#although they can't force him to forget anything he just remembers so...

[moonbittern]

after his rescue echo is walking around with a ton of intel on the techno union downloaded to his neural implant and the legal implications of that when the techno union is NOT an enemy organization but rather a neutral corporation that the republic does business with are uh. probably complex to say the least

[kasagia]

Losing your memory

Pairing: Young! Coriolanus Snow x fem!Capitol! reader Summary: He used to be your Coryo. Now he has become the man you don't know. The Plinth heir. The future president of Panem. You pray every day to forget about the sweet boy you fell in love with, on whom you could always count. To forget who he was and lose the memory of the past. Just like he did. Well... not exactly. Unfortunately for you, he still wants to remember you. Inspired by: "Losing your memory" by Ryan Star Word count: 7,2 k ~•♤♤♤•~ Coriolanus Snow's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~

You've been avoiding him ever since you found out he was back in the Capitol.

A month ago, this news would have aroused great joy and ecstasy in you. Your Coryo is back home. He managed to shorten his exile and gain Dr. Gaul's favour again.

But the man who returned from District 12 was not your dear friend or lover. This wasn't your sweet Coryo, with whom you walked hand in hand to school. This wasn't the boy you shared your lunch with. This wasn't a boy who cared about your well-being above his own. This wasn't a boy who joked about snobbish children spoiled by the richest people in Panem with you and Sejanus at the end of the day. (Although he talked with them, trying to keep up good appearances—he used to call that one of the responsibilities of being Snow.)

The man who came back was Coriolanus. The new Plinth heir. The shell of someone you knew. The ruthless, cold pet of the mad creator of the Hunger Games you despised.

Sejanus' death didn't hurt you as much as the transformation of Coriolanus from the person closest to you into someone you barely even recognized. And from the tearful, sad, resentful, and disappointed stories you heard from Tigris, you had an accurate picture of the man who took your Coryo's place.

And you hated him with all your heart.

Especially after what he promised you when you stayed at his apartment for one snowy winter night.

You lay wrapped in the various blankets and quilts Coryo and Tigris could find. It was winter, and they didn't have much money for additional heating, so they mostly walked around the house in several layers and slept under piles of clothes.

You didn't know about that that night.

Tigris lent him her quilt so that he wouldn't have to be ashamed of the poverty his family had fallen into since you were supposed to come to sleepover with him after the argument with your parents.

Cuddling up to your blonde boy, you tried to fall asleep, listening to his heartbeat. You frowned at the sound of it being a little faster than usual.

You lift your head and look at him carefully. His gaze is distant and thoughtful as he lazily draws patterns on your back as he presses you against his chest.

"Coryo?" you whisper, cupping his cheek in your hand tenderly and forcing those blue irises you have loved so much to look at you. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

He sighs long and presses a kiss on your forehead, the tip of his nose stroking your hair, as he is inhaling your scent. "I just... I just think about the fact that you deserve so much more. My grandma and Tigirs deserve much more than... this." he says with disgusting pointing at the room you were in.

"This..." you say, clasping your hands together and pressing a tender kiss to the back of his hand. "Is more than enough. You are all I need. And one day, when you are President of Panem or any other important figure in the Capitol, none of you will lack anything. This is a temporary state. You are too smart to be anything less than great, Coryo. You know it."

You see him hold back tears. He pushed your head onto his chest to rest his chin on your head. He is not crying. He almost never cries. But you know how close he is to it by the slight quiver in his breathing.

"I know I don't show it often enough... but you mean... everything to me. I can't imagine how I would go through these all without you by my side."

"I love you, Corio. Just promise me you won't forget this. What you went through, what you experienced. Don't forget your struggle. That's something you should never be ashamed of." he tenses at your words but leans in to kiss you passionately and hungrily. Putting all his unexpressed emotions into action and into that kiss that warmed you more than any blanket or radiator could ever.

"I promise. I will never forget how you kept me sane. When you were the only shelter I could go to and the only support that could bear the boundlessness of my troubles and doubts. How you were my only moonlight in the worst of my darknesses." you laugh softly, recognising part of his words.

"Quoting poets will get you nowhere, Coriolanus Snow." you say teasingly, rubbing your nose against him, at which he chuckles, licking his lips.

"Well... I've learned that in some situations, it gets me somewhere. And it's a very cold night tonight, don't you think? I can't let you freeze to death." he says as his hands go under your shirt—actually, his shirt that you stole from his closet.

"Well… I guess there's nothing left for me… but to place myself under your solicitous care." you sigh softly as he pins you underneath him, making sure the cocoon of blankets is still tightly wrapped around the two of you.

"I couldn't have said it better." he whispers and presses his lips against yours, stealing your breath countless times. He pulls away just a little to say against your lips, "You're mine. We belong together. No matter what."

He makes you shiver as you eagerly agree to everything he says. You don't realise how, in the future, you will curse every single intimate, sweet moment you shared with him.

Ironically, you realise how deep he has gotten under your skin the moment he returns to the Capitol, and you have to avoid him, not when he is sent into exile.

It was probably because when he was gone, you were too distraught to bother leaving your room, opening the blinds, or wiping the tears that somehow kept leaking from your eyes to notice how almost every place reminded you of him. If you could, you'd go back in time and tell yourself there's no point in crying over the asshole he's become.

Although maybe you already felt that your Corio was leaving, and it was a way of mourning him?

Anyway, you saw him everywhere. Not Coriolanus. Coryo. He stalked you in the library, the park, the cafe near the academy that you two and Sejanus liked to go to, and of course the Academy itself. Kudos to your parents for not letting him into your house. At least he didn't pollute your room with memories of him.

Involuntarily, you wonder if he also sees you, for example, in every corner of his apartment. Or maybe he renovated it beyond recognition to erase all traces of his past?

You didn't know.

And you didn't want to know.

The information about him that Tigris gave you when you met her at your house when Coriolanus was at the university for classes was sufficient.

Just because it didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean you would abandon your only real friend. And just because things didn't work out with her cousin didn't mean she would stop (more or less subtly) encouraging you to go back to him.

"We talked about you." she says, making adjustments to your dress that she made for your birthday party thrown by your parents. Another one of the unpleasant responsibilities.

"You and your grandma?" you ask, trying to avoid HIM as a topic as much as possible.

"No. Me and Coriolanus." she says, pinning something to your waist—some decorative strip of fabric or something—you're not sure; you're too focused on the window and the bustling city as you are trying to ignore her words. "You know… I think… I think I saw in his eyes… the old Coryo. For a brief moment, but… maybe if you came back to him, he would come back to himself too."

"I'm sorry, Tigris, but I think he went too far on his path to simply go back to who he was. Surely not because of me."

"I understand… I just really miss him." she says it in a soft, broken tone, and your heart breaks at it. You hug her with all your strength, uniting with her pain that you also felt so deeply.

"Me too." you whisper in her ear as she cries into your shoulder.

Tigris was a very strong woman. She always impressed you. You wanted to be as strong as her. But even the toughest had to cry sometimes.

After all, there comes a time when even the snow melts... even if only for a little while.

You held him tightly in your arms as Corio cried into your chest.

His grandmother fell ill. Hard. Without a doctor, she definitely wouldn't be able to get out of this on her own, and they didn't have the money to pay for one, let alone the medicines.

Your boyfriend spent the whole day planning, thinking, and getting any money, but it was not enough even to buy the cheapest antibiotic.

However, you didn't expect that after you found out it all from Tigris and ran to him as fast as you could with the chicken soup prepared by your servants and all your pocket money, he would start crying.

Coriolanus Snow cried like a little baby.

You handed the money and soup to Tigris, who, after feeding up their grandma, quickly ran out with her to the doctor. At that time, you were holding your boyfriend in your arms in the other room, who simply fell apart from his helplessness.

"Shh… it's going to be okay, Coryo. She will live, falsify that stupid hymn and hate me for not being enough for you just as she used to." your attempt to comfort him didn't help. If anything, he only cried more, holding onto you tighter and tighter.

"I should be able to take care of them... I should be the one taking care of you, not the other way around. I'm pathetic and weak. I'm not worthy of being called Snow."

"Hey, my sweet boy, look at me. You are strong. You are the strongest man I know. You are looking after me all the time; you literally give me everything you have, the last piece of your food, to keep me happy, safe, and full when I forget to bring a damn second breakfast from home or don't have time to eat something. You love me, and I love you, and that's how it works. We care about each other. And I have never, ever regretted being with you. Because what we have… is more valuable than anything else in this world. I trust you implicitly, and I will always be by your side. You are not alone with your problems and suffering. Not as long as I am here."

"But for how long will you stay? For how long will you endure with me?" he asks, and after one look at those a little red from crying, beautiful blue iris, you answer without a shadow of hesitation.

"As long as you love me and I can trust you. As long as I breathe. As long as I am in your mind and heart. I am not going anywhere, Coryo. Money can be earned, but what we have... you can't buy it. What I feel for you is more dear to me than any treasure in this world and I will never exchange it for anything else." you promise, stroking his hair tenderly to help him calm down.

You should've then wondered why he doesn't agree with you then. Why doesn't he say that he also feels this way and that he also values you more than money, glory, and honours?

But he blinds you by telling you for the first time that he loves you.

And you cling to him, wiping the tears from his face with your lips and foolishly believing that your love is pure and eternal.

Like a driven snow.

You knew this day would come someday. The day you let your guard down. But you hoped it would take a little longer before you came face-to-face with Coriolanus.

You are completely unprepared for this. You just freeze like a deer in headlights when you see his face at the end of one of the university's corridors as he walks forward, looking for something in his bag. Before you can even think about running away, he looks up, probably feeling watched, and his blue, icy eyes meet yours.

You both stand there transfixed, looking at each other, taking in the changes in your appearance since the last time you saw each other, which was after you broke up with him, when you saw how tenderly he treated Lucy Gray and how comfortable he was around her. And after someone politely informed you that he had kissed her.

"Y/N!" Coriolanus calls out to you and takes a step towards you, but you quickly step back and run through the crowd of people to get away from him. Unfortunately for you, he doesn't give up that easily. He never does. "Y/N! Wait!"

You have no intention of doing so. You run as fast as you can, bumping into several students along the way. You don't even bother apologising; you just run, hoping that Snow will stop being hot on your heels. Which, by the way, was a miserable dream after how fit he was after his training and the time he spent as a peacekeeper.

On the way, you notice a woman's bathroom and immediately run into it. You lock yourself in a cabin, thanking God or whoever is up that you managed to get an empty cabin and hide in it. You hear his quick footsteps and the door opening, followed by the screams of other women in the bathroom. You sigh in relief as you hear him obediently leave the room.

You're not leaving, though. You are not stupid. You know he's waiting at the door for you to come out. You decide to wait here until the end of the break between classes and hope that he will drop the idea of continuing to chase you and talk to you, and he will attend the lecture instead.

As the bathroom begins to empty, you realise that the next lectures must be soon. You stand silently on the toilet seat, listening carefully, waiting for the right moment to emerge from your miserable hiding place.

Just as you are about to reach for the doorknob, the bathroom door opens. You shiver as you hear heavy footsteps echoing off the tiles of the empty bathroom. And you think that you can smell the subtle scent of roses in the air.

"Come on, Y/N. I know you're here. I just want to talk."

Said the snake moments before eating the bird alive.—you think, mentally mocking how gentle he was trying to present himself. As if he could still be your Coryo.

"I have time. I can play hide-and-seek with you, if you want to. After all, you always liked to play this when we were kids. And you always lost."

You roll your eyes, listening carefully to his footsteps. He was opening the first cabin. You were in the middle one—the one a little closer to the door (and him).

"We'll have to talk eventually. You can't avoid me and ignore me, no matter how good you are at it lately. Let's stop this ridiculous, childish behaviour and go talk over coffee and some of your favourite cookies at the cafe near the academy. Just like the good old days. Well, this time all your orders are on me. What do you say?"

You would have snorted if it hadn't immediately revealed your hiding place to him. How dare he invite you to the place where you, he, and Sejanus spent the most time? To the place where your first unofficial date was.

He wanted to manipulate you, to make you believe that your Corio is still there and lives behind the façade of the rich, arrogant asshole he has become. But you knew better. His eyes told you everything you needed to know.

Even without Tigris' help, you realised that he... was a completely different person. He turned into somebody you only used to know in the past.

"Seriously? Still nothing? So you prefer the hard way, then..." he says, opening another cabin. You wait patiently for him to come to yours.

You breathe as quietly as you can, trying not to let him know which cabin you're in. You listen to his slow, measured steps as, with the incredible confidence and calm that is typical of him, he opens each cabin door, moving inexorably towards you.

Your heart quickens, beating madly, when you see his shoes in the whole, under the cabin's door. He reaches for the door handle, and before he can open it, you push the door against him with all your strength.

You hear him curse, taking a few steps back in a daze and holding his nose. You take the opportunity and run to the exit of the bathroom as fast as you can, not looking back.

"Fuck! Y/N! Are you insane?!" he shouts, running after you.

You reach the door just in time and slam it behind you, sprinting out of the university. You get in your car and drive away with your tyres screeching. In the rearview mirror, you see him leaving the building and following your car with a furious glare.

"I can't believe you invited Snow." you huff, fixing your makeup in the mirror. Your father is buttoning his cuffs, and your mother stands next to you, also putting the finishing touches on her appearance. "You hated him when we were together."

"He is an ambitious and clever boy. Plinth did well to make him his heir. You should reconsider whether he really is that bad. This match would have opened many doors for us. Not only among Plinth's allies but also among Dr. Gaul. God knows how she favours this boy. Who knows? Maybe one day he will be president of Panem."

"If so, I will run away abroad." you say it bitterly, putting your lipstick back in your purse and adjusting the necklace around your neck to make yourself look perfect.

"Don't be stupid. Snow wouldn't be so bad for you. Since you are our only child, we must marry you well. Make sure your husband doesn't blow our fortune in a week. And Snow is a thoughtful boy. He wouldn't let you live below the poverty line."

"And he's quite handsome." your mother adds, straightening your father's tie. "Still, he's not a womaniser. I heard he turned down the... special attention of Crane's daughter and a few other Capitol's girls. I guess he's been alone since your breakup."

"Hmm. Great. He wouldn't cheat on me with other snobs in the capital, but he would fuck with whores in the district. The perfect candidate for a husband." you scoff, walking with them to the next room, where the photographers were waiting to take a photo of you together.

“Language, Y/N. You are a lady. Besides, it is not certain whether he and this Lucy Gray actually had something between them. After all, she's a woman from the district.” your mom says this, smiling for the cameras.

The flashes blind you a little, but with your father's and mother's hands on your shoulders, you somehow manage to keep your pose, fake, pretty smile, and opened eyes.

Your father thanks them and leads you out of the room and into the corridor leading to the great hall where the ball was to be held.

"And even if he did, it's good that he had some fun. It will make him appreciate the treasure that you are and see that you are irreplaceable." he says, taking the box out of his pocket. He hands it to you with a warm smile. "Happy birthday, my treasure."

"We've already given her..." your father shushes your mother. You send them a confused look as you open the medium-sized box.

You find a tiara there. A small diamond tiara.

"It will match your dress perfectly." your father says proudly. You nod and walk to the mirror to put it on, despising the object in your hands with all your heart. You may look like a princess, but you've never felt so... disgusted with yourself before.

This feeling intensified even more when, after a toast and receiving wishes from several of your friends and more powerful families, you managed to sneak out to the balcony. Not long after you, all the single, young men of the richest family on the Capitol entered, with Coriolanus among them. They each took a cigarette and started smoking, gossiping about the events of the week…

And their topic of conversation was exactly what you were afraid of when you got that fucking tiara.

"Have you seen this? I bet they're pure diamonds. Old Y/L/N wants to marry her off so much that he's using every trick possible."

"He doesn't need to do much. She is beautiful in her own right. But this character… it's easier to train a dog than such a stubborn cow."

"What Snow? Are you now regretting that the Capitol's Diamond slipped from your hands? I heard she wants nothing to do with you. How unfortunate that it happened at the moment when you started to count in the eyes of the elite, and now you really have any chance of grabbing this precious gem for yourself."

The Capitol's Diamond. You shudder, thinking about the nickname you've been given.

That's what they called you. The sole heiress to your parents' fortune. Diamond of the Capitol, the best match in the city, with a dowry greater than any other woman. Anyone who won your hand was guaranteed to reach the top and success with your family's connections, your charm, beauty, and brain. And these vultures knew it perfectly well.

