#If you want your heart violently ripped out this is the fic for you

[yandere-yearnings]

HEAVENCALL (??? x Fem!Reader)

feat. Cecilia Romano

♡ oneshot, approx. 1k words

♡ post-specific warnings: NSFW, sub + bottom afab reader, fingering (reader receiving), 'good girl' used on reader, depictions of gore and violence, masochism & sadism, Stockholm syndrome, abuse, collaring, blood play, (extreme) knife play, implied mind break, implied imprisonment, vaguely implied reference to cannibalism, extreme toxicity, DDDNE

♡ a/n: most important thing to anyone reading this is to pls be mindful of the content warnings above and to not read if you think it could be triggering for you. this is vv dark fiction and i legit cannot stress that enough. a lighter christmas fic will be posted soon, which can be viewed alternatively.

this is @unhappy-last-resort's gift for our secret santa fic exchange!! unhappy i'm gonna need you to forgive me for how shitty this turned out lmao. i lied when i said it would be my last rewrite and got wasted so i could churn smth out before today. i'm burnt out to all fuck and too tired to fix the medical inaccuracies drunk me did not consider so pls pretend that the femoral artery does not exist and the bleeding is venous otherwise our reader is technically dead and not just passed out💀 this is purely a work of fiction. yandere behaviour in real life is a cause of concern. proofread, unedited.

♡♡♡

It was because you hadn’t seen light in days. Chained up to this wall, waiting like a dog for your angel to come down to you — sensitive eyes, slithers of blinding white around her silhouette looking like a luminous halo. Deaf to her footsteps, blind to the blood on her dress or the stench of it, all you knew was her when she put her hands on you. Learning to treasure it, since it would only be you here grieving every touch you were deprived of when she left.  

“Miserable thing,” fingers smoothing out in your hair turn violent, she tugs, “feel special yet?”

When she chokes you, you do. You think the collar might just cut into your flesh from the force as Cecilia pulls on it. Lips meeting hers, you are whole again with the way her nails dig into your cheek, like she wants to rip the skin right off. Bringing the claim she has on each corner of your soul right to the surface, the sole thing that has become easy for you to understand is that you are ruined for this world.

“Please…” you beg, and you remain unaware of what for. There is something pulsating inside of you, blood beating bones from depths in which a consuming rot grows ugly. Cecilia’s scalpel shows an animal starved, and you recognise that it’s you. The spit and drool come like magic, she wets your dry throat easy with just a few fingers in your mouth — you are hungry. Her knees hit the ground for you, in turn your heart wants to come right up as penance for your unworthiness.

Thin gown bunched up into the crease of your groin, too light to feel any warmth from it — and you are too taken by the coldness of the blade on your thigh to care. Aching for the push, so your body could give way and you could feel the sharpness nestle inside of you, to wrap around something, to bury it in the grave of an open wound. Cecilia keeps a distance your cuffed wrists cannot close, and your desire drips from you with nothing to hide, nor cling to.

Spine lined with explosives, the first graze has the pleasure spark seriatim; the release of pressure you had been neck-deep in brutalises you, and you are delirious on the feel of being ripped apart without the motions. Each score burns. New layers of you are uncovered and exposed to this world and Cecilia wrenches your head down to watch. 

Mouth agape, your drool parts a translucent line over the pooling sangria. “More,” pleading for it, despite how muffled it came out. You want her to rip this chunk of you right off. You want to be between her teeth and down her throat. You want, and it’s butchering. “Deeper,” the tears come with your chest squeezing, come with the choked up moan when her digits bear down on your tongue harder. Your mistake is clear to you the moment you see the wash of those baby blues lock on you, the reverie of bringing the sky down to your prison and the vastness as you lost your mind to it has your breath hitching.

Ringing in your ears dulled to the scattering greys when Cecilia hits you, cheekbone smashing against the wall, sending the vibrations all throughout your skull. Ecstasy takes on the taste of metal. Sure enough, the savage inside of you is unsettled, is not yet satisfied.

“When have I ever let you command me?” Her knife edge twists, makes ribbons of your tissues — makes you writhe deliciously. “Do you think you have a will?”

“No.” The answer needs no contemplation, it has been ingrained in you. “‘M sorry,” your vision spots when you crane your neck, you’ve been putting more and more of your weight into the bricks, your shackles sting. “Was so good I went dumb, ‘m sorry. I won’t do it again,” you sniffle, “p-please…”

Acutely aware of the moment the surgical steel leaves you; biting your lip to suppress your whimper when the air hits. “That’s better,” and you are sure this is a punishment until Cecilia takes your face, “see, you know how to be a good girl, don’t you?”

Something hot floods your guts, you’re nodding before you even have a chance to rub your thighs together — not that you’d be allowed to. Her palm is pressing right to the laceration, she keeps you splayed apart like that, and her nails are mere millimetres away from showing you a supernova. Red tracks streak a trail all the way to your core, the fabric in contact with it is damp, is threading clear strings to a place that’s throbbing with need to be desecrated.

All your nerves fray when she sinks in, and just like that, the ability to latch onto her human caress is wasted on you. Only remembering how to stay agape, how to curl your toes and tear from your bottom lip to hold back your moans. Your walls are sopping for her, they slobber just as much as you do for the euphoria Cecilia imposes into you. Gasping her name, flashes of a world outside you no longer want to return to, legs trembling when her thumb comes up. She plays you so well, makes a mess — makes a masterpiece out of all your misery and mortality alike.

Whispering, “you were my best decision,” — and like a blessing, your undoing lays rest to you. Pink slick and pain, everything becomes sweet in this swarming black. Angels. Her laughter, a hymn. Singing. Heavencall.

[crazypercheron]

So, I just finished reading "The Incandescent of A Dying Light" and oh my God, I'm absolutely shattered by it. But it was so beautifully written that I still had brain rot for 3 days after it. (Plus it introduced me to a game- "Firewatch"- that I've never heard before but I'm definitely looking into playing it this weekend) Just, oh man, I feel like I was back up in the mountains in the national forest when I was a kid, but with the pain and grief I'm suffering currently as an adult. Look, I'm rambling but oh my God, you need to give it a read if you haven't, it will absolutely leave you in shambles.

So I felt compelled to draw some art of Scar carrying out his day-to-day life in the lookout tower with Jellie because man, the bro needs a tight hug.

@quaranmine , Thank you so much for this work of art, and I wish you the best in all off your endeavours 🙏

Media used: Caran D'ache nonphoto blue pencil, Sakura Micron felt tip pens, Ohuhu art markers, Uni-ball white gel pen

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sharing a bed with kny men

Pairings: Yoriichi x fem!reader; Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 5,7k (lmao)

Warnings: injury in Yoriichi's part, smut in Sanemi's part so read if you're 18+, this is a long ass fic y'all, not proofread

This is actually my first time posting Sanemi smut and I'm super scared. Let me know what you think 🥹🤍

Also, do you want me to do other characters too?🫶

Yoriichi

I heard you @laurencrsnt 🫶

All your life, you never even thought about the possibility that maybe, you’ll encounter a demon someday. Why you, out of all people? Why especially you?

Even now with its cold eyes glaring down at you and your shoulder ripped open by its claws, you fail to find an answer for that. Is it your fate to die right here, when you only went out at night in order to buy medicine for your little sister who has fever? Is dying the cruelest death really your destiny when you wish for nothing more than growing old and watching your own children live their lives?

It’s unfair.

You shouldn’t lay here, crumpled onto the still wet street. You shouldn’t feel the sensation of your eyes watering, your hands trembling, your heart racing.

This shouldn’t be your last day walking on this earth. You didn’t even have the chance to find the man of your dreams yet…

It’s ridiculous and you know it, that spark of determination that rushes through your bones. All of the sudden you spring back onto your feet and start running. Out of the city, away from the lit streets straight into the dark woods.

Even if you have to die here, you won’t give up this easily. You won’t allow this demon to end your life without putting up a fight.

“Why do you girls always think you can run away, huh? It’s too easy to sweep you off your feet”, the demon behind you comments dryly.

With a swift motion of his hand, it digs open your tender flesh all over again, sends your violent scream echoing through the lonely forest. You fall to the ground like a bag of rice, your torn leg now refusing its service completely.

“Let me go!”, you shriek in horror.

No, you don’t want to die here, you just want to go back to bed and forget about this.

But the forest ground isn’t your bed and the demon in front of you who’s ready to slice through your throat isn’t only a nightmare.

Your heart sinks to the floor, body suddenly feeling numb and lifeless. You will die here.

“I’ll keep you in good memory. Well, at least for tonight”, the demon jeers at you.

You close your eyes, desperately try to imagine your little sister. She’ll find herself a loving husband and her very own family without any doubt. Even without you around, her life will turn out alright. Even without you around, life goes on. You don’t have to feel sad or guilty, you just have to let go…

“Get away from that woman.”

A low male voice, so charismatic that you think you might dream. He sure must be handsome. Men with voices like that always have a matching face.

A slicing blade, a dull thud. But no claws that dig into your flesh one last time, no bow of relief that you’ve been awaiting for quite some time by now. Your eyelids start shivering. When is this finally over?

“Are you alright? Please allow me to help you up.”

The second something touches your skin, your eyes snap open in an instant. But they aren’t greeted by those venomous red orbs from earlier. No, these ones are soft but strong and have that calming fuchsia color. This isn’t a demon.

This is a man.

“Don’t be afraid. The demon is gone”, he continues speaking with his low voice.

You have no control over your own body and shivering limbs. It’s impossible for you to say a single word. Are you really out of danger? Is it really over?

When he pulls you off the ground, a violent scream escapes your lips. No, you don’t want to die, you don’t want your life to end tonight. Not like this, not without saying goodbye.

“Please calm down, everything is alright now”, the stranger tries to reassure you, but his words don’t even reach your ringing ears.

You gasp for air like a fish on land, forehead now covered in ice cold sweat. This can’t be your end.

If Yoriichi doesn’t act now, you might faint due to your stress. But what is he supposed to do? You don’t seem to listen to his words and touching you might only make it worse. Maybe you need, assurance?

“I won’t hurt you, see? My hands have no intention of doing you any harm.”

Gently, he glides his fingertips up and down your uninjured harm. Despite the look of horror on your face and your gaping wounds, you do have a lovely face and truly remarkable eyes.

“I came here to help you”, he continues until his fingertips finally brush over your tear-soaked face.

What is this feeling of warmth deep inside his chest? You aren’t the first woman he saved from the claws of a demon.

“I would like to accompany you on your way back home-“

“No”, you suddenly blurt out.

Even though lying in bed on your own was all you were able to think about just a few moments ago, the thought feels like a threat now. What if another demon follows you back home? What if your little sister gets attacked because of your foolishness? No, you simply can’t go back now. But on the other hand…Just the thought of sleeping alone here in the woods runs shivers down your spine.

“I…I’ll find a place to stay. Otherwise���they might harm my sister…”, you mutter.

“Allow me to escort you to my estate, then.”

You yank your head to the side in sheer disbelief, eyes searching for a spark of humor in his calming orbs. Is he really serious about that? After all, you’re a stranger. He doesn’t even know your name. Now that you think of it…who is this?

“How can I know for sure that you aren’t a demon yourself?”

“Take my hand”, he instructs you gently.

Is this really a good idea? You take a deep breath in, try to calm down your pounding heart. What do you have to lose?

When your shaky fingers wrap themselves around his much larger hand, you get ingulfed by warmth. His palms feel rough but also comforting against your bruised skin.

“Demons are cold since they are dead”, he explains briefly.

“But I am not. I am a demon slayer. It is my only destiny to safe innocent souls from their death.”

Oh. Your gaze drifts towards a katana that hangs dangles from his belt. No, demon don’t find with those weapons. So, are those words really true?

“You…You want to help me?”

“I’d love to help you if you allow me to.”

What has gotten into him? Did he really offer you to hold his hand, let alone to sleep at his house so you don’t have to fear the night on your own? Never in his life, Yoriichi allowed himself to develop feelings apart from empathy for those around him.

But those eyes. Those eyes of yours really captivate him, devour him fully. How is he supposed to leave you out here, soaked in your own blood with bruises all over your body?

“You…really would?”

Is this really okay? When you were a child, your mother told you over and over that you aren’t allowed to talk to strangers, let alone man.

But…does that also include the handsome, charismatic and armored ones?

“I keep my word. Also, your wounds need care as well. Please, allow me to help you.”

What do you have to lose.

“If that’s the case, I’d love to take your offer”, you reply shyly.

“I’m glad to hear that. I will show you the way-“

A loud groan escapes your lips before you’re able to stop it. His charismatic eyes almost made you forget about the gaping wound the monster from before inflicted on you.

Almost.

“You shouldn’t move your leg with a wound like that. I will carry you to my estate.”

“You will…carry me?”, you mutter with widened eyes.

But just when you try to take a step forward, his words become painfully clear. No, there really is no way you’ll be able to walk anywhere with that leg. But allowing him to carry you?

“I might be a little heavy.”

“Let me assure you, you aren’t heavy at all.”

“Fine…”, you grumble.

“But only a few meters.”

Gently, he stranger wraps his arms around your shoulder and knees before he starts walking.

He smells good. Like a field of flowers on a sunny day. And the way his heart beats against your cheek reminds you that you’re still alive, that you survived somehow.

This man saved you.

“I didn’t even thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me. This is the least I can do for you after I almost came too late.”

He stares blankly at the blood that still drips from your leg. Just a few seconds later and that demon would have killed you with him simply watching. Why? Why is he not able to save them all, why is he still not good enough to stop this madness?

“Don’t tense up, don’t think anything less of yourself because I was injured. I was a fool for leaving the house this late at night on my own.”

Despite the fact that cold sweat still runs down your forehead and even though your fingertips still shake in shock, you cup his cheek and force his troubled eyes to look at you.

“I am beyond thankful for my rescue. The worst thing about dying today would have been leaving my little sister behind. But you saved me. And not only that, you even offered me a safe place to stay for the night. I really don’t know if…If I’d be able to sleep on my own tonight…”

The stranger doesn’t say a word, his eyes roaming around your face without a real aim.

“Oh, I didn’t even ask. What’s your name?”

“My name is not important-“

“I’m (y/n)”, you introduce yourself friendly.

“My…my name is Yoriichi”, the man carrying you mumbles.

Yoriichi. An unusual name that you’ve never heard before.

“That name suits you well.”

“We’ll arrive soon. I hope you don’t expect a big mansion since I am living in a rather small cottage-“

“I’m living in a tiny barrack in the city. A house in the woods sounds like a dream”, you mutter.

The second you open your eyes again, you find yourself in a wooden cabin with a plain futon lying on the floor and an improvised kitchen in the back of the house. Nothing special, very fitting for the man who gently lowers you onto the futon.

“I will take care of your wounds now”, he announces before taking off his haori and katana.

Without his threatful weapon dangling from his belt, he looks like a normal man.

If it wasn’t for those captivating eyes. He has to be the most breathtaking man you’ve ever seen.

“Fortunately, the cut on your leg isn’t deep. I’ll disinfect the wound and bandage it”, he explains briefly before his skilled hands spring into action.

“You really are good at everything”, you comment.

He’s so gentle that even the alcohol that disinfects your wound doesn’t seem to burn. Why have you never stumbled across him? You were so sure that you know each and every man around that it almost drove you insane. But him? He’s different from all the others. He’s truly special.

“You will have to take your kimono off. I need access to the wound on your shoulder.”

Oh.

“Y-yeah, sure…”

Hesitantly, you pull the blood-soaked fabric down your shoulder so that only your chest is still covered. Yoriichi’s eyes seem to gleam in the moonlight like liquid metal.

“You look lovely”, he flusters into the night.

He doesn’t know what has gotten into him. Is it the alcohol rising up his nose, the smell of blood that radiates from your bruised body that makes him say those strange things?

No. It has to be because of those eyes of yours. Those eyes that captivated him from the moment he first saw them.

"Thank you," you stammer, your cheeks flushing as you nervously tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"You too," you add quickly, immediately regretting your awkward response.

Both you and Yoriichi swallow hard, the atmosphere in the room suddenly changing.

“I am finished. You should rest for tonight. After all, this was a draining fight for you”, he mutters while getting up.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, heart still hammering so roughly against your ribcage that you’re almost sure he’s able to hear it. What was this tension?

“But…this is your futon-“

“You are my guest. Of course, I will sleep on the floor on the other side of the room.”

Oh. A wave of disappointment rushes over you before you’re able to stop it. What were you expecting, secretly hoping? That this man will share a bed with you?

Honestly, yes.

“You…you really don’t have to…”

Oh, how much Yoriichi wished he wouldn’t have to.

“I insist on taking the floor.”

“I actually want you to sleep by my side. Please.”

The begging tone in your voice stops him mid-track.

“This night was…horrible. A little company would definitely help, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all”, he replies a little too hasty.

“I just don’t want to invade your personal space. After all, I’m a stranger.”

“A really kind stranger”, you add shyly.

Are you acting out of line? You shouldn��t push him to sleep next to you when his offer to let you sleep here is already generous enough, right?

“Forget my question, I was acting out of line-“

“No, not at all. I would love sleeping besides you.”

He crosses the room in an instant and kneels down next to you.

“But let me know whenever I become too much.”

What a ridiculous thought. Why would he ever become too much? Him, your savior, that remarkable man.

You scoot over until your back is pressed against the cool wall, eyes still fixated on his gleaming eyes. Will you really be able to sleep tonight when this is the first time ever a man lies beside you?

And what a handsome one on top.

“You should try to sleep now. Nothing will happen to you as long as I am here”, he reassures you.

That is the least he can do after failing to protect you in the first place.

“Again, thank you for all of this. I definitely own you a favor”, you mumble.

Suddenly your lids start to get heavy, your mind slows down bit by bit. Maybe this rough night really took its toll on you. Is It the safety he radiates, his calming smell? In the matter of seconds, only your low and even breath is heard.

Finally, Yoriichi is able to allow himself a closer look at you. You look so peaceful and innocent with a face so remarkably beautiful that he can’t stop staring. You have to be the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. A man like him really doesn’t deserve lying next to a woman like you. Maybe he should give you space, leave you now that you fell asleep-

With a quiet groan, you draw closer to him in your sleep until your head rests on top of his chest and with your arms wrapped around his upper body.

He doesn’t dare to move an inch, eyes widen in utter surprise. Is this…cuddling? His mind races back and forth, eyes resting on your calm features. What is he supposed to do now?

Hesitantly, he allows his hand to rest on your back. What an unknown sensation, all those feelings that rise up his chest right where your hand rests.

For the first time since forever, he is the one who feels safe.   

He is the one who feels loved.

He is the one who feels warm.

And you? You cuddle yourself against him until the sun rises all over again.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

This one's for you @muichirolover14 🤍

“This is bullshit”, the man walking next to you mumbles under his breath.

“Keep focused. It was Kagaya-sama’s personal wish that the two of us go on this mission together”, you mumble with a fake smile decorating your bright red lips.

And that’s the only reason why you agreed in the first place. Why else would you pretend to be Sanemi Shinazugawa’s personal concubine if it wasn’t for Kagaya-sama and this undercover mission?

The plan is pretty simple. Countless people, including other demon slayers, lost their lives in this little innocent village that becomes a red-light district at night. Nobody knows why or who is responsible for this.

One of the upper moons, maybe.

It just made sense to dress you up as a concubine. After all, you are the light hashira, a mighty swordswoman and probably the most talented out of Mitsuri and Shinobu when it comes to acting.

And then there’s him. You glance at Sanemi’s annoyed face from the side. Why on earth did Kagaya-sama choose him? What about Rengoku, Giyu, Obanai, Tengen, Gyomei? Aren’t they a way better fit?

You sign to yourself.

Truth is, they aren’t. While Rengoku, Obanai, Tengen and Gyomei would stand out immediately, Giyu would never be able to sell you as his concubine. No, no one except the wind hashira is able to make this look natural.

No one but him looks this good in a dark green kimono.

What?

“Stop staring at me like that, brat”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“I was just hoping you might disappear if I stare long enough, idiot”, you bite back in frustration.

Why does he always have to be so mean, though? You really tried to get along with him countless times, put on the most precious smile whenever you talked to him and made sure to always bring him ohagi whenever you had the chance to. But Sanemi Shinazugawa never stopped hating you. And eventually, a part of you started to dislike him as well. That one part though…

You allow your eyes a minor glimpse at his barely exposed chest. That tiny part deep within your head is somehow still drawn to him. And you hate it.

“Aren’t concubines supposed to shut up?”

“Watch your mouth or I’ll leave immediately.”

“Both of us know you wouldn’t do that.”

You let out your shaky breath, your hand crushing his while you wear the same friendly smile as before.

“Don’t mess with me, Shinazugawa”, you speak out with low voice.

His face tenses up ever so slightly, hand fighting for freedom out of your merciless grasp.

“You’ll regret talking to me like that when we’re alone, brat.”

-at the estate-

“I’d like to show you to my newest possession. Please introduce yourself”, Sanemi speaks out.

Like Amane-sama showed you, you bow in front of the man that looks you up and down with his filthy eyes.

“My name is Kiyomi”, you introduce yourself oh so sweetly.

“That name really suits you. What a beauty you are. I’m sure I’d find a lot of paying customers for you here”, the disgusting man purrs and stretches out his hand in order to touch your face.

“Don’t touch the goods”, Sanemi barks at him immediately before slapping his dirty hand away.

Who does this guy think he is, trying to touch you so casually? No. That jerk isn’t allowed to caress your face. The plain thought of men like him getting to put their hands on you…

Sanemi’s guts turn.

“Aren’t you here to sell her and yourself for the night? If that’s the case, she won’t be your good anymore for the next few hours but mine.”

He smiles at you through rotten teeth, his breath almost forcing you to choke. You are only here to detect the demon who is responsible for the countless deaths in this area. You don’t have to touch any of these men. None of them will touch you.

What about Sanemi, though? An uneasy feeling rises up your chest when your eye catches a group of women who stare him up and down with lust in their eyes. Will he allow himself a taste before continuing with this mission? Will he find a woman he is attracted to? All of them look flawless, too good to even consider the service of a paid men. But if that man looks like Sanemi…

“You will find your room to the right. This is where the female customers choose their good. After paying, you belong to them”, the man explains briefly while showing both of you around.

“Why would these women pay for the services of a man? This is a noble region that is well-inhabited by countless men”, you blurt out.

“It’s not about them being men. It’s about looks. Only the fine-looking men even get the chance to work here for the night”, he explains briefly.

Fine-looking man, huh? Well, there is no doubt in the fact that Sanemi suits that description way too good. With his firm muscles highlighted by scars from countless battles, he looks like a walking god. Let alone his perfect face, his eyes that now look soft and seducing without being irritated constantly. His white hair that frames his features perfectly.

“As for the women, we look for a broad variety of bodies, looks and personalities. You are very easy on the eye and mysterious. I’m sure countless customers will fall for that.”

“And what…what services do they expect?”

The man in front of you bursts out in hysteric laughter, you can feel Sanemi’s eyes piercing through your skull.

“What they expect? Intercourse and everything that revolves around it, of course! Do you think they pay you for some cuddles and nice words?”

You swallow hard. There is no need to do that, right? You’ll somehow shrug them off and investigate this place at night. Maybe you’ll find the demon right away and-

“Now, you are a fine-looking man. Who is this?”, a woman suddenly purrs out of the shadows.

“A new worker for the night”, the disgusting man explains with a dirty smile.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll definitely make a reservation.”

“It would be an honor, my lady”, suddenly replies in the same cheeky tone

Your guts turn in an instant, eyes narrowing slightly as you watch how a smile forms itself on Sanemi’s usual resting lips.

“What a gentleman he is. I cannot wait to meet you.”

“The honor is on my side, my lady.”

And then he steps in front of her. Elegantly, he grabs the hand she already holds out and kisses her knuckles. Your heartrate quickens, the warm flush that starts creeping up your face barely covered by your makeup.

Fucking asshole. So he’s acting like a jerk towards you all this time while treating other women like this? You hate the knot that forms itself in your throat, the disgusting feeling of disappointment that rushes over you.

Does he really hate you this much?

“Well, I think I should introduce myself to the customers as well. Have a pleasant night, Sir”, your monotone voice speaks out on its own.

With one last bow towards him, you follow the man into the women’s corridor without even gifting him a single look. Sanemi can’t help but furrow his eyebrows at your sudden reaction. Did you really want to get rid of him so badly? Maybe you’ll actually meet up with some of those guys and…

“Are you interested-“

“I will meet up with you later this evening, my lady. Please excuse me.”

Without another look or word, he storms into his assigned room and closes the door behind him.

Sanemi’s mind starts going insane. What if you actually like one of those guys? Or what if one of them hurts you, tries to force you into something you don’t want? He heard the worst stuff about places like this.

Fuck, he shouldn’t have let you go in the first place. Why you? This mission is way too dangerous for someone like you, for someone this gorgeous-

“I’m losing my fucking mind”, he mutters through gritted teeth.

“I can’t do this”, you breathe out in sheer panic while lying in bed.

No, just the thought of Sanemi having the fun of his life with that girl from earlier feels like ripping your beating heart out of your chest. Will he really share a bed with them?

If it’s for the mission, he definitely would. Nothing is greater than his urge to kill demons, especially when it comes to an upper ranked one. That little sacrifice wouldn’t stop him.

And it breaks your dumb heart.

A hard knock on the door rips you out of your running thoughts. Is this your first customer? All color drains from your face, eyes widen in horror with every bow against the wooden door.

“Just a moment”, your shaky voice shouts.

You…Do you have to look presentable? You have to think about the things you can tell him. Maybe you don’t even have to sleep with him, maybe this will distract you from the things Sanemi is probably doing right now.

You open the door.

And stare straight into the furious eyes of Sanemi Shinazugawa.

Before you’re even able to react, he pushes himself into your room and closes the door behind him before yanking you against the wall.

“What did you do?”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

Your heart starts hammering roughly against your ribcage. Him? Here?

“What the hell are you doing he-“

“Answer my question right now!”, he barks into your face.

“I didn’t do anything!”, you shriek.

“What the hell has gotten into you!?”

“Has somebody touched you?”

His rough hands start running up and down your neck, yank the sleeves of your kimono upwards in a haste.

“What?”, you breathe out.

What the hell is going on? Just when you managed to pull your arm away from him, he grabs your wrist again with his face only inches away from yours.

“Did somebody touch you?”, he screams into your face.

“No!”, you cry back.

“But why would you even care? It looked like you had plenty of fun!”

He shakes his head while looking at you in utter surprise and confusion.

“What non-sense are you talking now-“

“Did you sleep with that woman from earlier when I was gone?”

God, you hate the way your voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, you hate the way your eyes fill with hot tears. He came here to confront you with all those accusations while he was out there having the time of his life, while all you were able to think about is him?

“No, I didn’t sleep with anyone!”

“Stop lying to me!”

“You’re the only one I want!”, he suddenly blurts out breathlessly.

“What?”, you utter in hushed panic.

This has to be a cruel joke, an unforgiving way to stop you from doing anything. Sanemi Shinazugawa, wanting you?

“Since I first saw you with your fucking perfect face and so melodic voice, I can’t think about anything else! You, sleeping with some random guy while I’m just a few doors away. I can’t take it!”

He grabs your head with both hands, eyes staring at you so intensely that you feel like collapsing any minute. If that’s really true, if that’s really how he feels…

“But…I want you too”, you squirm.

“I always wanted you, Sanemi.”

His lips crash against yours with so much power that you almost fall over. Suddenly his hands are all over your body, tongue unforgiving as he discovers your mouth with a passion you’ve never felt before. You allow your very own hands to finally discover the deep valleys of his muscular back, to let your hasty fingertips wander over his tight chest.

It becomes unbearable. Everything starts to become unbearable. That minor gap between your bodies, the clothes that still deny you full access to his naked skin, the feeling of not having enough.

“I need more”, you whimper against his lips, not even knowing what exactly you’re asking about.

Sanemi lifts you up with ease, not even breaking the kiss when he pushes you onto the bed with his massive body lingering on top of you.

You feel like suffocating in the most exquisite way.

“I’ll give you whatever you want”, he breathes against your lips that now find your neck.

A whimper escapes your mouth before you can stop his, body rearing up underneath him.

“S-Sanemi!”

“Fuck”, he hisses before his dark eyes meet you again in distress.

“Tell me you want this.”

“I…what?”

You can’t produce a single logical sound, head still spinning from the unknown sensation that starts building up inside your stomach. Is this what desire feels like?

“Tell me you want this too. Tell me you want me.”

“I wanted you all this time”, you reply without thinking twice.

With a swift motion, you find yourself engulfed by his arms with his lips caressing yours all over again. Like in trance, you begin opening his kimono, expose his bare skin to your merciless eyes.

“You look so shamelessly good”, you whimper.

Oh, how often you pondered about how his chest feels like, if his scars are soft or as rough as his walls.

“Can I…?”

His hands grab the ends of your kimono, eyes staring down at you flustered. Is that blush creeping up his cheeks?

“It’s just…You know…I’ve never done this before…”, you stammer.

“Do I look like I did, idiot?”, he mutters while gently taking off your kimono until you lay underneath him.

Completely naked.

“I mean, yes…”

“No, I didn’t”, he barks.

“I guess I waited for someone special…”

“I did as well”, you reply in an instant.

Is this real or are you dreaming? Sanemi Shinazugawa laying on top of you fully nude. Sanemi Shinazugawa stating that he likes you. Sanemi Shinazugawa’s hand that start moving downwards…

Until he reaches between your legs and simply takes your breath away.

“Are you okay?”, he mutters, eyes filled with worry.

You nod absently, eyes rolling back into your skull. God, this feels like heaven. When a groan escapes his lips, you completely lose yourself. Out of instinct, you grab his neck and yank him even closer towards you, your hot breath clashing against his face.

“Sanemi!”

His name sounds like a prayer coming from your mouth, forces his fingers to move even faster. Is this good? Is he doing everything alright? Your whimpers grow louder and louder, nails digging into his now oversensitive skin with so much pressure that it threatens to burst. You look so gorgeous with your eyes pressed shut, your delicate mouth forming an “o”.

And then you burst right underneath him, scream his name over and over again with your legs shaking. He can’t wait no longer, can’t contain himself another second.

