiety.

Needle-thin teeth prick your skin. You wince and squeeze your eyes shut.

“Does it hurt?”

Despairing and hopeless, you deflate against him. Your body shakes with every sob.

It hurts. It hurts so much. More than anything has ever hurt before. And Jade knows this because he isn’t gentle. He has no interest in being sweet. He bites to harm. To kill. To destroy.

Jade sinks in deep: his teeth in your throat and his cock in your guts. And it hurts.

“I’m glad,” he murmurs, his lips slick and spattered with crimson when he pulls away, breathing heavily. “I’m so pleased…”

The blood just won’t stop. It’s flowing in rivers, cascading down the juncture between neck and shoulder and staining your clothes. Did he bite something major? Oh God—are you going to bleed out? Are you going to die? Did he get that one artery—the throat artery—the whatever-the-fuck-it’s-called artery? Is that even possible? Why won’t the blood stop? Why do you feel so fuzzy—so faint? It really won’t stop. It’s an ocean.

It’s everywhere.

Jade pinches you to bring you back to yourself; his nails prick your thigh, imprinting crescent moons in skin, and it works. You surface, taking in big gulps of oxygen while your heart skips over itself. You can’t drift off even if you wanted to; your reflection is much too haunting, destroyed and debased in every possible way. It grounds you in reality, digs deeply.

“Pain is the most thrilling form of love. You’ve taught me something new. Thank you.”

From behind, peering over your shoulder, his reflection grins at you. Wildly untamed and blood-stained, he’s manic. Unhinged. Uncaged. His pupils are so large they nearly eclipse his heterochromatic irises, rendering both eyes beady and black. Two pits of a molten void—a starless outer space.

He looks just like Floyd.

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