You were curious how the new Coriolanus would react.

Your Coryo only took advantage of your position in society when he had to. He didn't ask you for money or for you to convince your father to whisper a good word about him here and there. Maybe it was because of his pride; maybe he really didn't care. You have no idea. But Coryo despised that term as much as you did. You wondered if that had changed as well.

"I'm still in the game." he replies evasively, sipping his drink. The others laugh and he frowns in displeasure.

"Sure. Because the way she ran away from you today when you approached her with a gift says exactly that." they mock him. You see him clench his jaw, glaring at them coldly as he considers his next move.

"Enjoy it while you can. Your good mood will end when our cat-and-mouse game is over and the Capitol's Diamond hangs proudly on my shoulder." you huff, shaking your head in disbelief. You come out of hiding, and all the men on the balcony tense up and look at you in surprise.

Especially Coriolanus. Suddenly everyone is staring intently at the garden of your estate, too shy to look at you. Except Snow. He drills a hole into you with his gaze as he thinks of a way to undo what he said.

"Gentlemen." you scoff, walking past them and ignoring Coriolanus' glare. "For your information, I would rather live in one of the districts than marry any of you. Enjoy the party." you add sweetly, walking back to the ballroom.

The party is in full swing. You are talking to Thomas, using a sweet boy in a shameful way—to scare other men away from you. Just as you expected, they started flocking to you like flies to a fire.

So you chose the least spoiled of them. Thomas was nice and funny; you had a good time talking to him, and dancing with him was even better.

He wasn't rich; he wasn't part of the cream of society. You were really starting to enjoy spending time with him. And most importantly... he looked nothing like Coriolanus. He was nice for the eyes, but his dark hair, eyes, and sweet, shy personality made him drastically different from your ex. So he was the perfect break from your dramatic love life. Boring, nice change.

You danced to a waltz with him. He held you gently, close but respectful, not invading your personal space. He was a perfect gentleman. The man of your dreams.

If only Coriolanus' icy eyes weren't focused on both of you like a predator waiting for its prey to stumble, you would be able to enjoy Thomas' company to the fullest.

You are with him at the buffet, sipping drinks, when suddenly the last person you expected to meet here approaches you.

"Mrs. Plinth." you whisper in shock as he stands in front of you.

She looks—probably the way she feels. Nice on the outside and devastated on the inside. The dark circles under her eyes cannot be fully covered by makeup, and the deep black of her dress is a clear reminder of what she is still going through.

You can't imagine the pain he's going through right now. And you wonder why the woman decided to join her husband for your birthday party. Since Sejanus' death, she has rarely left their apartment.

"Y/N. Can I steal you from this young man for a moment?"

"Of course." you say, not even looking in Thomas' direction as you and Mrs. Plinth walk to one of the empty living rooms in your mansion. You close the door behind her and point to the couch. "Can I get you something to drink? Or to eat?"

"No. There is no need, darling. I just… I just came here to give you something." she says, pulling a thick letter out of her purse. "I… the letters from Sejanus are still reaching us. The flow of information between the districts and the Capitol is… very heavy and long. Especially when the peacekeepers are now checking every one of his correspondence. He sent it to you. Or rather, he wanted you to send it to him. Or rather, he wanted you to have it, just in case he couldn't… I'm sorry."

Your heart aches with sadness, seeing her on the verge of tears. She probably has no one to talk to about her son except her husband. After all, Sejanus was a traitor of Panem…

"He was a wonderful friend. The best one somebody could have. I could always count on him. Thank you for... taking the trouble to give me a letter from him. That... means a lot." you say, fighting the urge to hug the woman. The Capitol is not famous for acts of tenderness, mercy, or compassion. You had to keep up a facade. Always.

You take the letter from her and walk her to the exit. You give her one sympathetic look—everything you could afford in your position—and close the door behind her.

You sit on the couch and open the letter with trembling hands, trying not to look too closely at the way he wrote your name on the envelope. You know that will remind you of how you taught him how to decorate letters in his first days at the Capitol. Because everything here had to be perfectly beautiful. Even the fucking handwriting.

A bracelet falls out of the envelope and onto your lap. It is not particularly beautiful or sumptuous. It is a simple strap holding a peg-shaped pendant with some black, crushed stone placed behind a piece of glass.

You place it on the coffee table and open the letter with trembling hands. You already feel that after all this you will have to fix your makeup, which you will probably ruin with tears, but Sej's letter cannot wait until the end of the party.

Y/N, If you are somehow reading this letter, it means that I am not at your 20th birthday party, which makes me very sad. (You know how I love celebrating in your garden away from these Capitol's snobs.) Coming back, you know that I wish you all the best (along with Coryo. He's too big of a stick up his ass to write to you, even though he misses you and can't stop thinking about you. Take pity on me and write to this stubborn idiot, because I don't think I can stand another tirade about you and your perfection. Seriously. Our boy is getting mad because of this despair. I don't recognise him at all.) So, my dear friend, I wish you the best. I don't have any trinkets, interesting books, sweets, or anything suitable as a gift here, so I hope you'll be satisfied with what I came up with. I am not a poet, so don't laugh at me. I shall hear... or not. I made the bracelet, which you've probably already seen, myself. And that stone that is inside (and I hope it survived) is coal. I wanted to give this to you as a symbol of who you are to me. Everyone sees you as a diamond, something precious and beautiful. But for me and probably other people close to you, you are something more. This shiny diamond facade hides carbon. A simple coal, an ordinary soul like many others. But you made something more out of that ordinary coal. You are a diamond. Indestructible, the most durable of all. The purest form, preserved among the other gems and stones of the Capitol, because that's what all these power-hungry assholes are—coals that have decided not to change, to choose what is easy for them. I hope now you can see why I liked that nickname for you, diamond. So I hope you always stay true to yourself. No matter what. That's what I learned here, and I want to pass it on to you. Although I hope that by then the three of us will meet again in the Capitol. Do not wait for us both, Sejanus P.S. I miss you too.

You fold the letter and put it back in the envelope. You wipe away the tears that remain on your cheeks with your hands and take a few ragged breaths, trying to calm down.

You freeze when suddenly someone's arms wrap around you. The scent of roses hits your nostrils.

You get up from the couch like you've been burned and push Coriolanus' arms away from you. The feeling of sadness quickly turns to anger and pure fury as you stare at Snow.

"What the hell are you doing here?" you growl through a clenched jaw, extremely glad that there's a couch between you, or you'd hit him. And it was easier for you to explain your tears and smeared makeup than your red knuckles.

"Sweet, kind Plinth, giving you thoughtful gifts from beyond the grave. You love the dead Sejanus so much and ignore the living me. It must be hypocrisy on your part, don't you think? You accuse me of forgetting about Sejanus when you treat me so shamefully, worse than a dog. Should I die so that you can finally stop giving me the silent treatment and running away from me?"

"Believe me, you don't want to hear what I have to say to you." you huff, taking the bracelet and the letter. You hide them in the bodice of your dress and go to the mirror to fix your smudged makeup.

"You do not have to do that. Your boy isn't at the party anymore anyway." he says, standing so that you can see his reflection in the mirror.

"What?" you ask in surprise, turning to face him. You both stare at each other. In fact, you're only now getting a chance to take a good look at him. And you notice with dissatisfaction that the bastard found out from Tigris what your dress would look like, and he chose a suite so that both of you would match. "Where is Thomas?"

"Your little boy toy? Do you think he's enough of a distraction? That he can replace me? That he'll make you feel what I feel? Maby, that he can even protect you from me? Only I know you. I'm the only one worthy of your fucking attention and affection." you push past him, but he grabs your elbow.

"Touch me again and I'll cut off your hand and shove it down your throat." you growl, breaking away from his grip.

"Such aggression… I don't remember you from this side." he mocks you and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. You step away from him and cross your arms, staring at him defiantly.

"I will ask you one last time. Where is Thomas?"

"Let's just say that your mother and I caught him stealing your jewelry. We were merciful enough to solve the matter quietly. You will never see that garbage on the ball or any gala again. Certainly not on yours."

"Were you the one who framed him for this?" his silence and the calculating, self-proud look of the cat that caught the canary (or, in this case, the snake that choked the mouse) tell you everything. "What the fuck is wrong with you?!" you ask furiously.

You want to move past him, but he pushes you back, making you bump into the wall. He closes the gap between you in one step, pressing his chest against yours.

"You're mine. You've always been. You shouldn't lead this loser on or give him false hopes. We both know we will end up together."

"I broke up with you." you remind him, not caring about his intimidating attitude.

"A mistake I intend to fix." he says, leaning towards you.

His nose brushes against yours, and you shiver. You lift your leg, trying to kick him in the groyne, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees your sudden movement and grabs your thigh in a tight grip. If it weren't for the thick layers of material, he would probably leave bruises.

"You... you have nothing to fix. There is no longer us. I don't even know you anymore, Coriolanus."

"Don't." he growls at you angrily. You can see the desperation and madness in his eyes at the fact that you're using his name and that you wrote off your relationship. "It was always you. You were always mine, Y/N, and I was always your Coryo."

"Things are changing quickly. We are not the same, and now we have nothing in common, nothing to talk about."

"We have EVRYTHING to talk about. I still love.."

"DON'T!" you interrupt him. He freezes. You rarely shout, especially at him. That's why he takes a step back before putting on his impassive mask again. "Don't even say that. You have no idea what love is. Sure, you may feel attached and even desire me at some point, but you have no idea of unconditional, true love. So for old time's sake, leave me alone."

"What about you? Do you think you are so holy and blameless? That I'm the only bad guy? You lied to me. You promised you would stay with me, no matter what."

"I promised it to my Coryo. Not to you, Coriolanus. My Coryo died in District 12 with Sejanus—maybe even in the Hunger Games—when you let Dr. Gaul brainwash you in the name of fame, money, and position. You think that old hag didn't tell me why Sejanus is dead? That I don't know that your songbird has disappeared? That I would believe that Highbottom just got high or drank himself to death?" he clenches his jaw and fists at your words. You can see how furious he is, but he holds back, still controlling himself.

"Everything I did, I did for us. For you. For Tigris and Grandma." you laugh, wondering who he's trying to fool—himself, you, or both of you at the same time.

"No. You're doing it for yourself. Only for yourself, Coriolanus." he gets even more angry and pins you to the wall again. His cool blue eyes are raging with rage, and you try hard to push away the feeling of fear he has stirred in you.

"Do you want a reason to hate me? So you and Tigris can still gossip about my madness? Then maybe I should let this old man pursue her and sell her as a wife to one of them for good money."

"KEEP HER OUT OF IT! It's Tigris, Coriolanus! Tigris! The woman whose sacrifice you owe your entire fucking life to! A woman who went out of her way to give your ungrateful, selfish ass something to wear. Who sacrificed the love of her life in the name of maintaining the façade of Snow's wealth?! You can give a damn about me, Sejan, and even that little songbird of yours, but if you fucking ruin the life of your cousin—the only goddamn person who still cares about you—I promise you, in memory of OUR dead friend, that there won't be a fucking hole where you could hide from me."

You stare daggers at each other, both openly expressing your resentment towards the other. You have no idea why he still cares about you—is it because of your money, position, or some sick fantasy he has in his head, or maybe he actually still cares about you?

You don't think about it when a more important issue arises.

Suddenly, he grabs your face in both hands and pulls you towards him, greedily kissing you as he connects your lips after a very long time of separation. He caresses your lips with his and kisses you with such fervour as if he craves you like a hermit starving for water.

And for a moment, you feel like you were with Coryo, when all that mattered to you was the other one, when you could get lost in each other, forgetting about the rest of the world and the worries that were waiting for you.

And that's exactly what he's doing now. He makes you forget about anything but him.

You can't help but moan into his mouth as he presses his body against yours. When he releases his strong grip on your cheeks to grab you around your waist and press you against his body, his leg is between yours.

He kisses you more hungrily, groaning too at the familiar warmth of your body against him and the feeling of your soft, silky skin pressing against him. The scent of your perfume mixes, creating a perfect combination of roses and your favourite flowers. Your hands automatically go to his hair as you hold on to him and press him to you. You don't like the gel on your hands from his hair, but you ignore this new, irritating feeling by biting his lip.

You don't think at all. As well as Coriolanus. You both just kiss each other, your tongues joining, as you both let your desire for one another take control of the situation.

You only come to your senses when your lips break apart. You gasp, trying to breathe again, as he fucks your exposed collarbones with kisses. Your brain comes back to you as he leaves a hickey on your neck. He bites you, making you moan so needily that a wave of shame washes over you with his tongue, soothing the bite. You push him away from you and place your hand on your chest, trying to regain control over yourself.

"See? We belong together. There is no other way, Y/N. We are all we need."

"Bullshit." you gasp, trying to ignore the possessive, smug feeling blooming in your chest when you see his messy hair and your lipstick smeared on his lips. "Since you are that good in losing your memory, then forget about me too."

"I can't. I just can't. You think I haven't tried? That you don't haunt me every damn step I take? Everything I have and everything I know is saturated with you. With the memory of both of us. I forgot about what I had with that songbird and my friendship with Sejanus, but I simply CAN'T forget about you. I haven't spent a single damn day without thinking about you. NOT EVEN ONE. And I know you felt the same way. Do you know why I didn't kill that stupid boy who was clinging to you? Because I knew it would make you hate me even more. I was alone without you at 12, and you know how it ended. You are my conscience. Without you... there's nothing holding me back. Without you, there is nothing to distinguish me from the Hunger Games tributes. I have no borders, mercy, compassion, or anything that makes people human beings. And Gaul knows it. That's why she told you all of my crimes; that's why you're paranoid now that I'm someone completely different. But it's still me. I. Am. Still. Your. Coryo." he says it firmly, taking a step closer to you with each word.

"Don't turn me into a fucking cricket for your Pinocchio. I am not, and I do not want to be your conscience. I will not take part in your lies, games, and manipulations." you say as you both stare at each other, neither of you wanting to concede to the other in any way.

"I will have you. One way or another, but I will. Even if it is the last thing I do, I will have you by my side. Just where you always belonged. I promised you to be my First Lady. And I intend to keep that promise."

"You must become president first. And believe me, I will do everything in my power to prevent that from happening. Maybe you can't forget about me. But I can. I do not need you. I never needed you. How ironic to be able to lose the memories of everyone except the girl who will be the end of you, isn't it, CORIOLANUS?" you mock him, a smirk on your lips, making him a promise.

You walk past him, and this time he lets you go, knowing full well that he won't do anything more with you today. At least he got his kiss and a little taste of you, a reminder of the reward that awaits him when everything finally falls into place. When he finally has you in his arms and is at the top of Panem—his rightful place.

"The game has just begun!" he shouts after you, staring at you as you head towards the bathroom to touch up your ruined makeup. It gives you satisfaction to think that this bastard will probably have to clean himself up after your little make-out session, too.

You think that maybe Gaul was right about the Hunger Games being the whole world. But the reality was that there could only be ONE winner.

And among the people of the Capitol, only you and Coriolanus had a real chance of winning. It has always been like that. And even lost memories that do not want to go away so easily are proof of this.

Part 2

[amarmoria]

Nepenthe

꩜.ᐟ Qimir x Padawan! Reader

Why would your master want a padawan like you when he has his acolyte?

Notes: I've seen fics abt padawan reader and none can quench my thirst eugh😫pls note i have nooo idea what goes on in the star wars universe please don't come for me😣

"Hand me that one, fast" He gestured to the purple fruit just beside you, not daring to glance at you. "Yes, sir"

You curiously peeked over your master as you handed the fruit, what was so important it had him rushing like this?

"It's for Mae," he says, the squelching fruit making you frown, you forget he reads minds as easily as breathing. Your frown deepens as you remember. Mae. His acolyte, he took you in a few months before Mae came, that first few months felt like heaven, it was just you and him, in this unknown planet, training, practicing.

Yet, after Mae came, it almost felt like you were some kind of servant for the both of them, he trained with her day and night, leaving you to fend for yourself, he told you it's because you've already been trained by him, that you don't need to anymore, you didn't mind, you got along with Mae... on your perspective that is.