“I need you”, he mutters.

“Please, let me have you.”

“Yes”, you breathe out, mind still spinning when the firework that just exploded in your lower body slowly starts wearing off.

Until you feel him all over again. But this time, not his fingers. Your glossy eyes widen in utter surprise when he carefully stretches you out and disappears inside of you, hands holding onto him for dear life.

“Are you okay?”, he whimpers.

“Please…give me…more…”

He almost loses his mind, the new sensation almost eating him up alive. Countless nights, he dreamed about what it might be like to have you, what it would feel like. But the reality is so much better than any dream.

Sanemi picks up his pace and grabs your waist passionately in order to keep you in place. Over and over, again and again your sticky skin collides with his until he threatens to burst.

“You’re mine”, he presses out through gritted teeth while pounding into you.

“I’m all yours, Sanemi!”, you cry out, nails now leaving marks on his skin.

“I need…ah! I need you! Please!”

He knows exactly what you’re asking for. One last time, he picks up the pace while holding onto you for dear life.

Until finally, you scream his name. Finally, he’s able to let it all go.

“(y/n)!”

He collapses on top of you, his weight leaving you dizzy and unable to move. None of you dares to make a move, the only thing that’s filling the room being your shaky and sharp breaths.

“I love you, (y/n)”, Sanemi finally mutters, his hand caressing your cheek oh so gently.

“I love you too-“

“Mission report, mission report! Kagaya-sama requires a mission re- AH!”

“Get out of here right now!”, Sanemi barks at the crow that casually entered the room.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!?”

“Get out!”, Sanemi screams on top of his lungs before yanking up and hunting the crow butt-naked through the room

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

@froufrousnowman @hidazinie @tomiokathedepresso  @poketrainer2270 @chaoticwinnercupcake

@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt

[fettuccin-e]

Man in the Mirror

Kinktober Day 19: Voyeurism

Tags: Marc Spector x Reader x Steven Grant, afab!fem!reader, consensual voyeurism, unprotected piv (pls wrap it in real life omg), dirty talk, slight degradation, Steven watches Marc fuck you through a mirror idk what to tell you (w/c: 1K)

A/N: Back with the boys because I love them and I cannot help myself okay!!! And this is consensual, even though Steven doesn't exactly know it at the beginning, he just thinks he's being a perv. But in my fics, everyone is a perv alright! (this month I have been using these prompts from flightlessangelwings!)

Steven knows it’s wrong, God, it’s fucking wrong, but it’s like he can’t stop himself.

There’s something about the way Marc fucks you, the way you scrabble at the bedsheets when the shoves you into a lewd arch, his hand pressing into your back. The way you moan for it, heaving breaths into your lungs. It’s the way Marc talks to you through it, talking to you like you’re the filthy one, like you’re the one who’s desperate for it, even though Steven knows it’s both of you.

“God damn, baby,” Marc snarls, fucking into you hard enough that tears are starting to leak down your cheeks. “You’re fucking sucking me in, sweetheart. Feels good, huh? Getting fucked like you need?”

“Yes, fuck, yes,” you gasp through the moans he forces out of your mouth with every thrust. “It’s so fucking good, Marc, you’re so fucking deep.”

Steven should stop, right now. Go hide in the headspace, go to sleep and let you both have some privacy. Fuck, he's as naked as Marc is right now, he should feel exposed, have some god damn decency. But it’s like he’s stuck in place, staring in through the mirror as Marc rips you apart in ways he’s never dreamed to. It’s fucking addicting to watch the way your eyes roll back, the way your ass smacks back against Marc every time he shoves himself in, in, in. He reaches down to his bare cock and squeezes, unable to help it.

You’d only put this mirror up a week ago, and he hadn't even thought about the positioning of it. It’s placed on the wall right across from the foot of your bed, and fuck, he can see everything. He hadn’t noticed, hadn’t thought about this view when he had helped you set it straight, Marc coming into view in the reflection and smirking at Steven like he knew something he didn’t. Steven had brushed it off.

He shouldn’t have fucking brushed it off.

Because he’s sure, almost fucking positive, that Marc had somehow known. He’d known that Steven would watch, just like this, how Marc takes care of their girl. How he destroys you in ways that Steven can’t even think up on his own. It’s a special kind of torture, seeing you like this and not feeling it, not feeling you.

Marc’s thrusts are brutal, violent like the man himself. He treats you with so much care normally, Steven has seen it, but this isn’t gentle in the least. And you love it, crying out and drooling onto your sheets as Marc rips you to pieces, pulling you back onto his cock with thick fingers digging hard into your hips. He’s not sure how long he’s been watching intently, unable to tear his gaze away, when he sees Marc’s head snap up.

Looking right fucking at him.

Steven should go, disappear from the consciousness entirely, but it’s like he’s glued to the spot, his gaze locked with Marc’s. Marc’s thrusts don’t stutter, don’t stop, and you’re blissfully unaware as Marc watches Steven watch you.

Until Marc grins like the bastard he is, and leans down to mutter, just loud enough for Steven to hear, “Guess who’s here, gorgeous?”

“Wh-what?” you gasp through Marc’s unrelenting thrusts.

“He’s watching, baby,” Marc smiles, glancing up at Steven. “Just like you wanted.”

You wanted- you wanted? Steven’s breath catches in his throat, he’s pretty sure his heart stops fucking beating. 

“Steven,” you moan like it’s been punched out of you. “Steven’s here.”

“He’s watchin’ in that mirror you put up, sweetheart,” Marc says, “Watching me fuck you.” Steven is flushed beet-red, he knows it, but still, he watches. “Look at him, baby,” Marc growls, “Fucking look at him.”

Marc reaches up and curls a fist into your hair, tugging your head up to look straight into the mirror, straight at Steven. And God, you’re beautiful, tears falling down your face, your lips plump from the way you’ve been biting at them. You can’t see him, Steven knows that, but you look anyway, like you really can.

“She wanted this,” Marc snarls, and you clench your eyes shut, like you want to hide from Steven’s gaze. “She put that mirror up, hoping you’d watch like this. Wanted me to watch you both too, Steven.” You whine, and Marc’s thrusts seem to get even harder. “Our baby’s a little slut, just wants someone to watch her get fucked, isn’t that right, honey?”

“Your-” you gasp, staring into the mirror, like you’re talking to Steven, too. “Your slut, fuck, just yours.”

Marc fucking growls, his hips driving his cock into you. Steven can hear the way your pussy squishes around him, so wet you’re dripping down onto the sheets beneath you. Your body is covered in sweat, glinting in the light, practically glowing.

“Gonna let him fuck you after this, baby?” Marc grits, “Fucking whore for this cock, can’t get enough.” You slur a stream of yesyesyesyes as Marc reaches beneath you to start rubbing furiously at your clit, and you tremble beneath him.

“C’mon, gorgeous, cum for me.” Marc glances up at Steven. “Cum for both of us.”

Your eyes go wide, your mouth gaping open around a silent scream as you gush down Marc’s cock, body shaking as Marc fucks you through it, letting out a strangled groan of his own. Steven is hard as a fucking rock, straining against his stomach, begging for your touch. He watches as Marc thrusts deep and stills, his eyelids fluttering as he pumps you full of his cum.

You slump into the sheets, and Marc slides out of you, leaning down to kiss down your spine, muttering little praises of “such a good girl,” and “took it so well, looked so pretty,” into your skin. You roll onto your back, tugging Marc down to press a gentle kiss to his lips. Marc smiles against your mouth, and Steven feels that familiar pull to the front.

He shuts his eyes, and when he blinks them open again, you’re smiling up at him, reaching up to brush a reverent hand across his jaw.

“Enjoyed the show?” you whisper, and Steven can’t help the way he grins, the way his heart flutters.

“More than you know, darling,” he mutters, and leans to lick into your mouth. “Got to give Marc a show now, yeah?”

[kiss-me-muchoo]

𝐖𝐞’𝐫𝐞 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲… || 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠!𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ As a punishment for helping Coriolanus to cheat on the games, you’re sent to serve as a nurse in District 12 for the summer. He had to choose between Lucy Gray and you. He just needed a reason to pick you, luckily the songbird gave him one in time before you were gone. 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ evil nurse!reader x peacekeeper!Coryo, very slight canon divergence, jealousy, sexism, stalking, nudity, reader is a little crazy and evil, you can’t trust her feelings, angst, beef with Lucy Gray (I <3 her irl), blowjob lol, buzzcut!Coryo fucks reader in the lake so MDNI 18+, this is so fucked up tbh. 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞_ reader is mentally unreliable. Song of course is liability, I know it won’t work, Will you cry? And buzzcut season lol. All in my playlist, It’s the worst and will disappoint you.

♪ ♫ The worst playlist 4 Coriolanus Snow ✰ Index (+ fics here)

____________________________________________

You’ve made big mistakes.

You accept it looking at the lake, ripping the delicate petals of a wildflower. Having to say goodbye to your summer vacations after graduation was fair. Your parents convinced Dr.Gaul to have some mercy on you. You wanted to die when they convinced her that you did it because you were a girl in love. You helped Coriolanus to find the aisle where the snake's tank was going to be picked up.

You were so in love that you only wanted to help your lover. Coriolanus was far from being your lover. You heard him countless times making fun of you. And you still helped him because your good heart wanted to see him winning the prize.

And what did you get? Serving as a nurse in the worst district for the whole summer.

It’s been two weeks. And the only good thing is the evening, where you like to kill time alone, in the silent woods. The moment to breathe and realize how naïve you had been. You deal with the damage Coriolanus had done to you. And the worst part is that he couldn’t care less. He only had eyes for his songbird after all.

And that’s what boiled your blood. That it was her and not you.

There’s already a little pile of dry flowers around you, from all the previous days you were at the same position as now. The days passed and you weren’t ready to let go. You needed to find a way to forget about him. “Damn it…” you whisper, cringing at all the memories, rage invading you, violently throwing the flower in your hands and wiping away the tears.

When you return to the medical aisle, you need to pass by the military camp. You were obviously a Capitol girl. Anyone with a golden watch and lip tint was. Since day one, many peacekeepers have asked you out. They wanted to spend the night with you. But you weren’t in the mood to lose your virginity yet. You were stressed, angry, embarrassed, but you tried to put your best face.

“Y/N! IS THAT YOU?” You turn confused. Only to find Sejanus Plinth. It genuinely made you smile seeing him.

“Sejanus? What are you doing here?” You ask for a hug. His hair had to be gone, he had the peacekeeper uniform. You were extremely confused.

“The real question is what are you doing here?” You roll your eyes.

“Coriolanus. He cheated on the games.” He sighs, nodding.

“I know. He’s here too.” Your eyes widen. He notices you are uncomfortable.

“Well, I helped him, and Dr. Gaul punished me to serve here for the summer” Sejanus seems surprised to hear it. He sees your nurse uniform, noticing the silver plaque attached in your chest. He knew women of the military with that plaque were on a higher range. In your case, probably because your father paid for you to have some commodities.

“At least you’re here” you add.

Sejanus knew you weren’t on good terms with Coryo. The boy asked for you on the train. But Sejanus hadn’t heard from you. Which apparently left Coriolanus slightly disappointed.

“Yeah. I’m here… we’ll have a good time. Promise” honestly, you were relieved to see him. But just by remembering that Coriolanus was also near you, it made you wish you were still alone.

“Any plans for tonight?” He asks, smiling.

You only had three friends. All girls from District 1 and 2. They were serving just because they were kind and wanted higher chances to get into University. They comforted you and Fridays were for two things. Going to the most famous bar, where Lucy Gray performed. Or going to a secret and elegant club for people with enough status.

“On downtown’s Main Street. A block to the left, the second alley. Tell the guy at the entrance you know me. Use my full name” your friend giggles, slowly moving away.

“You’re unbelievable” as you go back to your private room with your new friends. You can only think of how to avoid encountering Coriolanus for the rest of the summer.

It was enough for him. You wouldn’t even breathe near him. It was you, always offering subtle love. And he gave nothing back.

…

Lucy Gray was such a warm and sweet girl. Her dress with flowers and detailed boots added something to her performance.

Her voice was hypnotizing, her smile so pure and her hair so soft. It was the third night Coriolanus watched her perform. He smiled, drinking something. It was a humble bar, but the most famous one. He looked around looking for Sejanus. Last night he never appeared either. Coriolanus was growing worried, noticing his friend was starting to contemplate rebellious acts to help the people. Always trying to be the hero. As Lucy Gray finished her song, Sejanus appeared. A big smile on his face.

“Where have you been?” The blonde asked.

“You have to promise me you won’t freak out” Coriolanus rolled his eyes.

“Y/n was punished for helping you to cheat. Gaul sent her here to serve as a nurse for the summer.” His eyes almost popped out.

He had completely forgotten about you. He cringed, already expecting to have you all over him.

“Does she know I’m here?” Sejanus nodded.

“Yeah. She wasn’t happy when I mentioned you.” Coriolanus suddenly remembered that the last time he talked to you, you cursed him. You got mad after he didn't even offer a thank you for your help. Coriolanus realized at that moment that you hoped he would choose you over Lucy Gray. Which didn’t happen.

“She has access to the club reserved for high status military personnel. I won’t say this is bad but there is better…” he looks at his songbird. Everyone cheered for her, but…

Suddenly, Coriolanus doesn't like that Sejanus had spent last night partying with you.

“Take me there.” He says, looking at his friend.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. She stated very clearly that-“

“Sejanus… I need to see her. I won’t cause any disturbance.” After a minute of debating, Sejanus stands up and tilts his head, telling Coriolanus to get out of the bar.

It’s a fair distance. Coriolanus has no idea where he is going. Until the end of an alley seems to have some hallway that irradiates red lights.

“Here it is.” Sejanus points out.

There’s a man with a different peacekeeper uniform. He asks Sejanus who invited him.

Coriolanus hears your full name for the first time. He learns you have two names and two last names. At the Academy you only used one of each.

“How do you know her full name?” He asks Sejanus when the man lets them inside the place.

The red lights start changing, mixing with crystal chandeliers and velvet walls.

“Our parents have made some deals in the past.” Coriolanus wants to know more. He needs more details about how you ended up in the same place as him. He doesn’t think you also paid to change districts like him.

“Hey. Whatever you plan to say to her, apologize to her. She’s a girl a million would pay to have. She just wanted to help you, Coryo” he doesn’t know how to take Sejanus. He sure sounded like always, the friend trying to give advice. But he also sounded… like he was one of the millions who would pay to have you. Coriolanus didn’t feel pleased.

Finally, the place is crowded. And the people inside look different than the ones at the bar. These people looked very clean and elegant to be in District 12.

The music is live jazz, the smell of pure tobacco and laughs everywhere. Coriolanus feels like he fits there. And he promises to talk with Lucy Gray the next day. After he left the bar she would ask where he did go.

But for now, his eyes start searching for you. A man in a suit that looked very Capitol started talking. Daring all the beautiful women there to dance, promising to crown one as the star of the night.

He hears a group of females laughing. And when he spots the group, you are being pushed to the dance floor.

Since Sejanus is nowhere to be found, Coriolanus makes his way closer to you.

He sees your natural hair down and wavy. Cranberry lips and gentle purple eyeliner around your eyes. A simple mauve dress, and he almost chokes about it.

Tigris made that dress. You asked her one day at the Academy. If she could make a dress from elegant fabric. Tigris said that she didn’t have enough to make a full gown. You didn’t care, you just hoped she could do something.

Coriolanus remembered Tigris making the dress late one night. And he tolerated you even less for making his cousin work harder. That was long forgotten when you paid her and referenced her to work with a friend of your mother.

You looked totally different. Not the same annoying material girl he knew at the Capitol. This humble version of you was totally attractive to Coriolanus.

He couldn’t tell if you were dancing tap, swing or something else, but you were good at it. A couple of times, he heard you talking with Clemensia and Arachne, about your winter concert or rehearsals. Now, it was evident you were good at dancing.

You laugh and people cheer for you. Mostly men, which for some reason makes Coriolanus tense his jaw.

The mauve fabric shined disguised under the chandeliers, and maybe it was just the sight of seeing you happy, or the way the dress hugged your body. But it made him smile. For the first time, Coriolanus feels a positive feeling about seeing you. He wants to talk to you. But he isn’t sure what he’ll say. So he opts to just see you for the night. He can see a slight layer of sweat on your forehead after two songs have passed. The crowd seemed to want you to win. And it only makes you more eager to do so.

In your head, this was a big distraction. It was the only moment of the week where you felt happy and free. It makes you forget about your pending University admission and all the drama. About your silly actions and disappointments.

The way your friends cheer and joke about making a bet to see who’d win between you and the other girl left. You really are having fun.

Until the remaining girl surrenders. It feels great. Being crowned as the star of the night, leaving the dance floor with so much admiration and looking over you.

Coriolanus sees how you cheer with your friends. You laugh and he swore he had never seen you smile and laugh so much. Maybe you are a little tipsy. He can’t tell, but after some minutes, one of your friends leaves with a man. The other two stay drinking, and you say your goodbyes.

Your dark coat covers everything once you’re ready to leave. And Coriolanus knows he shouldn’t, but he does it anyway. He starts following you.

Internally, he claims he did it because he thought it wasn’t safe for you to go back to the medical aisle in the middle of the night.

It’s not a long way. And Coriolanus notices how close his bed is to yours, literally.

He feels like an animal, following his prey. Only that he doesn’t intend to hurt you. Not more than he already had.

His legs act by themselves it seems. He keeps venturing into the decent building. It’s lonely and dark. Coriolanus notices that probably many nurses were already sleeping. He sees you enter a room, and he memorizes the number. Seconds later, when he’s about to leave, you come out again. A towel in your hand…

It’s his cue to leave. He knows it’s enough. He never should have followed you. Not when he was supposed to be listening to Lucy Gray and The Covey. Not when he paid to serve in District 12 for Lucy Gray.

But it’s too late because he’s already poking his head, and when his eyes meet your body, your coat and dress are on the floor. In a bench near lays a simple but naughty red pair of panties. Coriolanus feels himself getting red at the sight of the underwear, just red, no details, just red. Red like his cheeks, you are naked, under the spray of the shower.

As you’re supposed to be a person he barely tolerates, Coriolanus hates himself for admitting how beautiful you were.

The water coats your body in a gorgeous way. He sees your hair become slightly darker and falls longer across your back.

The shower smells like some summer fruit and it’s all because of your silly shampoo. Coriolanus had seen it before at the Capitol, it was expensive.

Something changes as you massage your scalp, giving Coriolanus a view of your soft and pretty stomach. Your breasts and some moles that are visible are the death of the man. He shouldn’t want to hold your waist and help you clean your body. He shouldn’t want to kiss every birthmark and mole covering you.

It’s the first time he sees a woman naked.

That night, you happily go to bed, soothing the heat wave. Some weight falls from your shoulders. And for the first time, you feel like everything was meant to happen, and it’s okay.

For Coriolanus, he has to touch himself to forget about your naked silhouette haunting his dirty mind. And when he ends, he takes a cold shower and falls into the tiny uncomfortable lower bunk. Sejanus was snoring already, some bunks without a host, probably still at the bars or sleeping with a lover.

Coriolanus is ready to sleep and pretend nothing happens. He would go back to his soft songbird by the morning.

But it doesn’t work. He knows he’s so messed up. Because you are still there, and not only your naked body. Your natural hair, sweet lips and the way you smiled, danced and laughed are there too.

…

When the sun rose, it was imminent that it was going to be a hotter day. The summer in district 12 was bright. Full of light, and green from nature in the surrounding woods. That’s not necessarily the case in the medical aisle. You woke up at 5:00 am to start your shift. Your soft hands had been classifying medicines through shelves.

“Y/n” calls one of your friends from the entrance of the storage room. She giggles after seeing you on top of the stairs, holding onto your dear life.

“Need help?” You smile, shaking your head.

“I’m okay, thanks. What happened?”

“There’s a telegram for you at the mailbox” was unusual. Only your mother called once to see how you were doing. She was still very mad at you.

“Oh, okay. I’ll go now…” with that, you hop off the stairs and leave the little box with remaining bottles on a desk.

After a minute of going downstairs in the building, you get to the mailbox. You give your name to the elder woman in the office and she hands you a cream envelope.

Making a pause in the hallway full of lockers for peacekeepers waiting for mail you open your own.

[The head of the hospital has shared with us you’re doing an outstanding job. This is what we expect from you after your return to the Capitol. Keep going and we might pull some strings to get you back earlier.

Take care, dad.]

You smile. It was enough for you. The anger was undeniably lowering. And going back to the Capitol would make you very happy. Already contemplating the perfect lie. That you went to serve as a nurse for charity, for your kind heart. Everyone would believe you, and the girls would be jealous of your bravery. Nobody would know it was a punishment.

A punishment caused by the man you had just bumped into.

He picks you the open envelope and once he hands it, he sees you.

“Y/n…” you take the envelope from his hand, avoiding the touch.

“Coriolanus” with less makeup than two nights ago, you look even more beautiful he believes. The white nurse cap was so silly, but it was part of your uniform. But he can’t help but blush after remembering how the water fell across your body. And how he touched himself that night.

“I-…Sejanus told me you were here.” Your eyebrows rise, nodding with disinterest.

“Yeah, I’m here because of you.” He sighs, realizing that his friend was right, you were really disappointed to see him.

“This isn’t what I wanted for you.” You roll your eyes. Already sick of wasting your time for him. You had been so scared to encounter him one day. But that you had him facing you, you couldn’t care less.

“Of course. Because you couldn’t care less about me…” he wants to say he actually cares. But the truth is, that before the night he saw you at the bar, he didn’t even remember you. But now, it was like you had put on a spell on him, making him want to know everything about you.

“Just stay away from sight of view and everything is going to be okay” he was shocked to hear you talk to him with much indifference. He was used to your sweet voice, asking him every morning how he was doing at the entrance of the classroom.

You were always at his feet. Helping him and doing everything so he would look down at you. And now, he actually was looking up, seeing how you went upstairs again. And he would do exactly the opposite of what you asked.

He would be everywhere if it meant seeing you again.

…

The bittersweet feeling of seeing Coriolanus stayed the whole afternoon until you finished your shift at 6:00pm. The heat was barely tolerable when the sun was almost gone. You went to the market, as you had promised to cook dinner for the girls that night.

The vegetables were fresh and there was a lot to pick. You carried a little basket filled with carrots, some potatoes and a piece of raw meat carefully folded. You were looking at some pair of earrings. They were handmade. With blue feathers and some tiny pieces of quartz. You smiled looking at them. When you were about to tell the little girl who was selling them, you felt very deep looks. And when you turn to the left, there is Lucy Gray and some of her friends from the band. She was sixteen, you were almost nineteen, you couldn’t pick a fight with her. She could hate you for being Capitol, for being such a bad mentor at the games. But maybe she didn’t knew that thanks to you she was alive. And the most important, she couldn’t hate you because of a man.

Before you can even feel awkward, you had already left the earrings and walked towards the girl.

“Is there anything I did to upset you, Lucy Gray? Because as far as I know we don’t know each other” that was the truth. You had your own motives to dislike her. But you hadn’t even turned to look at her. Unlike the songbird, who didn’t have a problem showing her disapproval of you with her face.

“Did you follow him here too?” You smiled. You didn’t know what Coriolanus had told her, or what she suggested on her own. Based on what happened, probably Lucy Gray believed you were the crazy stalker who couldn’t let go of Coriolanus Snow and his unrequited feelings for you.

“No. I was already here weeks before he arrived.” You simply answer her by looking at the notebooks in the table beside you. Lucy Gray couldn’t be jealous, but she had a bad omen about you.

“I was blinded by him once, just like you now. I helped him so you could win. Hoped he could choose me. And it wasn’t enough. He’s not the boy you think he is, Lucy Gray. You don’t know him like I do. But you can rest knowing I won’t lift a finger to make him notice me anymore” she seems surprised by your answer. But there’s no time for her to throw a rebuttal because you’re gone. Her friends gossip without her, saying how mean you were.

And Coriolanus had seen everything from a hidden corner. He was looking for Lucy Gray, already growing confused. Your words had gotten deep into his mind. While Lucy Gray was the sweetest girl he ever met, she also confused him. She had a rebellious side that he didn’t like. And you, he knew he would never be able to control you now, but he knew you would easily do the same things he did to win.

He stayed far, letting Lucy Gray to pass by with her friends. And when she was gone, out of the market, he came out.

He grabbed the same earrings you were looking at before.

…

It’s another night at the private bar. This time you know Coriolanus is there. He had the audacity to bring Lucy Gray. And you wonder if it was a good idea to tell Sejanus about the bar. Her green dress didn’t match the bar style. However, you ignore them as soon as your friends tell you they befriended a high standard peacekeeper. He had some handsome friends and they made you completely forget about Coriolanus and her songbird. You grew invested in the conversation with the men and your friends, even when one of girls makes fun of Lucy Gray and her visit to the secret bar.

Coriolanus keeps painfully turning to look at your way. He wants to go and get you out of the bar. But he already had a girl beside him. A much younger and innocent one. His anger escalates when a man takes you out to dance. You giggle as he says something in your ear. You had a pretty ruffled pink dress. Red lipstick and matching shoes.

“She looks happy…” Lucy Gray says, also looking at you.

“She isn’t happy. And that’s just an idiot” he spits pointing at the handsome peacekeeper dancing with you. He shouldn’t have said that, especially in front of Lucy Gray. But the way the man twisted you like a piece of the softest fabric, and the way he singed for you, it was taking over him.

It’s his hands that should be holding your hips. It’s his voice that should be making you dance. But Lucy Gray grabs his chin and offers him a sweet smile that makes him get lost on her brown eyes. She’s too good for him.

As he kisses her, he still feels the anger. Cause’ it should be you.

…

The roles had switched up. Coriolanus was infatuated by you. And now, you ignored him as if you never ever thought he was the love of your life.

Maybe is his hair, now short. Or maybe it is that deep sight he always has on you. The sweet boy that didn’t look on your way was gone.

As the days passed, you could feel the air changing. Telling you that your punishment would soon be over.

You flip through the pages, tons of files in the racks perfectly accommodated in the room. You read about all the frauds and corruption of the hospital and the military aisle. Enough to make you a dangerous target. So as soon as the headmistress nurse knows you have a long secret file in your memory, he gives you easy jobs.

And the dirty ones too.

Coriolanus follows you. Thought the archives rooms to the cold storage. He sees how there’s a tray ready to go. Some needles ready to pinch someone. And then you are changing the yellow liquid inside the injections, your face mask covering the small grin on your face. It makes him slightly shocked. He didn’t think you would be capable of doing such a thing. Some rumors flew across the militar camp. About a deal, between the heads of the hospital and the camp. Where they would secretly get rid of sick people from the district to stop wasting expensive medicines and other products.

But you hand the tray with an innocent smile.

And he grows worried. He can’t believe it, but he fears you could end up dead because of your little tricks. You leave early. So, he gains some confidence to follow you. He needs answers. He’s tired of following you to beg for your attention. It’s his lucky day that you chose to take the little trail that crossed the resting cabins of the peacekeepers. You walk past his cabin and his brain makes him walk faster, grab your forearm and push you inside it.

“What the hell?” You ask, startled. Looking at Coriolanus in shock.

The bunks are empty. Everyone is out.

“What were you doing? Switching the shots? You could get hanged or something else!” Suddenly you’re confused, questioning why he was caring now.

“There’s a lot more going on in the hospital than you could ever know, Coriolanus.” He understands it. And he isn’t surprised after all. Injustice happened everywhere.

But he wouldn’t easily let go.

“You could still get in trouble. Who’s making you do this?” You sigh frustrated, shrugging.

“Why do you care so much? Why can’t you leave me alone for once?” As you raise your voice, he grows impatient.

“I DO CARE ABOUT YOU!” Your silence makes him step closer.

“Seeing you dancing with that man, how he grabbed you, it boiled my blood.” Suddenly you feel nervous about his proximity.

And the cheeky asshole decided to step even closer.

“That shouldn’t be a problem for you” you do your best to keep the visual contact. But the way he’s looking at you is making it difficult. Especially after his lips are literally brushing your cheekbone.

“You are the one I desire.” He smashes his lips with yours. Honestly, you believe him. But it isn’t enough to make your heartbeats for him.

“Did you let that man touch you after you left?” You giggle, letting him wander under your nurse apron.

“My virginity is part of my pride and dignity” you answer, kissing his neck, letting his sneaky hands touch you everywhere. His right hand gropes your breast and the other is trying to hold the fat of your hip and ass like a starved man.

Your brain can’t work for some minutes. But you kiss him back. You decide he wouldn’t puppet you. Never again.

As he devours your lips, confirming you gave the softest kisses, yet passionate. You push him gently towards a random bed. And slowly, you get on your knees, dropping your nurse cap and navy blue cape to the floor.

Coriolanus is officially in shock as you drop his belt to the floor.

When he least expects it, you are already licking the tip of his cock. You make a wet mess of him. His head drops back, letting you do whatever you want.

He’s in heaven. Of course, you weren’t the most experienced but to be a virgin, you were quite an addictive lover.

In your head, you just can think about giving him pleasure. Your twisted plan would be effective as soon as he exploded. You put much effort in sucking and licking every vein of him. His length did not disappoint, and you mentally cursed as you realized he could’ve been your first time.

Coriolanus knows damn well it is over for him when his eyes meet yours. His tip met the back of your throat, and he ended up spilling his hot seed inside your mouth. You show him your tongue, covered in white, only to swallow everything. He gulps, feeling the remaining spasms of his orgasm.

“You’ll be the death of me…” he admits, taking a long breath.

As for you, you know it’s just a matter of time. If Coriolanus was so invested in making you look at him now, you would give him more reasons until he broke and admitted he couldn’t live without you.

So you clean your messy lipstick. Your nurse cap and navy cape perfectly in place and you look gorgeous in a mirror near the door.

“If anyone asks where I was, you say I went to drop some letters.” After that you don’t nothing else. He tucks himself inside his pants and stands quickly.

“Wait-” but you had already left.

…

In the night, Coriolanus starts looking out for Sejanus. He was going to ask if he wanted to go to the bar to see Lucy Gray. But he couldn’t find him. He feels his forehead sweating even in the middle of the night.