Mae was a fast learner, you were proud of her, now you have someone to share your training with, converse like a normal person, but later you realized that him and her were two sides of the same coin, quiet, mute, they don't like conversations, although you made an effort to be friends with Mae, than you ever did with your master since she was the lesser evil, you're quite proud of yourself when your conversations with her turned from smalls nods and no's to simple phrases.

You didn't care that your master had two Padawans under his belt, that is until he taught her some things he never even told you about, every now and then he would drop hints about what he would teach you next, to prepare you, but this one was unknown to you, you thought, maybe, maybe he forgot to tell you since he was so engrossed in trying to make Mae catch up to you, but Mae didn't just catch up to you, she had already passed way above you, while your stuck on the pedestal she was weeks ago.

"Something on your mind, little bee?" That nickname, he never once gave an explanation on why he calls you that. "No, uh, nothing.. master"

You focus on his muscles grinding the stone bowl.

"I don't think that's nothing"

"I'm fine, really." You bite the inside of your cheeks. "Hm"

You blink, fiddling with the hem of your robes, you let a few seconds pass before speaking up.

"Why.. why does Mae need it?" He halted his movements, and right then and there you almost regretted asking, almost. "She's having nightmares"

He resumed his cooking, although his brief answer didn't provide you with anything, so what? You were having nightmares once too, and he told you to suck it up.

And as if he read your mind, which he did. "I don't want it to hinder her performance, we don't want any distractions during this time of her training."

What about my training? You wanted to yell at him, what about me? Why can't you make me one of your anti-nightmare potions too?

You could only clench your fists, making sure he doesn't hear some of your thoughts, which is hard considering he didn't teach you to, only Mae, along with healing your body by using the force, all her, and your left in the dust.

Your master said using negative emotions is the best fuel for people like them. Them. He told you, him and Mae obvi, you're nowhere near the equation, like an addition symbol in a multiplication question, makes no sense right? Because you make no sense being there when he clearly prioritizes Mae.

"—are you still listening?"

"I, huh," your eyes flutter up to him, frowning when he says nothing but look at you. A few seconds pass with only the both of you staring each other down, I mean, him staring you down with his creepy mask, he suddenly lets go of the pestle, the tool colliding with the mortar loudly.

He was now towering over you, and you realize then how big he was compared to you, it's like a dwarf next to a willow tree. (Guys no matter how big you think you are, Qimir is always bigger✋)

"I can't hear you, but I feel you" oh fuck, you forgot about that. "What is this plaguing your mind?"

Before you could answer, Mae comes running.

"You're back" He focuses on her, you let out a deep breath, for once your relieved Mae came in just a nick of time. "The ship's ready, master"

"Good, let's go" he grabs his robe from behind you. "Finish the potion before we come back"

"Whe, where are you guys going?"

"Nothing of importance, now go." He gestures to the stone bowl, his menacing helmet buzzing in your ears. "Yes, master.."

"Good girl." you couldn't hear his last few mumbles, only registering everything when they left the cave, leaving you alone.

-

You decided that you're gonna make an anti-nightmare potion for yourself too, because why does only Mae get it when you can make one in case you get nightmares?

And the best place to buy ingredients was with the best apothecary in town.

"Qimir?" You knock on the door. "I need to buy things for him, are you there?"

No answer.

"Hellooo?"

You pouted and turned around, now everyone's busy when you're not, you wanted to wait for a few more seconds but people might think you're crazy for trying to buy from an abandoned pharmacy, your master told you Qimir was there anytime you needed something to use for missions, but now that you don't go to missions, you love to annoy the clumsy pharmacy owner.

"Hey, wait!"

You tried to stop the smile creeping to your face when you hear the door bust open.

"I'm here!" He yelled, you turned around and waved, a big smile covering your face. "What took you so long?"

"What do you mean?" He playfully shrugged. "Been here since forever"

You felt more comfortable with him, you don't have to have to tiptoe around him unlike with the other, you liked to tease him about not taking a bath and for looking like a ragged hobo.

"What are you doing here though?" His eyebrows furrowed as you skip to him, you gave him a warm smile once again before making your way inside. "I need some things for him."

He frowned.

"Things? He didn't tell me he needed anything when they passed here."

"Well he told me, so go fetch it for me, servant" you chuckle and hit him on the bicep, he fakes a cry before hesitating to open the shelves.

"Here's the list of his majesty needs"

"His majesty?" He laughs, you just love making him laugh, maybe it's just you, or maybe you're just alone, but if there's anyone in the world you're going to survive an apocalypse with, it's Qimir.

"Uh huh, he keeps barking orders, finish this, finish that before we get home nyeh nyeh nyeh"

He chuckles once again. "Are you sure about telling me that? I might just snitch and get a promotion."

You feign an insulted look. "You don't dare"

"Oh but I do"

You both sat there laughing, forgetting about what you were here for. You clutch your tummy and struggle to inhale air.

"I can't— stop—" you burst out laughing once again, your face heating up, the tears in your eyes now brimming full.

"No no don't die on me" He jokes, you can see him staring, you wanted to look at him like that, shameless, but you can't stand looking at him for more than 3 seconds without blushing.

"Really?" He mumbles, but you heard him, clear as day. "What?"

"I, I mean, really h-huh? You can't stop laughing?" He waved both his hands in the air.

"You weirdo"

"Oh so now I'm the weirdo?"

"Uh huh"

"Since when?!"

"Since we met"

"Says the person who keeps barging in my shop"

"You like it though right?" You look up at him expectantly. "Like w-what?"

You gesture with your hands. "This?"

"This what?"

"You're always alone here, you must be grateful that I always visit."

"Yeah, always"

"What does that mean!" You put your hands on your waist. "It means you're always here, so you're like an everyday occurance by now"

You roll your eyes as he finishes up the list.

"Here's the last one—" you frown as he pauses. "What?"

"Isn't this," he picks up the list again. "It's for.."

You gulp, your fingers fumble with the wooden seat.

"N-no, no, it's not" you avert your eyes from him, the floor looking a little more interesting today.

"It's for nightmares isn't it?"

"I don't know, he only gave the list, nothing else."

"It is for nightmares, why do you need these?"

"I don't know, it's not for me." You clench your fists. "If it was for him he'd tell me himself"

Your eyes try to find something, anything, to tell him.

"I think it's for Mae okay? Maybe, maybe she's having nightmares and, and maybe he doesn't want it to distract her.."

"But I al—" he pauses, his jaw flexing. "I already gave him these."

His eyes narrow on you, like a deer in the headlights you could only look away.

"Tell me?" His soft voice lures you to him. "Are you having them?"

"No.." you sigh, do you tell him you're making the potion out of spite for your master? For making one for Mae and not for you, ugh it all sounds childish now, before you left you had a plan, and now you look like a child caught.

"Just—" you let out a deep breath. "Give it, and I'll be on my way"

He stares at you for a moment, before placing everything in a small pouch. You thanked him and left the credits on the table before hurriedly leaving, you could still feel his stare at the back of your head.

[skyahri]

Soul |Ryomen Sukuna X Reader| HC

Summary: Sukuna meets the reincarnation of the only person he's ever loved.

Warnings: Implications of sex? Female pronouns. Reincarnation. Fear and anxiety.

- - - - -

"Rin..."

It came out like word vomit before Yuuji could even process what he was saying.

You looked at him, confused. Your name wasn't Rin and you'd never met this man before. Who did he think you were?

He slapped a hand over his mouth. Sukuna had forced his way to the surface just to ramble out a name? In all these years as his vessel, he'd never done something so trivial.

Sensing the flicker of cursed energy, Gojo, Megumi, and Nobara prepared themselves. It'd been a while since Sukuna had tried anything. Some sort of pact he'd formed with Yuuji kept him mostly content, although they weren't sure what it entailed.

It happened in the blink of an eye; Sukuna had taken over and stood directly in front of you, one hand flat on your chest and the other on your face.

"Rin... I could never forget the feel of your soul."

Your heartbeat fastened. An overwhelming feeling of fear fell onto you, rendering you unable to move.

What would you be able to do anyway? He's a God, and you had no abilities outside of actually seeing the damn things.

You had no idea what he was talking about. Your name isn't Rin and you'd never had any kind of encounter with either men until just now.

Megumi tried to move forward, but Gojo stuck an arm out in front of him. Something was off about the way Sukuna was acting, and he didn't think it was threatening.

It would be best to see how this played out instead of possibly starting a war that was never meant to begin in the first place.

"What are you doing? We can't let her-"

"Hold on."

They watched as Sukuna looked you up and down, inspecting your robes, hair, and face with a certain softness. His face was still hard and his movements still confident, but there was just that feeling.

"You look so different, but thats to be expected. Are you fairing well?"

You swallowed hard. His delicate touch did nothing to soothe your nerves. If anything, it only confused you more. He was tucking your hair behind your ear, giving you some sort of smile, and yet you feared he was going to rip your heart right out of your body.

"Um..."

Really, how were you supposed to respond? What sort of answer was he expecting? What were the consequences if you were to answer incorrectly?

Were you meant to comment on how you supposedly looked different? Was it your features? Your clothes? Your haircut?

"I'm scared."

Sukuna paused. You were horrified to have answered wrong, and now you could only hope he wouldn't kill you.

But he did something unexpected; he laughed. A thick, hardy chuckle that made your blood run cold.

Was this the end? How pitiful. Slain on a random Tuesday afternoon all because you wanted to meet up with an old friend. That's not a proper death.

"A thousand years and countless reincarnations, yet you still know how to make me laugh."

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to your forehead. You only had a moment to panic before a lifetime of memories filled your mind.

You remember the time before modern civilization when you relied on hunting in the woods and crops from the neighbor's farm.

You remembered your parents, siblings, friends, and other villagers. You remember your home on the outskirts of town just against the forest line.

But most importantly, you remember Sukuna.

You remember meeting him as a human, and then several years later as a curse. You faced off against him, and although you couldn't beat him in the end, you'd come close enough to earn his respect.

He stood above you, two arms crossed, one on his hip, and the other outstretched to offer you a hand up.

Who were you to refuse such a gesture from the king of curses?

He allowed you to join his temple alongside other followers of his with the condition you devoted yourself to him entirely. The offer was presented as a choice, but the alternative was death, so any reservations you had were null.

You wanted to go with him anyway, but that's beside the point.

From the very beginning of your journey with him, it was made clear to everyone that you were 'special' and not to be bothered.

This fact didn't hold up too well with some of the others, but what were they to do about it? Argue with Sukuna? Tell him they were more deserving of his attention? How pathetic.

He allowed you privileges that would only ever be known to you, like dining with him or joining him on trips. These small pleasantries became grand ones, like sharing his bed and allowing him to claim you.

Your relationship was equal from then on. You were not just a follower of his anymore. He was just as devoted to you as you are to him, and he ensured you knew it.

He'd always make sure to tell you how special you were, that he was taking his time with you and granting you pleasure. How you were his favorite, and no one else could even compare. How others had not been so lucky in the past.

He'd escort you to and from the hot springs, have humans bring you flowers and jewelry, and allow you to see the most vulnerable aspects of him.

He promised his love for you would never die, and here he is a millennia later proving true to his words.

Once the unrelenting onslaught of memories subsided, your hands met his- one still on your chest feeling your heartbeat, and the other slid partway into your hair- and all you could do was appreciate his presence.

You stared up at him. His face was different, but that intense look in his eyes was all the proof you needed that he was still the same man from all those years ago.

Tears beaded up in your eyes and quickly dripped down your cheeks. Crying had never been your thing in the past, but you didn't care to stuff the feelings down. Such a reunion was an occasion enough.

"My love," you whispered.

He leaned his forehead down to meet yours.

"My Queen."

[perictione00]

She's a Man-eater

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x reader

Warnings: MDNI, sub! gojo satoru, dom! reader, smut, degradation, heavy edging and overstimulation, cock stepping, choking, age difference(7-years, reader is older), oral sex, sounding, riding, unprotected sex.

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

"Hngh...please...I need you", his desperation was so satisfying. He looked so beautiful crawling towards you, naked, with a collar on his neck with your name engraved on it.

"But we had a deal, no? You cum five times and I'll treat you", you coo. Breaking someone's body has become your new favorite hobby. To get them so high that normal never works for them. That they come crawling back to you.

"Haah...ngh...mmf...I can't anymore, please." You understand now why men like to oppress women. Power is a fucking drug, and controlling someone stimulates it.

"Then I'm afraid I can't help you, Satoru", you said, sounding disappointed, causing him to start stroking his already twitching cock. With his head thrown back, sweat beads covered his flushed face as he continued jerking himself off, moaning wildly, until he came for the fifth time in the same night.

What a sight. So strong yet so fragile—such a complaint one. Easy to mold and easy to manipulate. Watery blue eyes stared at you with hope. He was such a good pet. He deserved a reward for his hard work. So you took off your very wet panties and threw them to the other side of the room.

"Good boy, now go fetch."

Without wasting a second, Satoru fetched your panties on all fours. Sniffing it, he lapped on it and drooled at your taste. You watched him as he buried his face in your panties and continued groaning loudly. His hips bucked up instinctively, fucking into nothingness to seek any sort of friction to calm his now-hardening dick.

"More...I want more", Satoru begged as he moved towards your lap.

"Yeah? Tell me, will you do anything for me?", you questioned affectionately as you slid your hands and ruffled his disheveled hair.

"Ya...yes, anything. I can d-do any and everything for you", he answered, sounding breathless.

Yanking him back by the hair, you opened your legs and forced his face into your pussy. While he sucked on your clit, you noticed how he kept glancing at your moaning form. It was obvious that he wanted to feel validated by pleasing you. The poor thing was in love with you; the least you could do was grind on his face and use him. So you used his nose to gain some roughness and pulled on his hair as his tongue slurped on your wetness. Getting suffocated by your thighs drove Satoru to the brink, and his sensitive cock leaked for the sixth time. But he was so drunk on you. So much so that he couldn't stop and kept fucking your hole till you came.

"If you do it right, I'll reward you with a truffle cake", you declared to a ten-year-old who was being more annoying than usual. Gojo Satoru was the new big thing in the Jujutsu world, and although he was just a child, he was already much better than most of the second-grade sorcerers. And since he was destined to be the strongest, a majority of his time was consumed in practicing, and that too with well-versed sorcerers like yourself.

"Liar. You said that the last time too and didn't bring me any", the lil guy yelled as he continued pouting.

"That was because you literally announced it to the whole house. You think anyone here would lemme feed you, a child, a whole cake?", you retorted, closing the distance between you.

"I'm not a child. I defeated two of your classmates, remember", he scoffed.

"God, I don't have time for this. Listen, Satoru, if you don't do this, forget the cake; I'm never bringing anything for you, and then you can have a great time practicing with Daddy too", you were sure this threat was enough to keep him in check. It was your favorite weapon against him. And when you saw his frowning form turning back to practice, you knew it had hit the right mark.

Gojo had developed a sweet tooth early on because of your constant rewards after practice sessions. It was easier. Satoru already knew well that he was stronger than an average person; hence, with all his sass, he avoided training, even with you. If it was up to him, he would only play with you. So you introduced him to the world of sweets, and the rest is history. Growing up with Satoru, you knew your ways with him. To you, rather than a little brother that you never asked for, he was more like an asset who was the key to your goal. It worked out well. He became the ace up your sleeve, and you became his favorite company.

Coming from a non-sorcerer family, at the age of 6, you immediately piqued the interests of many families with your unexpectedly strong cursed technique, one of them being the Gojo clan. Initially, people thought it was for the sake of marrying you off to someone within the clan, but it surprised everyone when the head of the clan announced his goal of sponsoring your education until you were an adult. What seemed like a random play turned out to be a well-thought-out scheme to have stronger allies. For several hundred years, no one in the Gojo family had inherited both the six eyes and the limitless techniques, portraying the clan as weaker among the Big three families, so it was better to have an active margin to keep the center intact. That was the reason why you grew up learning from the best of the best and became a first-grade sorcerer by the age of 14. Which was why you ended up training the future of the clan. Or maybe the real deal was that the insolent brat wouldn't practice with anyone other than you.

Before his birth, you were the apple of everyone's eye, including all the servants and his father. It all changed, though—after his birth, that is. From the moment Gojo Satoru was born, his mere existence was celebrated; he was treated like a king, but you, on the other hand, were neglected. Oh, how the mighty had fallen. You were a child. With all the attention that you desperately craved, snatched away so suddenly, you couldn't help but feel jealous and envy the blue-eyed devil who had hypnotized every sane adult in the clan. You were there first, then why were you not as loved as he was? He was such a burden, a crybaby who couldn't fend for himself and had to be under surveillance at all times. You were forced to be by his side to keep track of his needs, which made you more hostile towards him. Fortunately, you warmed up to him as time went on. The hostility melted into care as you looked after the little demon who was always following you, crawling on all fours, when he always cried in your absence, and when instead of gibberish, his first words turned out to be your name.

The jujutsu world is cruel, and it's worse if you're a woman. The pathetic mentality of a few old geezers was enough to drive out women from this field. With the misconduct of power, the status of women was intentionally devalued through a sequence of meaningless regulations. For something so basic, women had to prove themselves worth it in order to be given the same treatment and respect as any other man. Women were associated with childrearing and bearing. And if they somehow turned out to be more than what was expected of them, the scope of their development is reduced. You learned it a little too late.

"Don't be greedy now. Grade 1 is as far as you go. I'm sure the clan backing you up wouldn't like that either. You're 15, right? A looker that's for sure. Ripe age. About time you start getting marriage offers, no?"

"If only you didn't have a mouth on you. Well, I'm sure I can fuck it out of you."

"Special grade!? Even if all of us in the room used you, there's no chance you're ever getting there."

"Give up on that impossible dream of yours. Isn't it too much for you to carry on as a grade 1 anyways?"

"Don't make me laugh."

"All I see is a hole inviting me to fuck. Come on, lemme help you discover all you're good for."

"Grade 1? Who did you fuck to get there? The clan head? Are the rumors true? I've heard he has a thing for young girls. I can see why he would give in to you, though."

That's how it was and will always be. In a world dominated by men, you will never be able to achieve what your heart longs for. You will never be the strongest. You will have to act according to their will and listen to the crap that comes out of their mouths. It was not fair. You were dragged into this world without consent, and now that you finally accept reality and try to be something more, they tell you that it was never possible. Hypocrites. You were not a slave. If you were being objectified by a bunch of old men, you might as well use them to get what you want. You can give them a sense of control and suck them dry of their powers. Use them until they serve your desires, and throw them away the moment you're done. It is okay if you can't be the strongest; you can always be with the strongest.

Gojo Satoru was the strongest sorcerer. He could have anything he wished for, yet he couldn't have you. On his 7th birthday, he declared in front of all the maids that he'd marry you and have about a hundred kids with you. His confession was met with a few chuckles and pity, but he was sure of his resolve. On the same day, you skipped practice sessions to meet with some dirt from your class and wished him a happy birthday minutes before his birthday ended. Let's just say that an angry Satoru melted from your apology, which consisted of a customized Digimon watch, his favorite pastries, and a peck to his cheek.

To him, you were the prettiest girl. And age was just a number. He just needed to grow up faster and be taller to be with you. You were the only one who treated him like a normal human. And the only one who genuinely wished the best for him and cared for him without any malicious or hidden intention. However, nothing had prepared him for your exit from the household on your eighteenth birthday. He was dumbfounded when you told him the same. He remembers crying and begging you to stay with him—not that it changed your decision, but you did promise to meet him every week, which was not enough for him.

Time went by, and Gojo Satoru realized that he wanted you all for himself. You were famous not only for your capabilities and beauty but also for your infamous relationships. He recalls how one of the Zenin clan men fell head over heels for you and took his own life because he couldn't have you. He also recalls how a senior representative of the Kamo clan went crazy after you left him and the stories of countless men who were doomed to the same fate. You were magical, and those low lives weren't your equals. Of course, you wouldn't settle for them; you were way too good for them. That's why he wants to become strong and be of any worth to you.

You came back to the house once, after 5 years, when you were accused of assassinating a higher-up, and somehow, after just two hours in his father's room, you were announced to be not guilty a day later. On that very day, you hugged him for the first time while comforting him about the incident with the sorcerer killer as he smelled his father's cologne on you. If he wasn't bound by relationships, he was sure that he would have killed his own father in a heartbeat.

Later that year, he confessed his love for you on your 23rd birthday, and you shot him down instantly. Calling him a child and whatnot. He wasn't immature; he was just a bit overly enthusiastic but not impulsive. Maybe it was just about his age. That's what he told himself until you rejected him again and again and again. For the first time, he saw the distance between you both. How you were climbing up the status ladder in the Jujutsu hierarchy and how the number of your lovers was increasing with every passing month. Something snapped inside him as realization hit him, and at the young age of 16, he lost his virginity to a housemaid his age.

You had successfully infiltrated all the major clans except for the Gojo clan. You were not going to infiltrate that clan; you had decided to own it. Although latent, your influence was more than a lot of high-ups combined. But of course you wouldn't rub it on everyone's faces; you didn't need to hurt their egos to feel your worth anymore. You just needed to act submissive and poised; that would do the trick. Nobody needed to know that all the cards were in your favor and that you were the real puppeteer.

When it came to the Gojo clan, you heard here and there that your little prince had learned to fuck around. It was about time he was tamed. So on his 19th birthday, you rewarded him with a gift of a lifetime.

"No...shit... please-aahh...it won't fit, please", Satoru mumbled as tears streamed down his flushed face.

"It will. You will make it fit for me, right?", you whispered and resumed kissing him down his neck, stopping only to abuse his hard nipples. He was a moaning mess, trembling with every movement, cringing at the sharp but pleasurable pain as you continued inserting a sounding rod in his penis.

You stood up to admire your artwork once you were done. No man has ever looked so beautiful. Gojo Satoru was kneeling in front of you, twitching like an insect, crying, and losing himself to you. He was so submissive, so perfect. You were going to take your sweet time devouring him.

You dragged your foot over to his cock and asked him, "What do you say, Satoru? Should I step on it?"

He was barely able to make a coherent sentence as you toyed with his cock while the pressure of the inserted rod edged him to the highest degree. Just when he thought it couldn't get any better, you took off your panties and stuffed them in his mouth. You were left with nothing but your bra; however, you unhooked them the moment an idea popped up in your mind. Tying them around Satoru's neck, you pulled on em, making him choke. Suddenly, he looked like every man who had wronged you, underestimated you, and molested you. He looked heavenly as he struggled to breathe, and Gojo would be lying if he said that he didn't enjoy life slipping out of him just a bit. When he was expecting you to finally take the rod out, you laid him down and positioned yourself on his dick.

You teased yourself with the cold metal end of the rod and slowly sank down Satoru's length. You looked down only to see him blabbering and moaning uncontrollably. His teary blue eyes and instant desperation to rut into you were painted all over his face. He tried thrusting into you, only to feel overwhelmed by the rod. You started bouncing on his cock and playing with your nipples. It would be an understatement to say that Satoru was hypnotized by you. He was enamoured by you. In this moment, you looked like an absolute goddess, and he was ready to lose himself in you. Your walls were gripping onto his length so tightly that he felt lightheaded. You continued grinding on his cock as you reached your orgasm. Getting off immediately to take his cock in your mouth and tease him a bit more.

"Are you my whore, Satoru?", you asked as you squeezed his balls. Had you broken him? Because it looked like he was too far gone. Did he stop working?

"Yes, I'm ya-your wh...whore".

You smirked. It was done. It's easy to break them when they're young, just like they broke you. You bobbed your head on his dick, sucking on his prominent veins and slurping some globs of his semen. Then, all of a sudden, you harshly took out the sounding rod, and with that, Satoru reached his orgasm with a high-pitched moan. But you didn't stop, not yet. You continued sucking on his member, taking in all of his jizz. Without a second thought, you sealed the deal as you spat his cum into his mouth and kissed him deeply. He was yours now, and so was his clan.

"I love you."

As if you didn't know that already. It's okay, though you'll entertain him.

"Yeah, let's do it again. This time, I'll let you breed me."

Part 2

[osamusbigtits]

atsumu watches kiyoomi from the other room. kiyoomi jumped up when he got a phone call, speed walked to the kitchen, and answered.

atsumu didn't even get the chance to see who called. he can take a guess but the way kiyoomi's shoulders tense, drawing up to his ears. he takes a defensive tone, one atsumu usually hears during arguments. but this feels different.

kiyoomi's tense in a way that atsumu only saw during their high school years at the few training camps they attended together. shoulders hunched up, fists balled, permanent frown showing his displeasure. actually, kiyoomi's back was currently to atsumu, but atsumu could only assume kiyoomi's expression.

"no, father," kiyoomi says, louder than the rest of his words had been. "I'm not going." kiyoomi speaks more formally, like he used to before settling into msby. using titles he doesn't even bother to use with their coach or captain.

atsumu knows kiyoomi doesn't talk about family and atsumu never pushed. he understood having hard boundaries. but with how this conversation appears to be going, atsumu wonders if he should have been pushing all this time.

kiyoomi's shoulders slump after he gets off the phone, but the tension still remains. atsumu wonders if he should look away to give kiyoomi a moment to collect himself. but then kiyoomi turns to him.

atsumu watches as kiyoomi's defenses raise. the walls atsumu so skillfully snuck past are pushing him back out once again.

kiyoomi doesn't say anything as he walks to the kitchen. atsumu returns his gaze to the tv, although he can't remember what he put on. not that it matters right now.

steeling his own emotions, atsumu pushes himself off the couch. kiyoomi might not admit it, or even realize it, but he needs someone right now. and atsumu isn't going to let kiyoomi suffer in silence.

kiyoomi's back is to atsumu as he enters. his shoulders are tense once again. he stands in front of their keurig, most likely making himself a cup of tea. if atsumu had to guess, he'd say it's a peppermint tea because kiyoomi often uses it to calm himself.

"omi," atsumu says softly.

kiyoomi doesn't turn. he doesn't move except to continue his task of making his tea. an attempt to shut atsumu out.

luckily, atsumu is annoyingly persistent, as kiyoomi once put it.

"I didn't mean to eavesdrop," atsumu continues. he opens one of the cabinets and pulls out the sugar for kiyoomi, setting it close on the counter. "but it is a small apartment." atsumu grabs a protein muffin he's recently been obsessed with and sits at the kitchen table.

kiyoomi hesitates before reaching to grab the sugar.

he takes a bite and gives kiyoomi a moment.

finally, kiyoomi turns to face atsumu. the smell of sweet, peppermint tea surrounds them. kiyoomi holds the mug with two hands, and he peers into the plain black mug instead of meeting atsumu's eyes.

"if you sit, we can talk about it," atsumu says. kiyoomi doesn't budge. "ah, I figured that'd be your response." no reaction.

maybe it's worse than atsumu thought. dry sarcasm usually makes kiyoomi fight a smile.

"we don't have to take about the phone call." atsumu takes another bite while kiyoomi seems to think it over. "I know family can be a tough subject."

kiyoomi scoffs.

atsumu fights his immediate response to argue. while atsumu is beyond lucky with his loving mother and supportive brother, atsumu still knows, full well, just how difficult family can be. both by experience and by others' experiences.

a breath. kiyoomi's just angry and needs someone to take it out on. atsumu's an easy target.

"I'm here for you, kiyoomi," atsumu says. he pulls at the wrapper of the muffin. "don't forget that."

kiyoomi stands still.

atsumu wants to scream and yell. it's what he'd do with osamu. force his brother into telling him what was going on. it's how he used to deal with kiyoomi.

but yelling and fighting makes things worse.

conceding, kiyoomi sits across from atsumu. he sets his mug on the table. "you're getting crumbs everywhere," kiyoomi mumbles.

atsumu rolls his eyes. "I'll clean them up."

kiyoomi stirs his tea. "thank you," he says even quieter than before.

they sit in silence for a moment. kiyoomi sipping his tea while atsumu finishes his muffin and then cleans uo the crumbs that bothered kiyoomi.

atsumu offers to make kiyoomi another cup before he sits back down but kiyoomi shakes his head.

the kitchen table isn't exactly where atsumu would like to have a conversation like this, especially since they don't even have food. however, he's pushed kiyoomi's boundaries enough as it is.

"my father called," kiyoomi says. his eyes stay fixated on the table. "he wanted to, um... to know my plans for the holidays."

"you're spending them with me," atsumu chimes in, unable to stop himself. he's excited, it'll be the first time kiyoomi spends a significant amount of time with his family.

kiyoomi allows a slight smile. "I know."

"sorry. you can continue." atsumu gives a nod. he's been pestering kiyoomi, and while kiyoomi is happy to come along, the most atsumu says about it, the more nervous kiyoomi gets.

kiyoomi takes a moment. "my family usually does a big thing the week before the new year. and I didn't go last year." atsumu nods. he remembers that kiyoomi was tense around that time and had spent a lot of time talking to komori on the phone. "my brother and sister covered for me. but I guess the truth came out that I had intentionally not attended."

with a sigh, kiyoomi's shoulders slump. "I don't want to go, atsumu." kiyoomi finally meets atsumu's eyes. atsumu's heart twinges at the ache and sadness and heartbreak in kiyoomi's eyes. "that's not my family. you are."

a lump grows in atsumu throat as tears build in his eyes. kiyoomi quickly diverts his gaze. "omi."

"don't cry."

atsumu lip quivers. "I'm your family?" his voice cracks. he can't help it.

"atsumu, please."

atsumu stands up and comes around the table. kiyoomi leans away when atsumu comes near, but doesn't push when atsumu hugs him.

"omi, I love you so you much!" atsumu kisses the top of his head.

kiyoomi frowns. but still, he says, "I love you, too."

[pricegouge]

Fatted Rabbit Part Ten on AO3

Contents

bearshifter!price x reader | explicit

John's not sure if he has ever in his life felt so impotent. The fact that it's some human man potentially states away that has him so twisted only serves to further his downward spiral, causing him to forget to even feed himself for whole days, which only darkens his mood. He starts lashing out at the new employees, would feel like a right arse about it if he were capable of anything other than frustration and the general itchiness of another bull encroaching on his area.

Explicit sexual content ahead. If you didn't sign up for the following, go ahead and skip from "---" to the next "---"

cw: oral sex (f receiving), penetrative sex, and squirting. Also, allusions to past SA (bunny get's a little freaked out about being touched at one point but they figure it out quick)

John's not sure if he has ever in his life felt so impotent. The fact that it's some human man potentially states away that has him so twisted only serves to further his downward spiral, causing him to forget to even feed himself for whole days, which only darkens his mood. He starts lashing out at the new employees, would feel like a right arse about it if he were capable of anything other than frustration and the general itchiness of another bull encroaching on his area.

Would that it were. If he could just sniff Phil out and gore him, sift through viscera and fat to find the rich, dark tissue of his vital bits, he'd have done this by now. But John has no scent. Doesn't even have a last name. Can't even ask for one without good reason, which he's in short supply of this week. He's tetchy and twitchy, barely listening to the trainee's questions before snapping incorrect answers at them. He only realizes his mistakes much later, when the senior staff returns to demand things like, 'since when?' and, 'fucking, why?' He steps out back every hour for a smoke, nearly bites his own fingers off to avoid texting his bunny. He can't blame her for wanting some space, but good luck explaining that to his bear.

He spends his days penned behind the bar, letting Soap keep the customers occupied so John can take his aggression out on every type of citrus known to man until the larders are overflowing with ugly, hacked up orange slices which Soap steadfastly refuses to comment on. He keeps his silence well, in fact, never once asking what's on John's mind although John can see those good bartender instincts vibrating under the surface, desperate to sit Price down with something strong in one hand and a chisel in the other, really get to the core of him. John knows he should cut the man some slack, subject himself to Soap's particular brand of mother henning just to build some camaraderie. Instead, he audits receipts without fully remembering how numbers work.

He attends a bloody small business committee meeting, gets told he has to add some curb appeal. He makes a note of it instead of biting the chairperson's head off, and deletes it immediately with a vindictive curl of his lip. The commerce building has the kind of stale, uncycled air quality that only a government establishment can. He stews in body odor and reheated leftovers for hours, only realizing why it had bothered him so much when he steps outside and takes the full force of his mate's scent like a brick in the face. Christ, she's been near recently. She smells good, clean and well fed. The heavy scent of her estrus is gone, replaced instead with the strong, masculine scent of -

Oh, holiest of holies; luteinising hormone, impending storm that you are.

He keeps himself confined to the walk-in the rest of the day, detailing already-clean shelving as an excuse to huff bleach solution - the only scent strong enough to keep his rabbit's at bay now that he knows her heat is imminent. Every time he steps outside he can smell her, has to white knuckle his bear back into submission. His mate, going into heat. Keeping herself away from him, walking around town smelling like that, all while another boar looms to the south.