Near a little training center, he hears two recognizable voices. And when he turns into a little hallway, he sees you arguing with Sejanus.

“No, I’m not defending the Capitol, but these people are not worth risking your life, Sejanus” it’s the first thing he hears from you.

“They deserve better luck, y/n. Something we were born with.” Coriolanus sees you huffing, arms crossed as the slight wind makes your uniform cape lift.

“What’s going on?…” the blonde asks. You turn and sigh, expecting Sejanus to explain. You like to think Coriolanus would make Sejanus to think clearly. Like he did before.

There’s only silence.

“You won't tell him? I will…” you turn to Coriolanus. He can feel you are angry; you disapprove whatever it was happening with Sejanus.

“He’s helping some rebels.” Sejanus only looks down.

“They’re not rebels.”

“Well, they’re definitely not on the right track. And helping them will only lead to trouble.”

“Why are you doing this?” Coriolanus joins. He sounds tired, immediately remembering how he had to literally fight in the Hunger Games to save him.

“They are suffering. They don’t have anyone.” Sejanus replies.

“If you weren’t helping them, they would put a bullet in your head before you could even blink. They are not worth risking your life, Sejanus. I don’t want to see you hanged.”

“I appreciate your worries, y/n. I really do. But this is the least I can do after all the things my parents have aligned for me.” Your eyes water. Even after all the horrible you have done at the Capitol, as a nurse, you cared for Sejanus and Coriolanus. You might have been playing a game of manipulation with Coriolanus, but if he ended up in a mess that threatened his life, you would fear. The same for Sejanus.

“Sejanus…” Coriolanus felt slightly bad after seeing you at the verge of tears. He knew behind that new mask of indifference you were very soft.

“If something happens to you, I’m gonna live mad at you for the rest of my life. Life made us end up here for him…” you say pointing at Coriolanus.

And it’s true, you were sent to the 12 for punishment. Sejanus literally followed him just because.

“That’s enough penitence.” Feeling the tears flow, you start walking away.

Sejanus also feels wrong. But he’s confident. Both men stare at you, and different thoughts run through their heads.

“If anything happens, Coryo… Take good care of her.” Coriolanus looks at his friend.

He thinks you deserve more. He finally accepts there’s more to win by your side rather than following the songbird. Yet, he couldn’t push away Lucy Gray yet.

“I’ll take care of her, Sejanus.”

…

You don’t see the boys for the next two days. Until the night. When for emergency protocol you had to work. A fight in the bar caused some injuries to many men. So, there you are at 1:00 am sending gazes and bottles of alcohol. And when you are about to clean your own space, after a knock on your door, you see Coriolanus and Lucy Gray.

Unbelievable.

“What happened?” You ask as soon as you see him properly. The tray on your hands falls to the ground, making a loud sound. There’s blood on his face, a dark splotch on the right side of his nose. Beside him is Lucy Gray. Wearing one her bohemian dresses with her rural touch of always. You go to inspect his face.

“Got into a fight.” Coriolanus explains. You frown, thinking that is very ignorant and low. Completely disappointed of him for joining the cause.

“You got into the fight? Why?” He sighs, and Lucy Gray only huffs, helping him to sit on a bench. You ignore her, proceeding to take some cotton and equipment to stitch the little wound on his cheekbone. Your fingers are cold, and make him squirm as soon as they touch him.

“Some guy. He got violent after harassing her” of course it had to be for Lucy Gray all the commotion. Everything makes sense, the fight at the bar you listened to less than an hour ago. The songbird must’ve performed, and someone made a mess.

You can’t feel bad for her. While half of the district loved her, there was a considerable amount of people who disliked her, rumors saying she carried problems wherever she went.

“Hmm.” you have a lot to say, but you won’t spit everything at once. Coriolanus sighed, pretending it was because the alcohol was touching his skin, but it was because you weren’t pleased.

Even in his exile, he was between two women again. And while he couldn’t push away Lucy Gray, he couldn’t let you go too.

“Can you give us a moment, Lucy Gray?” he asks calmly. And maybe her reaction wasn’t meant to, but she showed that it made her uncomfortable.

“Sure. I’ll wait outside…” awkwardly she made a smile to the man seated in front of you and left.

Silence took over. You continued to clean the wound, and his deep blue eyes were locked on your face.

Finally, he was able to see your real beauty. Bare amounts of makeup. Hair down and short nails. No crazy looks, ridiculous hairstyles and cat nails. This was the real you.

“I didn’t start the fight…” he started.

“But of course, it had to be for her.” you finish for him. Again, he sighs, trying to avoid any possible irritation.

“It wasn’t her fault what happened.”

“Oh my god. Just listen to yourself! … Everything is her fault!” You burst after finishing with the needle.

“Why do you hate her so much?” He asks irritatedly, shrugging and expecting you to answer soon.

“I don’t hate her. I couldn’t care less for that poor girl. But she’s the reason why you got so obsessed with winning the damn prize. She’s the reason why you cheated and she’s the reason why you’re exiled, and I’m punished” he knows it’s true. In a matter of weeks, Coriolanus repeatedly questioned why Lucy Gray. And until two weeks ago, when he started questioning why not you.

Coriolanus smirks. Finding a way to evade a deeper conversation. He wasn't ready for the time to come where he had to decide. Lucy Gray or you.

“You sound like you’re jealous” he actually thought you would deny it.

“Of course it makes me jealous, Coriolanus!”

His smile fades away. You curse under your breath, moving aside to pick up the nursing equipment. There was no way back, and you wouldn’t lie.

“Ever since I met you, I wanted you to like me. And all I received were mean looks and judgmental jokes. About my hair, my lipstick, my dress, everything” you admit, sounding a little hurt.

“And this girl comes, and in less than two months she has you doing the impossible for her” you mumble. Coriolanus was never the romantic type. He was a man of few words and very analytical. He wasn’t a fan of the districts, so you wondered what could possibly be the reason for him to get obsessed with the songbird.

“Do you love her?” For you, it was a simple question. You always faced your feelings. But for Coriolanus, he tended to avoid his feelings.

He looked at the ground, at your boots before looking up at you.

“Why are you making this so complicated?” He asks, in hopes to avoid the real question.

“You won’t have both girls, Coriolanus.” When you come back at him, he stares directly at his view, at your waist. He focuses on the details of the grey and white fabric decorating you. There’s a tiny spot of blood near your breast, and some dirt near where he thought it was your belly button.

For sure, he knows he won’t have both girls.

“And as much as she tries to make you fit in. You don’t belong here. You and I were educated to live in The Capitol.” He’s well aware that with Lucy Gray, he would be pursuing a humble peaceful life. With you, he would be pursuing a luxurious and firm life.

The harder you are pushing his buttons, the harder you’re manipulating him. You trace his chin and neck, fingers grasping his silver chain. And you know he’s getting soft, vulnerable for your touch.

Maybe he changed his perspective of you after seeing you dance. After seeing you naked in the showers. After realising the type of woman you were.

“I would love to see when realization hits you. You’ll see that she only used you. You’ll notice that I was on your side and could’ve been for the rest of my life” his jaw tenses. He looks you in the eye again. You smile, thumb on his lower lip.

“And pretend as much as you can, selling me that face of I don’t care about you. But I know you do; you’re just blinded by the songbird. Count the days till she uses her singing against you. It’ll be too late.”

He hates losing, missing things. And you know it.

“She makes me want to be someone better.” His best attempt to soothe you makes you laugh.

“The summer will be over, and I’ll leave. She won’t inspire you to grow. She will make you lay still. I’ll be at the top of the Capitol again. And you couldn’t make your house rise…” that hit him in his pride. The fact that your words were true. He thought about Tigris and his grandmother. They deserved better.

“I want you to be someone better. And yet, you’re here. Without the prize, without being home. Just picture it… Where would you be if you had chosen me?” He really wanted to choose you. He just needed a fucking reason. But once again, you have disappeared.

…

He cared. But he cared more for himself.

That doesn't make him feel better though. He had doomed Sejanus Plinth by recording his words.

He couldn’t sleep, knowing that anything could happen the following morning. He has a tiny brown bag in his hand, clutched as if it was made of pure gold. He can’t wait, and he can’t sleep. So, he sneaks out of the camp and goes to your room. He needed to see you, he needed to choose you. That would mean leaving. Concentrating on you and his family. Pursuing the Capitol’s type of future, away from the country life.

Your friends were about to leave to go to the secret bar. And they tell him you were gone to the lake. It makes him realize how much you had to be overthinking. Just by seeing you, anyone could tell you weren’t from the districts. Spending the night in the lake wasn’t pleasant at all. With animals, mosquitoes, and the humid heat of the woods.

But he walks in the darkness. Hearing some crickets and frogs that guide him to the little visible light at the end of the trial. The more he walks towards it, the more he can distinguish you.

There you are sitting over a blanket. Reading a book, wearing a long pastel nightgown. The sight makes him smile.

He steps over a branch and makes you turn worried. But as soon as you spot him, you sigh, closing the book.

“What are you doing here?” You ask.

“I could ask the same question. It’s nearly midnight.” He sits beside you on the blanket, you only shrug, facing away from him, looking at the barely noticeable reflect of the lake under the moon.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Me neither” there’s a lot of things he wants to say, you want to scream it too.

“I wanted to give you this…” he hands you the brown bag. Frowning, you take it, your fingers brushing his, but you opt to ignore it.

When you dig your hands inside, you feel something soft. And when you see what’s inside, you can’t help but cheekily smile.

It’s the feather earrings you wanted at the market. He probably collected the least he could to pay for them. Or maybe he traded something. It’s uncertain, but you can’t deny it warmed your heart a little.

“You saw me?” He nods, watching how you cautiously caressed the pair.

“Then you must’ve heard me too…” Coriolanus heard it. But he would pretend the opposite. Just to avoid the question.

“I didn’t. I was passing by when you were looking at them. What happened?” You tilt your head, putting the earrings on.

“Your songbird is jealous of me… Does she know about the good time we had the other day?” He blushes, closing his eyes out of embarrassment.

“How do I look?” When he opens his eyes, he sees you have the earrings on. The blue feathers looked very outstanding in the middle of the dark. The light you brought did not make any justice to the beauty of your face. Barely highlighting your eyes and lips.

“You look beautiful…” there’s something on your mind. You want to ask so badly. And while you could pry about his thoughts of your new appearance, you don’t. Your voice slightly trembling as you start speaking.

“Did you and Sejanus have anything to do with the death of the daughter of the mayor and the boyfriend?” He closes his eyes.

“No.”

“Coriolanus Snow… Do not lie to me.” his arms come to rest on his bent knees. And you know the truth through his breathing.

“Sejanus went too far. I wanted to keep him alive” you sigh, feeling already stressed. Panic invades you, fearing for both boys.

“What if this is just what you two needed to end up in real trouble?” He looks at you, and he wants to kiss you so badly. He wanted a hug from you. He wanted you to love him like he knew you did during the Academy days. Just to feel some sense of normality. That this isn’t what his life turned out to…

“What if he gets killed. What if you get killed?”

“It won’t happen. It’ll be okay” your nails were going to suffer from anxiety. But he places a hand on your bare shoulder, calming you.

“Why can’t you give me a rest, Coriolanus?” He knows what you mean, and it makes his heart grow soft.

“Honestly. Before the games I barely tolerated you. But after seeing you here and everything that happened, you’re right. I can’t have both girls.” It makes you weak.

“What made you look at me? Why now?” He sighs.

Firstly, it was pure lust, your body. But at this point, he knew he could potentially end up alone. And he refused to let go of the person he had won since the beginning.

“Because I wasn't able to appreciate that I had you. And… I don’t want to be alone.” You nod, analyzing his words.

“But you have her. Since when is she not enough?” Coriolanus had to accept how analytical you were. He can be honest and be in peace with you or lie and keep fighting for you.

“I don’t think she’s ever been enough. We don’t have much in common. Just that we are orphans… if she never came along… I swear I know I would have ended up by your side.” You think you understand him. He just realized what he lost. And now he was trapped to decide. However, you were not going to give your heart again. Only time or a life-or-death situation would make you admit you still loved him.

“I said it before, I’ll repeat it again. I won’t be here forever…” he leaned closer. His hand caressing your chin, appreciating how soft your skin was. He wanted to crown your head with flowers and promise he was yours. Just not yet.

“I know…” his nose brushes yours, the tension grows and this time, you are the one closing distance to kiss him. You are so close to winning, to have him begging for you.

That night, he keeps kissing you, you read him your book for a bit and before realising it, both of you end up sleeping on the blanket.

In the morning, he finds you undressing to take a quick splash in the lake.

When you realize he’s awake, you smile at him.

“Morning…” like a slow striptease, you let the nightgown fall and he just stares at your body with the first rays of sun illuminating you.

“I don’t think this is a dream. Right?” You chuckle before your body disappears under the water.

It’s the perfect invitation. He joins you, and the first minutes of his morning are spent kissing you. Only to end up in the same blanket both of you slept on. With him on top of you.

“Tell me to stop now.” He says in your mouth. Your leg slowly slides through his ankle, sending shivers through his spine.

“I think it’s too late for that.”

He returns you the favor. His head between your legs is the most erotic thing he’s ever heard or seen in his life. It’s so dirty, eating you out in the middle of the wild. You taste better than expected, and it feels simple, even natural to please you. He can see how your back arches when his nose gently touches your clit. He feels so proud, and he can already see how well you two could handle being lovers. He remembers how you sucked his cock and how good you did it.

To you, you felt some insecurity, because he hadn’t decided on you. But you already feel the lead being on your side. Soon that thought fades away, because the pleasure is becoming too much. And you’re ready to receive the upcoming orgasm.

You forget about Lucy Gray, Sejanus, the deaths, your return to the Capitol.

Everything is gone as soon as you feel him. Even the pride and dignity you talked about on losing your virginity.

It just feels like it was meant to be.

“You’re so perfect…” he says, eyes on your stretch marks, fingers tracing them before moving towards north and pinching your nipples.

The way you clench around him, his lips leaving red marks on your breasts that would soon turn purple. Your moans, and your dirty mouth cursing.

“Fuck- oh, Coryo!” He couldn’t believe you just cursed. But he then realized he was fucking you. Maybe he had already chosen.

“More, please-“ you manage to say between moans. And he’s in heaven again. He fucks you harder, faster, already feeling he was close too. The silver chain dangling just in front of your face. You swear he had split you in half, but the pain was nothing compared to pleasure.

“Wait for me. We’ll do it together” you nod, noticing how intimate and passionate your first time was being. He wanted you to wait for him. And it made your heart clench. You need to hold him. So, your arms hug him, and he understands, leaning to end up with your foreheads together.

In a matter of seconds, you both reach climax.

“Promise me you’ll be careful” he nods, kissing you one last time.

“It’s gonna be fine.”

But it isn’t. You run as soon as your friends say Sejanus Plinth was going to be hanged for treason. You run and your feet burn.

When you make it, you have to hear him screaming for Coriolanus. You start reaching the front faster. But you meet his blue eyes, and you are able to see him saying no to you. Your heart beats fast, sweat on your forehead and eyes watering faster than ever.

When you look at Sejanus again, his neck broke and he was already hanging.

Coriolanus sees the shock and terror on your face. The birds flying and repeating the last words of Sejanus make it worse. He holds the rifle firmly, but his eyes water too.

He follows you as soon as he’s able to leave. Too many things happening at the same time. And he really regrets not noticing you before. None of his life would’ve been ruined.

He finds you alone in your room. Your friends were working. But you were crying on the floor, covering your face and sobbing loudly. His heart broke, and he let some tears fall too. So he couldn’t resist it anymore. He went to hug you tightly.

As soon as you felt him, you hugged him back.

“He deserved better…” you mumble between sobs. You say he was a good man. But soon your sobs stop, and Coriolanus can almost hear you plotting.

“Where is the gun you used, Coriolanus?” His heart stops, and that’s his epiphany.

“I don’t know. Lucy Gray must know…” the girl could easily be fast to learn where it was. You remain silent.

After some minutes of crying, he’s still holding your hands.

“Lucy Gray wants me to go with her outside of the districts…” you don’t have the strength to laugh, but you really wanted to.

“One last time. Do you love her, Coriolanus?” He knows it’s time and there’s no going back. So he sighs, feelings the dry tears on his face.

“No.”

Your soul can finally rest.

“In two days, I’m leaving. I got accepted by Gaul into University. I just learned this morning after receiving mail.” He looks deep at your eyes. Trying to understand what you just said.

“Then you are going with Lucy Gray. You find the gun and if needed… Also get rid of her” you knew Lucy Gray was there when the incident happened. You had also made up your mind. And you would give Coriolanus one last chance.

“I’ll wait for you for two days. If you come back, you know I’ll be yours. But if you decide to stay with her, I’ll understand. And your secret will die with me.” He feels you kiss his cheek and after that, you quietly leave. Giving him no choice but to pack to meet Lucy Gray at the Hanging Tree.

…

You wait impatiently for your train. Coriolanus was gone. He didn’t return. So, you wait with your heart full of fissures. Your violet dress makes you a target among the station. You look very Capitol again. But something from District 12 changed you.

And then you hear him. Calling your name.

When you turn, you see Coriolanus almost running towards you. You can feel some tears forming. Your messed up mind was ignoring all the hell he made you feel and see. Like he never killed anyone, like he didn’t take so long to choose you. Like you didn’t know he consciously chose to be a bad person.

He looks agitated, with his peacekeeper uniform intact. His blue eyes look thrilled. Like a lot of emotions were invading him at the same time.

And the first thing he does when he’s in front of you, is to smash his lips with yours.

It takes you by surprise. The way his free hand immediately goes to your chin. In the middle of the train station. Feels like you were meeting your lover who survived war. It feels wrong to be savoring the moment you realize Coriolanus Snow finally chose you.

At that very moment you tangle your arms around his neck, stepping on your tiptoes to deepen the kiss. He feels you smiling, and that’s all he needed.

He needed to kiss you to forget about the cabin, the birds, the gun and Lucy Gray Baird.

And he does, your lips assuring him it was okay.

He isn’t evil, he can’t be when a sweet woman like you was kissing him back.

It was delicate for sure.

“Is it over?” You ask between tears. He nods, smiling, holding you close to him.

“Everything is over now.” You won’t ask what happened. You will just savor the victory.

“I can go to the Capitol. Gaul wants to see me” your eyes shine, relief flowing across you. Knowing you will be able to go back home with him.

“Where does this leave us?” He chuckles.

“We’re marrying as soon as we make it to District 2, dear” he kisses you to soothe your shock.

Almost at the end of the ride on the train, you chuckle looking at the window. He looks with curiosity, still drooling over you wearing the earrings he gave you. They would be his reminder that you had been there since the beginning, when he had nothing to offer. And yet, you stayed.

“What?” He finally asks.

“We’re a liability, you know?” A smile forms on his face. He shouldn’t be smiling, but he does anyways.

“I would repeat everything if it meant ending up here with you” and it was true. Because he would receive the money from the Plinth family, he would be able to study from Gaul, with you. He would get rid of Highbottom, and anyone on his way. But what seemed to be the most urgent matter, was to make you his wife.

But for now, he just takes your hand, kissing it.

….

Soft!Coriolanus fic is next. Hint? It’s gonna be based on Supercut from Lorde. Thanks to my crush with Tom Blyth, I realized Reputation and Melodrama are my favorite albums on earth. If you want to be tagged on the next fic, comment!!!!!!!! <3.

Taglist: @peachyharht @toogardenheart @slytherinholland @futurecorps3 @asapkyndall @speedycashflowerbasketball

[acotarxreader]

Swept Away

Cassian x Reader, Rhysand's sister

Synopsis: Cassian is growing desperate to make his feelings about you known but Rhysand is ever protective of his little sister.

Warnings: Silly, Angst, pining, blood, a creep in a bar, poor Azriel wing-manning like nobody's business, protective Cassian, overprotective Rhysand

A/N: A Cassian fic because it has been some time since he's been featured on the blog. I hope you guys enjoy this silly lil guy. Please forgive any mistakes in this, I wrote it while not feeling the best.

-------------------------------------------------

Cassian stood at the edge of one of the Windhaven training rings, his two brothers sparring across the mud. To the untrained eye, they looked as though they were gonna kill one another but Cassian knew this was all just goofing around. He felt his heart vibrate off his ribcage, waiting for Rhysand to tire himself out enough that he wouldn’t chase and mangle him for the question he was going to ask. He counted through his breaths, forcing himself to focus on releasing the stress from his chest. They finally stopped their clashing, neither conceding but both ready for dinner, calling a truce as they bellowed out brotherly laughter. 

“Hey Cass, ready for the mixer tonight?” Rhysand wiped his sweaty brow with his forearm, gratefully taking the cup of water offered by Azriel. 

“Oh yeah yeah, very excited, have a good session?” he spoke quickly, eager to get the words out of him before he lost his nerve.

“Definitely, I feel on cloud 9 now”

“Good, good, soooo just letting you know-I’m-going-to-ask-YN-out-tonight-after-the-mixer-okay-bye!” Cassian vibrated out before spinning on his heel and moving to bolt away. 

“Oh fuck” Azriel whispered as Rhysand caught hold of Cassian's shoulder, turning him back to face him. In hindsight, maybe saying this to Rhysand when he was pumped full of testosterone wasn’t the correct call Cassain thought. 

“Sorry Cass, I think I hallucinated, what did you say?” “I’m going to ask YN out”

“No, you’re not” A laugh left Rhysand as he released his shoulder and loosened the belt of blades slung around him. 

“Why not?” Azriel inhaled a breath that sounded like “here we go” at Cassian's question. 

“She’s my sister, so she’s like your sister, it's like illegal or something” Cassian scoffed a laugh at Rhysand’s half-answer.

“Except the four of us aren’t actually siblings and the sentiment is nice and all but I’m not her brother, I want to ask her out, nothing creepy about it” Rhysand’s turn to laugh at Cassian, shoving him back lightly at the words and leaning down to loosen his training boots.

“Nah Cass, forget it, move on, I forbid it”

“You what?” he bit out in return, Azriel’s eyes darting between the two, this was going to turn into another savage argument, he could see it. 

“Right, let's leave it there-” Azriel tried but was almost immediately cut off by Rhysand.

“-Yeah, I forbid it. I don’t want things to get messy”

“They won’t, I think we would be- “-Forget it Cass, enough drama was caused with Mor-” Azriel took a sharp inhale at Rhysand’s low blow, the two males began to square up to one another just as you called from the sidelines. 

“Hey! Come on, start getting ready, have a bath before the smell poisons the flowers” you beamed, raising an eyebrow at Azriel at the weird energy. He just shook his head at you not to get involved. Your gaze separated the two males, both storming away to their quarters. 

“Fuckers always leave me to tidy up” Azriel signed, picking up the kit the three had used in training. 

—---------------------------------------------

The howling Winter wind ripped through the hills of the Illyrian mountains, coursing through Windhaven. You looked out through the living room window of the place you called home in this unforgiving climate.

“YN? Are you okay?” Your brother whispered from the front door as he shook off the biting snow. 

“I’m fine Rhys, how was the mixer?” 

“Unsurprisingly violent-” He laughed, a small smile growing on your face at the sound “-Are you sure you’re okay? You look as though you are going to run away” Rhysand laughed again to cover his rising worry.

“Nothing to concern yourself with Rhys, I’m going to just go read in my room” You tried your best to beam back in your usual way to him, rising from the window seat and wandering to your room down the hall. Rhysand questioned whether or not he should follow you, deciding to return to bed and inquire further in the morning.

You stared up at the ceiling, the clock yearning to strike midnight as you sighed. You quietly strapped on your shoes and sheathed yourself in your thickest jacket. You ever so gently lifted the sash window of your ground-level room and slipped out into the night, knowing your brother and mother would go feral with the knowledge of you going into the Illyrian camp unattended at night, despite your own strength. 

You moved through the shadows of the grey mountain stone buildings, dipping out of the sight of passing party-worn Illyrians until you found yourself wandering down the disused service lane heading in the direction of the closest village. The chill sent shapes of cold down your spine as you fought the feeling of watching wild eyes from the deep thick woods the lane cut through. Your wings clung tight to your back trying to draw any ounce of warmth possible. You stopped and stretched before launching into your routine jogging trailing along the outskirts of the busy village, a relaxed breath releasing the stress.

Swirled in your own deep thoughts, the sudden weight thrown into your side caught you entirely off guard as you instinctively screamed. A hand wrapped tightly around your jaw preventing further alarm from being raised in your desperate shouts.

The wooded path grew thicker and thicker the further you were hauled into the woods, worst-case scenarios dancing across your mind. The movement suddenly stopped as you felt the solid thud of the body of a tree meeting your back, you forced your eyes open to meet your perpetrator. 

“Boo”

“GODS! YOU FUCKING JERK CASSIAN!” You pushed Cassian backwards and almost off his feet while lashing him with your hands into his shoulder blades while he hunched over howling laughing. 

“Your face!” he managed between laughs, half choking.

“Don’t do that to me! I thought it was one of the trainee warriors trying to earn his stripes!”

“Don't even joke about that YN, I’d kill them where they stood” his suddenly serious tone cut through you before you smiled at him. Cassian seemingly remembered the fright he gave you, returning to his laughter as you both strolled back towards the path. 

“I’ll walk you back YN, protect you from-”

“-From psychopaths who might sweep me away into the woods?!” you cut across him, now both laughing into the freezing night. 

“Why are you out so late anyway? Your mother and Rhys would be very unhappy with you”

“I could say the same to you” You raised an eyebrow to the warrior.

“I had business, I care not to go further into it with a Lady” he faux bowed towards you, gaining an eye-roll from you.

“Seriously YNN, what’s with the twilight running?”

“Nothing really”

“Tell me or I’ll start singing” You gave a sceptical look towards your dear friend before he took a deep inhale and belted half a note of pure torture, your hand covering his mouth at the release of the crow song. 

“Okay okay!” You laughed, pulling back your hand “-I was actually… I was actually thinking of going home to Velaris” You admitted, ending the momentary comfortable silence that bounced off the ancient trees. Cassian pursed his lips in thought, trying his best to not show all his cards, a futile attempt. 

“This is why we can’t be together YNN, so hung up on the glitz and glamour of city life, can't appreciate the wild” 

“I’m pretty sure the reason we can't be together is that I don’t like you” Cassain put his hand to his chest feigning hurt, you scoffed at your long-time friend before continuing along the path.

“No more nightly running alone YN, seriously dangerous especially for precious cargo like a High Lord's daughter, someone might take you as their chance to prove themselves and then I’ll have to commit murder and I don’t like my leathers to get messy” he ran a hand through his hair as you fought the urge to shove him again. 

“Aw you think I’m precious” you sarcastically shot back

“The most precious thing we have in this dump” his sincere tone ringing through you.

“We'll leave here someday Cass, get on with our real lives”

“We?”

“Well yeah I'm going to need someone to carry my bags” you smirk and he nudges you across the snowy path.

“Can't leave my partner in crime behind me now can I?” His genuine smile of gratitude made you feel warm. He always did. No one could quite understand him like you. The subtle glow of the training camp in the far distance came into view and you sighed at the sight. 

“Come on Cass, come get a drink in the village, I don’t want to head back just yet” he nodded to your great idea as you looped your arm through his for warmth and sauntered back towards the village. 

—----------------------

The village bar was heaving with Fae, all deeply relying on the crutch of alcohol to soothe their woes. You attempted to play snooker with Cassian, well beyond the scope of your ability. After playing and losing a few rounds with him, you sat at the bar away from his ridicule, allowing him to play more challenging opponents.

You sat cross-legged on the bar stool absent-mindedly tracing circles along the rim of your glass of caramel colour liquor. A rough hand found its way to your thigh, snapping your attention to the wall-like Fae it belonged to. 

“He-y it's the Night’s se-xy daughteeer, hey baaaby” The slur of words matched the smothering stench of centuries of whiskey leaving his wrinkled mouth. 

“Um Hi” You pushed his hand down roughly before it returned just as quickly and much higher, now squeezing your thigh making you tense. The much older Fae came closer to your face, leaning and whispering drunken inappropriate schemes in your ear. You scoffed in utter disgust, shoving him completely back from you. 

“Hey Prin-cess, you don’t fucking do that! Come here!” He almost spat at you, roughly catching you by the waist and pulling you off the stool. His fingers buried into your skin and you found it difficult to slip out of his vice-grip-like hands.

A hand laid flat on his shoulder from behind as he grunted to being interrupted. He turned to meet Cassian fist straight into his glass jaw sending him cold to the floor. You found yourself gasping, no one else reacting in the busy bar used to Illyrian antics. 

“Cassian!”

“Come on, we’re going” he caught your wrist and pulled you from the bar, stepping over the creep's body as you were pulled along. You hurriedly slipped on your jacket, the freezing breeze of the night burning your skin as you were pulled into the baltic night.

“Cass, slow down, you're going to take my arm out of the socket” you groaned at the slight pain he was causing you as you found it difficult to keep up with his rapid pace back down the service lane. 

“Such a fucking asshole”

“I was handling it Cass!”

“Oh yeah YN, really looked like that” you huffed at his sarcasm, anger growing in both of you the further you got from the bar. 

“Get off my case fucking hell”

“He could have run off with you”

“So?! What does it even matter to you?! Seriously Cass, slow down, you're not racing a Naga!”

“It does matter to me! I don’t want some ancient creep all over you” Cassian continued his marching in front of you, your wrist firmly caught. 

“You're the same when any male talks to me! You’re worse than Rhys!” You were sick of it, sick of being treated like some wounded bird they needed to protect, the thought caused the anger to grow in Cassian.

“THAT'S BECAUSE I DON'T WANT ANY MALE TALKING TO YOU LIKE THAT!”

“WHY!? WHY THE FUCK DOES IT MATTER YOU!” Cassian suddenly dug his heels into the snow causing you to crash into the back of him giving you a bit of a fright. Cassian span around, releasing your wrist in exchange for your hips, your hands instinctively draping across his shoulders as he pulls you forward in the falling snow to meet your lips hungrily. The cold was leached from your bodies as you basked in the glow of one another. 

“Cass you just kissed me”

“I just kissed you” You both had shock painting your faces before locking eyes and reconnecting hungrily again. 

“If anyone touches you like that again I’ll kill them” You nodded quickly to his protective stern words, kissing him deeply again. 

“Ahem” Azriel’s voice separated you both as he stood with hands on his hips glaring at the two of you, clearly having just been out for his own run along the service lane. 

“Az-” He only raised a gloved hand to you. 

“I don’t want to know any of the goings on between you two, ever, it will make me an accessory to a murder when Rhysand finds out” You both nodded slowly in reply before Azriel dragged a hand down his face. 

“Now, the three of us are going to walk home and the three of us will never speak about this again” Azriel continued, gesturing with his arm for you to walk ahead. You looked from Cassian to the Shadowsinger who only raised an eyebrow, you sighed before following his direction and walking ahead of the two. 

“You’re a dead man Cass” Azriel whispered once you were out of earshot.

“I know” “What is with you and their family, next thing you’ll be sleeping with Rhysand’s mother” “How do you know that didn’t already happen” Cassian was fighting for his life to bring back an air of silliness to the night and Azriel happily obliged, shoving his smirking brother across the path. 

“This is different Az” he rejoined his side quickly. 

“I know, it’s always been different between you two, doesn’t mean your funeral will be any less of a sure thing” The Shadowsinger smirked.

—-----------------------

The next couple of weeks became like a full-time job for Azriel and he wasn’t sure exactly when he had interviewed for the job. He spent a large amount of his free time running interference for you and Cassian, distracting Rhysand to allow you both to steal away moments together. It was beginning to exhaust him not to mention sicken him that he spent so much time focusing on Cassian’s love life that he forgot his own. 

The four of you sat around the corner table of the very tavern that three months previously you had been pursued. Azriel sat next to Rhysand as if by chance but very much planned so that you and Cassian may sit next to each other. 

“So anyways we’ve been sleeping together for some time now but I think it’s time to cut her loose-” Rhysand beamed at the telling of his conquests while you fought the urge to roll your eyes at your brother's hypocrisy “-What about you Cass? Any lovely ladies on the go?” Rhysand innocently questioned before taking a deep drink.

“Ehh yeah I suppose you could say that” Your chin sank to your chest, attempting to bury the wide grin on your face. 

“Well go on, tell us about her” Rhysand pried, Azriel’s eyes trying to find anywhere else to look at other than the red on Cassian’s cheeks” “I don’t think-” “-Oh come on Cass, since when have you been coy about your conquests?”

“Cauldron boil me” Azriel whispered under his breath, your foot sharply meeting his shin.

“I just think I should keep that private” Cassian spoke over Azriels audible pain. “From me? I heard you tell Azriel that you never wanted to leave the bed with this mystery female, so how come I’m not privy to the information?” You took a deep swig at your brother's playful prying, wishing the ground to swallow you up.

“I just don’t think you’d want to hear about-” “-I clearly do, tell me, tell me about this so-called best sex you’ve ever had, how you make her c-” “-For all that is good and Gods given Rhysand please do not finish that sentence!” Azriel cut across quickly as you inhaled your drink, choking slightly. Cassian rapidly tapped your back as Azriel and Rhysand began to bicker. 

“Are you okay?” Cassian whispered to you, searching your greying face for colour as it flushed back to your cheeks. He took your hand softly under the table, his thumb sending soothing circles across your skin. You looked up to Cassian with your glassy eyes, a small smile growing on your face at the look of adoration you received. The two of you looked quickly then to the silence that leaked from the other side of the table. Rhysand looked between the two of you, his own face now looking like he had been the one starved of air. Azriel covered his eyes with a hand, trying to think of any way to come back from this and what was about to happen. The table fell to an almost unnerving silence as Rhysand processed in real time before an equally unnerving laugh left him. 

“Oh no no no no” he shook his head while laughing, you glancing worriedly to Cassian at your brother's seemingly newfound deliria. 

“Rhysand…” You tried but your brother just kept shaking his head while laughing. 

“Oh no no no no” His laugh only got louder, Azriel daring to look at the Son of Night from behind his hand. 

“I’d say you have a 15-second head start” Azriel whispered across the table to Cassian who looked bewildered at the reaction. Rhysand rolled up his sleeves, his laughing continuing as he took a deep drink from his tall glass. 

“Maybe 10 seconds” Azriel added, Cassian needing no further invitation to bolt away. He made it as far as the edge of the village before Rhysand came in hot from behind him, you and Azriel trailing desperately. 

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Rhysand bellowed, tackling Cassian to the ground as they rolled in the slush of the last snow of Winter. 

“Rhys stop!” You went to separate them, Azriel pulling you back to his side. 

“Just, just leave them go YNN” he sighed, knowing this was years in the making. The two warriors rolled, Rhysand attempting to deliver blows that Cassian blocked. 

“Rhys-I’m-sorry!” Cassian managed through dodges. 

“My sister!” 

“Yes! Your sister! But my love! I love her!” Cassian rasped out, Rhysand’s hand finding his brother's throat as he gained the upper hand from above him. Rhysand released an ounce of pressure he had on the Illyrian before shooting a glance at you, a clear look of horror on your face. Rhysand allowed all the air from his lungs go before standing again, Cassian attempted to stand, only to meet the floor again with a shove from the future High Lord. He stayed down, thinking that was the best port of call.

“YN, really?” “Really” You found your own confidence, striding over the Cassian to meet his side on your knees. 

“How long?” 

“Three…almost four months” You admitted to your brother, pulling bits of moss from Cassian’s hair. 

“Four months?! And no one had any idea?” Azriel averted his eyes at Rhysand’s questioning. 

“We just wanted to see if it was serious before stressing you out Rhys” Cassain ran a sleeve over his bloodied lip. 

“And this is-this is serious? You’re not just fucking around Cassian because I swear to the Gods I will-” “-This isn’t fucking around Rhys, I love her” Cassian interrupted Rhysand’s worry. He wandered in a small circle, arms behind his back as he tilted his chin to the stars once again, taking a deep breath of the changing seasonal air. 

“Okay” Rhysand finally rocked his head back down to look at the two of you. 

“Just to say Rhys, I don’t care if you are okay or not with this, I love Cassian too and I don’t care if you are okay with it-” “-YN” Cassian dragged out your name like a whining child who was trying to stop the class pet from reminding the teacher about a test. 

“But, thank you” You kissed the top of Cassian’s head, his lip stitching together from the blowout.

“Oh Gods don’t do that in front of me!” Rhysand looked to the sky, the two of you laughing up at him. 

“Oh please Rhys, that’s nothing, these two would make you sick” Azriel laughed before the smile completely fell from his face. 

“You knew?” Rhysand glared towards the Shadowsinger.

“I ehh-” “You knew and you didn’t tell me?”

“I’d say you have a 15-second head start my friend” Cassian laughed up from the slush-turned mud. Azriel gave a panicked laugh before meeting Rhysand’s serious eyes. 

“He’s the one doing your sister!” “Az! Traitor” You chuckled, Rhysand still not removing his eyes from Azriel until he shot off into the woods, Rhysand hot on his heels. You helped Cassian to stand again before walking hand in hand in the direction of home, happy to have that weight off your chests and happier to hold one another's weight in your arms. 

--------------------------------------------

[bunnywritesjunk]

My King

Series summary: Your parents signed you up for an Alpha Omega Match company when you were eighteen. It took years for them to find your match, but you meet the giant austrian man. Will he be a good partner?

Chapter summary: You get a call from your mother regarding your match. You are nervous to meet them, but they turn out to be a pleasant surprise.

Pairing: König x Fem Reader

Warnings: A/B/O dynamics (Never use this abbreviation without the slashes it is an indigenous slur) 18+ MDNI (no others for this chapter)

Word count: 4.1k (damn thats a lot for me)

Genre: Mostly Fluff a little angst here and there.

A/n: Yo Yo Yo whatup. New fic dropping. This one is black/poc coded but anyone can read. I haven't seen any poc coded cod fics just yet (if you know any send them my way). If you do not like Omegaverse fics please do not read. Also I tried making a cute little mood board, i think it sucks but I tried my best. Konig art credit. (I couldn't find the art credit for the girl). König and reader are neurospicy. I got inspired to do an Apex Alpha König from @ghostlythunderbird go give them some love please. Also this is kinda what I imagine him looking like.

Next Chapter

Chapter One:

His back ached as he climbed the few steps to his door. The passage back to his home was uncomfortable. All König wanted to do with collapse on his bed. The duplex he resided in was decent, the little old woman who rented it to him was very sweet. König had a hard time getting anyone to rent to him. His status as an Apex alpha was concerning for most people. They believed him to be violent and inconsiderate. His landlord is an omega that lives with her alpha mate. König managed to convince her. She thought he was sweet and kind. He opened the foyer door that lead to both apartments. He glanced at the mailbox, wondering if he should wait until morning. Begrudgingly, he took out the small mailbox key and fiddled the metal box open. He grabbed the plethora of mail and closed the box gently. The box was filled up quite a bit as he had not been home in a couple of weeks. 

Heading up the stairs he filed through the mail. Most were junk coupons and magazines, some were credit card sign-up letters. One envelope caught his eye. It had no company name just a large white manila envelope addressed to him. He opened his door and stepped inside placing the mail and his belongings on his couch. He ripped open the envelope and took out a thin book. It had the circular logo of the AOMO, the Alpha Omega Match organization. 

König started at the cover his heartbeat sped up the longer he thought about it. He signed up for the program after a particularly hard mission he had in KorTac. He left and joined the 141 and decided he wanted an omega. A lot of the men in the 141 had partners they could come home to. König wanted that. Most people were too afraid to be in a committed relationship with him. König often settled for one-night stands with betas but it left him feeling empty. He opened the packet to the first page.

'Congratulations!' The first word read. His heart beat harder the more he read. 

'We have found you a match!' König's heart felt like it was going to pound out of his chest. 

'In the plastic wrap, we've provided a fresh scent sample from your potential match. If you like the scent of your match, please send us a scent sample from you as soon as possible.' 

König gripped the packet and leaned over the table, putting his weight on the table. He took a deep breath, he felt a mix of fear and excitement. When he signed up he was not hopeful for a match. He assumed his situation was too complicated for them. He flipped through the packet before reading the rest searching for the scent sample. A plastic bag fell out onto the table. It was sealed and had a verification sticker assuring its authenticity. König picked up the bag carefully. It had a square of white fabric inside it. He took his hood off before opening the bag gingerly. The scent instantly made his knees weak. This Omega had a warm and spicy scent. Coconut and sugary vanilla with hints of sandalwood. König stuffed his nose into the bag inhaling the deep rich smell of this Omega. 

König sealed the scent sample wanting to savor it. He opened the packet back up to the first page. It said once he mailed his scent sample and was approved by his match, they would arrange a meeting with him and his match. There was more information about this Omega and their family along with the reasoning for them picking them. They informed him that this omega was a twenty-six-year-old female. Her father is also an Apex Alpha, he is retired American military. They did not provide a picture of any matches because they wanted the connection to be based on instinct rather than looks. Her mother is an Omega that works as a teacher. There is not much else about the Omega but, König is hopeful. He reads the instructions to send his scent sample. They provided a kit with a form envelope, a small square of fabric, and a plastic bag, almost identical to the one he received from his match. 

'Wash your hands, and rinse any dirt off of your scent glands.'

'Then remove the fabric from the plastic.'

'Rub the fabric on your clean scent glands for 20-25 minutes.'

'Seal the fabric thoroughly in the bag provided .'

He shed his vest and protective gear, the last thing he wanted was for her to smell dust and gunpowder on him. König tried to quell his excitement as he followed the directions. Rushing to his bathroom and then back to his dining room. The fabric square was slightly smaller than his palm. He cupped the crook of his neck, sandwiching the fabric between his hand and his neck. He rubbed gently filling it with his scent. He read the rest of the packet as he rubbed. The rest was mostly semantics about the company and its policies. He combed it a few more times trying to memorize every piece of information about his Omega. 

König smiled gently, he shouldn't think of her as his yet. She smelled so good, too good for him. He smelled the cloth every once in a while to ensure his scent was potent enough. When he was done he placed it in the bag and sealed it. He filled out the form and packed the pre-paid envelope neatly. He grabbed his keys and left his apartment to go to the mail drop-off on the corner of the block. He needed to send it today, he wouldn't be able to sleep if he didn't. He walked back to his apartment having long forgotten about his back pain. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You looked at the list on your phone pushing your shopping cart. Buying the week's groceries had fallen to you this time as your mother was dealing with state testing for her students and your dad was on a hunting trip. You maneuvered the isles expertly collecting the items on your list. As well as some extra sweet snacks you like to indulge in much to our mother's chagrin. You were about to put a pack of Oreos in the cart when your mom called.

“Hello?” You answered but all you can hear was excited screeching. You held the phone away from your ear until she quieted down. 

“He accepted you!!!” She screamed. 

“What? Mom, you're too loud.” 

“The match company! The match they picked liked your scent.” She giggled. 

You were slightly stunned. Your parents signed you up for the AOMO when you were eighteen. You weren't that on board with it but you let them. You know they only want the best for you. You kept sending scent samples every year but they never got back to you about anything. Now, six years later they show up with a match for you. 

“I just got the call, they're sending a scent sample for you right now it's gonna get here in a few days.” 

“Wow...” That was all you managed to say. 

“Now I know this wasn't your ideal way to meet someone, but just please be open-minded sweetheart.” 

You sighed. “I will. I'm finishing up at the grocery and I'll head home.”

“Alright, I'm gonna be home soon too, bye sweetie.” 

You hung up the phone and stood in the aisle. You placed the pack of Oreos in the cart and moved to get the rest of the items before checking out. 

When you arrived home your mother was there waiting. She squealed and hugged you before helping you take the grocery bags inside. 

“I am so excited for you! I have heard so many good things about the AOMO. I bet whoever they picked is gonna be great.”

“Let's hope.” You say. 

The next few days went by quickly. You dove into writing your next few chapters to take your mind off of the match. The sequel to your best-selling fantasy novel was underway. Your days consisted of writing, planning, engaging with fans, and talking to your editor. You typed out the outline for the next few chapters when you heard a knock. 

“Come in.” You said. 

Your mother walked in holding a large envelope. “Guess what came today?” She said excitedly. 

 Your heart thumped with anxiety. She placed the envelope on your desk.

“I’ll leave you to it, let me know if you like them.” She sauntered out of the room happily. 

You picked up the envelope and opened it pulling out a packet of information. You flipped to the first page. 

‘Congratulations!’ It read. 

‘The match we have chosen for you wants to meet you. Once you contact us with your acceptance of their scent, we will arrange for them to meet you and your family with the chaperone of one AOMO agents to facilitate. The two of you will go on a date and get to know each other before deciding whether to move forward. If you do not accept the scent, we will put you back in our database to be matched with someone else.’ 

In the middle of the pages, there was a plastic bag with a white cloth in it. You picked it up and sighed. You doubted you would like the scent. Most alphas were off-putting to you, either way too strong of a scent of they smelled like dishwater. You opened the bag casually and took a whiff. Your inner Omega preened at the musk that erupted from the bag. 

“Oh my…” You inhaled deeply. 

This Alpha…smelled good? He smelled like chocolate and dark roast espresso. There were some hints of fresh baked bread and cinnamon. You caught yourself before you got lost in his scent. You sealed the bag up and took a breath. Maybe, this would be a good experience for you. You scanned through the rest of the information looking over what little they provide about this Alpha. He is a male Alpha, non-American but they did not specify what country. The only other thing they said about him was that his demeanor was shy and that he is military. The instructions said to call the number if you wanted to meet him. You reached for your phone a little too eagerly and dialed the number. A woman’s voice answered.

“Hi, you’ve reached the Alpha Omega Match organization how may I help you?”

“Hi, um I got an Alpha’s scent in the mail, and I want to meet him.” You said awkwardly.

“What’s your name and date of birth?” You told her, nervously. 

“Please hold while I transfer you.” 

The light piano hold music came on, you fidgeted with your sleeve. 

“This is Kara, how may I help you?”

“Oh hi, I got an Alpha’s scent in the mail and I would like to meet him.”

“Alright, let me get your file from reception she’s sending it right now…Ah got it. Oooh ok great I am your agent that will be facilitating this meeting. Your parents will want to meet him yes?”

“Definitely.”

“Ok so, what we will do is you and your parents will meet me at a public space of your choice then. I will bring you to meet the Alpha first, then your parents. We like to keep parent meetings brief as they tend to try and challenge the Alpha. I will have you know, this Alpha is an Apex like your dad. That is one of the reasons we chose you as his match, you have experience with an Apex. Will you be comfortable with all that?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Your head was reeling from all this information. Great, I see you guys are in New York City which is one of my favorite places to visit. Do you have anywhere in mind to meet?” 

“Um, we could do the Highline, there’s food, and it's pretty.” 

“Oh, that’s a great idea let me write it down here. How does September ninth at noon sound to you? A weekday so there are not too many people.” 

Your heart jumped, that’s in two days.

“Uh, sure.” 

“Alright, I will send you a follow-up email regarding our plans all you need to do is confirm. Your match will be notified, and his flight will be booked as soon as we receive confirmation. Do you have any other questions?” 

“No not at the moment.” 

“Ok, don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any concerns. I will see you in a few days.” 

“Bye.” 

You put your phone on your desk and walked out of your room. Your mother was standing a few feet away from your door. When she noticed you, her face lit up.

“So? How was the scent? Are you meeting them?” 

You smiled and nodded “Yup, in two days.” 

She squealed and captured you in a bone-crushing hug.

“I can’t wait! Let’s go tell your father!” She practically ran down the hall. 

You walked to your living room where your otherwise stoic-looking dad was watching TV. 

“Tell us about them, sweetheart.” Your mother said. Your dad turned the volume on the TV down and looked at you expectantly.

“Well, I don’t know much but, I know he’s not American and that he might be shy…He smells good.” 

“That’s important, I hope you wouldn’t pick someone who smells like shit.” Your dad chimed in. 

“He’s also military, and an Apex.” You added quickly. 

Your mother gasped quietly, and your father raised his eyebrows.

“Now that’s intriguing.” Your mom said smiling.

“You already booked a meeting with him?” Your dad asked. You nodded. 

“You should’ve asked me first.” He pinched his nose bridge in annoyance. 

“Well, he’s my match and I wanted to meet him.”

“Apex Alphas are dangerous. I would know.”

“Oh, please honey it’ll be fine.” Your mother ridiculed him.

“It’s my choice, Dad. You guys are the ones who signed up, I finally got a match, so I want to see it through. If it doesn’t work out, then I’ll call it off.”

Your father growled lowly. “Fine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your mother insisted to dress you in a cutesy outfit, so you let her have her moment. She dressed you in a dark floral dress that hugged your curves just right. She added dainty jewelry along with your protective collar. You didn’t usually wear it but again, she insisted. She did your hair half up half down. Your dad was waiting by the front door with your mom’s purse in hand. 

The train ride there was silent, your mother looked utterly content while your father was peeved about this whole situation. You arrived at the station and walked to the Highline. You got a text from Kara telling you what she looked like and where she was. She was wearing a dark blue pencil skirt and a white blouse. She stood up as you and your family approached. You stuck your hand out to shake hers.

“Nice to meet you guys, come sit.” She said motioning to the bench she was on. 

Your father stayed standing while you and your mother took a seat next to her. 

“So, there are some things I want to go over with you all and then I’ll talk to you privately and do the official meeting ok?”

“He’s here?” You said in an almost panicked tone.

Kara chuckled. “He is here but I left him to wait somewhere out of sight for now.”

She continued. “His name is König, he was born in Austria. When we did his psyche and personality evaluations, we found that he has neurodivergent tendencies, like you. Our matches with people that have a similar way of communicating have gone well.”

“Wait, neurodivergent?” Your mom chimed in. 

“Yes, your daughter did show signs of some behavioral abnormalities, but she is high functioning.”

“I told you that Mom.” You say giving her a deadpan look. Your mother looked down and gave a small ‘hmm’. Kara continued. 

“He does struggle with social anxiety so please be patient with him. Other than that, he currently lives in Amsterdam, if you choose to go forward that is where you will live.”

Your dad finally spoke “Is Amsterdam safe for people like us?” He asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Oh yes, Amsterdam has many people from different places and backgrounds. It is one of the most popular immigration and tourist countries, don’t worry.”

“Alright, how about you come with me, and we’ll get your meeting started.”

Kara led you away, you turned and did a small wave to your parents your mom smiled back at you warmly. 

“So, I will be in contact with you the whole time. If you want to go just say the word, I am never going to be more than a couple minutes away. Honestly, I don’t think you’ll have any issues with him.” 

She led you to a restaurant below the high line, it had indoor and outdoor seating. There were a lot of people laughing and drinking. Your heartbeat sped up as you scanned the crowd. The scent of food entered your nose. Everyone’s scent in the dining area mixed into an indescribable concoction. Among the borderline overwhelming smells, you got a hint of something familiar, espresso. 

You scanned the large room trying to pinpoint where it was coming from or if you were just imagining it. I dark figure near the corner of the room caught your eye. He looked way too large for the chair he was sitting in. He was looking down at his hands, dirty blonde hair covered his forehead. He was wearing a black cloth mask along with a form-fitting black shirt. As soon as you walked in he raised his head. You looked away pretending you weren't staring at him. Kara led you straight to his table.

“This is König.” She gestured to him. 

He stood up to shake your hand still keeping himself hunched at the waist to appear smaller. You shook his hand and smiled as you introduced yourself. He nodded and said a small 'hmm' to acknowledge you. 

“Alright, I'll be near. Have fun.” Kara left swiftly.

You sat down in the chair across from him as he did the same. A wave of anxiety came as you did, not knowing how to break the ice with him. You picked up the menu and scanned it.

“Did you order yet?” You ask.

“No, I was waiting for you.”

“Well thank you, what looks good?” 

“The Steak frites look pretty good.” He glued his menu.

“I'm excited for dessert, they have chocolate cheesecake.”

He chuckled and it made your stomach flip.

“You like sweets?” He asked.

“Very much.” You smile at him. 

The waitress came over and asked if you wanted any drinks. König looked at you, waiting for you to order first. 

“I'll try the elderberry gin and tonic.” You said.

 Konig was about to order when the table next to us erupted in loud laughter. He jumped slightly before answering the waitress. 

“I'll get the house Lager.” He said. 

The waitress left to grab the drinks. The adjacent table was still very loud. The group of friends hollering and screaming obviously day drunk. Konig had his head slightly turned away from them in an attempt to lessen the noise. It was subtle but you could tell. You reached into your bag and brought out a pair of foldable headphones. You turned on the noise cancellation and gave them to him. He looked slightly confused. 

“Put them on.” You encourage him. 

When he did the noise muffled and the restaurant was much quieter. You could see the tension in his shoulders ease by the second. His scent sweetened

“Is that better? Can you hear me ok?” 

König swears he could've kissed you right then and there, but he settles on a nod. 

“Thank you, Leibe.” 

“No problem.”

The waitress came by with the drinks and asked if the two of you are ready to order entrees. You ordered the fish and König ordered the Steak. While you waited, you two had a pleasant small talk about his flight and how he is enjoying his visit. He hesitated to take off his mask at first so you focused on your menu to give him the space to be comfortable with you. You glanced up and took in his face. He was beautiful, he had scars on his face that added ruggedness to his chiseled features. König noticed your scent amplify as you gazed at him. His inner alpha pushed him to be closer, to know more about you.

“So, you're in the military?” 

He nods. “I work for a military contractor. Do you work?”

“Sort of, I'm an author so I work from home.”

“That is nice, are you published?” König was secretly very happy he'd get to have you at home all day. 

“Yes, I am. I'm working on my sequel right now. Do you like to read? Or, do you read in German?” 

He chuckled. “I have not had much time to read lately, but I will now.”

“Well, you have to buy my book of course.” You giggled. 

König nearly fell off his chair at the sound. This Omega was everything he wanted. He prayed to whatever god was up there that you felt something with him. By the time the food came you both fell into a comfortable rhythm. He asked about your childhood and hobbies. It was a change of pace, most Alphas are very self-centered, but he is putting effort into getting to know you. The food came out and you both ate. He offered bites of his food for you to try which you happily returned the favor. By the time you finished your food, you hadn't noticed how much time has gone by. Kara texted you to check-in. 

'Hey, so I saw things were going well so I let you guys talk for an hour and a half but, your parents are getting antsy. Are you guys ready to see your parents?' 

“Oh, Kara is asking if we're ready to see my parents.” 

König fiddled with his fork. “I'm ready.” 

He paid the bill and you both left the restaurant. You took in the full size of the Alpha you matched with. He was no less than a giant. He held the door for you but stopped before he walked through. 

“I forgot something, I'll be back.” He walked back into the restaurant. 

Kara walked up to you. “How did it go?” 

“I...really like him...”

“I know, that feeling is scary. I think you guys are a wonderful match.”

König came out holding a small to-go box. He handed it to you, you could tell he was smiling under his mask. 

“What's this?”

Inside the box was a slice of chocolate cheesecake and a fork.

“We forgot to order dessert.” 

You were stunned, you didn't think there could be Alphas that were so thoughtful. Your inner Omega soared, this Alpha was courting you so well. 

“Thank you, König, that's really sweet.” 

“Ah, here they are.” Kara said. 

Your parents walked up to the three of you. Your mother had a surprised but happy look on her face. Your father kept his deadpan face from earlier, not a good sign. 

“Wow, sweetheart you caught a big one!” Your mom chuckled. 

“Parents, this is König.” Kara said. 

Your mother introduced herself and your father as he stood there sizing up the taller Apex. 

“Alright, let's keep things brief parents do you have any questions for König?”

“Well, as long as she likes him I don't.” Your mother said. 

“Can you protect her?” Your dad asked putting some venom behind his words. 

“I would never let anything happen to her sir. You have my word.” König answered without hesitation. 

Your dad nodded and looked at you. “You like him?”

“...Yeah I do.” 

“Alright then, that's all that matters.” 

“Well, I think it's safe to say that the match is made. I will contact you for the next steps. Parents, let's let them say goodbye.” Kara led your parents away.

You turned to König. “Thank you for meeting with me, I had a really good time.” You saw a faint blush at the top of his mask. 

“I also had a good time, liebe.” 

“What does that mean?”

“Ah...it means love.” 

“Oh well...” You motioned for him to come bend down close to you.

When he got close enough you pecked his cheek. 

“I'll see you soon, love.” 

[starkeysbunny]

Omg I started reading your fics and I fell in love😭

I wanted to request a Rafe x reader (angst) where like she's Kiara older sister but she dies instead of JJ, and its all angst and something like that 🥲

(its okay if you don't want to write this!💋)

Love you!!! 💓

𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘆 𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗲 [𝗿𝗮𝗳𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗺𝗲𝗿𝗼𝗻]

first request yay !! i’m new to writing on tumblr, so here’s my first one! excited to do more <33

pairing - rafe x pogue!carrera!reader

warnings - angst, hurt, sad asf, reliving jj’s death but plot twist it’s you this time, cursing, death

summary - ask above ↑ you’re kiara’s older sister. (rafe’s age gap to sarah is what i imagined!). when you’re in morocco on a dangerous trip to help your friend jj get answers, everything goes terribly wrong. in a last stitch effort to save your best friend and sister, you end up clinging for life in your boyfriend’s arms with your friends beside you.

i can’t see anything. my arm covers over my eyes as dust blows in every direction. the hot air coats my skin covered by cloth.

“rafe!” i shout, trying to see, trying to find him. he ran off with john b and sarah. and now, i couldn’t find him.

that’s when i see my sister, and jj.

i stand back, dodging behind a wall so groff wouldn’t see me. my hand covers my mouth in shock as i see groff holding a knife to my sisters neck. “shit.” i mutter.

“give me the crown, and you can have the girl.” groff says, sticking his arm out gingerly, while holding kiara close to his chest.

“okay, okay, you can have it. just give me kiara.” jj says, raising his hands in defense.

i try to watch through the dusty sandstorm as jj reluctantly and carefully trades the crown for kiara. they both switch hands at the same time, kiara collapsing in jj’s arms.

groff holds the crown to his chest, a sick smirk on his face. his eyes flick to the knife in his hand, then back at jj.

no. no. no.

before i can even think, my feet are moving before my mind could. through the blazing heat and thick sand storm, i move blindly. going in the direction of kie and jj, i slot myself between jj and groff.

i gasp, my hand coming to my stomach. my eyes are locked onto groff’s and he raises his eyes in surprise.

“y/n!” i hear the desperate pleas of my sister fade into blurry obscurity. i couldn’t recount every moment after that. it was all a blur of pain.

my breathing is heavy, but fast. kiara had propped me up against a weak wooden pillar.

“y/n! it’s gonna—gonna be okay? okay?” kie says, her voice shaking. i could barely hear her over the roaring winds around us. jj was kneeling next to kie in front of me. he wasn’t saying a word. he was in shock, staring at the blood beginning to stain the moroccan cloth clothing cleo stole for all of us.

the blood that was supposed to coming from his own abdomen, was now instead, on his hands. i furrow my eyebrows at him, silently pleading for him to not feel guilty. i shake my head.

“it’s okay.” i whisper weakly.

jj’s eyes were full of guilt, regret, and anger. this would kill him. the survivors guilt. and i knew kiara would be fueled by anger and revenge.

after everything we went through on this trip, to get here. to save jj’s family legacy. to get him answers. and to save what was rightfully ours on kildare, the surf shop.

instead of leaving in riches, smiles on our faces—i would never leave. and my friends would all leave with vengeance in their hearts, and no place to go home to.

as i think about my friends, all the pogues—my mind goes to my boyfriend. the one kook with us. and suddenly, my heart is ripped in two.

my eyes immediately meet jj’s. weakly, i plead. “find rafe. please.”

jj nods firmly without a second’s thought. he stands, pulling the bandana over his nose and finding rafe.

“kie.” i whisper, my voice weak as my lip quivers. i look at my sister who’s hands were pressing harshly against my stomach, trying to stop the bleeding.

“no, no it’s fine—you’re fine!” she exclaims as tears violently and rapidly soar down her cheeks.

“hey.” i say, getting her attention.

finally, her glassy eyes move from my stomach to my face, a sob escaping her lips.