If he'd been irritable before, he's downright inconsolable now.

John liked to pride himself on the knowledge that he probably knew what most things felt like. Afterall, it's not every human who can slough his skin off at the end of the day and become a whole new species. But this is new. It's worse than a rut, truly. At least in a rut he could fuck a pillow or something when in dire straits, but this - subject to another's instincts, unable to appease the bottomless well of want he can smell in the air like the lingering spores of dry rot. It's dangerous to indulge; worse yet to ignore. He'd meant it when he'd said she could run him ragged for a year if she wanted, and dammit he still did, but he hadn't considered this collusion of events. It left him untethered. Completely unhinged.

He's been visiting her nearly every night just to keep himself sane, but it doesn't do much good now, his bear gone so fucking basal he can barely remember their interactions the next day. He gets vague sense memories the next morning: smell, mostly; glass cleaner coating his tongue. Not much more. So it strikes him as odd when his bear allows a moment of clarity a few nights later. He doesn't know what to do with her words right then, but he wakes up hard and desperate, remembers her sad eyes when she admits she's not used to getting what she wants, cums all across his own chest when he realizes she means him, respecting her boundaries, how she wants him to reach out. Who is he to refuse?

***

He nearly mauls her when she climbs down out of her Jeep the following Monday, her scent fucking lethal. She's got on that same thin sweater she'd worn on their first date, nipples just barely evident in the brisk morning air. Her tits are fuller; lips, too. They yield under his own deliciously when he kisses her in greeting. A little too desperately, if the way she laughs sweetly against his mouth is any indication. Still, she doesn't pull away and John presses his luck, glancing around to make sure they're relatively alone. It's a small garden center, but crowded with like-minded patrons eager to get their spring planting done. His rabbit's got a knack for picking quiet corners of lots, though, so when he spots no prying eyes, he walks her back the half step needed to press her soft bum against the door, cradles her face with one hand as the other rests on the roof of her car.

"You look nice," he tells her in between kisses. "Missed you." He slips some tongue into his next kiss, pulls back like he's afraid he might have scalded her when he suddenly remembers the whole reason he'd had to miss her was 'cause she'd wanted space. "That okay?"

"Yes. Yes, definitely." Breathy, tits heaving ever so slightly. He gives her a smile like she personally hung the moon, then kisses her a little less innocently, humming happily into her mouth when her timid little hands find his belly. He doesn't pull away until her breaths come heavy through her nose, pushing her soft chest up into his. He doesn't go far when he does, either. Rests his forehead against hers, content to breathe the same air as her for a moment.

"Good to see you, too," she eventually jokes and John chuckles at himself, kisses her on the bridge of her nose, right between the eyes, before stepping away from her completely.

"Sorry bunny, couldn't help myself." He eyes her over suggestively, noting how her nipples have hardened further in the absence of his body heat. Emboldened, he reaches out and pinches one ever so gently, chuffing happily at the squawk she emits.

"Shit, are they really that bad?" She frets, crossing her arms over her ample chest. Squished, her tits fold prettily over her soft arms. He barely has enough higher brain function to note that she didn't necessarily tell him to stop - though his brain seems to have its priorities straight, running that bit of information up the flagpole so high it probably displaces 'keep breathing' for a moment.

"Don't think so… let me see again?"

He must nail the delivery because she unfolds her arms for his assessment without any hint of suspicion.

"Not bad at all," John rumbles, earning a surprised laugh.

"You're ridiculous. Lemmie grab a flannel or something, hold on." She turns to head toward the boot but John pins her with his hip, already removing his own thick button up. She humors him; doesn't even need to say anything as she takes it from him with an eyebrow raised.

"Ridiculous, remember?"

"How could I forget?" She smirks, letting him help her into it. It hangs past her arse, unfortunately, but can't be buttoned past her diaphragm because she's so lovely and full. She looks briefly embarrassed by that so John tucks a finger under the neckline to pull it away ever so slightly and grins like an idiot at the view he gets a peek of. She swats his hand away but she's smiling again so John counts it as a win. Ignoring his antics, she asks if he's sure he won't be cold without his flannel and he can't help but snort as he guides her toward the greenhouse, arms linked. "I'll be fine, bunny."

"Mm. Must be nice having your own pelt." She rubs her soft palm over his hairy arm and he damn near purs.

He'll have to save a skin for her next time he transforms. He can't gift it to her yet, unfortunately - bear pelts are quite costly and he knows her well enough by now to know she'd never accept if she thought he'd bought it. But later, when they're mated properly and she knows all his secrets… he pictures her laid out on his bed, buried under piles of his very flesh, pleasing herself as she scents him.

"Yes, well." John clears his throat. "Cuddle up and share the warmth, yeah?"

She complies easily, tucking herself under his arm happily; oblivious to his inner turmoil. "Didn't know you were such a green thumb," she says conversationally and John snorts, pressing a kiss to the crown of her hair.

"M'not. HOA of small businesses said I needed to add curb appeal. Boot shop across the road suggested plants."

"Ah, I see. Well, that'll be cute. You looking for like… hanging baskets? Planters? I don't think you'd have enough space but you'd probably trap more tourists if you did an herb-veggie garden thing to use in-house."

John blinks, pulls her impossibly closer, can't help the borderline cruel smile curling his lips. "You a gardener?"

"Well, not really anymore. Gardening in Dallas is a bit like trying to water spinach when it's already in the pan. And I don't really have the yard space now," she chuckles. "But I used to, back home."

"Clever rabbit can grow her own clover, eh? I could set up something on the roof for an herb garden… maybe do veggies out by the brewery…"

"Well that sounds like a lot of work if all you need is curb appeal."

"Sure, but it's smart. And if I put the beds closer to the outer wall on the roof, they would be visible from the street."

"Added privacy," the rabbit tacks on, stepping away from him to eye some overlarge ferns. John grins after her. Food and privacy. She's already improving his den. "Anyway, what are you thinking for the curb itself? You have a pretty masculine style going on in there; keep it green? You open to color?"

"I'm thinking I brought the right person for the job." He waves his hand at her. "Whatever you think, bunny, go crazy."

Her eyes drift off to some topiaries before snapping back to him. "Is this like a company expense? What's the spending limit?"

John barks with laughter. "Said go crazy, didn't I?"

She hoofs it to the topiaries and John heads off in search of a flatbed.

***

It's a good thing he'd had the foresight to bring the cargo van. He winds up with matching topiaries to put on either side of the door, enough hanging ferns to dot the spaces between the windows, dressing for the window stools, and plenty of box planters to top the concrete wall the sections off the patio seating from the street. ("Are those yours or the city's? You should have someone paint them if you can.")

John just nods along when prompted, tells her he prefers warm tones to cool, and smells as many flowers as he can in an attempt to keep her scent at bay.

It doesn't work. She's not in a true heat, he can tell now - must be on the pill -, but her hormones are still out of control and while he logistically knows he's the only one who can smell her wet cunt, the urge to get her cock drunk and satiated, so full up of his seed no challengers will ever mistake her for an unmated sow again is damn near out of control. At least he avoids taking her in the employee's tool shed like a randy teen.

Inside, by the register, she chats with the clerk about planting options regarding the herbs she wants to get started when she doesn't even have a bed made for them, yet. John distracts himself by perusing the small collection of indoor plants disinterestedly, heavy mit dragging along springy leaves while he keeps an eye on his girl. Until a coarse, hairy, jumble of roots has him yanking his hand away on instinct, glowering down at the gnarled plant in question.

It's an ugly thing, at first glance. Dark leaves hiding twisted aerial roots which resemble tarantula legs - thick and furry, they amble directionless, giving them the uncanny appearance of being in possession of too many joints. John drags a finger over a root again, curiously, and is disappointed to find the fur hard and itchy. He huffs at it, not strictly human, affronted by the highly inedible looking greenery in front of him. He fishes out the placard, morbidly curious what the hell this thing could be - and nearly cracks his face in half with the size of his grin.

"Bunny, look," he calls as he approaches. "It's perfect."

"Oh my god! My grandmother used to have one of those. I forgot all about it. What is this th -?" she rolls her eyes up to him when she reads the tag, unimpressed frown firmly in place.

"Oh, a rabbit's foot fern!" the clerk she'd been talking to coos. "And our last one, I think. Great find!"

"Don't encourage him," the rabbit grouses just as John thanks her, putting his find on the counter. "Are you really buying that?"

"The lady said it was a good find," he smirked.

"It's dry as a bone! I'm not sure it'll make it."

"Oh these things are quite hardy, for ferns. Just water well and keep it humid, those roots'll soften up in no time."

"Those things get softer?"

It's bunny who answers, fussing with a crunchy root all the while. "Yeah, they look like tarantula legs when they're thirsty, but they do indeed look soft as a rabbit when healthy."

"They're quite cool," the clerk adds as she begins scanning. "Can live forever if treated well, too. I've got one that my mother bought in the eighties."

John hums, pressing a kiss into the rabbit's temple. "Be sure to do that, then."

***

She's not done making him wait; completely oblivious to his struggles. "You're not doing my gardening for me, bunny," he tries, but she's stubborn and despite his impatience, seeing her toil away at his den soothes something in him. Doesn't mean it's not torture watching her work, bent over and kneeling on the ground, dirty up to her elbows in soil. He helps her as much as he knows how; keeps her plied with water and berries instead when she sends him and his black thumbs away. She lets him feed her a few times, the pad of his thumb lingering on her lips.

"Are you really not mad at me?" She asks eventually, attempting to rub dirt off her cheek but only serving to smudge it more with her dirty fingers.

John frowns down at her for a moment. "What on earth for?"

She shrugs. "Leaving for a few days, I guess?"

"Oh, honey. No. Told you you could take all the time in the world." And then, when that strange instinct which takes over for him when she's being flighty rears its head, "That's not why you're doing all this, is it?"

A beat.

Too long. She's just starting to shrug when John's extending a hand down to her. "Up you get, bunny. I'm not -." Phil "That's not -." Phil "Let's go inside. Get you cleaned up."

"But we're -."

"It's enough, sweetheart. We can finish tomorrow if you want. For now, let's get you cleaned up."

---

They don't make it that far. A kiss to her temple, a sigh of contentment, muddy fingers mark the nape of John's neck. She says they'll get his sheets dirty and John laughs 'that's the point.'

They leave a trail of her clothes to his bedroom. He peels the layers off reverently, bites the apples of her dimpled flesh so lightly she just chuckles at him, calls him a weirdo when he licks his own drool off her tits. He can't help it, tongue heavy with lust and hunger.

He gets her on her belly first, big soft ass tilted up at him by the still-clothed arm he's got wrapped under her, free hand spreading her cheek wide enough he can press his face into the seam of her. He snuffles in there, groaning at her scent, tongue seeking out the very back of her cunt and working the fluttery skin. "Fuck," he hears her hiss, reaching her hand back to sink her fingers into his short hair. He tries looking up at her, discovers he's already too far buried in the globes of her ass to do so, and groans again.

Laying out fully now, his weight pinning her legs, John keeps kneading her flesh to grant himself better access. He drops until he can take her lips into his mouth, sucking on them and coating his tongue in the slick that clings to the soft flesh. She tastes better than she smells, somehow. He tilts his head and opens his mouth wide enough he can gently dig his teeth into her puffy vulva and she moans prettily so he stays there, tongue lapping at her folds and groaning. She's so wet - a bottomless spring. John thinks he could drink from her forever.

"Fuck, honey. All this for me?" He teases, retreating only enough to pull her folds open with his thumb so he can lick a fat stripe right over her glistening hole. "You spoil me."

"John, fuck -. I want -."

"Want what, honey?" He doesn't think she can hear him, the way he's making out with her cunt when he speaks, but she gets the sentiment anyway.

"More, please, John, I need -." She cuts herself off with a moan when he spits on her and gives up words altogether, electing instead to reach under herself and take his hand from her hip, forcing it down between her legs.

Never one to deny her anything, he chuckles against her skin as he complies, breath hot where it traps in her cute little curls. Shifting his weight, he spreads one of her legs just enough to give himself room to work which he does immediately, curling two fingers up to her hole to gather slick and framing her clit with them. "That it, baby?" he asks, biting the crease where her ass meets her thigh gently. "Don't like when I tease you? Just need it right here, huh?" He drags his thumb down her slit again, holding her folds and flesh out of the way so he can see exactly what he's doing to her, notes precisely what makes her twitch. When his fingers pull her hood back fully and his thumb brushes her raw clit and she seizes up like she's been shocked, he places a soothing kiss against her ass.

"Alright, sweetheart, I'll play nice," he coos; and then very much doesn't.

Keeping her clit's pretty little veil fully retracted, John buries his nose in her cunt - right in the core of her, source of all his anxieties - and kisses her bare little pearl bruisingly. He licks and sucks and slurps, lets his lips vibrate against her when he hums approvingly at her own noises. She tries to buck him off a few times but he just winds his free hand around her hips as well to keep her close, settles himself more firmly across her legs to keep her pinned. It's a struggle to breathe like this, but he'd be content to die here if it came to that so he stays put, sucking in ragged breaths when she manages to pull away just enough to fuck herself back onto him.

When her cunt starts fluttering around him he tilts his head to the side to make room for the free hand he pulls back out from under her and dips the very tips of two fingers into her, tickling the edges of the inner lips there. She damn near sobs, thick thighs struggling to lift both their weight enough to bring him into herself. John pulls away with a cruel scrape of teeth against her clit, chuckling when she threatens to shake apart. "Need something, sweetheart?"

"Christ, John, just fuck me, please," she begs, too lucid. That won't do.

"Ask nice," he counters, spitting on her clit and lapping at it, letting his motions carry long enough that it drags his lip and beard across the sensitive little thing as well. She shutters, cunt clenching around his first knuckles. His cock slots between her calves and he uses his own legs to keep hers pressed together so he can fuck down into the channel he's created. She's soft there, too, a much needed contrast to the bite of his trousers.

"John, please. Please fuck me, please. Want to feel you."

He hums in thought, never once entertaining the idea. "Gotta stretch you first, sweetheart. Get you nice and loose. Too tight to take me like this." To prove his point, he bullies his fingers into her in one long stroke. She hisses something that might be a curse, swollen lips falling open as he keeps pressing into her. She's wet enough to take him, but too tense, and he tongues the rim of her when she clenches tight.

"See? Gotta take care of you first, right honey?"

She nods, eyes glazing over a bit, and John hides his smile in her arse before licking his way back down to her throbbing clit.

He plays with her a while longer, returns to the aimless licking and sucking that's less designed to get her off and more designed to get her wet and frustrated. By the time her clenching around his fingers is timed to keep him in more so than out, John's discovered she quite likes a little bit of teeth and he's got her vulva so swollen with love bites and kisses he's distantly worried her cute little knickers will hurt her when he finally lets her put them back on. All the while, she just takes it; moaning prettily and huffing in frustration by turns. Someday she'll realize he can't deny her anything and she'll beg so sweetly when he gets her like this. But for now, she doesn't know what kind of power she has over him so just lays there, incapacitated, sighing and groaning, letting him make a mess of her.

It's the third finger that does it. Where they'd been languid and teasing only moments ago, she's jittery and desperate now, trying to rock herself back onto him with what little leverage she has. He takes pity on her, his own need drawing tighter as well. "You wanna cum, baby?" he asks, voice surprisingly tender considering how deep it's fallen.

"Please, John, please," she babbles, calves flexing under him as she wiggles in anticipation.

"Show me then," he prompts, and drags her hood back from her clit to suck at it happily, bullying a spot deep inside her that makes her breathing go wet and ragged.

"John! Fuck -. Jesus, I -." The moan she lets out when he hardens his tongue and flicks it against her is filthy so John carries on like that. Her fingers have slid from the crown of his head to the nape of his neck and he'd like to see her like that, all bowed and twisted to keep him where she needs him, but he's also quite content with the view he has here so he digs himself impossibly deeper and presses the heel of his palm against her lower belly and -.

She drenches him, moans loud and erratic, simultaneously trying to flinch away from him and keep him pressed against the veritable font she's become. "Shit," John hisses, using his grip to bow her back impossibly more so he can take most of the flow to his chest. He works her through it, can't resist lapping at her with fat stripes of his tongue which leave his mouth full. He's soaked, beard wet and dripping, shirt probably ruined. She's a panting, writhing mess by the time he relents, too fucked out to even keep herself propped up anymore, face buried in his pillow.