“i love you, kie, okay?” i sniffle. “save a seat for me at the maybank wedding, hm?” i tease with a weak chuckle.

“shut up.” she says through gritted teeth, hot tears never stopping. “i won’t have to. cause you’ll be there. cause you’re my sister-you-you’re supposed to be there.”

“okay.” i whisper with a weak nod.

she presses her lips together, closing her eyes. she hears the agreement and compromise in my single word response because, i didn’t want to argue. even if it was a stupid, little argument about her adamance of my survival. my last moments with my sister couldn’t be ended in trivial bicker.

“i love you too.” she whispers.

“y/n?!”

i look up, seeing rafe rushing toward us with an urgency i’ve never noticed him have before. jj trailed behind, john b, sarah, cleo, and pope following suit.

“baby.” rafe whispers. he kneels next to me, moving my body slightly so my back laid against his chest. kie still knelt in front of me, her hands holding pressure on my stomach.

i tilt my head back slightly as i look up at rafe. “hi.” i whisper weakly.

he pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, shaking his head. “no. no, no, you’re not goin’ anywhere, alright? we-we’ve talked about this. you can’t go before i do.”

“tell that to groff.” i wince, groaning as i lean against him. “fuck.” i mutter in pain.

“i’m gonna fuckin’ kill that bitch.” rafe spits. i look up at him, and see tears falling down his cheeks.

my hand weakly reaches up, pulling down the bandana from his nose. “hey.” i whisper softly, my touch gentle as my thumb wipes his tears. “i’m gonna be fine.”

my eyes dart down at my sister. “right, kie?”

her lip quivers violently, she presses harder against my stomach. then, her eyes look up at rafe.

even though my sister and all of my friends hate rafe—they understand. they see how much he cares about me. ever since we started dating, parts of them had grown slightly tolerant to him. because when he’s around me, he’s a little nicer. a little sweeter.

and they know that even if they don’t trust him, i do. and rafe has shown it time and time again. that he cares about me. for real.

“yeah, rafe.” she whispers, her voice shaking. “she’s gonna be fine.” kie says, but i don’t even think she believes the words anymore.

“y/n…” john b says, his lips gaping open. sarah stood beside him, her hand covering her mouth. “oh-oh my god.”

“no, no.” rafe snaps. “don’t say that!” his voice is firm and sharp. “she’s gone be fine! go get help don’t just stand there and gasp—“

“hey, hey.” i say softly, my hand brushing against his cheek. “stop.” i whisper.

john b nods. “no, he’s right. we-we’ll go find help.” john b grabs sarah’s hand as they run off, searching for help. pope looks back reluctantly, but i nod at him. both him and cleo follow to find help. but there was no one for miles. we were screwed.

“you can’t leave me, alright?” rafe gasps, his voice breaking. “everyone else in my life, they always fuckin’ screw me over. yo-you’re the only one i can trust.”

his lip quivers and he leans down, pressing open mouthed kisses to my forehead. “please, baby. you’re all i have, y-you’re everything. c’mon, you-you remember, right?” he sniffles, pulling back and looking down at me.

my eyebrows furrow as i look up at him weakly, letting him continue.

“we gotta buy that house. t-the white one, with the blue shutters on the marsh.” he sniffles. “and you can get all the fuckin’ cats, dogs, bunnies, whatever you want—“

i chuckle softly, clutching my stomach from the pain the laugh causes. rafe and i had been together for about eight months. we’ve talked about moving in together. and there’s this house, on the marsh on figure eight. my dream house. rafe and i always would talk about it and make up scenarios of our future together.

one of them, involved him and i in the backyard of the house as i tend to our many pets. he groaned in annoyance the first time i mentioned it. but, i guess he secretly loved it. he’d do anything for me. anything i wanted, he’d make sure i had it.

“yeah, baby. all the pets. a-and then, i gotta make you mrs. cameron. okay? s-so don’t even think about leavin’ alright? we have so much more-more to do, please.” he begs through shallow cries and gasps.

“okay.” my eyes slowly blink up at him. i weakly bring my hand up, sticking out my pinky. “we’ll have the house, all the pets, and i’ll be mrs. cameron. pinky promise.”

he presses his lips together as a particularly rough sob threatens to escape. his hand comes to mine, his pinky latching on. “pinky promise.” he whispers.

i smile softly at him, then slowly turn my head to kie. “i love you.” i whisper to her.

she nods firmly. “i know. i love you too.”

then, my eyes turn to jj. “it’s not your fault.” i weakly whisper. “thank you, j. for being my best friend. you’re really good at that.” my voice breaks. “p4l?” i chuckle softly.

jj smiles as tears fall down his cheeks. “p4l.” he repeats.

“and, if you break my sisters heart—i’ll haunt you or some shit.” i weakly chuckle. jj grins, a laugh slipping from his lips. his hand comes up, rough knuckles wiping at his tears, he nods. “got it.” he whispers.

i look back up at rafe, leaning further into him, my hand coming up to rest against his chest. “i love you.”

“i know. i love you more. i got you.” he whispers, his voice a ghost now from how low and shaken it is. he presses a kiss to my hair, holding me impossibly close.

i didn’t want to die. but, as my body grew weak, my eyes wanted to close. i just wanted to go to sleep. and part of me hoped that, if i went to sleep, i’d wake up in a few hours magically, in a hospital bed.

maybe john b, sarah, pope, and cleo found help. maybe it’ll be okay.

but if not, i’m okay with that too. i got to go with my favorite people. kiara, my sister. jj, my best friend. and rafe, the love of my life.

as my eyes begin to flutter shut, i take in rafe’s features one last time. my gaze brushes over his blue eyes, the curve of his nose. down to the shadow of his cheekbones, and the purse of his lips that i had gotten the luck to kiss so many times.

i said everything i could’ve possibly wanted to say. i got to die, with the people i loved most in the world. i was okay.

and hopefully, in a few hours, i’d wake up. and get to live a long life with all of them.

but for now, i was going to sleep.

—

damn yall that was sad asf. making me relive jj’s death 😞 hope u enjoyed !! thx for the request lovies !! <3

[delaber]

A Date (Bucky Barnes x Reader)

Summary: you have a date and Bucky’s not exactly happy about it.

Words: 3.8K

Trope: friends to lovers 💞 with a jealous Bucky trying his best to be brave, and failing horribly.

Notes: another fluff piece to mend Bucky’s heart ❤️ honestly, I have a problem with all these fluffy fics I’ve been writing recently. I just cannot stop myself lol.

"You have a date?" he manages to splutter just before the panic takes over and makes his heart skip a few beats.

Fuck!

A fucking date?!

His fingers are slipping on the wet handle of the pan he's in the midst of cleaning, and in that moment, all he can think about is how happy he is that he's currently bent over the kitchen sink so you can't make out the shocked expression on his face.

You're nodding beside him, playing with the dishtowel you're holding but Bucky can hardly make out what you're saying when you return his question with a quiet "yeah".

His ears are ringing bells and he just wants to get the fuck out of there.

Silently, he's begging for you to stop talking. He doesn't want to know more. Doesn't want to hear what you've agreed to and who you're... - fuck, what if it's someone he knows?

What if it's Sam?!

Shit!

The panic in Bucky's chest runs amok! If he walks in on his two best friends fucking, he's gonna kill himself!

With dread, he realises that he has to know how careful he needs to be around the compound...

"With - uh - with whom?" he clears his throat and curls his toes in prepared mortification, his narrowed gaze firmly fixed on a wet piece of broccoli that's lying lonely and sad at the bottom of the sink.

Please don't say Sam, please don't say Sam...

"You know the cute guy from the coffee shop?" you answer proudly, and it makes Bucky's heart spring violently back to life. That guy??? "- he finally asked me."

Well, it's not Sam - yet somehow, it's worse.

Deep breath, he tells himself and plasters on a neutral expression as he looks up from the pan and directly into your eyes.

At least you look excited, he concludes as he takes in your dreamy little smile that's usually reserved for when vibranium fingers briefly brush over your warm skin but that he now has to share with... him. The moron in the green apron. Mr I'm-too-busy-flirting-with-your-girl-to-get-your-order-right.

Fuck, he's burning up!

"That's great, sweetheart," he hears himself croak from far away, trying his best to sound like he's happy for you and not as if his heart is in the process of being ripped out of his chest. "I'm real happy for you."

"Thanks, Buck," you playfully bump your hip against his while looking down at your hands as you once again twist the towel between your fingers.

You seem almost... nervous. This date must really be a big deal to you.

He gulps and pushes away another incoming wave of nausea. It's not as if he hasn't long ago accepted that nothing will ever happen between the two of you. You're friends. That's it.

"Are you excited?" He asks without really knowing why. He doesn't want to hear your answer. To hear you verbally confirm the look you already have on your face.

Slowly you look up at him and he has to chomp down on his inner cheek to keep himself from doing something stupid.

"You know what?" you ask quietly with a tilt of your head and Bucky's heart starts racing even harder. "- I actually am."

Even you sound surprised - not that Bucky can really blame you.

"Mmh," he merely hums and pretends there's a particularly stubborn area on the dirty pan that needs his attention.

"Is that weird?" You ask.

He can feel how the sincere question in your voice laces itself around his abdomen, squeezing him tight.

Is it wrong of him to want to snap the stupid piece of teflon-coated metal in his hand in half? You're his best friend and he should just be happy you're happy.

Fuck it, he is happy! He loves you more than anything and you deserve to feel this way - he just wishes it was because of him and not someone else.

"No, sweetheart," he mumbles, trying to untie the invisible knot behind his navel as he starts scrubbing again. "Why would it be weird?"

Thankfully, you don't answer.

...

Cold droplets of water are running over your forehead and down the length of your nose, desperately trying to reduce the tension that's been resting right between your eyebrows since your conversation with Bucky last night.

Splashing your face with water is a stupid attempt to make yourself feel better - you know that - it hasn't worked the other times you've tried it and this must be the tenth attempt since you woke up this morning. The only thing that'll truly help is if Bucky would tell you what's going on.

He's been acting weird since last night, and even though you aren't sure what reaction you'd been hoping for, this definitely isn't it. You know he isn't exactly the biggest fan of the man who's taking you out for dinner later, but getting so annoyed he can barely uphold a conversation? Well, that wasn't really a scenario you'd even considered at all...

You suppose you could just tell him the truth - maybe that would make him more accepting of your choice of date - but it's not as if you can really tell him that the only reason you're going on that date to begin with is to force yourself to get over, well, him.

You've known Bucky two years now and apart from small moments here and there, nothing's happened. It's been two excruciating years full of pining and painful almosts and ifs but he clearly doesn't look at you that way and you don't want to keep putting yourself through the heartbreak. You deserve to spend your friday nights with someone who actually sees you for what you are: beautiful, smart, desirable, a woman.

And as you stand looking at yourself in the mirror, you realise that you need this date to get Bucky out of your head. Fuck if he doesn't approve of the cute guy from the coffee shop. It's none of his business who you're going out with and if he wants to be annoyed about it, then so be it.

Yet you still cannot stand the thought of him sitting by himself all night. He hasn't seemed like himself all day and you know how he can spiral over the smallest of things.

Thus, you check for Sam in the kitchen, the gym, and in the spa area in the basement of the compound, but eventually find him in the common room on the third floor, completely hypnotised as he stares at the television screen in front of him, the playstation controller grabbed tightly in his hands.

You do a quick scan around the room to confirm that it's just the two of you before you approach him. "Wilson, have you seen Bucky today?"

"Bucky? Uh - no," Sam mumbles without moving his gaze away from the animated character who's running through an abandoned city. "I assume you've already tried the dark cave he calls his room?"

"I know where he is," you sigh and flop down on the sofa next to him, stretching your legs and putting your feet in his lap. "I was just hoping that maybe you'd talked to him."

He doesn't answer apart from a few incoherent noises you're sure are for the game and not for you, so you poke at the controller with your toes to get his attention. "Sam..."

"Hey! I'm trying to save humanity from a zombie apocalypse here. Keep your stinking feet away from me," he playfully flicks the underside of your foot without sparing you a glance. "I already told you I haven't seen your siamese twin all day."

"Yeah, but do you think you could... go check on him maybe?"

"I'm busy. You go check on him."

"Sam..."

At the sound of your soft-spoken words, Sam sends you a brief side-eye before he finally tosses the controller down on the sofa table with a loud sigh. "What'd you do?"

"I didn't do anything," you shake your head innocently. Is it really your fault that Bucky is too childish to accept the man you're going out with? No.

Sam runs his eyes over you and squints hard. "You guys are usually so dependent, you're practically joined at the hip. And now you want me to go talk to him even though you didn't do anything?"

"Look, he's being weird," you sigh, "- can you just check on him? Please? Maybe have a guy's night in with beer and that stupid zombie-game you're always playing or whatever?" you gesture to the television screen where the character from before stands panting, saying random stuff every few seconds. "I don't want him to be alone."

"First of all, The Last of Us is not stupid!" Sam raises his index finger at you, feigning an insulted huff. "Secondly; a guy's night in..? While you're doing exactly what if I may ask?" he arches an eyebrow, urging you to keep talking.

"I - uh - I have plans," you say quickly and try and look determined although you can feel your entire face heating up. "...a date of sorts."

The dead-panned look on Sam's face is quickly wiped off, instead replaced with an annoyingly broad smirk. "You have a what now?" he chuckles teasingly.

"You heard me," you roll your eyes.

"Oh I heard you loud and clear," he hoots, "you are going on a date!" he says, emphasising the last word with a wriggle of his eyebrows.

"Don't be a dick about it."

"My, oh my. We're finally gonna see what kind of man that can sweep the rug from underneath you."

"Okay, I'm leaving," you make a move to stand up, but Sam interrupts you by putting his palm to your shin.

"Come on, I'm just teasing," he laughs, "tell me about your date. Who's it with? - Not Bucky, I assume."

"Why would I go on a date with Buck?" you shrug nonchalantly although you can once again feel the heat radiating through your every feature. "It's the cute blonde from the coffee house down the street."

"Oooh, the guy who looks like a young Brad Pitt but with humour?"

"That's the one," you press down on your lips and avoid looking directly at Sam. God, this is embarrassing.

"He's a cutie!" Sam teases with a chuckle.

"I know," you play with a loose thread on your shirt, avoiding his eye.

"Then why aren't you more excited about it?" He asks but immediately emits a groan, "Jesus... do not tell me it's because of Bucky?!"

"I'm worried about him," you whine and bury your face in the sofa cushions.

Sam rolls his eyes. "You're going on your first date in forever and you're worried about that sourpuss?"

"Sam, you didn't see the look on his face when I told him about it! He hates the guy - I think it really upset him."

"Of course it upset him," Sam scoffs, "It's like taking candy away from someone who really wants to fuck said candy!"

Your eyes snap over to Sam in an instance. Completely taken off guard, your voice dies in your throat. Did he just...? No, surely, you must've misheard.

"Come on, don't pretend you haven't noticed," Sam groans, "I swear to god, he's two days away from crawling behind you just so he can lick the ground you're walking on!"

The earth has stopped spinning. "W-what?"

"The puppy eyes? The 'pick me' behaviour?" he rolls his eyes at your shocked face.

Your heart starts pounding so fast you can barely keep up. "Are we talking about... Bucky? As in our Bucky?"

"Uh, huh," Sam nods as if it's the most obvious thing on the planet. "That guy's practically begging you to take him by the hand and lead him to your bed. He's so in love with you, it's disgusting to look at."

"He's what?!" You exclaim loudly, completely out of breath. This is definitely news to you! "No, no, no! Bucky's not in love with me, we're friends," you pant with the blood rushing past your ears.

Sam shoots you an unimpressed side-eye, "yeah keep telling yourself that"

"What do you mean?" you pant, trying to puzzle together Sam's suspicion with your disbelief.

"I swear to god, the two of you don't even have a single brain cell put together..." he rolls his eyes, "I've seen that boy almost snap his neck because you were laughing and he wanted to know what you were laughing at. Trust me when I say that he's not annoyed that you're going on that date - he's jealous."

Well... fuck!

...

You don't think you've ever been this nervous as you pace the hallway outside Bucky's bedroom. You've been here ten minutes now, desperately trying to force yourself to actually make contact with him, but you're holding yourself back. There's so much on the line and what if Sam's incorrect? Then, you will truly have mucked up and everything between you and Bucky will be ruined.

Shit!

You stop pacing. You can hear his favourite album from the forties playing on the other side of the wall but apart from that, there hasn't been a single sound from in there.

You pray he's in a better mood than when you walked in on him angrily hunched over his bowl of cereal this morning, but the fact that he put on the only type of music that can calm him down, doesn't really scream 'put-together'.

It makes you even more nervous though you know you have to talk to him at some point. It's not as if you can avoid him forever - so before you can truly think about the upside of postponing the inevitable conversation, you raise your knuckles and carefully knock on his door.

Everything inside you tenses up. You vision becomes blurry, and you seem to automatically focus all your attention on the sounds coming from inside his room. There's a short shuffle, a sigh and then an irritated "what?!" muttered from somewhere behind the walls.

This is bound to go wrong.

You consider running away and pretend you've never even been near his room, but it's too late to back out now. You have to talk to him at some point, you remind yourself.

With your nerves running wild and the blood pumping through your every vein, artery, and fibre, you open the door a little and poke your head inside his room with a small "hi," your throat so dry it comes out as a hoarse whisper.

He's sitting on the bed with his long legs crossed at the ankles, his hand buried inside a book that's lying closed in his lap. He looks angry at everything and everyone - as if he's minutes away from strangling someone - but when he finds your eyes from across the room, the tense muscles in his cheeks seem to unclench a little.

"Oh, hey," he breathes and runs a hand through his hair in embarrassment, licking his lips. "I thought you were Sam..."

You smile, so relieved to see him softening that you automatically step inside his room without waiting for him to ask you to. "Sorry to disappoint."

"You're not," he shakes his head with a small gulp, "I thought you'd left already. Don't you have that big date?" he asks in a weird voice and sends you a stiff smile.

"Not until seven," you shrug and sit down next to him on his bed, immediately noticing how he's started avoiding your gaze.

"Right," he nods and occupies himself by putting his book on his bedside table. "So - uh - still looking forward to it?"

How do you tell your best friend that no, you're not looking forward to it because he's the one you really want to go out with?

"I don't know," you shrug, suddenly so anxious your temples have started pounding, "not really."

He finally looks up at you again, his slate blue eyes jittery as they meticulously search your face. "What happened?" He asks with tightly knitted eyebrows, "you were so excited for it yesterday."

You hesitate. "...Honestly?"

"Yeah, honestly," he sits up a little straighter, a serious look on his face, "- he didn't upset you, did he?" He says on impulse, his voice suddenly dark and dripping with venom at the mere thought as he reaches out for you and puts his fingers on your arm.

"No Buck," you shake your head and take a deep breath to get your pulse under control. "He didn't upset me."

"Then what?" He squeezes your arm softly, his eyes concerned as he tries to read you, "you can tell me anything."

"I know... It's just that..." you hesitate and consider ending your sentence with I'm in love with you, but the words die in your throat.

"What sweetheart?" he shuffles a little closer to you.

"Bucky," you heave a big breath of air to prepare your bold question that can potentially change everything between you dependant on his answer. "Do you not want me to go on that date?"

"What?" his eyes immediate travel over your face and you can almost hear his pulse running haywire as his fingers let go of your arm. "What makes you think that?"

"It's just..." your breathing picks up as you scan his every anxious feature. It makes you anxious too. "- you started acting weird the minute I told you about it. You've been avoiding me all day."

His fingers find your arm again, his grip a little tighter than before as he desperately looks at you. "No, no, no, sweetheart! That's not what happened," he licks his lips and plasters on the fake smile he's been practising in the mirror all day. "- I mean... I'm not the biggest fan of the guy but who you're dating is really none of my concern. I'm sure he's great, and as long as he treats you well, I'll make sure he stays on my good side," he says softy and sends you a smile that seems a little too genuine for your liking.

You hesitate again as you check his face for cracks, but his smile stays intact and happy. "...So you're really okay with it?" you ask in a small voice, mortified.

"Are you kidding me? Sweetheart, of course I'm okay with it!" he slides his fingers down your arm, capturing your hand inside his fist. "I really just want you to be happy. That's what's important. And you deserve to be taken care of for once instead of being stuck here with me and Sam." He reassuringly squeezes your fingers tight, but it just feels as if he's in the process of letting you go.

Slowly, you can feel your heart breaking.

You knew it... You knew Sam was wrong. Bucky isn't in love with you. Never has been. Never will be. Things are exactly the way they've always been and you're left pining after a man who doesn't want you back.

God, you feel like a idiot for getting your hopes up like that.

"Good," you nod resolutely, fighting hard to not let the heartbreak slip through your well-feigned mask. "I'm happy to hear you feel that way."

"Of course I do," he smiles solemnly.

"I should probably go get ready then..."

"Yeah," Bucky nods and lets go of you. "It's almost six."

With a sigh you hope he doesn't hear, you stand up from his bed and brush down the front of your jeans, not really sure you even want to leave his room.

He's looking up at you like a deer caught in headlights. "Have fun," he says while his hands grab the sheets underneath him, fisting the fabric. "- can't wait to hear all about it."

"Thanks, Buck," you feign a smile to match his, "I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you, sweetheart..."

You turn around with a wave of your hand, but the smile on your face falters the minute you've turned on your heel.

You can hear his heavy breathing over the music playing in the corner, and when you reach out for the door handle, a delicate sound finally breaks the reticence between you.

"Don't go..."

At first, you're not sure if you're imagining it, but then you hear him shuffling behind you, and when you turn around and face him, he's on his feet. "Don't go on that date," he whimpers in defeat, "I'm begging you. Please... don't go."

"Bucky..."

"I'm in love with you," he says guiltily with a gulp.

Your heart stops.

"- and I can't pretend I'm okay with you going on dates when I'm not."

You're completely speechless. You want to comment on everything. Run to him and proclaim that you're his. That you've always been his. But you're nailed to the spot and all that manages to escape your lips is a tight whimper.

"- I know it's probably not what you want to hear right now..." he closes his eyes and looks as if he's in pain. "And I know I'm risking everything by telling you this," he gulps, "but I've been keeping it in for so fucking long, trying to protect our friendship. I just can't keep pretending I don't want... more. It's stupid, I know."

"Bucky, it's not stupid," you finally manage to croak and it's as if the force that've been gluing you to the spot finally lets go. "It's not," you whisper as you take a few long strides over to him, stopping right before your chests touch. "It's not stupid," you repeat and reach a hand upwards, caressing his bearded chin.

His eyes are glistening, and his breathing is coming in ragged as he searches your face. "Sweetheart," he gulps in confusion, "I don't... - what does this mean?"

"It means -" your hand reaches up so it can rake through his hair, coming to a halt on the back of his neck where you can feel the goosebumps travel through his entire body. "- that I'm in love with you too. Have been for quite some time. Since I met you, actually."

Now it's his turn to be glued to the spot.

His mouth falls a little open and you can tell by the look on his face that he's in the process of questioning everything, so you underline your confession by putting your forehead to his. "I want to be yours," you whisper and observe him closely.

At first, he tenses even harder, but then a small smile starts tugging on his lips as he finally relaxes in your arms and pulls you closer. "I want you to be mine, too," he declares sweetly as his heart blossoms in his chest. He reaches down and kisses your cheeks, your nose, your forehead.

"It's you," he whispers against your skin, "- It's always been you."

"Kiss me," you beam and almost cannot stop smiling silly when you reach up for his mouth, finally claiming the softest, most pillowy lips you've ever had the pleasure of kissing.

[redfoxwritesstuff]

I Own You (Demon Alastor x reader)

CW: Suicidal thoughts, suicidal actions, Anxiety, depression, shitty fuckin mental health, Pissed off Alastor, possessive Alastor, Branding, blood as lube, Toxic ass relationships, self doubt, smut, mirror sex Rating: Adult Summary: After getting a bunch of comments telling you you're not good enough for Alastor, old demons come back to life in your mind sending you to embrace the coping mechanism that sent you to hell in the first place. Alastor stops your plans in their tracks and is rather displeased by your actions. Requested by Anon. An: yes, we're finishing kinktober. I promised you 31 fics, you're getting 31 fics.

You stood high on the cliff overlooking the edge of Pentagram city. Hot wind whipped at your hair, sending it flying. The wind pushed your clothes against your body, framing it in a way that felt suffocating, just like everything else. The tears running down your face burned as stabbing pain shot through your heart, making it hard to breathe. 

Thoughts ran through your head, screaming. They chased one another, clashing with violent force. It felt like they’d rip your skull apart if you didn’t get them out. Screaming did no good. Your throat was raw from how much you had screamed. 

This was how you had found yourself in hell. It was how everything had ended, a sea of clashing thoughts, clashing against your skull, ripping the very gray matter of your brain apart until you put a stop to everything, chasing after the sweet release of silence. 

The cosmic joke was on you. This was also how everything began. The silence was hardly a fraction of a second and then your eyes had opened to a red sky and the thoughts. So many thoughts. You thought it would never end, though you tried to put an end to them again and again. 

It had been a long time since you had done that, though. It took time, but the voices, the thoughts, the doubts stopped. You had been happy, so happy. 

Then the thoughts started again. They told you such horrible things. They made promises that this time, if you made it stop, you wouldn’t wake up again. He would be better off without you. Everyone thought he was too good for you. Everyone knew it was a joke. 

“I just want it to stop,” you whimpered the words out, the hot wind snatching them from your lips and throwing them away like the trash they were. 

One foot in front of the other. That’s all it would take. This time, it would stop. This time, it would be forever. This time, you could have peace. 

Tears fell from your chin as your foot dangled off the edge. Just a shift of your weight and it would be over. This time, it would be over.

You wanted peace. 

You wanted to be happy.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, shoe falling from the foot hovering over the drop. “You deserve someone better.” 

Just a shift of your weight, that’s all it took. The world shifted, turning, tilting as you did. Hot wind rushed through your hair as the world barreled toward you. One last scream wanted to rip from your throat, but your lungs seized, holding the final sound locked inside. 

The ground and its sweet promise of the end to the noise. The pain would be a flash, hardly lasting a moment before it would be over. This time would be different. You knew it in your heart. 

This time would be different, you thought as black swarmed in front of your vision. That was proof, comforting your soul. This time was different. 

You closed your eyes and opened them again, not to be greeted by darkness but by red. So much red and rich woods and then static. 

Red-rimmed eyes looked around the room, only to see a form materialize from the shadows. You ended nothing. There was no peace. There was no end to the thoughts.

“What the *fuck* did you think you were doing?!” Alastor’s voice climbed, static glitching over the rare curse as if to remind him that it wasn’t suitable for the radio. 

“I just,” your words were choked by your sobs. A new fear, a new pain shot through you at the wild look in his eyes. You hadn’t thought he had the power to catch you, to bring you here from such a great distance. “I just wanted it to end.” 

“Wanted it to end!?” Alastor scoffed as his microphone laughed as if some joke had been played. “You wanted to end it?”

“Yes,” you whimpered, throat raw from the screaming. 

“Have you thought,” he hissed, “that perhaps there are easier ways to dump a man than throwing yourself off the cliffs?” 

“What?”

“Less dramatic ways than ending your life and waiting to respawn.” He turned, storming away from you. 

“I didn’t- It wasn’t about you. It’s not about you.” The words trembled as they fell from your lips.

“Then what was it about!?” Alastor turned, bones and joints snapping and creaking. 

“I’m not good enough!” you yelled, tears running down your face. “You need better than me. You deserve better than me. Everyone knows it. Everyone’s saying it. Everyone knows I should just die.” 

There was a moment of silence where he just stood there, blinking at you. “Not good enough?” He seethed, rage fueled power flowing off him in waves. The deer skulls on the walls rattled with it. “Who are you to decide what is good enough for The Radio Demon?!”

Large hands gripped your upper arms, claws cutting your sleeves to shreds as he shook you. Your head snapped back and forth, making it all the harder to defend your inadequacy. Tears ran down your face, wide eyes unable to look away from the blazing red radio dials that his eyes had become. 

Alastor was pissed. 

Claws raked down your arms, claws catching and ripping fabric. The neck of your dress gave way, splitting under the pressure. The moment the fabric ripped, a sea of fabric fluttered down your body. In a heartbeat, you were standing in your bra and panties.

Shivers ran down your spine as Alastor looked at you. The static in the air had your the hairs on your arms sticking up. Gooseflesh ran over exposed skin as you tried to wrap yourself in your arms. 

“You are mine.” Alastor growled out, hand wrapping the front of your bra, pulling it from your breasts. The strap around your back bit into your skin, stretching and stretching until the elastic gave way, and the straps snapped forward.

He threw the bra to the ground behind him as black shadows wrapped around your body, lifting you off your feet. They carried you easily to the bed. There was no soft placement on the surface, care given between lovers. 

Alastor was far too angry for that. 

You landed with a bounce as he stalked up to you. Shadows wrapped again around your wrists, pulling them up and pinning them just beyond your head. 

Alastor ran sharp claws up your naked legs, teasingly light touch that disguised the dangerous sharp of his claws. Blood welled up, dots that marked the trail of scratches you hardly felt. 

Never had you seen Alastor this angry.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, trembling. “I’m sorry I’m not strong enough.” 

That was the wrong thing to say. 

His face snapped up, burning red eyes threatening to make everything you were nothing more than ashes. “Again,” static nearly stole the words from him as he spoke, “you dare presume to decide what is enough.” 

Claws slipped under the band of your panties. In a flash, he ripped them down your body, leaving gouges in the fabric and you utterly naked under his eyes. 

“You do not get to decide what belongs to me.” Alastor loomed over you, hands spreading your thighs as he settled between them. 

Your chest heaved as you watched his eyes, taking in every imperfection of your body. Everything everyone had said is wrong with you physically was on display. 

“What are you doing?” His pants bulged at the crotch, and yet he made no move to touch your most intimate parts. He sat, looking at you, looming. 

“It seems you need to be taught a lesson who decides what is mine,” Alastor smoothed his hand down over your stomach, watching as the muscles jumped under the soft touch. 

Down and down his hand went until his fingers were running through the trimmed curls that gathered on your pubic mound. The hairs caught between his fingers, pulling. You wiggled your hips, uncomfortable with the pulling, only to freeze when heat radiated over the skin. 

Alastor’s magic sparked, green flames spreading over the hairs. Smoke and the acrid smell of burning hair filled your nostrils. You spread your legs wider, trying to run from the hot flames racing over your skin. Fire dripped down your folds as you gasped. Each hair was singed from your core, leaving you bare.

Alastor ran his fingers over the now hairless skin, admiring the blank canvas he had created for himself. 

“Open wide,” Alastor laughed, bitter and cold as you spread your thighs. “No, your mouth.” 

“What are you ta-” A black tentacle shoved into your mouth, choking off your words. 

“Good girl,” Alastor cooed, smile spread wide in a clear display of how insane your powerful lover was. 

“You seem to forget,” he ran his claws over the bare, sensitive skin of your mound, tracing lines from hipbone to hipbone. “That you belong to me. It is I who decides what I want, not another… not you.” 

You choked as searing pain ripped through your body, legs trapped in his hold before you curled them up and protect yourself. You screamed, though the sound was silenced by the mass in your mouth, pushing deeper and deeper. 

“A” Alastor said, pulling the finger from your mound, eyes flicking up to you as he licked the blood from it. 

Gasping breaths ripped through your nose, sinuses struggling to allow the amount of air your lungs demanded pass through. Tears ran down the sides of your face. 

Pain, more pain. It ran through your body, lighting every nerve on fire. 

“L” Alastor said, looking up again, watching how your chest heaved before returning to his task. “A… S…T…” 

With each letter, he spoke out loud as he took his time. All the pain of your life and afterlife was nothing compared to the pain he was putting you through now. Scream after scream struggled to pass through your throat.

“O….” Alastor carefully carved the letter, small and neat into your flesh. “R!” 

Pain… and the wetness of blood running down your body. It poured on each side of your mound, cutting a red river along where your thighs met the edges of your folds. 

The shadows forced you up, suspending you on your knees on the bed. It shifted as made his way behind you, taking your arms in his large hands. Shadows dissipated, leaving Alastor all that held you up.

Infront of you, a mirror formed, shiny and black. You looked at yourself, naked in the arms of the man you loved. Blood ran down your mound, coating your folds and running down your thighs. It soaked into the blankets. 

“Do you see it now?” Alastor asked, fist curling into your hair and forcing you to look back at yourself when your head drifted. Your hands fell to your sides, his hand leaving yours in favor of rustling with his clothes behind your back. 

“It hurts,” you whimpered, held up by the hand in your hair as the burning shaft of his cock rubbed against your ass. 

“Do you see how much I want you, cher?” Alastor jerked your head, shaking your body. “I desire you so much that I have carved my name into you.” 

“Please,” tears ran down your face as you looked at the blood running down your lower half. What surprised you was the pride that sparked in you, seeing his name carved on your skin. It would scar, marking your skin forever. Even if you threw yourself off a cliff, the marks would regenerate along with everything else. 

Hell’s fucked up system let healed body modifications stick. How generous. If you wanted to remove his claim, you’d have to cut his name from your body. 

“I’m sorry,” you whined as he rutted his hard cock against you. 

“Are you?” Alastor asked, shoving you forward. “You tried to take something from me that belongs to me. When you feel like doing it again, you’ll look down and see who owns your body.”

Alastor’s hand wrapped around the back of your neck as he pulled your hips up, placing you on your knees. For a moment he left you waiting, eyes roaming over your folds. Everything was painted red as blood continued to ooze from the clotting wounds. 

“Red looks so lovely on you,” Alastor murmured as he ran the head of his cock over your bloody folds, staining his skin with your blood before lining up at your opening. 

He filled you with one smoothe thrust, pushing through the resistance. Blood didn’t lubricate things very well, but he didn’t care. Alastor cared about one thing only in that moment- ensuring you understood who you belonged to in every way. 

He pulled you up by the hand wrapped around your neck, not sparing a thought to how much it hurt. The mirror reflected to you the cold ownership and wild possession in Alastor’s eyes. A shiver ran down your spine as his sharp nose ran along your neck, taking in the scent of you. 

He sank deeper and deeper into you, reaching everywhere at once. Your opening burned at the stretch. His size and lack of prep made for a painful intrusion. It was nothing compared to the pain from the deep weeping cuts. 

“Do you see now?” Alastor asked, holding you to his chest by the hand wrapped around your throat as he thrust into you harshly, eyes locked with yours in the mirror. 

“What?” You gasped, tears running down your face, drops landing on your breasts. 

“Do you fucking see it now?” Alastor’s eyes changed red dials growing bright on a black background, antlers branching into wide tines that towered over you as he worked his cock in and out of you. “You belong to me.” 

“Ah!” You moaned as his cock slipped in and out of you, eyes dropping to the oozing brand on your hairless mound. “Al-Alastor.” 

“That’s right,” he moaned his praise into your ear, shoving you into your hands and knees as he thrust into you harder. Your breathy moans accompanied the echoing sound of his heavy balls slapping against your blood coated clit. Pain and pleasure danced together, becoming one as you and Alastor were. His hand ran over the cuts gouged into your skin, seeking your clit as he fucked into you harshly. “You belong to me.” 

You watched him take you in the glossy shadow mirror, each harsh thrust taking you closer and closer to your climax. Possession and power danced around you, through you with every thrust. 

“Al-” you moaned, a whimpered whine in your throat as he pulled his hand from your clit, only to scream as he slapped his name carved into you, fingers reaching down to strike your clit.

“Do you want to cum?” Alastor growled in your ear, each thrust reverberating through your whole body. 

“Please,” you cried out as he struck you again and again, “Please, Alastor!” 

“Who do you belong to?” His fingers returned to your clit in soothing strokes. 

“You,” you gasped, “Alastor. Please, I’m so close.” 

“Who decides if you are good enough for me?” Static ran over your limbs as you struggled to pull air into your lungs. 

“Alastor,” you whine, “You do.” 

“That’s right,” Alastor kissed your shoulder as he focused on those last few thrusts, all it would take to push you over the edge. “Now cum.” 

You came with a scream, no longer able to support yourself. The only thing that kept you from falling forward was Alastor’s hand around your waist, fingers working over your clit even as your body convulsed around you. 

“Good girl,” Alastor said, voice coming from everywhere again as your body pulled him into his own orgasm. Each wave of seed pumped into you was a claim of ownership. You belonged to him. 

“I own you,” he growled as his cock twitched, spilling the last of his cum into you as you twitched. “Don’t forget that.” 

Join us at VoxTek for a Vox themed Hazbin Discord where we talk Vox, Hazbin, writing, reading, art and who knows what else. You may even catch some exclusive sneak peeks at upcoming fics from some of your favorite writers including the first page of the next chapter of MisD a day early!!

[rinnstars]

overdose!

he can’t stand this distance anymore

itoshi rin x reader: self-destructive behaviour (overdosing, vague self-harm), probably yandere (?), rant fic (?), kind of insane maybe lolz!

he thinks he must be going crazy, laying in his own mess that he created. he knows its all his fault, the calling ring mocking him. he swears he might just be having a heart attack - his hearts pangs in guilt and in fear, his breathing fast as his lung seems to collapse on h i’m, his hands shakily clutching his shirt. and another missed call. he knows he messed up - he’s never been the best at communicating his feelings, always isolating himself. he knows you’ll one day get sick of it, but god, he thinks he can’t live like this.

youre his heart - without you, he feels completely empty without anything beating inside, he feels as though his biological heart has been ripped completely out of him, its remaining gory mess left pumping outside of his body, he can’t survive like this. and youre like his lung, youre the reason he gets to live and get too play socccer and all, youre the oxygen that gets him going, youre everything he needs. youre his limbs, without you, he’s practically frozen on the spot, his limbs going numb - he doesn’t know how long he’s being here completely still lying still in the pile of clothes he’s haphazardly thrown earlier this morning before anything happened, feeling instead that he’s lying still in the pool of his own blood and gory guts and insides strewn out of him.

and maybe its your absence, or logically, it would probably be the pills he took. logically, he should be much calmer, its sleeping pills albeit ten or maybe twenty he doesn’t know, he doesn’t care. he should be getting sleepy, his breath should be slowing down from the earlier conflict, his mind should be relaxing but in contrast he feels more alive than ever, aware of his ripped apart organs and insides from your absence, he’s practically violently hyperventilating, feeling his lung pump too as though its his heart, his mind racing with the worst possible thought.

he should apologise - if he could, he would go to your house, apologise with his literal heart ripped out of his own body, dripping with blood and hand it right over to your. no, he would offer his limbs, give you his finger or something as a cat would bringing home a rat. no, he should disfigure himself for you, show his love and dedication he just can’t seem to - his eyes that you always adored, counting his eyelashes as you once laid right beside him at the floor area without a pile of mess, his wrist that he should brutalise yet again to show you his love isn’t anything superficial in opposition to his horrible communication skills, hell, he would take his own rib out and give one more to you.

yet, the minute he hears your voice vibrating from his phone - everything stops. the pile of bloody gore mess he swears he was in that sticks against his skin and pool at his shirt as though ripping through it too turns back to just the pool of clothes he logically sees of his discarded jacket, football jersey and a pair of shorts, his lung and heart no longer feeling out of his body and instead slowing down slightly as though you are truly his heart and lung, no you are truly the one keeping him alive, and his mind slowing down - perhaps you’re the only melatonin he needs. and its with your tired voice, still comforting him as though he didn’t practically break apart the house of cards of your relationship with him yet again with careless words, his eyes slowly blink and close, melting entirely into your voice that seem to hug him, his mind getting quieter with only thoughts of you, his breathing slowing down. he rubs away tiredly at the blood leftover from his nose and mouth from his earlier session, feeling it stain and pool at his hand, sighing.

“i love you.” three words he says, its all he can say - he doesn’t want to tell you of what he’s done - not the overdosing, not the harm he’s done to himself, not the panicked state you left him in. its not your responsiblity, he tells himself - but deep down its selfish. hes way too scared that you might just leave him when you figure out he might just be a little too dependent and obsessive over you, he’s way too scared you might only stay because youre afraid of what may happen, and hes way too scared one day you might just leave solely to leave him for dead. but for now, he’ll take a nap needed and call you back - and just maybe this time, he’ll stop this cycle of self-destruction the second he makes a mistake

[1800-fight-me]

The Wrong Guy

Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Rating: M (As always- MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending, non explicit sex

Word count: A little over 1k

Synopsis: Both you and Logan fight against the growing feelings for one another as your relationship deepens.

Author’s note: I am so in love with Wolverine my brain stopped working, please accept this humble offering! I do not have a taglist! Instead if you would like to be notified when I post new fics follow my side blog @jo-writes-fanfic and turn your post notifications on!

“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, the words rough and choked out as if he had to force himself to push the vile words past his teeth. 

“Like what?” you breathed out. 

“Like you see your future in my eyes,” he said. 

Your heart dropped into your stomach and your eyes began to water. 

“Because all I see when I look in yours is a past that broke me completely.” 

You reached your hand across the table and gently laid it atop his own. 

“Logan,” you whispered. 

He shook his head and pulled his hand away. You swore you could hear the sound of your heart cracking. 

“You don’t want this, sweetheart,” he practically growled as he gestured to himself and you couldn’t tell if he was trying to convince you or himself. 

“I can decide for myself,” you protested. 

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. You deserve better than to be shackled to someone like me,” he said, and now his hazel eyes shone with unshed tears- the same as yours. 

You glared at him, suddenly sick of all his self hatred bullshit. 

“Then why haven’t you told me to fuck off? You certainly have no problem pushing people away.” you snapped. 

“Because I can’t!” he said, voice raised. 

His breaths came hard and heavy and a part of you wanted to only offer him comfort, but your defenses were up from his harsh words. 

“Why?” you asked, voice flat. 

“It hurts to be near you, a constant reminder of my biggest failure, of everything I lost,” he said as he hung his head. 

This time the tears did begin to fall. 

You opened your mouth to speak but he continued. In a broken voice so unlike the powerful wolverine the world knew, he said, “And it hurts worse to be away from you.” 

If honesty was finally on the menu, you decided to say what had been on your mind as well. 

“When I look at you, I see the future I should have had. I see the life that should have been filled with love and the feeling of home rather than constant wandering and heartbreak.” 

He looked up at you and you ignored the impulse to smooth out the worried wrinkle between his brows with your thumb.  

“And that hurts too,” you said. 

He shook his head. “I’m not him, darlin’. I’m sorry you never met the Logan from your world, but I can’t be what you need from me.” 

“And I can’t be her,” you said, referring to the version of you that was once his wife. 

“I know,” he said, his voice heavy with pain and regret. 

He was your soulmate, but he wasn’t. A different version of the soulmate you were supposed to meet but never did. 

You were his soulmate, but you weren’t. A different version of the love of his life, his wife, the mother of his child, that was ripped from him violently and mercilessly. 

You were bound but doomed from the start. Both unable to walk away but also unable to stay. 

“Where does that leave us?” you asked in a voice so soft and tentative you didn’t even recognize it as your own. 

He sighed heavily, downed the rest of his whiskey, before he said, “I don’t fuckin’ know.” 

You sighed and stood up, ready to storm out of his apartment. 

“Wait,” he murmured, his large hand catching yours. 

You met his gaze and melted at the affection you saw there. 

You let him tug you back down to the couch, this time your body closer to his, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. Close enough that the presence and scent of him was intoxicating. 

“Let me kiss you,” he said, voice low in a way that made your toes curl. 

You worried there were unspoken words he wasn’t willing to say, that he was really asking to kiss you one last time. 

This man had just ripped your heart out, but you could never say no to him. You could never deny him anything. 

“Logan,” you whimpered and he reached for your face, wiping your tears away before pressing his lips to yours in a kiss so tender you wondered if he was being honest before. You wondered if underneath the hurt that maybe he loved you. 

Your soul belonged to him. 

So you moved your lips in time with him, opening up at his prompting, and a soft whine came from the back of your throat as you tasted him, as your tongue slipped against his. 

A sound- something akin to a growl rumbled through his chest as he pulled you closer, kissed you harder, desperation evident in the way he consumed you. 

“Don’t wanna make you cry, baby,” he murmured against your skin as he trailed his lips across your jaw and throat. 

You whimpered as his teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your neck. 

“Let me make you feel good,” he said, and it was less of an order and more of a plea. 

You let him pull you onto his lap and make good on his promise to give you pleasure, the kind only he could provide. 

But the pain still sat heavy in your chest even as he kissed you gently, moved inside you, and helped you reach your peak as he stared into your eyes. 

This wasn’t anything like the other lust driven entanglements you had with Logan. No, this was him making love to you and baring his soul within the process. 

There were tears once again in both your eyes as he brought you over the edge with him. He held you against his sweat glistened chest and you listened to his slowing heartbeat as you traced patterns on his muscled torso. 

“What if we tried?” you asked softly. 

He hummed as his nose ran across your hair, breathing you in. 

“You’re it for me,” he said in agreement. 

You burrowed your face deeper into his chest and he held you tight. 

And when the morning came, you both tried to put the past and the future aside and just be together, to love each other.

You both tried. 

[minihotdog]

Caught Red handed // Part 2

Summary: Soap Catches His Roommate Reading an Erotic Novel AGAIN

Part 1

Pairing: John "Soap" Mactavish x Fem!Reader

a/n: I've been sick as a dog and I'm not the happiest about how this one turned out so I'll write a soap fic with a little more punishment in the future when I don't feel like my insides are melting

c/w: P in V, biting, aftercare

word count: 2k

***

Johnny made it clear that he didn’t want to catch you reading dirty books again, but you’re only human. Your newly discovered love for the genre made it impossible to stay away. 

You picked up a new one at the bookstore, this time with a more discrete cover. The summary described a romance between a woman and her soldier husband. It was a love that stands the test of time and struggle as he changes from the horrors he’s seen. Upon getting home and settling down to read it, you quickly discovered that wasn’t the case. The book was downright rancid, a crime almost. You’d gotten comfortable in your PJs and fuzzy socks excited to dive into the story only to receive a figurative slap to the face.

He was so desperate to breed her. His rough and violent thrusts almost put her head through the wall.

“Be my good little wife and take my load.”

“When I come back you better be holding my kid in your arms waiting for me to put another one in you.”

Your hand was over your mouth as your eyes scanned every sentence multiple times to ensure you didn’t pull them from your imagination.

You couldn’t help but imagine Johnny as the character. The author went into detail about the male character sitting and watching his high school sweetheart, turned wife, undress for him. How his thick thighs took up the entirety of the chair and his cock rested to the side atop the dense muscle, all you could see was Johnny with his evil little smirk and shaggy hair he’d grown out on leave.

The jangling of keys on the other side of the front door rips you from your fantasies. You jolt upwards and run towards your bedroom to stash the book in your nightstand. You’d been sleeping with Johnny in his bed so there wasn’t a possibility of him accidentally stumbling on it.

You waltz out of your room coming face to face with Johnny. You jump, clutching your chest with a squeak.

“Johnny! You scared the shit out of me!”

He looks at you with an eyebrow raised.

“Wha’ are ye up tae?”

“What?! Nothing, just getting a heart attack from you.”

He fakes a quick step towards you and your arms instinctively shoot to the walls blocking him. He chuckles, wrapping his arms around your waist and giving your lips a peck. He rests his forehead on yours.

“Yer hidin’ somethin’ an’ I’m gonnae find out wha’ it is.” He squints at you before turning into the kitchen.  

Damn it! Why did I do that?!!

You try to keep an eye on Johnny to make sure he won’t go snooping, but the moment he wraps his arms around you the book is completely forgotten. The two of you cuddle on the couch to watch reruns of old shows together. He runs his hand up and down your side kissing down your shoulder. He settles on your waist and his thumb caresses the little bit of exposed skin. He nibbles on your neck and slips his hand under your tank top taking a handful of your breast.

“You’re worse than a dog in a rut!” You slap his hand away.

“Cannae help masel’ when I’m wi’ ye, bonnie.” He whines, nuzzling his nose into your neck. His hips grind into you and he lets out a groan.  

“Johnny, I haven’t showered today.” Your complaining falls on deaf ears as his arms wrap tighter around you. “Let me goooo!”

“Fine, if it makes ye stop fussin’.” He huffs as you sit up. He crosses his arms making a high-pitched ‘hmphf’. 

“I’ll be back, hun.” You lean down to give him a quick kiss.

Johnny waits for the shower to turn on before springing into action. He tosses the blanket to the side and tip-toes down the hallway determined to figure out what you’d been hiding earlier. He enters your room and begins looking around. He opens your closet, makes a mess of your desk drawers until he stumbles over to your nightstand. He pulls the drawer open and discovers the dark-covered book you tossed in there. The cover looked innocent enough, a soldier walking hand in hand with a woman in a pink sun dress. He flips the book over to read the summary. His eyes scan the text and he lets out a quiet ‘awww’ before opening it to a random page in the middle. 

“Jesus Christ, bonnie, wha’ are ye readin’ now?” His eyes go wide for a moment and he sucks his teeth.

You step out of the shower and wrap yourself in a towel before walking into his bedroom. You pick through his dresser for your clothes. He insisted you move some of your clothes to his room but they quickly got buried under his. You pick out your favorite striped pj shorts and an old shirt of his that you cut into a crop top. You walk out of his room heading back to the couch only to be stopped in your tracks when you notice the door of your room wide open and the light on. 

FUCK!

You quiet your footsteps and slowly peek into the room. You see him sitting on your bed, drawer open, and a very familiar object in his hands. You decide that the best thing you can do is hide but as you shift your weight onto your back foot the floor creaks.

“Bonnie!” He calls out. The stern tone in his voice makes you jump. “Come ower here.” You silently freak the fuck out before poking your head through the door.

“Yes, honey?”

The look on his face pulls you into the door frame.

“Wha’ did I tell ye no tae be readin’ the kin o’ books?”

Shit. He’s mad.

His accent gets rougher and you know for a fact that he’s not happy with this discovery.

You’re quick to defend yourself.

“I swear I didn’t know!” You blurt out. “The summary was so cute I didn’t think it was gonna be like that.”

He looks down, closing the book before looking back at you.

“Ye jus’ bought it? Didn’t ye open it up afore haund?”

His eyebrows furrow. His intense gaze burrows into you waiting for an answer. You chew on your bottom lip. He was always able to get the truth out of you. He knew you couldn’t stand being at the receiving end of his glare. You begin fumbling your fingers.

“I may have read a chapter at the store.” He throws his head back with a groan upon hearing the confession. “BUT, it wasn’t like the rest of the book, I swear!”

His jaw clenches for a second and he shakes his head.

“Oh bonnie, wha’ am I gonnae dae wi’ ye?” He mutters as he stands, shaking the book at you before tossing it onto the bed. He calmly walks towards you. He towers over you and one of his hands tangles itself in your hair pulling just enough to make you look straight up at him. 

“Yer a pure bad lassie. Cannae even heed simple orders.” 

He suddenly takes you by the arm and walks you into his room.

“Nasty wee thing,” He growls, forcing you onto the bed. “Can’t follow directions. Hidin’ things from me.” He sucks his teeth as his hands rush to yank your shirt off. He gives you no time to reorient yourself before he pushes you onto your back.

He climbs onto the bed and straddles you gripping your wrists in one hand. He grabs your chin forcing you to look up at him.

“Needy fuckin’ whore, aren’t ye?”

“Johnny, I’m sorry.” You whine trying to break out of his grip.

He scoffs, “We’ll see about tha’.”

He yanks his sweats off. You watch him closely hoping that he’ll change his mind about this punishment. His size becomes more apparent with the anger radiating off of him. 

“Baby, I promise I won’t do it anymore.” He ignores your pleas. Your eyes trail down and you see he’s rock-hard. He lays his weight on you biting at your neck. His bare cock presses against you over your shorts. His free hand goes to your breast, pinching your nipple and rolling it in his fingers. You half-mindedly grind against him.

“Oh no, Lassie. Yer not getting what you want just yet.”

He kisses down your chest capturing one of your nipples in his mouth, his tongue plays with the sensitive nub. He slides his arm under your thigh, bringing one leg to his waist. His fingers run over your clothed cunt and he groans.

“Yer soaked. My wee slut is so wet fur me.” His voice rasps. His mouth moves to your other breast. Your nails dig into your palms when his teeth graze the nub.

“Baby, please,” You cry out, needing to feel him inside you. The ache was becoming too much to bear and he was so close. His scent only helped to cloud your brain and the heat radiating off of him was setting you ablaze.

“So impatient.” He taunts as he pulls away to work your shorts down your legs to reveal the wet patch on your panties that had become transparent. He chokes out a moan at the sight,

“So fuckin’ wet.”

He slips his fingers underneath the fabric at your hips and in a swift motion pulls them until they rip. You gasp, eyes shooting down at him. He’d never acted this way in bed, he’d usually undress you with a thousand kisses, making sure his lips touched every bit of exposed skin until he reached where you wanted him most, he’d slow down for a moment and place a kiss on your clit before devouring you whole and leaving you with soul-crushing orgasm before the big finale. This time he restrains himself leaving your hips bucking for his touch. In this moment, you missed your sweet and caring Johnny.

“I know wha’ ye want, bonnie.” He looks up at you with his little evil smirk. “I’m not gonna treat ye like my princess when yer not actin’ like one.”

Before you can protest his fingers begin playing at your entrance. He slides two of his thick digits into you. Your breath hitches feeling the calloused skin inside you. He pumps his fingers, curling them into that special spot.

“So tight.” He breaths out, occasionally flicking your clit with his thumb. You want him inside you so bad your head is spinning. He lowers his head dropping his tongue to your clit, he couldn’t help himself, his head belonged in between your legs and he couldn’t fight that.

He continues moving his fingers in and out of you, grazing your g-spot each time. His tongue circles your clit and you throw your head back into the pillows. Your pants fill the room, your wrists aching.

“Johnnyyyyy.” Your back arches as he speeds up. His eyes almost roll back listening to your whines.

He feels you tighten against his fingers, waiting for the right moment. 

“Hmmmm.” You tighten around him once more and he pulls away from you, denying you of your release. Your head shoots up and he’s sucking the wetness off his fingers. He chuckles at the frustrated look on your face.

“That’s not fair!”

“Oh, but it is, only good girls get tae cum.”

He leans over you on his elbow grabbing a handful of your hair. He pulls your head back, the pain forcing a whine from your lips. “No woman of mine will be readin’ filth about another man.” His lips graze the side of your face. “I’m the only man ye should fantasizin’ about. I’m the only one who’s cock ye should be thinkin’ of.”

“You are! You’re the only man I think about!”

“I’ll make sure of it.”

He slides himself into you and your body tenses up at the intrusion. He coos at you as you try to adjust to his length. He forces your head to the side and his lips are on yours. He deepens the kiss attempting to capture your tongue with his. He uses the kiss as a distraction to slide the rest of himself into you. He buries himself to the hilt and you gasp into the kiss. He moans softly, breaking away from your lips and resting his head in the crook of your neck. The feeling of being inside you was almost too much for him to bear. So warm and wet, the nerves on his cock fire off when the tip finds your soft cervix.

“Fuckin’ Christ.” He pants into your skin. “This pussy is pure sin.”

He gathers himself before he begins moving. He slides in and out of you and your lips part slightly, eyes clamped shut. He releases shaky breaths, the tightness making his head spin.

“O’ fuck!” He thrusts slowly, pulling away slightly to enjoy the view of him disappearing inside you. His free hand grabs your waist to keep you from sliding away from him as his pace picks up. Your mind goes blank, the stretch of his cock is intoxicating. His thrusts jolt you upwards forcing whines from you. 

“Johnny, please let me touch you.”

“Promise me no more of those fuckin’ books,” He breaths into your necks.

“I promise, I promise, I promise!” You chant. Your voice comes out pathetic and desperate. He releases your wrists, his arms sliding under your body to wrap around you. Your hands fly to his back, nails digging into his skin. He pounds into you relentlessly, your eyesight blurs, and your back struggles to arch against his weight. 

His name falls from you in a chant mixed with small gasps. The bed creaks loudly as his hips slam into the underside of your soft thighs. Your legs wrap around his waist, hands grasping at him for dear life. He moans into your neck, his rasps hitting your skin along with his ragged breaths.

“Oh god, Johnny!” Your mouth hangs open. The feeling of him filling you up so perfectly leaves you almost in a trance-like state, unable to think or form a single thought. 

“Ye take me so well, bonnie, don’t ye?”

He tightens his hold on you, the tight squeeze around his cock has him almost drooling. Your warm velvet walls test him every time, he uses every bit of strength he has to not finish too soon when he buries himself inside you. His tip kissing your cervix shoots pleasure through the both of you. He swears little invisible hearts circle his head every time you whimper out his name.

He digs his teeth into your neck, marking you. “Mine. All mine.” He groans into the now red flesh. He frees one of his arms from under you and begins massaging your clit begging to feel you clamp down around him. 

“Bonnie, ye feel tae good. Cum on my cock, ye been a good girl.” You moan in response. “Gonnae fill ye up nice and deep. Ye want tha’?”

You nod frantically. Your pussy flutters warning him of your impending orgasm. He continues his pace as he whispers pure filth into your ear. Telling you how much he loves your pussy, how you belong to him and only him. You try to warn him but it hits hard and fast, before you know it you’re a mess beneath him. Nails dragging down his skin leaving red lines, your pussy spasming around him pulling over the edge.

He ruts into you shooting thick streams onto your walls. You feel him twitching inside you as he thrusts his cum deeper into you. “Take it all, bonnie.”

He continues thrusting, dragging out your orgasm. Your pussy clamps down on him milking him for all he’s worth leaving you twitching from the overstimulation.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He slows his movements letting out a deep breath before locking eyes with you. A goofy smile appears on his lips causing you to giggle. He mummers a “C’mere,” before kissing you sweetly. He slides out of you slowly as he caresses your thigh.

“Let’s get ye cleaned up,” He plants a kiss on your forehead before wrapping his arms around you once more and lifting you onto his lap. He slides the both of you off the bed and carries you into the bathroom putting you down gently on the counter. He turns the shower on and while the two of you wait for the water to heat up he peppers your face with kisses. 

He carries you into the shower letting you steady yourself on your feet before pulling you to his chest. The warm water runs over his shoulders flowing down your back. His lips brush the top of your head.

“I love you, bonnie.” He whispers.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Satoru Gojo purposely keeping the scar you gave him instead of using reversed technique

Pairing: husband! Gojo x reader

Word Count: 1,6k

Synopsis: When his skin gets busted by your sheer excitement, it doesn't feel right to Satoru to use his reversed technique and simply heal.

Warnings: fluff fluff fluff, Yuji's "death" scnene in season 1, blood lol

Thank you dear anon for aggressively reminding me that it's canon for Gojo to not have any scars, it really helped me cooking up that fic! 🤍

Every step feels like hell, the only thing that keeps you from collapsing onto the floor being the reassuring hand of your husband on your shoulder.

This can’t be true, it’s just impossible. Yuji Itadori was a member of Jujutsu High for a few weeks, just started to get to know this world better. This was supposed to be an easy mission, the three of them should have made it out alive with ease. But apparently, Sukuna decided to show up. And apart from injuring Megumi, he violently took Yuji’s life by ripping his heart out. A heart made of pure gold, a heart so precious that you couldn’t help but care for that boy the minute you saw him.

But now he’s dead.

Your hands start shaking immediately the minute you step into this cursed room you visited far too often, gazing at Yuji’s body covered by a cloak. This isn’t a bad dream. No, the blood covering the white cloak tells you more than urgently that Yuji Itadori isn’t there anymore.

“Please tell me that there’s a chance he’ll come back”, you mutter.

Oh, how much both Shoko and Satoru hate to see you like that. It’s not a secret to anyone at Jujutsu High how deeply you care about your students, loving them like your own children. Of course, this isn’t the first time you’ve seen a student die in front of your eyes. In times like these, jujutsu sorcerers pass away like flies. But Satoru knows what you’ve seen in Yuji, that he somehow reflected parts of yourself. And still, you weren’t able to protect that boy, both Satoru and you coming too late to rescue him.

“I really wish I could, but he shows no signs of life. I’ll move on to autopsy now. If you want to say goodbye…Maybe do it now and leave afterwards.”