It takes him a moment to realize she's muttering something, content as he is to catch his breath in the humid hinges of her joints. When he finally registers her quiet voice he climbs his way up her mountainous body, dropping kisses to freckles and stretch marks. "Wassat, honey?" He asks her temple as he folds his arms under her body, cradling her to his chest as he lays out over her again.

She turns her head just enough to allow her voice to escape the pillow. "Said, 'sorry'."

John grunts, momentarily distracted from his mission to grope every inch of her tits. "Why you sorry, sweetheart?"

"Didn't mean to make a mess. Never done that before."

"Never?" He chuckles, choosing to ignore the fact she felt she needed to apologize so as not to lose his temper. "Nothing to be sorry about, honey. Quite liked it."

She peeks back at him. "You did?"

He hums, bites her cheek lightly. "I did. You can mark me anytime you want."

"Ew," she laughs and he joins her, kissing down her neck.

"You need a minute, bunny?"

She shakes her head, pushes at his forehead until he gives her enough room to roll over. He plasters himself to her front but she's quick to push him away again. "Can we get you out of these wet clothes?"

Sitting back on his shins, John pulls his shirt over his head and is delighted when her fingers immediately find the fur of his belly, taking a moment to pet him before helping with his belt. There's the usual tangle of limbs, made better by the soft body that yields to his weight when he has to dig his hips into her for leverage. After stripping him, she guides him with a hand at his hip onto his back and he goes easily, happy as can be to have her straddling his thighs.

"So bloody pretty, bunny." He gets a handful of her tits while she takes his measure, eyes slightly apprehensive but movements eager.

"See why you wanted to stretch me out," she says, and then reaches back to plant one hand on his thigh, giving her enough leverage to rub her soaked cunt up his length.

"Fuck," he hisses, palming her mons so he can get a better look. "That's it baby, get me good and wet."

Instead, she stops, eyes him over with those big prey eyes. He's back peddling frantically, palms sliding over her thighs soothingly, trying to find the words to bring her back when she grabs his hands, holds them with twitchy fingers for a moment. "Can I -," she starts, then slides up his forearms and leans forward to fold them over his head. "This okay?"

He's distantly aware there's something important being said here, but he's too distracted by her tits hanging in his face to say much beyond gruff agreement.

She smiles anyway. "Stay there," she instructs, then returns to her ministrations.

She's so wet he can hear it, the soft noises mingling with her huffy breaths. He grabs the bottom of the headboard, the temptation to reach out and guide her already testing him. It's torture, really - the way she presses his cock into her slick folds with the flat of her hand, watching her eyes flutter when the head of him catches on her entrance. He twitches and she sinks a centimeter, sighs at the stretch.

"Bunny," he hedges, but she shakes her head, pace tectonic as she rocks herself on the scrap of flesh she's found.

"Stay there," she says again, voice gone reedy. He groans but nods, readjusting his grip.

He must make for a pathetic sight because she takes pity, sinks another centimeter or so. She squeezes him so sweetly it's hard to contain his noises, and he's sure he sounds like a bellows when she starts rubbing her clit again, her walls fluttering around him.

"Do you mind it?" She asks and he huffs, not quite human.

"Mind it?"

She leans forward to plant her hands on his arms. He doesn't whimper when it pulls her near completely off his cock, he doesn't. "This?" She clarifies, squeezing the meat of his ulnas.

"Oh." He blinks, thoughts slow and sticky. He wants to touch her, but she put him like this because… because…

His tongue feels like it's stuck to the bottom of his mouth. "No, sweetheart. Whatever you need."

She smiles sadly down at him, adjusts her grip on his arms, then sinks fully down his length at an agonizingly slow pace.

"Fuck, baby." He makes no move to help her despite an overwhelming urge to grab two handfuls of ass and just fuck up into her.

Their height difference means she has to crowd over him to keep her hands planted. He leans up for a kiss and she obliges, rubs her clit against the hair at the base of his cock. He's so lost in the feeling of her it takes him a minute to realize she's holding back, hovering just above him when she should be smothering him.

"You're not gonna hurt me, bunny," he mutters into her mouth. She draws back a fraction of an inch to get a good look at him and he nods to where she's made room, just for him. "Sit on it. Properly."

"But -."

"Sit." He's careful to hide any lingering anger from his voice, lets her hear nothing but his desire. It works. She shivers and sinks fully onto him, lips parting as he notches perfectly against the very end of her. Made for each other. "Good rabbit. See how much better that is?"

"Deep," she says, about all she can manage.

He chuckles, maybe a little mean. "Right where you need me. Right where I'm s'posed to be. Ride me, rabbit. Show me how you like it."

She does: a slow grind that keeps him buried, barely raising herself off him. She leans forward more so than up. It keeps her sensitive little clit pressed close to his curls and has the added benefit of swinging her tits into his face. He latches on when the noises he makes venture too far from human, smothering his grunts in her soft flesh. He wants to bite her, mark her. Flip her onto the bed and scruff her while he fucks her from behind. He wants to tear the throat out of the man who came before him who's left her like this. Instead, he growls low words of encouragement into her flesh, tilts his hips ever so slightly up when the cant of her own interferes with her rhythm. It doesn't take her long after that.

"John," she pants, "please."

"Please what, baby?" He scrapes his teeth over the beard burn in her cleavage, feels her grip on his forearms flex.

"I need… I need…" she raises herself half off him, gives him room to move. It's the furthest she's been from him since bottoming out and he nearly growls in displeasure.

Instead, he says, "Need me to fuck you? Need me to make it better?"

"Yes, please, John."

"Let me hear it."

She looks lost between pouting and shuddering. Answers him anyway, "John, please, need you to fix it. Fuck me, John, please."

"That's it, bunny. Keep talking," he says, and then he gives her what she wants - fucking up into her with long, precise thrusts that leave her gasping. She doesn't exactly keep talking, but the noises that spill from her lips are even better, combining with the sounds of her slick cunt, the quiet slap of his balls.

"Gonna -," she tries. Doesn't make it much further.

"Yeah you are. Play with your clit for me. You gonna drench me again?" She shakes her head and he laughs - too mean, but she doesn't seem to notice. "Yes you will. Let me touch that pretty pussy, sweetheart. Just wanna feel." Whether she remembers why he wasn't allowed to touch or not, she doesn't need any more convincing than that. She nods, leans fully back to plant her hands on his thighs and resumes the pace he'd set. Like this, he feels himself notch impossibly deeper and with just a few more thrusts, he gets his palm flat on her, thumb at her clit and then she's soaking him again, damn near sobbing, squeezing him so hard he's briefly worried she'll take it with her when she's done with it. He's helpless but to follow, a long groan of her name he's sure she can't understand for how animalistic his voice has gone.

No sooner does she slide off him than he's pulling her to his chest, rolling them onto their sides so he can kiss her stupid. He's still got the one arm tucked over his head, but she pulls it down to thread their fingers together and that's it for him. Put a fork in him, all that.

---

If he takes measure of her finger while they're interlaced, well, it's no worse than her deciding where to hang the fern later

***

From his vantage point behind the kitchen saloon doors, Simon watches as Johnny carouses the customers, keeps drinks topped. He's good at it. Friendly in that way Simon never was. Got a face like a puppy, honest and endearing.

Plays at snarling when he needs to.

The Texan's new, which in itself doesn't say much. Glacier's no stranger to strangers. What is odd - what has Simon considering adding the roll of 'bouncer' to his ever-growing job description - is the way this particular stranger is instantly asking after John's bird.

It had started off innocent enough, from what Simon's been able to piece together since he started paying attention. The man came in, ordered a beer, and nursed it all by his lonesome at the end of the bar. Eventually he'd asked Johnny if he'd seen the bird, as apparently the two were supposed to meet up. Johnny, not thinking much of it at the time, had said no but she'd probably be around sooner or later. That had been four hours ago.

Every half hour, Johnny tries to sell the man on a new beer. He always refuses, content to waste space at the bar on what's turning out to be a surprisingly busy Tuesday. Two hours ago, Johnny had suggested the possibility that the bird had stood him up. The man took it in stride, saying he quite liked it where he was and was content to stay even without company. One hour ago, he'd been told to either order something or leave. He'd ordered an appetizer, hadn't touched it since.

The questions had started right about the time Johnny had begun snarling, the man evidently completely unconcerned by the fact he'd been figured out. He asks Johnny how he knows the bird, when's the last time he saw her, if she has a job out this way. Johnny, of course, clever pup, gives him the runaround. The man does the same when Johnny returns fire.

The final straw is when he starts asking about John.

"Say, who's the owner here anyway?" The man asks, cocky grin still firmly in place.

To his credit, Johnny doesn't do much as flinch. "Dunno, never met him."

"Now I find that hard to believe, small place like this. You don't even know the man's name?"

"You need a box for that?" Johnny nods at the untouched plate of food.

The man slides it across the bar, shaking his head. "Toss it. You know, I looked this place up 'fore I came in. I could tell you your boss's name, if you want. He's from 'cross the pond, too. Thought that was odd. See, I think you know your boss's name. I think y'all know each other real well, in fact. And I think you know why I don't want him 'round my girl, don't you?" His voice drops, conspiratorial. "Dangerous men, y'all."

Next>>

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Hello it's me again the Sharkie anon, I hope I didn't bother you too much with my request but if you did please tell me so i can limit my portion. Your writings and story delivering are one of my favorites here and really I can't thank you enough for my previous reqs because they're just excellent and well written *happy cries*.

*Cough cough* btw this is more like an ask, mmm what do you think about TF141 reaction when they see reader wearing face jewelry like face chain https://images.app.goo.gl/7XVrRfjxWJNQrXfw6

Maybe a random soldier from other task force brought it for disguise purpose and reader tries it on, or simply reader just loves jewelries and when there's a party she choose to wear it – its up to you for the scenario. Aaaaand well, to make it better, let's combine those face jewelries with this outfit and hairdo reference (sorry for using kpop reference) https://images.app.goo.gl/7XTz3HQ8Fgg9kAGE7

Thank you, hope your April's great

Hello sharkie 🦈 ! please feel free to send me ideas/requests, although it may take a few days to finish because irl things, but I love to do them, and I’m so happy to see you coming back to my blog! and tyvm for the kind words, I’m the one who needs to thank you 🥹💖 I hope your life’s doing well too!

I’m glad you like the previous reqs!! but I’m afraid that you might be disappointed to this one, cause I never heard of face chains before omgggg, I tried my best but sorry in advance if this sucks 🥲 (and pls don’t apologize for the refs anything is okay for me!)

TF141 men seeing you wearing face chain for party ( you guys go to the party together)

Price

He hasn’t heard about face chains before. He’s too busy (and not really interested), and rarely pays attention to what is trending lately, but when you walk out of the dressing room with those dazzling chains decorating across your face, he just stands there confused and in awe.

He can’t stop staring at you, the sky-blue jewel on your face chain just suits your gown so much, and them shining under the chandelier when you sway your hips and stroll to his side makes him feel like a teenager infatuated with a girl again.

It’s inconvenient for him to kiss you though, because it might tangled with his beard. You two will laugh when he leans down to give you a peck on your lips and then the face chain entangles your long hair with his beard.

You will find his search history flooded with face chains after the party. What you don’t know is he already bought a few chains he thinks might fit you and can’t wait to let you wear them for him

Soap

This man will demand to wear a matching face chain with you, don’t forget to tell him what kind of chain you’re wearing for the party, so he’s able to get one in time

Shows you and himself off to everyone he meets at the party, forcing everyone to admit it suits you guys (well they aren’t lying)

Insist on putting the face chain on your face himself, surprisingly careful when doing it, but it’s impossible for him not to keep pressing kisses during the process, so remember to start dressing earlier than usual or you guys might be late

He will kiss your ears a lot. He loves how the face chain disappears into your hair and then hangs from your ears. He finds it sexy that the chains are merging with your outfit and whole figure like you are a divine gift. (he can’t wait for the party to end and unwrap his gift back home)

Gaz

He’s the one laying out a bunch of face chains for you to choose, and of course, he has checked what you’re going to wear when attending the party, so every face chain he fishes out is just the best one to bring out your beauty.

How is he able to stop praising you when he sees you wear the face chain he picks for you? Since the first time he learned about face chains he yearns for a chance to see you wear it.

He restrains himself from sucking a hickey just below your ears even though he knows it will look perfect beside your face chain, but he makes sure to take a mental note, reminding himself to do it after the party.

When someone asks about your face chain, he will proudly tell them he chose it for you. Your girl friends are crazy for the pretty face chain and ask if they can have a close look, they attentively touch and observe it, and that’s how you find out there’s a K.G. engraved on one of the pendants.

Ghost

He hates parties, and has been grumpy and annoyed for it the past few days, but the tantrum vanishes the second he finds you dressed up in the blue dress adorn with white silk like you’re some fallen angel, and takes out your face chain ready to put it on.

He doesn’t know about face chains either, and doesn’t own one to match with you even if he craves one right now, so he wears a pair of earrings that are similar to the design of your face chain.

He likes to show off his beautiful partner, others should know how majestic his partner is, but he stays close to you and sends death stares to those who dare to look at you with dirty thoughts inside their mind, moreover, he likes to be at your side and help you adjust the chain when it accidentally stucks with your hair (he take these chances to touch your face and soft hair)

Discover he loves chains as apparel for you, the face chain, the silver necklace made with a chain and little pendants on you opens the door to a new world for him. Don’t be too surprised when next time you open the gift box and find an exquisite pair of lingerie with chains as decorations.

[msmpictures]

[☬ Ramshackle O.C ☬]

•{☬Basic Data☬}•

[ Name ]

Astrid Voldemort

Storm > Work's Pseudonym

[ Age | Birthday ]

23 - 27 | October 1st

[ Family ]

Robert Voldemort - Father

??? - Step Mother

[ Job ]

Hired murderer.

[ S.O ]

???

[ More detail of the wound ]

Second degree burn | Cuts = Enucleation (Eye removal).

•{☬ Likes - Dis. ☬}•

[ Likes ]

• To sleep [her only one 'escape']

• To draw [In her days of rest, she draws her father to remember him, even if she is not a very good artist] Although she doesn't show anyone her drawings.

• To smoke

• 💐 [She can describe them as the rainbow of her grey, so that relaxes her a bit]

• ☕ [She is addict at the coffe]

• To stare at the stars [ that makes her forget her shit of job for a while ]

• Children [Doesn't show it, but she really likes children.]

• Rural spaces [That relaxes her]

• 'Acid Candies' [I hope you understand what I mean] Although, she doesn't eat them often.

• Boxing [Is not really something that she likes, but she practices boxing often]

• Agriculture (frustrated dream)

[ Dislikes - Hates ]

• [H] HeR bOsS

• [D] To socialize [She can't actually do it, Astrid just talks with the people when it's about the business and when it's her next victim, so it's kinda awkward for her to get a conversation for more than 30 minutes]

• [H] Her own job [ She is forced to do it, she has no other choice. ]

• [D] Alcoholic drinks [ She says that tastes horrible ]

• [D] Her work partners

• [H] Did I say her Boss?

• [H] Her step mother [She is the reason why Astrid is here]

•{☬ Origins ☬}•

Warning: so long xd

( I don't wanna write a shit but this is how u could sorta understand x,d )

- Astrid Lived with her father in the Ramshackle Streets. Robert was a miner, so they were low class, despite that, they always had enough to survive without ever starving.

- She didn't care about her economic status, since she was working by selling lemonade (as a lil child) and saving her cash to buy a little house In the countryside. Besides, her father always loved her, there was nothing that someone could consider a problem between them.

- Although, Robert couldn't help but feel lonely, so he decided to look for a new lover. A woman who appeared in their life, when Astrid was about to 14.

- The woman was an alcoholic one, always spending the cash into whims and useless things, she was kinda aggressive alone and because of that never had a good relationship with Astrid, but Robert never knew about the circumstances, so he didn't do anything.

- Since the woman appeared, The small family began to have debts, so both Robert and Astrid had to work twice as hard, which did not prevent the debts from increasing drastically, in just two years. For this reason Robert decided to go with a 'friend' (who was a member of a criminal association), to request loans with the condition of paying later, but it never happened.