Satoru wraps his arms around you just in time before you slide onto the ground, holding you tightly against his chest.

“This is not fair”, you breathe out, head still not able to accept Yuji’s farewell.

He was so young, so full of life. He doesn’t deserve to die, he still had so much ahead of him. There needs to be something you are able to do. Aren’t Satoru or Shoko able to use their cursed technique?

“He didn’t show any signs of life for hours by now, (y/n). Not even Shoko or me are able to bring him back to life. I’m so sorry”, he mumbles against your ear out of nowhere.

So this is really how it ended? With Yuji getting killed by none other than Sukuna himself? Like in trance, your wobbly legs carry you to the autopsy table his lifeless body lays on. You want to stretch out your arm, want to look at that precious boy one last time before Shoko does her job.

But you can’t.

“I can’t look at him”, you blurt out.

With a swift motion, you turn around and burry your face against your husband’s chest.

“It’s okay babe, just look at me, okay? You don’t have to do this.”

Satoru’s arms keep you from losing yourself completely, soak up your falling tears while his head rests against yours. Oh Yuji, you’ll never be forgotten. All the laughter’s both of you shared, his potential, how he always cared about others. You will think about him every time the sun starts to rise, when new students get greeted, when you kill another curse-

“Hey, what’s up? Huh, what are both of you doing here, Gojo-sensei?”

This voice…

That was Yuji Itadori.

Out of instinct you turn around rapidly, not even noticing how the back of your head crushes into Satoru’s forehead with full force. He sees starts, blood taking his sight in an instant while his mind isn’t even able to comprehend it was Yuji who just spoke.

“Yuji! Are you okay? Are you hurt? You’re back!”, you babble out, embracing the boy in a tight hug.

“To be honest I don’t even know what happened last and I’m pretty hungry…Oh, you’re bleeding Gojo-sensei!”

You’re…bleeding? You turn around in confusion, following Yuji’s eyes.

“OMG SATORU!”, you cry out, the sight of your husband covered in his own blood shocking you to your core.

When did that happened…Was it…you?

“I guess you were so happy to see Itadori that you’ve forgot about me standing behind you”, he mutters amused.

“Babe I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just got so carried away and-“

“Don’t worry about me. Reversed technique, remember? I’ll be whole in seconds. Just look after Yuji, I love you.”

You let out the breath you were holding, the bright smile forming on your gorgeous face making Satoru forget the world around him for a moment. You are so caring, so passionate. And you are his wife.

“I’m a lucky man”, he mutters to himself while pressing the tissue Shoko handed him against his wound.

There you sit, gently caressing Yuji’s cheeks and asking him over and over if he’s okay.

“You really are. This isn’t a problem for you, right?”, Shoko questions with one glance at the laceration on his forehead.

The shocked look on your face replays itself over and over in his mind, lets a chuckle escape his lips. With the help but his reversed technique, it would be way too easy to get rid of that minor wound. Within seconds, there wouldn’t even be a scar left, just his flawless skin. But…it was you who did this to him out of sheer excitement. It sure would be nice to look into the mirror and get reminded of you daily, right?

“Oh, I might as well keep that”, he replies with a sly grin.

- a few weeks later -

You sit on the edge of the couch, desperately waiting for that time of the day. Even after being married to that force of a man for 4 years now, you find yourself getting all excited when he announces that he’s going to shower. Because going to shower means that he’ll come out just wearing boxers with his body still a little wet and his hair sticking to his face in that delicate way.

“Still waiting for me, huh? It’s not like you can see me naked every time you want, babe”, he finally purrs.

Your heart skips a beat. This man…How is it even allowed to look so breathtakingly gorgeous? The way a single droplet of water runs down his cheek, how he gently strokes his damp hair back.

Wait. You squint your eyes a little harder. What is that on his forehead?

“What do you have there?”, you question, rubbing your own hand against the ride side of your forehead.

This almost looks like a scar. But Satoru shouldn’t have scars. After all, he’s able to use reversed technique, healing himself in the matter of seconds. Is it just dirt? No, that definitely looks like scar tissue.

“Oh, it’s nothing”, he immediately tries to brush you off, pulling his hair back into his face.

“No way Romeo, come back here right now”, you demand.

With a swift motion you lift yourself off the couch and hunt after him.

“Is that a scar?”

“It might be…”

“Why didn’t you just heal it? Show it to me!”

When you finally catch him, you slick his hair back again. Only to be greeted what indeed looks like a middle-sized scar. But why and how did this happen, why didn’t he just heal like he usually does?

“You really don’t know where this came from?”, he challenges you.

You blink a few times. What the hell is your husband talking about?

“Why would I know where this came from?”

“Because it was you, (y/n)?”, he playfully bites back.

You? Your mind races, searching for a single moment you ever hurt your husband. You were never really able to even hurt him, no matter how berserk you went in training. When was the last time you even wounded him? But wait, there was this one time you made him bleed, that one time when…

“This was when Yuji woke up-“

“EXACTLY!”, Satoru cries out and gives you a round of applause.

“But why did you keep it? You said you’d be able to heal it…”

“Because I didn’t want to. This scar right here”

Gently, he takes your hand in his and traces the soft scar with your fingertips.

“will always remind me of what a wonderful human being you are.”

Oh. Your eyes turn glossy in an instant, staring up at your loving husband while he gifts you with the most breath-taking smile you’ve ever seen.

“Satoru”, you breathe out.

There is no time to waste. You wrap your longing arms around his tall frame tightly, aiming to never let him go again.

“Every time I look into the mirror, I think about my wonderful wife”, he mutters into your hair.

“Y’know, you could just take a picture of me or something-“

“No. I would rather just keep that scar of my wonderful wife smacking me over a student.”

You hit him playfully over his comment, a giggle escaping your precious lips.

“Come on, it wasn’t like that…”

“I’ll always tell the story like this.”

Tags: @ploylulla @tzubaki @beatrexworld @hellkaiserinphoenix @lauv4chuuya @shadowfoxey @starlightanyaaa @sindela @kayleegomez @sunshine7queen @magalimachete @gatitam @idontknow1123 @creative1writings @sanicsmut  @mynahx3 @sad-darksoul @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix @chuyasthighs0 @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @wxwieeee  @froufrousnowman @tomiokathedepresso  @gojosrealwife  @coffeeluvr96 @mahi-tamashi @weebotaku21 @chaoticwinnercupcake @lees-chaotic-brain  @risuola  @sugurulefttesticle @wordskeeper @baku2345 @polarbvnny @ruixrei @bam-bam-bam-bame-blog @lavenderdrxp@localhehecat @alicerhr @kayleegomez @belovedvamp @wifenanami @chilichopsticks @dlwlrmas-world @oikawarz @darkstarlight82 @satoreo

Dividers by @saradika 🤍

[moonrisecoeur]

carnage — leon kennedy

author’s note: this is a secondary piece to apathy, another fic of mine!! that fic was mostly a vent fic, as i wrote it to kinda soothe myself and my own worries about how i feel as a person. however!! this fic was requested to be significantly darker and sadder, so if you don’t vibe with that, then i have good news for u !! leon and reader actually lived happily ever after in that universe!! the original intent of that fic is that the reader just has the self perception of a bad person but is actually not at all!! but this fic… is not that haha.. 

author’s note: if you see typos, no you don’t. they’re not real. this fic is... really messy. i'm kinda ashamed but i've been working on it so long that i need to just post it lol.

word count: 5.3k 

content: leon x reader, sub!leon, dom!fem!reader, angst angst angst, biting, hickieys, riding, choking, leon gets lightheaded and passes out, violent language. there's also a reference to a scene from apathy but from more of leon's recollection and memory! :)

warning: this fic is dark content, containing the topics and depictions of emotional abuse, manipulation, love-bombing ish, narcissistic reader, along with dubcon as reader doesn’t listen when leon expresses a boundary around choking. 

—

notes:

“you’re killing me here,” he says, a soft tone to his gravel-like voice. he is tired, exasperated. you are ripping him apart, stealing any sense of joy from his aching soul. he gives and gives and gives and he doesn’t know how much longer he has in him before you…  before maybe he admits that you were right. maybe you would ruin him.

you don’t know the half of it, you think. maybe i will really kill you one of these days.

—

leon is growing.. tired of you. 

not really. that’s a lie. he loves you dearly, so much that it kills him. you refuse to open up to him and he respects your boundaries. he just can’t keep begging you to let him in. he can’t do this forever. 

he’s not mad that you’re closed off, that you’re a loner and you’re introverted. he accepts you for what you are. he loves you regardless, but can’t you see this hurts him? can’t you at least make an attempt to make him feel better? pushing him away only hurts him, and why did you agree to a relationship if you knew that all you were going to do is hurt him? 

he supposes you warned him. that beautiful night that he convinced you to let him stay in your heart. he looks back at that moment, how you looked close to tears, pushing him back, telling him that you’ll ruin him and anything else you touch, and all he could think about is how badly he wanted to kiss you, to hold you close and wipe away the tears of frustration. he’s fond of that moment, when you decided to stay with him. when you said you’d take your time, move slowly, but you’d eventually let him in. he just had to be patient.

but its been months, and leon hates being wrong, but he might have been that night. 

–

leon’s always seen the good in you. he admires how gentle and sweet you are. you say it’s just a facade, and you know what? he doesn’t believe you. he knows you’re trying to protect yourself, but you’re lying. the version of you that you think is the real you is actually the facade. he knows it. he believes it, believes in you.

“i will begin to despise you if i let you in, you realize that, right?” you said to him that night, and he just shook his head, smiling. he adores you, almost amused at how you were making yourself out to be an awful monster in hopes he’d have understood that he could never fix you.

“and i will adore every moment of your resentment,” he said, and then followed it up with a whisper, under his breath, one you might not have heard, “i will let you ruin me.”

your touch is lethal, that much he’s certain of. he knows you’re not trying to hurt him, he’s convinced it's not in your nature to be intentionally cruel, “i won’t get better. i won’t change for you. this is what you’re stuck with.”

but what was he supposed to do? listen to you? heed your warning? he’s too foolish, too lovesick.

“it’s okay,” he reassures, reciprocating your harsh touch with his gentle one, fingertips making acquaintances with the way your skin feels in his grasp, the warmth of your touch. he’s starting to feel like this beautiful monster in front of him is a lot more human than she feels, “i like you as you are.”

-

leon doesn’t quite remember when you got so overbearingly possessive. maybe you were a little controlling, a little too demanding. it didn’t really make sense because anytime he tried to be possessive over you, you hated it. you certainly weren’t clingy. leon learned to control the instinct, the one that screamed in his head that you were his.  he gets it. you’re independent, not exactly into the jealous boyfriend type, sure. it only hurts his ego a little bit. 

he doesn’t really even remember when your behavior started going downhill. it was just like.. one day, he woke up, and you had left. not actually, you were just outside, but it feels symbolic somehow. he calls your name, and you don’t answer. he takes a couple steps closer, but he gets this eerie feeling he’s stepping into dangerous territory. he wonders if he should turn back, give you some time and let your soul come back to your body. 

“i don’t love you,” you said to him that day. 

it shattered him momentarily, but he knew your ways. he was aware of how you act and talk, your bluntness didn’t even surprise him anymore. he learned not to try and fight you on this stuff anymore.

that’s not true.. is what he wanted to say.

“…since when?” is what he actually ended up saying. 

you sigh, “i don’t know. i just woke up today and i realized i didn’t love you anymore.”

“do you… feel love for someone else?” he asks, but that’s not what he’s really asking. leon would never believe you if you said you cheated on him. you don’t even like people. you could count on your hand the amount of people you liked to talk to. 

leon maintains being one of them, of course. how could he believe that you made a connection with another man when you can only tolerate him? 

so, what he’s really asking is ‘do you… feel anything right now?’. sometimes emotions go away. sometimes you find yourself sitting outside in the early morning even though it’s cold and you’re shivering, wondering why you don’t love your boyfriend anymore. 

he puts his jacket over your shoulders. that feels symbolic somehow too.

it usually passes, but there’s something so final in your tone. like… for the first time, leon was worried you’re being truthful. he was worried you didn’t love him.

he had every reason to be. you used to pull away and then come right back to him, and now… you almost seem to resent him. crazy, it’s almost like you said this would happen. he hates that he was wrong about you, he hates that you were right. 

you flinch away when he touches you sometimes. your words are harsher than usual, more venomous, more lethal. you’re slipping away from him, you’re running away, and he’s begging for you to come back to him. just come back to him.

and even now, he looks at you and you aren’t the girl he fell in love with. but maybe you never changed. maybe he has just been blind. 

maybe you were exactly who you said you’d be. 

did you even want him? or would you get off anyway on taunting him?

did he mean anything to you?

-

“i am your… sculpture. your muse. i am everything you made me to be,” he says softly, one day during a vicious argument (only one of you is truly venomous), his eyes still red from the tears you made him spill, “if you do not like me, or if you don’t like what i’ve become, it is your own fault. i am only what you… did to me.”

he says pretty words that tug on your heartstrings if only to get some kind of empathy out of you. you’d normally scoff, spitting at him that he was a broken mess before you fixed him up, made him useful to somebody. 

“you act like i ruined you. like i made you worse. i did not drag you down with me. we were both broken. both disasters who just wanted to be loved,” you know you’re bullshitting just for pity points. doesn’t change the face that leon almost falters. almost gives in, lets you win. you were right, in a way. you were just being intentionally oblivious. 

“me wanting to be loved was… so much different. i wanted to be cherished and…held dear to you. you wanted a trophy that would make you feel better about yourself.”

“i am not the monster you say i am,” you scowl, finally he sees your harshness, your cruelty, and your dismissiveness in full force. how was he so blind?

“you’re right…” he says, “you… are so much worse.”

“then push me off of you, make me leave,” you groan, pinning him down like a caged animal. 

“i’m not… i..” i stutters, looking up the ceiling, “oh my god..”

“i am the only god you get to call out for,” you say as you press kisses to his collarbone, “i hold that power over you. i am your god.”

“i won’t worship you anymore,” he gasps, but his hands reach up to hold your hips, latching onto you for support and intimacy, like you are everything he’s ever needed and he despises you for it, “not what you’ve become. i can’t accept this…. version of you.”

“this is me, leon,” your voice is distant. resigned. he’s given up on you. and you’ve given up on him. 

so why do you demand his reverence so desperately? if you didn’t want him to run, why didn’t you treat him right in the first place?

“i love you, you know,” he says, tears pricking at his eyes, “i am just your design, molded to how you wanted me, but you designed me to love you… so that’s what i do.”

“i didn’t ask you to destroy yourself for me.”

“but i did anyway,” he closes his eyes, breathing ragged, “but i did and i did it because i loved you. i did it so that maybe one day you wouldn’t run away from me if i loved you too much. i.. i don’t act overbearing or clingy like i am inside because i am horrified of you leaving me. if i try too hard, if i want you too much, if am too desperate for your company… i will lose you. i can’t live with that.”

“then why do you call me worse than a monster? if you need me so badly?”

“because i..  i wanted you to destroy me and build me anew. recreate me in your image so you could have exactly what you wanted. make me exactly what you wanted!” he’s desperate for you to understand, but you never will. you don’t know desperation like he does, “i.. i just made the naive assumption that you would love your creation more than you loved what i used to be. that somehow.. if i let you ruin me, you’d finally love me.”

“i do love you,” you whisper, voice heavy with a tragedy you are all too familiar with.

“no… you don’t love anyone,” he bites, his teeth grazing his own lip like he would draw his own blood, “not even yourself. you’re incapable.”

“then it is your fault..” you say, cruelty laced into your voice, but how could you not be cruel when leon’s finally biting back? “you did this to yourself. you ruined yourself for someone you knew couldn’t love you.”

he feels broken. betrayed. how is this his fault? how could you hate him so intensely? how could you want him to suffer? do you enjoy watching him suffer? is that the only way he can make you happy anymore?

is that the only thing you want from him? his suffering? his tears?

does he give that to you? just… as one final way to make you happy? he’d ruin himself again and again to please you if you said so.

he’d give you anything.

you push him down, and he stumbles back onto the bed, looking up at you nervously. he notices the look in your eyes, the look of possession, you see him like an object or a toy. maybe he is. a trophy. you look at him like he’s something that makes you feel proud to carry around. leon kennedy. he’s a survivor, he's a killer, been through literal hell on earth. yet… your hands on him make him feel weak. he feels like he’s 21 again, on that bridge holding onto the last girl that dug her nails into his heart. 

“you’re fucking mine,” you growl in his ear, and he gasps and shudders, when did you get so close to him? you can’t put your hands on him like this, you can’t do this, his mind will go numb to the pain you cause and suddenly he’ll be held beneath you, inescapably yours. 

“you.. you need to… oh my god..” he was so close to saying it. so, so close. he tries so hard to push you away. to get you off of him. not in a way that he couldn’t stop you if he really didn’t want this. but that's just it; he’s trying to convince himself that he doesn’t want you for his own sake.

you make it so hard to hate you, truly. 

“you’re mine,” you growl in his ear, your nails digging into him like claws of a predator into its most delicious prey, “i own you. say that back to me.”

he cries like a baby, hating that he was naive enough to believe that the devil could love him, she could never love him and he could never please her enough to make her stay, “i’m yours, and.. and you own me,” he says, sniffling. he buries his head into the pillow. you push him, hold him down like he’s your captive. he might as well be. 

“and that means i own your pretty body, doesn’t it?” you smirk, god this control over him has always been addicting. you.. really own him.

“y-yeah..” 

“that means i can do whatever i want with you, doesn’t it? i can break you in every way possible, like a girl scribbling on and cutting the hair of her barbies. you don’t exist outside of me, outside of my pleasure.”

-

“fuck, you’re so hot when you’re sad..” you groan as you press kisses to his hip, and he didn’t even realize you had gotten his shirt off and his pants pulled down. he must have dissociated again. he sighs, upset but unable to will himself up to stop you.

at least you’re trying to please him, he supposes. your hands wandering all over him makes him feel alive, but he wonders if you’re imagining wrapping your hands around his throat and squeezing until he stops moving. maybe you would take a liking to killing. 

or maybe it’s just because it’s leon. leon is your weak, pathetic boyfriend that you’ll play with like a ken doll until you’re bored of him, and then you’ll either put him out of his misery or leave him to rot. maybe murder is mercy for him. the worst part is he looks just like a ken doll, blue eyes and blonde hair, except he’s a bit more broken. a bit scarred. damaged. is that why you don’t want him? he’s not perfect enough?

and then it happens. 

everything stops, his breath catches in his chest, he flinches almost like he’s surprised you still had it in you, but you kiss him. it’s not possessive and dark and commanding like he expects, like he’s begun to tolerate, but it’s you. it’s your softness, hidden underneath, that gentle lover that he misses so desperately. she’s back. she’s real again. 

you rest your forehead against his as you pull away from the kiss, leon chasing your lips briefly before remembering this is your moment, at your pace, but he’s looking up at you like you put the stars in the sky, his eyes sparkling with magic and passion and hope he hasn’t felt in a while. 

“come back to me..” he whispers gently, “i miss you.”

“i.. know,” you frown, and leon can tell you feel guilty. you are the monster in his nightmares, but you are also his guardian angel, “i told you, leon-”

“i know you did, i- i don’t want to fight with you right now,” his eyes flutter closed as you press your lips to his forehead, god he feels so cared for in moments like these.

but he knows they’re not real. he knows this version of you isn’t real, that your love is a false pretense and he is a fool for being swept off his feet by such an obvious facade. a monster that loves you is still a monster.

and leon knows it. knows that you love him, despite his insecurities and doubts. maybe it was safer or easier to ponder whether or not you loved him, to listen to you when you said you didn’t, instead of realizing that you did… just not enough.

he feels your grasp on his waist, the way your hands and mouth ravage his body. he knows you’re possessive, but it still shocks him how truly cruel you are. 

“please…” he whimpers, “be gentle with me..”

“ah, leon.. survived the apocalypse but can’t handle his girlfriend biting him a little too hard..” you chuckle, and it’s soft and you’re being sweet with him again and everything is okay. 

“don’t be like that, come on. it still hurts,” his voice is shaky, making you smile. such a sadist.

“don’t be such a baby,” you tease.

“just- okay, fine, but i don’t want any hickies or bite marks or anything. n-not anywhere visible, at least,” he stumbles when your fingertips drag across his collarbone, “please, baby. i need to hide them, my… my coworkers will get worried.”

he sees it in your eyes. mercy. begging always saved him.

“hmm… open your mouth,” you say, and he’s not even trying to follow the command, but the surprises causes his jaw to drop slightly, and you lean closer, before spitting directly into his mouth. 

your saliva tastes like your favorite flavor of gum, and leon smiles as he recollects that fact. it’s sweet of you to only do something like that to him when it wouldn’t be entirely unpleasant. maybe you didn’t think it out that far, but he likes to think you did. he wants to think you were considerate. he groans as he swallows it without even having to ask, almost sounding dehydrated, like you are his lifeline. 

your intentions, while a tad bit humiliating, are not cruel. but again, you’re showing possession. leon is yours to do whatever you please with. it’s marking your territory, in a way.

“thank you..” he shudders, hands clutching your arms, keeping you close. he’s not truly grateful, but he’s learned his place. 

“you’re welcome,” your tone is condescending, but leon’s thoughts are too far away to realize that. all he knows how to do anymore is be obedient.

a brief silence settles for a moment, as you rest atop of him, gazing at him like a predator does their next meal. 

“do you… want to fuck me now?” he asks awkwardly, cringing at how completely uncool he is. 

maybe someone else would laugh at his lack of charisma, but you just smile softly. 

“is that what you want?” in truth, he does want this. he does want you. and he prides himself on giving you whatever you want, everything, absolutely anything. it’s too bad all you know how to do is take.

he sighs, feeling heavy-hearted and drained. he can’t pinpoint why, “i love you. do whatever you want.”

you blink, and he wonders for a moment if you feel guilty again, but part of him can tell you’re not.

you narrow your eyes. he seems.. broken down by this point. honestly, ‘broken down’ might not exactly be the right wording. ‘broken in’ might be more appropriate. like a pair of boots that are only comfortable once you rough them up a little. 

it’s at that moment that he realizes the softness he saw in you just now is fading away rapidly, replaced again by the monstrous beast that is his darling lover. at least she’s familiar now. it’s his fault. you are exactly who you said you were. he should have believed you. 

he thinks this is it, that this is the last time he’ll get to have you before you leave him. you steal all of his sunshine like a parasite, robbing him of all of his life energy and taking it for yourself. the only way you can feel whole anymore is to take leon apart and use him for everything his mortal body and soul has to offer. 

he remembers being the light in your life, cheering you up when you were down. you were his moon, and he shined his light onto you like the sunlight gives way to moonlight. 

but that isn’t real anymore. you aren’t the damaged but loving person he used to know. 

“are you… going to leave after?” he asks. he’s pouting ever so slightly but he doesn’t realize it.

you just gaze at him, eyes soft but knowing, and he can’t help but crying. he tries so hard not to be clingy or ‘too much’. makes himself less and less to make you comfortable. 

“please don’t leave me,” he cries, “please, i can’t bear to think about it. my… my love, please..”

part of him feels like if he lets you leave again, you won’t ever come back.

he can’t understand why he’s so desperate for you to stay. he feels your hand around his neck as you lean in close to kiss his shoulder, you don’t squeeze but your presence is known and feared just like you like it, your other hand falling lower and lower until… 

leon can’t fathom just how wrong he was about you, about everything in general, but what hurts the most is putting the timeline together. it starts with him realizing he loved you. you realizing you loved him. the gentle, sweet months he got to spend with you. sure, you were unconventional, but he’s not the nuclear family type either. 

to him realizing you didn’t love him, actually. 

to then realizing that you did love him, but not enough to change for him. that one hurt the most.  knowing that you’ll always choose your comfort over him.

and to finally coming to terms with the fact that your love is strong and real but it is rotten, that you and your heart are corrupting him and made something tragic out of him. 

he sighs, letting it all happen. he might as well let you have what you want. he feels your hand rubbing against the fabric of his pants over his crotch, teasing him. 

he’s almost happy you’re using him one last time for sex. it’ll give him something to distract his mind from the sadness that’s creeping into his heart.

“i think… my boy needs to feel good.. so he can stop thinking sad thoughts..” your free hand pulls his sweats down and feel him up over his boxers, and he hates that he’s getting hard. that he likes this. he likes being taken by the big, bad monster.

he lets you touch him, lets you strip him down both metaphorically and physically, until he’s bare, a blank canvas ready to be ruined. he has literal scars from bites that drew blood, teeth bared into his skin like you’re trying to consume him alive. 

maybe you are.

this isn’t intimate sex between two lovers. this is carnage. this is ravaging, taking what is rightfully yours. it may not be violence in its usual form, but you are no less deadly. 

you really can’t help yourself when you have the urge to grab his throat, can you? hold his life in your hands, why don’t you?

he wants to make love to you, to hold you close like he used to, fuck you until your mind let go of its need to be in control, to be apathetic and composed and cold and just let you be the soft soul he knows is in there, fucking somewhere in there. 

instead of that, he gets something completely different. claiming. ownership. you mark your territory like an violent dog, biting and scratching and ruining him until everyone else in his life got the hint that he wasn’t allowed to play with anyone else. 

you’re violently possessive, that’s the only way he can put it. and even now, when he should be kissing you and moaning in your ear about how good you feel around his cock, how perfect you are for him, how he wants to be good for you, exactly what you want in your man, he.. can’t. 

all he can do is whine and whimper like an injured puppy. 

instead of kissing you, he’s begging for mercy. instead of making love to you, he’s lost in a daze of pain, mixed in with the pleasure of his cock buried inside of you. your teeth fucking hurt when you bite him like a damn vampire. just like the last time you were in a possessive mood, you bite him hard enough to make him bleed.

“i… i love you,” he whimpers after the fact, his voice is shaky like he’s desperate, “i love you but you’re… i don’t like it when you’re like this”

“who do you belong to?” you ask, suddenly. 

it feels unrelated, but even though leon’s eyebrows furrow at the question, he responds, like it’s an instinct, or rather more it’s a response he’s gives hundreds of times, “you. it’s.. always gonna be you.”

“… i love you too, you know. sometimes i think you don’t believe me,” rich coming from the ‘i don’t love anybody’ girl, he thinks, “but i do. i’m always gonna love you. you just don’t like the way i love you.”

“because the way you love me is killing me.”

“i’m not a killer. you asked me to let you in. this is the real me, leon. if you don’t like what you see… then don’t look.”

“i do but i-”

“you wish you were the exception to the rule. you want to be the reason i change. honestly, leon? i’ll never get better. and i told you that months ago, but you never listened. you thought you could fix me.”

“you aren’t broken,” he whispers.

“then why do you insist on changing me?” 

he scoffs, “that’s rich coming from you.” he knows you’ll get annoyed at him for his sass, but he can’t help it. you’re a violent hypocrite and he adores you, but he can’t ignore the irony of you feeling forced to change.

you tighten your grip on his neck, and he should have told you months ago but he hates being choked. brings up old memories that he’d rather not remember. he doesn’t really know why he lets you do it, why he tolerates it. maybe it’s because you seem so pleased to be in control of his life like that. he can’t afford to piss you off too much. you might like murder a little too much. 

“why do you insist on fixing me?” you ask again. loosing up your grip to let him talk.

“i… i never wanted to fix you. i just wanted you to love me. i wanted… to make you happy.”

he lets out the cutest gasp when you finally use your free hand to pull his cock free, not even bothering to pull his boxers down all the way.

“awh, you’re still so soft, baby. do you not want me?” you taunt him, and he quickly tries to reassure you, shaking his head. 

“n-no! i do! i want you, just.. just give me a second..” he stutters helplessly, but his voice gives out when you lean down to kiss his hip bone, and then your lips trail down lower and lower, adoring his thighs with the remnants of your lip gloss, “oh god…”

he’s pretty. pretty like a prey animal. 

you decide that maybe its not fair to him that he’s almost butt naked and you’re still fully clothed, so you undress too. leon appreciates that you do it to please him. 

“i… you’re so fucking pretty,” he whimpers, begging you to kiss him again. can he just pretend like you’re making love? instead of… whatever this is? 

his cock isn’t super big, so it’s not hard to fit inside, especially since he’s just barely getting hard. seeing your body was enough to get him going. he likes everything about you. every beauty mark or mole or freckle, every scar and each divot and curve, he adores you.

your smile isn’t appreciative. it is greedy. avaricious. you.. need more of him. 

“you feel… so perfect inside of me..” you groan, the grip on his neck tightening as he obediently rocks his hips up to fuck you. his hands grasp at the sheets, white knuckles displaying how tense he feels. 

a shaky, almost fearful moan escapes his throat, “please.. please don’t squeeze that hard.”

again, leon doesn’t like being choked.. so many times he’s almost been killed, and yet… you don’t seem to care. you don’t squeeze hard enough to make him pass out, but he’s getting lightheaded, so much so that you’re having to pick up the slack of bouncing on his cock since he’s unable to keep pace. he just lays there helplessly while you steal away his life.

“leon..” you tease, holding in a giggle, and trying to stir his attention, but his eyes get cloudy and he can’t focus on you, can’t look you in the eye meaningfully.

all he can respond with is a half-hearted attempt at a ‘huh?’. it’s honestly kind of cute how easily fucked out he gets. you ease up, and he breathes deeply for the first time in a couple minutes, gasping out ‘thank you’s like you just saved his life instead of almost killing him. 

“i’m sorry you got stuck with someone like me, baby,” you murmur, you’re not really sorry. tears fall down his cheeks, and you lean down to lick them up like a dog drinks her water. he cringes, disgusted at the feeling, but you own him so intrinsically.. how could he ever stop you from doing exactly what you wanted to him? this was your world. he just lived in it.