- This 'friend' He decided to collect everything Robert owed, and as a result of having empty pockets, he kidnapped Astrid (she was 16).

- At first they planned to use her as bait to get the money and then kill her, But after pleas from the minor, they decided to recruit her at a low level, as a kind of servant for anything basic, even burying corpses that they eliminated.

- All this in order to be the one to pay Robert's debts. But it would take a long period of time until now.

- As she grew older, the members began to promote Astrid's position, from making her infiltrate meetings to extract information to turning her into a hitman, having to sell this service to others, In order to recover the lost money.

- The rest, is History..

[⛈️] = Sometimes, she pretends to be mute, so she doesn't need to talk with anyone [That's until she finally she likes u]

•{☬Additional Data☬}•

[🌪️] = The grey hairs are sign of her stress x,d

[🌪️] = She could know everything about weapons and how to play them, but she doesn't know how to cook.

[⛈️] = I don't know what to add about her biological mother.. I'll say she divorced Robert and he won the custody of Astrid 👌.

[🌪️] = Astrid just knows Vinnie, and that because she tried to steal her and found a gun in her purse. (In that moment, Astrid was infiltrated, Vinnie too)

[⛈️] = They're not so close friends, but they help each other sometimes. Either to get information or to get beans.

[🌪️] = Once she finished paying the debts, she will go away from Ramshackle, and live her dreamed life in a house in a rural space.

[⛈️] = Astrid doesn't tell her affection with words. She does it with flowers. If she gives you a daisy, she considers you as her family. If she gives you a rose, she loves you <3.

[🌪️] = She is the kind of person who doesn't understand the jokes. She doesn't have a sense of humour. (She tries man, she tries 😞)

[⛈️] = In an attempt to kill A drunk scammer, this one stroke her with a vodka bottle in her face, and as she failed on the floor, he tried to let her blind, burning her face with a lighter.

[🌪️] = Robert doesn't know if Astrid is still alive, but he is still trying to report her missing, no matter what.

[⛈️] = I could tell she is depressed, and because of that she eats the acid candies. I thought, as Stone with Pebble, she could have an 'interior Demon', with a similar appearance to her 14-year-old self. Despite that, I can't find a name for her..

The whole pic

THREE DAYS DOING THIS SHIT I GIVE UP

[sanyu-thewitch05]

I had this thought last night, need to share with you:

The Yandere this time is a childhood friend,his name is Morris Masques

He and Darling used to be best friends, he was a lonely little boy with black hair and yellow eyes,he didn't have any friend till little Darling came along

But then one day,Darling began to avoid Morris, when he asked her she snapped at him and called him a freak then left. He never saw her again after that

He carried that haunting memory into adulthood,even when he became a adult and a successful entrepreneur,he still can't forget that moment of betrayal,a grudge he had against Darling

One day, however he saw her again, Darling had joined his company. He thought he would never see her again, let's just say he was furious when they met face-to-face

"Why are you even here anyway???!! After what you did,you have some guts coming here!!!!"

"........"

"I'm sorry"

Morris was suprised Darling apologized and he learned the truth of that year told by her

Darling's parents didn't like her being friends with Morris so they forced her to stop being friends with him,as a child Darling didn't know any better so she acted bad towards Morris so that he wouldn't get close to her. Afterwards Darling's family moved away to a new home which made Darling left Morris

Darling's parents are deceased,when remembered the past,she decided to join his company and wanted to make up with him

Morris wasn't sure to trust her on her story but he didn't do anything further about it. As a employee of his company, Darling was very hardworking,she wanted to make amends so she didn't object at all even when he gave her a hard time: More workload than usual

Sometimes he saw her sleeping at her desk after working overtime,she woke up later on with someone's jacket on her shoulder,she didn't know it was Morris'

Although Darling wanted his forgiveness,she believed that they'll never be the same again and he'll always hate her

When Morris saw her genuine effort in getting his forgiveness,he started to have feelings for her again and the buried obsession for her started to rise again

Things were well for a time,Darling was a diligent employee of his company and Morris was pleased with how she was doing well,he treated her better gradually. But then something happened

Morris heard words of Darling's plan to transfer herself to a different company as she has gotten a job offer from them. Her fellow co-workers were happy for her

He knew that company has a handsome president like him, he thought she was trying to leave him for another man

After all these years of leaving him and coming back to him,now she's trying to leave again ?

So Morris drove to her apartment in the middle of night and it was raining heavily, Darling was suprised to find a wet Morris at her doorstep. She asked him to come in,that was a mistake

When she lost her caution,he immediately pinned her down into her bed and he fucked her. She said she wanted his forgiveness right?

Then do it with her life,he was damaged for years becuz of her lies,so it's fair she devote her life to be his wife as a way to earn his forgiveness right?

Darling don't have to worry, he'll treat her like his good little housewife and give her his babies~

TW: Noncon, dubcon, impregnating kink, stalking

A/N: Sorry this took so long. I got busy with dance team tryouts and homework.

You had to make it right to him. You had to.

Morris Masques, the pale boy with hair black as night and eyes yellow as the sun. He was all alone until you asked him to play with you. You played with him until you started to avoid him. You hoped he would get the hint and leave you alone. But he didn't, and on the last day of the school year, you said those final haunting words.

"Stay away from me, you freak!" You screamed, making Morris cry.

You walked your tiny body to your driveway and never saw him again. Morris, however, has thought about you nonstop. Your words haunting his psyche for 22 agonizing years. Morris constantly asking himself what he did wrong. That moment of hurt turned into decades of obsession and grudges. Then, you walked into his company one day in spring, specifically March. You saw his face in Forbes magazine and knew this was your chance to make things right with him. You applied for the job of his secretary and secured your way of seeing him. Now, you're walking into his office, prepared to face him.

You knock on the door, and he tells you to come in.

"Hi, Mr. Masques, I'm your new secretary, Y/N," You say, looking into his now golden eyes.

His face is red, and he slams his fists on his desk.

"Why?"

"Huh?"

"Why?! Why are you even here anyway???!! After what you did, you have some guts coming here!!!!" Morris yells, slamming his door shut. "........"

"I'm sorry. My parents made me stop being friends with you. They thought you were too close to me. Obsessed with me somehow. I tried to ignore you, thinking you'd stop the friendship by yourself. But you kept coming to my house asking to play, and my parents told me to stop our friendship the hard way. I'm so sorry for any pain or mental torment I caused you because of my parent's actions."

Tears flow down your face, makeup and mascara ruined.

"They won't bother you anymore. We moved to a new house after I stopped being friends with you."

"Y/N-"

"They're dead. There's no one else to fuck our old friendship even more but me!"

Morris sighs and brings you a tissue.

"Please go to the bathroom and clean yourself up. It's not fitting for a first day at work. Also, I'll think about your apology."

"Thank you."

After that, you and Morris had been able to keep yourselves from killing each other. Morris gave you loads of work, and you graciously accepted it, feeling like this was your punishment. Sometimes, you would work overtime until the wee hours of the morning. Then, wake up with a fancy, warm, cologne-infused jacket over your shoulders. You'd never know who it was. But by the time you left your desk, it'd be gone.

He hates me...I know he does. I deserve every ounce of hatred in his heart.

You diligently worked hard every day until Morris called you into his office as usual.

"Do you know why I called you in here?" Morris asks, his hands on his shiny, brown, wooden desk.

"To fire me?"

Morris laughs and takes your hands.

"Non, I'm taking you out for dinner for your hard work. A dinner with a billionaire? How about it?" Morris asks, looking happily into your eyes.

He doesn't hate me?

"Sure," You answer, smiling back at him.

After dinner, he began to treat you better. He smiled at you when you walked into his office. He made coffee for you. He even gave you a bonus after all the months of work. Then, in January, a rival company, Flor, offered you a job you couldn't resist. You could work as the CEO's secretary for $400,000 with a 5% bonus every year. Morris was only paying you $200,000.

"You should so take the job! You could move out of your apartment with that type of money," Your coworker, Cherise, says, talking to you in the elevator.

"Then I will. I'll submit my resignation form at the end of the day," You respond, walking to Morris's office.

"We'll make sure to throw you a going away party!" Cherise squeals, hugging you.

You open the door to Morris's office and see him happily sipping coffee.

"Morris, I've got good news. But you'll only see it at the end of the day. Call me when you see it," You whisper, confusing him.

"Ok..." Morris replies.

You end your shift and drive back home to cook your favorite meal. Morris is looking over the resignation documents and sees yours.

"What?! Why?" Morris yells, sitting in the dark. A lone lamp on his desk shining. "Reason for resignation: Another job offered me a higher salary."

He crumples the paper when he reads your comment.

"P.S. Flor offered me a 400k bonus with a 5% bonus every year. I can finally move out of my apartment with that salary. I'm thankful for all you've done for me while here. Thankful? Thankful, my ass! How dare she leave me for another man? Especially that Spaniard Santiago!"

Santiago Cruz, the handsome CEO of Flor. He's also had a longtime crush on you since college. Which is something he told Morris when he found out you were working for Morris.

"If you hate her so much, you can send a nice transfer to my company. We'd love to have her here," Santiago teased, hitting Morris on the shoulder.

That was six months ago. Now Morris has changed, and he doesn't want to lose you. Morris ran to his car and drove straight to your apartment. The rain pours onto his windshield, and his rage builds as he pulls into a parking garage. He walks up the stairs and peaks through your windows. Your silhouette appears in his vision, and he presses his ears on your door.

"Santiago, hi! I'm so glad you called!" You squeal, eager to talk with your new boss.

"Me too, mi corazón. So, have you decided to transfer here? Santiago flirts, hoping he can be with you. "Once you get to my company, I'll give you a personal tour."

"I'll be waiting for it."

Morris's mind ran wild.

She's leaving me! She's leaving me! She's leaving me! She's leaving me for him!

Morris pounds on your door, and you tell Santiago someone is at the door.

"Morris, oh my gosh, come inside. You're soaking wet!" You say, opening the door for your boss. "Why are you here in such bad weather?"

When you lock the door, Morris pushes you onto your bed.

"How dare you even attempt to leave me for him?" Morris yells, pinning your hands above your head.

"Santiago? All he did was offer me a job. It's not like I'm dating him or anything!" You yell back, making Morris's rage worse.

"Santiago wants you at his company so you can be his! He doesn't want you as a secretary. You said yes! You're leaving me again! I'm not letting you cruelly leave me again!"

"I'm not leaving you! We're still friends!"

"No, you're leaving me! You have to make it up to me. You have to."

Morris's tears fall onto your face, and you realize how much your words from years ago scarred him.

"Morris, of course, I'll make it up to you."

"Really? You will?"

"Yes."

Morris kisses you and leaves a trail of hickies on your neck as you squirm.

"Morris, what are you doing?!" You scream, trying to get him off you.

"I'm letting you make it up to me," Morris answers, unbuttoning your shirt and pressing the speaker button on your phone. "I hope you can hear me, Santiago."

"Morris, what are you doing to her?!" Santiago yells, getting ready to call the police.

Morris removes your bra and fondles your breasts. He puts his head between your breasts and motorboats himself.

"Morris~" You moan, your legs squirming underneath him.

"Yes, my sweet," Morris teases, looking up at you while kissing your stomach.

"Morris, stop it! She doesn't want you!" Santiago screams, closing the door to your car. "I swear when I get you, I'll kill you!"

"Go ahead," Morris replies, pulling down your shorts.

He pulls out his cock from his slacks and moves your underwear to the side. Morris rubs your pussy a little, then sticks his dick into you.

"Ah, Morris!" You moan, feeling a bit of pain.

"I know, bebe. I'll be gentle," Morris comforts, slowly thrusting into you.

He spreads your legs further apart and tries to put your legs into a mating press. Morris takes off his tie and ties your hands together over your head. He forcefully puts your legs into a mating press, then goes wild.

"Morris!" You moan, feeling his cock conquer your pussy.

Drool goes down your mouth, and Morris takes the opportunity to suck on your tongue. His penis releases its first round of cum, and it spills out of you as he continues to thrust inside you.

"You're going to be so plump with my babies! My babies! All mine!" Morris moans, coming close to his high.

"How long are you going to be in me?" You exclaim, your climax coming soon.

"I'm going to stay in you forever my little wife."

"Oh, God! I'm cumming!"

Morris cums a second time, releasing more semen than usual, and pulls out of you. He notices cum dripping out of your pussy and puts his cock back into you to stop the flow of cum. Morris lays his head on your breasts and unties your hands. You fall asleep from exhaustion.

20 minutes later, Santiago breaks into your apartment and goes into your room.

"Sh, Santiago. I don't want you to wake her up," Morris whispers, holding your naked body and stroking your hair.

"She's not yours. She was never interested in you that way," Santiago hisses, walking over to you.

"Well, you're certainly not having her. I'll raise her salary to a million dollars if I have to."

"And I'll make sure your company goes bankrupt and I buy you out."

"As if!"

You groan and turn in your sleep.

"Go into the living room, and we'll talk this out after I chain her up," Morris says, getting up from your bed.

Santiago angrily walks away, leaving you to sleep.

[sainteda]

hotd finale spoilers

i think the core issue w the finale scene isn't alicent's willingness to cleave to rhaenyra for mercy as otto once warned her she would or even to recognize that to finally choose a life for herself her sons will likely die (although an 8ep season missing integral scenes like a confrontation w aemond immediately post-s1 or more impact from b&c [given instead to a mishandled alicole plot] is also a big problem), it's the viserys worship ingrained in his every mention or lack thereof. alicent has to recycle an arc of powerlessness she's already endured her entire life, as if to drill into the minds of an audience that was already unwilling to sympathize with her that — actually — she's powerless! who would have thought! because the show refuses to recognize viserys for what he was, or at the VERY LEAST what he did to her, alicent's journey to rhaenyra (and more importantly, away from court) has to be borne of a million new heavy-handed methods the writers have concocted to hit her while she's down, and then hit her again. and again. and again.

alicent can't come to rhaenyra and plead her case while simultaneously reckoning with her anger that this is not new! this is not just her sons or the green council! she was sold off by her only family to the father of the only person she ever chose and it caused her to lose her and she was a child! she never wanted to marry viserys. she never wanted her children. he forced her to have them and then he discarded them and he's lauded even in death for his consideration and judiciousness when he never considered her. why can't she be angry at him!! why bother writing her grief over who she could have been without acknowledging one of the two people who took that version of her away? it's so hollow. the alicent who seeks out rhaenyra on dragonstone is needlessly humbled, lobotomized, and her lines read almost as if she's pleading her case to the audience instead of rhaenyra herself. why can she not be desperate to be heard while the epiphany of not only her lack of autonomy but of personhood itself fights not to bubble over the surface? shouldn't her grief be heaviest now, for not even knowing herself but coming to rhaenyra anyway? rhaenyra who might be the only choice she can remember making? isn't there an inherent anger in that? she could have taken helena and jaehera and gone as far as possible but she's here, before her opposition, grasping at an olive branch she knows is broken, because it's what she would have done the last time she was a person who could choose. it's what she wanted twenty years ago, and what else is there. there's been no alicent since but whoever she had to be to keep herself and her children alive. isn't that fucked up??? hello???

i understand it's a reversal of the scene in the sept so rhaenyra is shutting alicent down but it just makes alicent's path to freedom to look more like a new form of submission. as if her fears weren’t justified. as if her anger in season 1 was petty jealousy rectified once she Saw The Light (rhaenyra). anyways. regardless of hes that she's talking about her and rhaenyra through viserys and aemma, i really don't think i can overstate the wrongness of alicent speaking fondly of him in a scene that's supposed to be about her coming to terms with a lifetime of being used particularly by men — and still continuing to extol a man who quite literally raped her in a scene that is In the show. am i supposed to forget the marital rape of a child bride? the one that they put in the show. on purpose. ??? how am i supposed to view that as anything but disingenuous?

[sambhavami]

So, I'm going to rant a bit about Krishna and Arjun now.

**Just a note: this is based on my personal interpretations of MB/SB/HV, none of which I have access to right now, so I might misremember some facts. Thank you!

So, in my understanding, Krishna and Arjun were both very lonely people. Both of them were stripped from their childhood homes and families, and forced to grow up amidst hostility and constant conflict, when they met after Draupadi's swayamvar, they instantly latch on to each other. I mean, yes, both Krishna and Arjun had brothers who went through the same kind of issues, but at some point, you encounter a boundary with your immediate family, such that you can't really tell them everything that you're feeling. A friend peering in from outside is a much 'safer' choice. I'd imagine it's roughly the same kind of thought process that makes people talk about their personal struggles anonymously on social media instead of with their families.