—

leon wakes up the next morning, expecting to be alone in your shared bedroom after you had left. you’re not completely awful, you clean him up and bandage any cuts after you finished with him… and leon realizes he doesn’t exactly remember anything after you choking him a little too aggressive, he must have passed out. did he cum even while unconscious? he’s almost impressed.

he doesn’t remember you leaving, just the looming thought in his mind that you will leave. there was no doubt about it.

you’re not there, clearly, and he doesn’t hear you anywhere in the bathroom or in the kitchen. the silence is deafening. 

maybe you’re on a walk to clear your head? 

maybe… you’re really gone.

but your stuff is still at home, so he thinks you might still stay. he cant decide if that’s a good thing. sure, he can’t exist without you, so codependent it’s pathetic, but… you’re not exactly good for him. maybe it’d do him some good to pull himself together and get over you. if he even can.

he loves you. helplessly. desperately. but you love his pain more than you love him. that’s the truth and there’s no denying that. you are.. exactly who you said you’d be. it’s his fault for not believing you.

[prime-adeptus]

BAD IDEA (FORGET ABOUT IT, FORGET ABOUT ME) – QUANXI X READER

It’s a bad idea. You know it is. Even fucking worse now that you realise that you’re no longer doing this for sexual pleasure. You’re doing it for her affection, even if it only comes with her hand around your throat or between your thighs. Or, the one where you’re not lovers, just strangers, and you’re fine with it. At least, that’s what you tell yourself.

CONTENT.⠀NSFW; female reader; friends with benefits, unrequited pining, angst, slight power imbalance (quanxi is mc’s superior), alcohol, mentions of medication, unhealthy relationships, hurt/no comfort, original character deaths, mentions of blood. Canon divergent, but takes place after the events of Part 1. ~6.5k words

NOTES.⠀my first fic of 2024 lets gooo baby HAPPY NEW YURI!!!! this is my contribution to my thank u, next collab :) likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated! this is the most self-indulgent I’ve ever written but I hope you enjoy regardless;;

also on ao3 | @angelshub @bitchcraftinc @enchantedforest-network @ghostqueue

You never think twice.

It runs in the family, you think. Your father was an insanely reckless devil hunter, your mother was impulsive even in the worst situations, and your brother did things just for the thrill. It’s ironic that for people with a job that relies on survival instinct, they had none at all. Impulsivity runs in your family, and there will soon come a day when it will get you killed the same way it did with them. That’s fine. Death doesn’t scare you, not anymore. He’ll come bearing his scythe when his time comes, taking your soul to where it needs to be, and you’ll let it happen when it does.

Public Safety wasn’t your first option. Being a professional devil hunter wasn’t, either. You wanted to pursue something less violent, like someone who could help improve a community’s welfare. You wanted kids to grow up better than you did. But with devils roaming the streets and the lack of the ‘strong-hearted,’ it came as no surprise that you had to give up on what you’d initially hoped. You’re still pissed about it years later in your career. The younger you wanted to help the world.

In a way, you got what you wanted. It just wasn’t the way you wanted it to happen.

You think you’re more familiar with firearms and blades than you are with flowers and crayons now. Your hands, once soft and delicate, are now scarred and calloused, stained with the blood of those you had to slay and lose in combat. Your heart, once full of hope and kindness, is now cold as ice. The innocence and joy you used to have were cruelly ripped out of your hands and crushed into pieces you can never put together again.

But you don’t have time to miss who you used to be, nor do you have the time to dream anymore. You have to survive in a world where danger lurks in every corner. You will pass the days instead of living them, letting them hurt you and bury misery deep in your bones, but you will survive, if not by sheer determination or instinct.

The drink you’re having burns your throat. Though you weren’t previously a drinker, having seen how it changed people like it did to your father, there’s nothing else you can turn to. You never liked bars either, yet here you are, sitting all by your lonesome. People change, whether it’s out of their volition or against their will. You don’t know where you fall between those categories.

The longer you stare into space, the more you tune out the world around you. You feel as though you aren’t here, but somewhere else. It’s been happening more often than you’d like—zoning out, feeling like you’re not in control of your body, vulnerable. You’re more annoyed by it than you are concerned. You’re a professional devil hunter, bound to an organisation that could dispose of you without a second thought if you fail them. There is no time for weakness. Your training and years of work have taught you that the hard way.

By the time you come back to your senses, your glass is already empty. A frown tugs at the corners of your lips. You’ve half a mind to order another shot to feel something other than perpetual numbness and exhaustion, but ultimately decide against it. Your tolerance isn’t as high as Kishibe’s is, after all. Who knows what will happen if you bite off more than you can chew? You don’t, and more importantly, you don’t want to deal with the consequences.

With a sigh, you leave the bar. The bells above the door chime as the door opens and exposes you to the winter air. A chill runs down your spine, making you shiver involuntarily. You’ve never been fond of the cold. It’s miserable, it makes you lethargic, and it’s a pain to get through without getting sick. You hate the shitty apartment you live in and the equally shitty radiator that came with it too, but this time around, you actually can’t wait to be home. You suppose there are still some things to look forward to, no matter how mundane they may be.

“Hm. Didn’t expect to see anyone out at this hour.”

You turn to see Quanxi leaning against a wall with a cigarette between her lips and the same deadpan expression you’re used to seeing her wear. Instinctively, you bow your head in greeting, though she makes no move to respond to it. Briefly you realise how you’ve never had a proper conversation with her, only good mornings here and there whenever you happen to cross paths. This is the first time she’s properly acknowledged you as something else other than one of Kishibe’s many juniors he ‘babysits,’ as he would say.

The wind blows the nicotine in your direction, causing you to grimace instinctively. In an attempt to cover it, you clear your throat and reply, “I couldn’t sleep.”

“I thought you didn’t like being out at night.”

“I don’t,” you say with a wry smile. “Why are you out at this hour, Miss Quanxi?”

“I couldn’t sleep either.” With a sigh, she pushes herself off the wall and finds her place by your side. “I’ll walk you home. I’m going in the same direction anyway.”

You have a feeling she’s not going to take no for an answer, so all you do is nod and go along with her. It puts you on edge, being so close to someone you’ve always held in high regard. It’s also strange, in a good way, to be alone with a woman like her. Up until a few moments ago, you didn’t even know she was aware of you at all. You find that you like having her beside you like this. It makes you feel safe, protected, and in a way you can’t pinpoint why, like you belong.

The apartment building looms overhead and stands among electrical lines and small stores. The lightbulb in front of the elevator flickers before it goes out, leaving the hallway too dim for your liking. Anxiety starts to bubble at the pit of your stomach. You don’t know if it’s because of the dark or if it’s because of how close she’s standing to you. As your finger hovers over the button, you glance at her and blurt out, “Would you like to come in?”

She blinks as if she wasn’t expecting you to say that. She probably wasn’t. Heat rises to your cheeks and paints them with shame. You tend to speak before you think, which has both worked in your favour and against it.

(You never learn.)

“It’s cold outside,” you try to reason. “You could come in for tea, warm up for a bit before you go. I’d feel bad if I let you leave without anything.”

“I don’t need anything from you.”

Your face burns. You should’ve thought she’d say no. You should’ve thought more. Of course, the Quanxi has no reason to stay and chat with you. She’s not the kind of person to do such a thing. She’s stoic, unapproachable, and–

“But if you insist, I’ll come in,” she says, interrupting you just before your brain is about to go into overdrive. “I could use a break anyway.”

She follows you into the cramped elevator without another word. It’s hard to keep your cool as you’re all too slowly taken up the building. With trembling hands, you unlock the door to your apartment. Your nerves are going haywire for reasons you can’t begin to fathom. You ignore them the best you can.

“Tea? Coffee?” you ask. You like to think you’re pretty good at keeping your composure, but you’re not so confident tonight. It’s fine. You’re being considerate, nothing more, so there’s no need to be so nervous. You’re just being a good host.

“Tea is fine.”

“Alright. Um, have a seat. I’ll be done in a minute.”

She takes off her shoes at the doorway before stepping into the living area, glancing around wordlessly. You hope she doesn’t mind the mess on the coffee table, even if it’s only receipts, newspapers and some blister packs you keep forgetting to throw out. Normal, mundane things. You haven’t had the time or drive to organise your place lately. You wish you did. For anything in general, really.

You’re surprised how stable your hands are this time around as you carry the tray towards where she’s sitting on the couch. She takes the mug with a barely audible thanks and you take your own. The couch isn’t small by any means. It’s old, yes, but it’s more than enough to seat two people. For some reason, it feels like it’s smaller. You’re close enough that your knees brush against each other. You try not to think about how this is the closest you’ve ever physically been to someone in years.

You almost want to scoff at that. It’s never occurred to you (or rather, you prefer not to think about it) how deprived you are of warmth and contact. Every day consists of you passively following a monotonous routine. People like you don’t get the chance to be close to someone, physically and emotionally, not when they can be taken away from you in the blink of an eye. You should be used to it by now.

You don’t think you can ever be.

“Is it okay?” Your voice is soft, hesitant. “It’s not too sweet?”

“It’s fine.”

You don’t know if Quanxi is one for small talk. You highly doubt it, but still, you find yourself chattering away. You talk about almost forgetting your keys in the morning, about how friendly your neighbours are despite their intimidating appearance, about the dog that greets you every morning and every time you come back.

Self-consciousness suddenly threatens to consume you whole when you catch how much you’ve been rambling in your flustered state. You can’t tell if she’s actually listening or if she’s only humming and nodding along so you’d stop eventually. Maybe you should.

The sudden silence makes her look at you curiously. “What’s wrong?”

“I, ah, nothing.” You shake your head. “I forgot what I was going to say.”

“You were talking about your last mission,” she offers. You’re almost disappointed that she had been listening to you. “The bodyguard one.”

You didn’t expect that.

“Right… I’m sorry, Miss Quanxi. I didn’t realise how long I’ve been keeping you here. Would you like me to see you out?”

“I don’t mind. You sound interesting.” She places the cup down and leans back against the cushions, getting herself comfortable. You aren’t sure if you should take it as a compliment or something. “And Quanxi is fine. I’m not Kishibe.”

“Of course! I’m sorry, Miss—I mean, Quanxi.”

Names have always been important to you; hers isn’t any different. But as her name rolls off your tongue, you find that you like how it feels. Familiar, like you’ve been saying it for years. In the back of your mind, you wonder if she knows your name—she hasn’t uttered it once since she spotted you outside the bar.

Somehow, that makes you sadder than you should be.

“You live alone?” she asks. Your mind goes blank for a moment. Is she interested in you? No, that can’t be. She’s just making conversation. She probably pities you for the fact that you’re the only one doing the talking.

���I do. Have been since I was seventeen,” you say, cutting off your train of thought before it gets worse. “I don’t have a girlfriend either.”

You don’t realise what you’ve blurted out until Quanxi hums curiously.

Why did you say that? Why do you say anything?

“You don’t?”

“No,” you mumble. You avert your gaze to the side, nervousness taking hold of you once more. “Are you… Interested? In me?”

When you finally look back at her, her face is only inches away from yours. You stare at her wide-eyed. A myriad of emotions swirls deep in your chest as you stutter and stammer, your lips parting then closing like a fish out of water.

“Maybe,” she answers, and the apology you were going to say dies on your tongue.

Your heart is threatening to burst out of your chest with how fast it thumps in the confines of your ribcage. Despite the winter outside, it feels hot—you feel hot, like you’re standing by a burning flame. You think you’ve short-circuited when she gently tilts your head up with her fingers and leans in to kiss you with a softness usually reserved for a lover.

And because you never think twice, you don’t hesitate to comply when she urges you to sit on her lap. Your arms wrap around her neck and it doesn’t take long before the kiss turns more heated, before you start grinding against her. Cold digits trail across your skin and crawl between your thighs, smoothly unbuttoning your trousers to reveal what they’re searching for.

Hesitantly, you pull away to catch your breath. You can hardly understand what’s happening, and maybe you don’t have to, but there’s a deep longing to hear it directly from her.

“Miss Quanxi!” Whatever you’re trying to say gets interrupted with a gasp as her fingers dip past the waistband of your panties. “What are you—”

“Helping you relax,” she replies nonchalantly. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed how tense you’ve been since we got here.”

You’re not sure you can handle seeing how attentively she’s watching your expressions right now, so you squeeze your eyes shut. It doesn’t help, not when you can feel everything at once, from her heated expression to her sinfully adept fingers.

There’s a voice in the back of your mind telling you that this is wrong, unfair, but when she brushes over a spot that has you shivering against her hand, the thought ebbs away like it was never there at all.

You don’t want her to stop.

Maybe the strange heavy feeling within your chest is just anxiety from not being in a situation like this for a long time. Maybe it’s what your classmates used to call ‘butterflies in your stomach’ because you’re with someone you admire. Reason slips out of your reach with every curl of her fingers against your walls, and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly you’re reaching the edge. The sight of her doing something to you that only lovers do to each other isn’t helping your case, either.

Her name leaves your lips in a pathetic whine. “Quanxi—”

“Let go,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against your cheek, “Let me take care of you.”

Your orgasm washes over you like the sea crashes against the shore, rendering you breathless and teary-eyed from how overwhelming everything feels. She doesn’t relent until you weakly wrap your hand around her wrist in a poor attempt to stop her from breaking you any further. She eventually pulls her hand away and brings her fingers up to your mouth, imperceptibly smiling at how you take them in without question. Seemingly satisfied, she withdraws and lets you slump against her body, tuckered out and boneless.

“Look at you,” she coos, her voice dripping with endearment. She’s probably used to saying these things and getting these reactions, and as bitter as you may feel about it, they have your heart racing nonetheless. You’re not used to praise. In your entire life, you’ve only been satisfactory, yet here she is praising you for doing nothing except surrender yourself to her. You part your lips to speak, only to be interrupted.

“Don’t worry about me.”

It’s almost worrisome how she can tell what’s on your mind so effortlessly. With a huff, you bury your face in the crook of her shoulder. You doubt you can look her in the eye without saying or doing something embarrassing.

“But…” you mumble out.

“I can take care of myself.”

You frown, though you don’t argue with the finality in her tone. Your body gradually relaxes as she runs her fingers up and down the length of your spine. It’s getting difficult to stay awake when you feel so sated, so safe. Eventually, without realising it, your blinking slows down and you start to drift off in her arms, growing blissfully unaware of the world around you.

—

You wake up in your bed dressed in yesterday’s clothes.

Quanxi must’ve carried you here before she left. Your vision slowly adjusts to the change in lighting as you look out the window by your side. It seems that people have already gotten their day started, judging from the cars moving down the road and the dogs barking in response to the disturbance they bring. You’re groggy and your thoughts are unclear, leaving you more wearied than you’d normally be. A dull ache rings in your head, growing stronger when you push yourself out of bed and trudge to the bathroom to freshen up.

Your mind feels like it’s shrouded with fog. You’re beginning to think going to the bar yesterday was a mistake. You tend not to dwell too much on the consequences of what you do, only what satisfies you in that moment. It’s a bad habit you can’t seem to get rid of. But it’s far too early to think—in fact, you’d rather not do it at all—so you clumsily grab the shower valve and let the water wash away yesterday’s events. It takes a couple of tries to find it, but you make it nonetheless. A curse escapes you at the unexpected cold that has you jolting awake against your will. You suppose you did need that rude awakening.

The word ‘mistake’ seems to echo in your mind louder and louder as you struggle to properly button up your shirt with sluggish hands. You’re pretty sure one of your socks is mismatched, but you don’t really have the energy to change them. You glance at the bottle of painkillers in your cabinet. You never quite liked taking these things even if they’re supposed to help you. You didn’t like having ‘too much’ in your system. A bit ironic, considering all the supplements and medication you’ve had in your lifetime.

Bitterly, you take them. You can’t have something so inane affect your efficiency at work.

The headquarters is already busy when you arrive. Camaraderie isn’t a thing here, so the atmosphere already feels stiff and awkward. You suppose it’s reasonable, having gone through a few losses yourself. In a world like this, you simply can’t get attached to anyone. You shouldn’t. After all, they can be ripped out of your hands, ripped apart until the only proof of their existence is their blood stained on your skin. It’s not ‘hating the world’ or ‘being unapproachable;’ it’s a way to protect the other person. In a way, it protects you too.

Your mind reels back to last night now that you’re more awake. The way she held you. The way she just knew your body like the back of her hand. The way she kissed you. Only lovers touch each other like that, your mother used to tell you, but you’re not lovers even if it felt like it. The intimate moments you shared threaten to bring tears to your eyes as they play through your mind again like a film reel. The memory of her lips against your skin, of her holding you as if you were made of porcelain. They’re likely nothing to her, but they’re everything to you.

So how are you meant to brush off something like that so easily? When you’ve never had or let anyone touch you in such a way? What is it about her that had you caving in without a second thought? What is it about her that has your emotions going into overdrive?

The coffee nearly burns your tongue and leaves behind a bitter aftertaste in your mouth. Now isn’t the time to be thinking about this. And sure, maybe the coffee wasn’t a good idea either, but what does it matter? All you have to do is work, hopefully stay alive, and come back to a boring life after a long day of saving the city. What happened last night was only a one-time thing. There’s no reason to mull over it again.

You unceremoniously toss the paper cup into the trash. Coffee was not a good idea.

The day, although surprisingly uneventful, is spent writing reports and being in the worst mood you’ve ever been in. Thankfully you didn’t need to talk to anyone, save for Kishibe who dropped by earlier to see if you were still alive.’ It was oddly kind of him to do. You’re more used to him being distant or plain merciless like he was to the chainsaw boy and the blood fiend. It’s nice to have someone look for you, think of you, even if it’s for such a grim reason.

You were tidying up for the day when your coworker approached you with a smile on her face. ‘Do you wanna come get drinks with us?’ she had asked. Seeing as you didn’t have plans for the rest of the evening—you never do—you agreed. A couple of drinks won’t hurt.

It’s not that difficult to spot your colleagues and seniors in the izakaya. It’s hard to miss them, actually, when one of them is excitedly calling your name and waving you over. They’re already drunk. You understand them, you think. You generally dislike feeling inebriated and what comes after, but with the current path you’re on, it’s the only source of comfort you have.

You grimace. You really have become your father.

The table is cluttered with beer cans and unfinished plates of snacks. Kishibe sits silently in the corner. He’s opted to bring his own drink this time around and barely acknowledges you with a glance. There are a couple other seniors you don’t recognise. With a bow that feels more perfunctory than it does respectful, you greet them and quietly slide into the booth.

Quanxi sits across from you, calm and collected like always. She doesn’t say hello to you with the same enthusiasm that her colleagues had, though she does nod and subtly raise her glass at you. Flustered, you blink, you purse your lips, and then finally you get it together and smile at her, the same way one would when seeing an old friend. Sure, that isn’t what she is, she’s just your senior, but you’d rather stay on her good side. You’ve seen how she dealt with that Hirofumi boy when they both came back last year. As attractive as you found it, you also don’t want to end up being someone she regards coldly.

You shake your head. Why are you worrying so much about what she’d think of you? All she did was acknowledge your presence. Luckily, one of your colleagues (someone you recognise, thank god) notices you and starts to ask all about your day. It’s enough to keep you busy. It’s also surprising you aren’t drained yet, considering how much more talkative they are compared to you.

“This is why I’m trying to help you out of your shell!” they playfully chide once you trail off, feeling self-conscious. “We want to get to know you better! Don’t be shy. Come on, tell me. What have you been up to?”

“I’ve been—”

Whatever phrase you were thinking of immediately goes forgotten when you feel someone’s foot brush against your ankle. You’re nearly seized with panic before you make eye contact with Quanxi and realise that it’s her doing. Somehow, it doesn’t do much to calm your racing heart. She seems so nonchalant, casually smoking her cigarette as if she isn’t threatening to make a mess of you with something so simple.

They furrow their eyebrows in concern. “You okay?”

“Y-Yeah! Sorry,” you reply sheepishly. “I’ve been… well, busy. There’s a lot of backlog I still need to catch up on.”

Quanxi doesn’t do much after that, something you’re thankful for. Perhaps she took pity on you. Tearing your gaze away from her, you turn back to your colleague with a strained smile. You hope they won’t notice how you’ve tensed up and how your smile doesn’t reach your eyes.

“W-What about you?”

It’s even more surprising that you can still speak while feeling so tongue-tied. Your conversation partner starts to chatter away, talking about everything and nothing, which you try your best to stay invested in. It makes for quite a good distraction, and Quanxi doesn’t tease you again until your colleagues begin to leave one by one. Until you’re eventually left alone with her.

You bite the inside of your cheek nervously. Her surprising you earlier could’ve been an accident, so nothing is stopping you from going home. You should go home. It’s not like she wants you to stay, right? She’s probably waiting for you to leave so she can do the same thing. You try to think of a polite way to excuse yourself, but nothing comes to mind and the words are stuck in the back of your throat.

“You’re thinking too much.”

You’re sober. Sober enough to be able to function, but not enough to notice that Quanxi has moved to sit next to you with her hand on your thigh. She leans in close to press a kiss to your neck, an invitation. A promise. You watch as her lithe fingers teasingly skim across your inner thigh, dancing dangerously close to your core. Your eyes remain on her hand, how it feels pressed against you, so warm and perfect—

“Not here,” you breathe, “H-Home.”

The night passes by in a blur. Before you know it, she has you on her bed, your cheeks flushed and your clothes torn from your body. Everything feels warmer, stronger, and you don’t know if it’s because you’re tipsy or if it’s because you’re pent up, but it doesn’t matter. You can’t think of anything, not when she keeps taking your breath away time and time again with every roll of her hips. Moans and broken syllables of her name leave your lips, doused in lust and whatever remaining modesty you have left.

Once isn’t enough for her. Your thighs are trembling as she pushes you into the blankets, keeping a tight grip on your shoulder as the sound of her thighs slapping against yours fills the room. The lewd noises leaving your body make your cheeks burn, and you wonder if she can feel how warm they are against her thighs when she finally lets you return the favour with your tongue. You’re sloppy and unpracticed, you know you are, but when she says your name and tells you that you’re so good for her, your heart soars.

Eager to please, you stay for what feels like an hour before she has you on your back and her fingers inside you once again. She doesn’t stop until you’re a teary-eyed, trembling mess beneath her. She doesn’t stop until your voice is hoarse from how loud you’ve been. Sleep comes easy to you that night; once more, you nestle close to her side and drift off, completely spent. The same way you did last night; only this time, she doesn’t hold you.

She’s gone by the time you wake up, and her taste lingers on your tongue as you leave her apartment feeling satiated but hollow.

—

You don’t know when meeting up with Quanxi just to fuck became a regular thing, but it did.

It’s a bad idea. You know it is. Even fucking worse now that you realise that you’re no longer doing this for sexual pleasure. You’re doing it for her affection, even if it only comes with her hand around your throat or between your thighs. You know it’s a bad idea when you always leave her place feeling used. Emotions have never been your strong suit—you’re not made to think, you’re made to do—but the whirlwind and the paradox have set you a few steps back. From what, you don’t know; all you know is that you can’t move on without her, without something more from her.

It bothers you how you both go back to work and act like you don’t know each other. It bothers you how she doesn’t even notice you when you happen to walk by. It bothers you how she feels so distant even though everything you’ve ever done with her has been things only lovers do. It bothers you how much you feel like you need her to satisfy you in more ways than what she’s currently doing. It’s not meant to be something serious. You’ve known that the moment she kissed you.

A distraction is all you are. A vice, like her drinks and her cigarettes and the other women. Something she has readily available to her, and because it’s Quanxi, you let it happen. You think she’s worth the turmoil in your mind. Why wouldn’t she be? She knows your body like the back of her hand, knows what you like, knows what you need. You’ll grin and bear it, accept the love she gives you on sleepless nights, and come whenever she calls.

Work has been busy enough for the past week or two. You were sent on a mission to somewhere in the south, ordered to exterminate a cluster of fiends and granted temporary leave after one of them managed to give you a nearly fatal wound. You don’t think she even knows that you were at the hospital until you had enough blood in your veins to heal again. It’s fine. Of course it is. She’s as busy as you are, if not more, and she has her own things to worry about.

You haven’t seen her in a while. Not at work, not at the bar you frequent. It harrows and relieves you at the same time because you feel her wherever you go. You walk in crowds hoping that she’ll be among them. You stay out hours after the work day ends hoping that you’ll bump into her. You keep your ears open hoping that you’ll hear something about her, or if you’re lucky enough, hear her calling your name. You don’t know how she’s woven her existence into your life this much, nor do you know what you want from her. But it’s not that necessary to put a stop to something you need, is it?

It’s fine if she doesn’t need you for anything else beyond sex. It’s fine that your love (is it even so?) goes unreciprocated. It’s fine if you feel cold in her embrace, and it’s fine that she’ll never be yours the same way you are hers. If this is a ‘bad idea,’ then you’ll make the most out of it—anything to keep you happy, anything to please her.

As long as she still knows your name, and as long as she still wants you, it’s enough.

It’s a particularly rough day when you leave an abandoned building with blood on your sleeves. You know your job isn’t done yet. There are reports you have to write, some civilians you need to check on, but you’re not confident that you can keep your impatience and anger under control. You’re tired, miserable, and you’re wondering if those pills do help you or if you’ve been lied to again. A cold shower and coffee weren’t enough to wake you this morning. The so-called soothing balm did nothing to heal the ache in your neck, and things went downhill insanely quickly. Today’s mission was the worst one you’ve ever had. You couldn’t save your partner in time. Their life was syphoned out of their body as they cried—no, begged you to help them, and all you could do was watch it happen.

The weight of your sword on your back feels heavier when you think of your failure today. A good craftsman never blames his tools. Can you say the same thing about yourself? Your weapon is an extension of you. The blade hasn’t dulled, but you have. It makes you feel even worse to know that you aren’t competent at the one thing you can do. If you were, you could’ve saved your partner, the one before that, and the others you lost along the way. Their blood will always be on your hands no matter how much you clean them. You’re quite sure there’s still a splatter on your shirt, but you are so, so tired. Stains are the least of your concerns.

The path to the bar is more familiar than it should be. You can barely register the worried and fearful glances people send you as you walk by them, exhausted and dishevelled. Hell, the bartender isn’t even shocked when you take a seat. He’s seen you more times than he can count. Not as many while you’re looking this beat up, though he takes it well enough. Wordlessly, he brings you your regular order. He doesn’t bother you again after that.

The burn barely fazes you anymore. You settle down the glass a bit harder than you should’ve, making you wince. You don’t want another thing to go wrong today. Quite frankly, you just want it all to be over, so you can retire, rest and visit the places you’ve always wanted to go to. Maybe get married, have a family, or adopt a pet. What a normal entails isn’t that known anymore. You’ll take anything at this point.

“Rough day?”

Quanxi leans on her side against the counter, running her gaze up and down your form. It should make you feel embarrassed, what with the current state you’re in, but you don’t think you can even care anymore.

You chuckle humorlessly. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

It doesn’t occur to you until moments later that this is your first time seeing her in weeks. A part of you feels relieved to know that she’s fine, she’s here, and another part of you is in disbelief that she still wants to talk to you despite the state you’re in. You can’t decide whether that’s endearing or pitiable.

“Wanna talk about it?”

You’ve already made several bad decisions, what’s another one going to do? You can drink the whole night, or you can do something that’ll make you feel good and forget for a little while. You cut to the chase, staring down into the glass. “My place or yours?”

She blinks, bewildered, then she speaks up again, “You can come to mine.”

The world doesn’t come back to you until you’re in her apartment again, already out of breath as you try to keep up with her hungry kisses. They’re addicting, borderline overwhelming, but you always crave for more, more, more. Her hands are on your hips and tonight she touches you with a gentleness that wasn’t present in your other trysts. Her touches are featherlight, treating your body like it’s made out of glass, and for some reason unknown to you, it’s more than enough to make you break into tears.

You pull her closer, your arms wrapped around her waist as you sob into her shoulder. She doesn’t say anything, only rubs soothing circles on your back and lets you cry your heart out. Conflicting feelings make their way into your heart, holding it tight within its suffocating grasp. You want her to say something, but at the same time, you don’t. You want to ignore everything, have her make you forget, but you also don’t want to.

Then you can finally breathe. Your cries turn into sniffles. Your breathing is shakier than it should be, but it gradually calms down. Her collar is stained with your tears, marked with your vulnerability, your weakness. It’s hard to speak. The silence kills you inside, breaks down every wall you’ve put up around you. You crumble before her, your nails lightly digging into her back as she gently lays you down on the bed. You’re still holding on to her when she tries to get up.

“I’ll get you some water,” she says. You think it’s the softest she’s ever sounded. Your hand lingers on hers for a moment before you reluctantly let her go, too worn out to ask or argue.

When she comes back, she crawls into her side of the bed. No words are shared as you curl up close to her. Her heartbeat steadily lulls you to sleep while she pulls you closer with her hand on your back, tucking your head beneath her chin.

And just like last time and the time before that, you wake up alone.

Your head hurts. Your body aches all over, hurting with the smallest movement, but you manage. Some water spills when you drink, which you haphazardly wipe away with the back of your hand. The clock on the wall tells you that you’re late for work, but you’re far too weary to move. Instead, you nestle deeper into the blankets, blankly staring at the nightstand as the city continues to live without you.

She didn’t leave you a note. Why would she? She’s not your lover; she doesn’t have to tell you anything. There’s a sense of urgency in the back of you should leave too. That there’s a busy day ahead of you, there are people and families you need to get in touch with, and there’s some loose ends that you need to tie up. It will get worse the longer you stall, and yet, you can’t bring yourself to care about it.

You don’t feel anything. You want to feel happy, angry, sad, anything, but you just can’t. Not when you’re on your own and the only company you have is the quiet. You don’t feel anything unless you’re in pain. You don’t feel anything unless you drink until you black out. But with Quanxi, you feel alive. With her, you don’t feel like a machine. You don’t feel like a killer, stained in the blood of those you failed to save. You’re someone she likes, at least enough to keep around for as long as she has. You’re someone she looks for when she needs you.

It’s not love. You know it isn’t. You don’t think she’ll ever love you the same way you love her. You’re not that oblivious to ignore what this truly is—pure unadulterated lust and desire, something to relieve stress whenever it arises. Days ago you cried until you had nothing left because you wanted more. Now, you just ignore it all. If it makes you feel good in the moment, makes you feel like you’re worth something, who are you to deny it?

You know you make bad decisions, ones that lead you to consequences you deal with alone like this one. You don’t care anymore. You never think twice. It’s just how you’ve always been.

You never think twice, but as the bed gets colder, you wonder if it’s about time you did.