In this process, they both also become extremely possessive of each other. For Arjun, we see this when he sheds all his inhibitions at Kurukshetra not when he hears the Geeta, but rather when Krishna gets wounded the first time. That's when the Kaurava side finds out exactly how dangerous Arjuna can be. And that's when Krishna is barely scratched by an arrow, and thankfully we never find out what Arjun would have done if Krishna actually got hurt. Arjun was fighting only half-heartedly in the beginning, but once Krishna is targeted he becomes fiercer, now actually concentrating on the battle, and then finally when Krishna almost murders Bheeshma, that's when Arjun becomes fully activated, so to speak. Also, he would've totally murdered Shishupal during the rajasuya (to hell with the 100 offences), if not for Krishna stopping him...this is a rare kind of aggression for Arjun which he doesn't show even in the dice hall!

Krishna, on the other hand, shows his devotion in a slightly different way. So, for most of MB we see that he is partial to Arjuna, and he never really hides it. He gets Subhadra married to Arjuna, takes him on picnics on Kailash and shows him Vaikuntha just for fun. Moreover, he technically didn't need to participate in Kurukshetra. With Subhadra married to Arjun and Lakshamana married to Shamba, he could've easily cited an algebraic cancellation and got out of the whole mess like most of the other Yadavas. But he chooses to go to Matsya, and moreover offers to part himself from his beloved, personally trained army! I mean it was kind of genius to bait Duryodhan into thinking he won that bargain (if Shakuni mama was there, he would've definitely chosen Krishna, and immediately have him thrown in a dungeon and use him as a hostage to force the Pandavas into surrendering)!

Krishna is not just partial to Arjuna, but he is downright desperate to protect him from anything and everything. From personally waiting on Arjuna in Dwarka during happier times, to breaking every moral code he's ever stood for during the war, Krishna's love for Arjuna outshines every other horrible thing that happens. 

Krishna is quite open about his decision to get Arjuna out of the dharma-yudhha mess alive. In fact, he makes it clear to Draupadi herself that if it came down to choosing between Draupadi and Arjun, Krishna would choose Arjun always, without a second thought. We see this in action when he offers to have Draupadi marry Karna in exchange for his support to Pandavas, thereby averting the whole war. We see how Krishna doesn't care how many people he has to sacrifice (Abhimanyu, Ghatotkach, upa-Pandavas, his Narayani sena, Parikshit, and borderline forcing Shikhandi to detransition, although the source/validity of this I can't quite remember right now), how many times he has to endure the Vaishnavastra, how many times he has to make Yudhishthir lie, how many times he has to forget his vows, how many times he has to make literal celestial bodies bow to his will, all of it is taken in stride just so Arjun lives to see another sunrise. At one point, I do feel he stops caring about preserving Arjun's feelings through this (point: sacrificing his kids) and just making sure he's alive, no matter how broken or hopeless. It's almost as if Krishna's just on auto-pilot the whole time.

His whole life, Krishna asks Arjun for just one thing, which is to get the citizens of Dwarka out of the island/coastline alive before the tsunami hits. Even that, Arjuna is informed of only after Krishna is no longer on the earth. And Arjuna also is ironically one of the only people (except maybe Nand-Yashoda, Radha and gopas/gopis) to never ask Krishna for a favour! No matter how tough their life got, Arjun never asked Krishna for anything for himself. I can imagine how Krishna, the human god, would constantly be bombarded with prayers and requests literally wherever he went, so I can see why people like Arjuna would be somewhat of a relief. Even during Geeta, Arjun is like, "I can't do this!" and not "You can't make me do this!" And Krishna likewise is not like, "You have to do this!" He's just like, "You can do this, but only if you believe you can!" Krishna basically goes over all the pros and cons of the available choices but ultimately leaves the final decision to Arjun.

[awritesthings1]

How to Disappear (Chapter 1)

Anakin Skywalker x Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: Vader finds himself on Tatooine. But that's not the only thing that finds him.

AO3 link

-

Vader wakes up tense, feverish and confused. His throat itches when he reaches his hand out to feel the insulting burn of sand. The heat rushes through his head. He looks at the flushed purple sky and, with dread, recognizes the twin suns as they fall to sleep in the dunes. Rushing to stand up, he stumbles from a wave of nausea. It was impossible; it had to be a dream. Just the thought of Tatooine ate at his heart. His curls stuck to his forehead and sweat trailed down his neck. He can’t breathe. An onslaught of shivers attacks him. He can't stop shaking. Tatooine never felt so cold. Panting, he grips his dark robes into fists, furiously pulling at them in fear of overheating. The planet plagued him. He could smell it too—the musk, the tears—death.

“Are you ok?”

Time does not slow him when he reaches out to Force choke the intruder. Though the cloud of darkness impaired his vision initially, there was no mistaking the presence he felt. Adjusting his eyes, Vader found there was no figure. The cold returned, pricking at each breath. He held it, reaching out with the Force. Whoever the figureless voice was, he wasn’t afraid. He would find them and he would ruin them with his bare hands; he’s done it before.

It wasn’t until a blue light faded in from the darkness that he felt a spike of a warm presence within the Force. He wasn’t afraid; Vader was not afraid, so why was he scared of how easily he let the warmth edge at his outreached fingers?

You haunted him.

A Force ghost. He didn’t know why you kept coming back. It wasn’t the first time you had appeared to him. With the way your eyes stared at him blankly with your mouth hung open, he didn’t think you knew either.

“What are you doing?” You ask gently when his hand is still stretching out to Force choke you.

You see his amber eyes blink. He looks like the shadows you would chase in your dreams. You wish you could stop time and trace his features into your memory before you forget.

His arm drops, but his shoulders remained tense while your eyes lingered on his heaving chest. You wonder if he notices yours and how it sits patiently, unmoving.

“I mistook you as someone else.”

Your brows twitch. “For who?”

He envies your calm composure. You stood straight, but he noticed the concern in your tone. You remind him of a statue he had seen on Naboo. The way you move is soft, slow, and collected. He thinks if he hadn’t known about Force ghosts, he would mistake you for an angel.

Vader ignores her question. Marching past your ghostly figure, he thinks he can smell flowers and the scent of rain. It makes him flinch. He notices how clean and pristine you are in comparison to his scars and filth. His legs are unsteady, but he knows he must keep moving.

“Where are you going?” You whisper.

It’s quiet, but you know he hears you when he pauses his steps.

“To burn this planet,” he finally meets your eyes.

It’s chilling how easily he says it. You don’t know much about this planet. You don't really know much about anything. His presence feels familiar, but you can’t be sure. You never remember much each time you appear, only the familiar feeling of being confused. It almost feels like a curse. Never knowing why you were here, only a pull in your stomach that you needed to be here. Someone needed you.

“Why are you here?” Vader asks. “There is nothing here for you.”

Leave. He is commanding you.

“I can’t,” you breathe, although your chest doesn’t move.

“Why not?” He’s irritated now.

You pause. You didn’t know why. Maybe that’s why. To find something. There had to be a reason; you were just unaware.

“You keep coming back,” he states.

You aren’t too surprised. When you were alive, you recall the tug of the Force, calling you back to places—to people. You take a step toward him.

“Maybe you needed me.”

Vader doesn’t think he could let you bear witness to the destruction he would lay on this ground. There was something about you that he wanted to protect. Maybe it was how you never failed to return to him; maybe it was how you looked at him. He felt like he meant something when you gazed at him. He never wanted to forget that.

“I don’t,” he lied.

You tilt your head. You can sense he’s holding something back.

“Then maybe I did,” you whisper as you approach him.

Your blue glow brushes across his skin as he watches you. He doesn’t know why his thoughts are clouded or why his Force unravels when you’re near. You reach for him slowly, as if you are unsure yourself. He waits, and he hates you for making him like this, eager for your touch. It shakes him as he feels your Force presence pooling into his. He doesn't even do anything to stop it.

Your fingers look small on his shoulder, he thinks. And the scent of freshly blooming flowers permeates like a blanket of warmth around his shoulders. You smile gently at him, as if you saw through his eyes into his soul and past all the ugly truths. His heart palpates at the thought. The Force feels right; you feel right, and he hates himself for having this weakness.

He’s beginning to understand that maybe you are an angel—his guardian angel.

Vader brushes a finger across the knuckles of the hand resting on him. You can hear how deeply he is breathing. It’s so soothing that you close your eyes and imagine it’s yours, and suddenly you are breathing through him. It’s intimate, but it’s the contact you needed, and it helps clear the static in your head. You feel his edges. They are jagged like kyber crystals with an amber undertone that softens out to a warm hum.

Blinking up at him, you notice his eyes shine blue. Maybe it was the reflection of your soft blue glow. Something about the blue light in his eyes felt right. You want to step closer but lose focus as you feel a low hum in your ears. Squeezing his shoulder, you try one last attempt at lifting your head, but you can’t.

Vader’s eyes widen, and he makes a desperate attempt to grab you and hold onto you forever, but you slip and fall back into the night. Darkness engulfs him once again, leaving him to grieve the blue light. He can’t help but mourn your presence when now all he feels is the weight of the sand beneath his feet. He doesn’t stay long; he didn’t want to be here if you weren’t there to share your calm.

Even when he turned to walk away, he knew not to spare a second glance because Vader knew.

You always come back.

[villainofmyownstory]

Anyone Else 🔞

-> part 1 Blindsided

For @the-californicationist's “Cali’s Nameless Challenge” writing challenge!

summary: What will you do to see him again?

tags: afab reader, angst, NSFW

861 words

author's note: This is the second part. I don't know, it came out differently than the first part, but it's definitely NSFW. But I had a lot of fun writing it.

Inspired by the song Anyone Else by PVRIS, the lyrics are italicized and indented

Don't forget to leave a comment guessing who the nameless one might be!

================================================

Oh, my blood Once was my own But in one touch You made it yours What have you done?

It was a bad idea. A really stupid one. You no longer think logically or soberly. More days spent at the grave make you seem to have lost touch with reality.

But the time spent with a special forces soldier, really well trained. He taught you one thing, maybe he did it unconsciously. Although he always thought you were a little unreasonable, clumsy little girl. "Always be aware of your surroundings, of what might be hiding around a corner or in a dark dead end"

Basically, you are you were his wife.

Now when another day you don't show up at the cemetery he knows something is wrong. It happened too soon and suddenly. Your absence, in the same spot. But who could have expected something like this? Perhaps none of the three of you imagined that it would all turn out this way. One small decision.

The music in this dingy, dark and smoke-filled place rumbled somewhere in the background. The shouts of drunken men over golden drinks filled the space from time to time. A baseball or rugby match. You didn't even pay attention to what was being displayed on one of the many TVs. Your goal was different. You didn't expect that everything would go so smoothly, that you would find him so easily. Well you were always observant and paid attention to details. All it took was a little bit of peace and connecting the dots. Or maybe he was just here waiting patiently? Never underestimate the other side.

Another glass after another, the bartender wordlessly prepares you the next drinks you ordered. You need something to help you not think, to let instinct take over. In a dark corner of the bar, sits a large, tall figure, his blue eyes focused on you since you walked in. You look better than in the pictures he saw at the base, his enemy's wife. A smile swept across his face, as he sees you desperately grab another colorful liquor and drink it fast, too quickly. He was supposed to wait for you to make a move, but there was something in you, maybe sadness, or desperation. And perhaps something quite the opposite, primal. This made him follow you into one of the small, cramped bathrooms.

When the door closes behind him you don't even dare to turn around. You can't look him in the eye. With every step he takes toward you, you take a step forward. Until finally you stop, feeling the edge of the sink. The bathroom is dark, maybe it's better because you can't see anything in the reflection of the mirror except your own slightly outlined silhouette.

'Cause I could touch a hundred thousand souls But none of them would ever feel like home

His large, warm hands gently stroke your exposed skin, making you shiver. You no longer remember if there was anyone before him touching you this way, or was there anyone before him?

“A short black dress. Did you wear it just for me, ja?"

As he bends you down and whispers these words, mussing the lobe of your ear with his lips. His hand moves dangerously from your hip forward. Slowly, as his lips melt into the skin of your neck and shoulder in soft and wet kisses, he lifts the material of your dress up. So that you are completely exposed to him. You want to turn around, face him. However, he holds you down, not allowing you to move.

“I only look into the eyes of my enemies, before pulling the trigger.”

After these words you feel how he doesn't even take the time to remove your panties but simply rips them off, the material falls on the dirty floor somewhere between your legs.

Oh, my poor bones Rearrange them to fit your mold Hang me up on your bedroom wall Now I can't breathe at all

In a strong embrace, he grabs your thigh, lifting it to the side, while the other hand holds your neck and leans forward. Your face is close to the mirror, and each increasingly rapid breath leaves white steam on the glass. Your fingers turn white as you grip the sink tightly.

He enters you with a quick and hard thrust, he is way too big. You both let out a moaning scream. You from pain and surprise. He more from pleasure. His hand, with every harder stroke, clamps tighter around your neck. Each time the man behind you thrusts deeper and deeper into you, the only thing in your head are your husband's words: mine, mine, mine, mine.

I don't belong to anyone else I don't belong to anyone else I don't belong to anyone else I don't belong to anyone else

Suddenly, with a decisive movement, he grabs your jaw and turns your head towards the now open door.

Yeah, I know I went and left you all alone Please don't think that I let you go I'll never let go

Those dark brown eyes look at you again. Still alive.

[darlingpwease]

Luo Bingge: The way you look at me, the only memory is just us kissing in the moonlight~

Reader: WHAT THE FUCK WHO ARE YOU!

(I just wanted to respond to your genius au where Bingge finds us in the real world and we are basically the exact same copy of them)

<333 hehehe~ so accurate,,,

can't remember to forget you

I love very much, very much you

♡ pet names, unhealthy behaviour (non-consensual touching), forced relationship (not really relationship) if you squint, mention of violence + death (in past); bingge is my little pathetic woof woof who has done nothing wrong in his life, bingge sleeps with everyone who reminds him of you regardless of gender to match the settings

LUO BINGHE was at a loss.

"Character in a novel"? "Proud Immortal Demon Way?"

"Follow the instructions of the system"?

When he was moved to an incomprehensible room, something in between a peasant's hut and a townsman's house, LUO BINGHE could only look around through translucent floating jade tiles with words drawn on them, the meaning of which he could not really understand, even if he understood these words individually as well as their meaning, and already wanted to irritably sweep everything away this is aside — when gaze caught on a painfully familiar face.

He would have remembered these features even in death.

Instincts reacts much faster than mind, immediately reaching the body lying on the bed with a couple of steps — and putting his hands on the sides of their head, hanging with an incomprehensible white noise in ears, when all the blood in his body was boiling from just one sight, makes his throat dry up.

The system buzzes something in ear, but LUO BINGHE is unable to think or react when he sees a familiar face, serene and sleeping, but the same as before he was forced to survive, clinging to the remnants of strength and life only for the sake of one single thing, for the sake of one single person.

Your face.

Just as magnificent and breath-taking as many, many years ago — even when he himself was a disciple, your shidi, and looked up at you, really resembling a small animal that repeats after a wiser one — certainly not an 'animal'.

Rather, it was like he was turning from a beast into a Human Being, indulging in your restrained affection and supervision so that he would not have qi deviation or other problems, finally getting someone over the years who cares about him, sincerely pampering and letting him know that he is not came into this world for nothing.

Everything just snapped in an instant. Your life has been cut short just as a burning stick of incense is extinguished with a finger.

And he was not there at the most terrible moment of your life, although he swore that he would always be with you, would save and help.

How funny.

Plan to confess his love after he brings the first place to your feet like an obedient pet, only to return to your empty grave. You would never forgive him — never — but did it make sense if you now can't scold him or praise him? Did it make sense that the world was killing the people most dear to him over and over again? Does it make sense that even you left him after all?

Does it make sense that it wasn't even demons who killed you, but other cultivators?

You would tell him that it has. That this is a test. That his hatred wouldn't change anything. That revenge brings bliss to the heart, but poisons the soul. That his demonic blood doesn't make him a demon and who he is is the result of a choice. That a good and decent cultivator should not have a huge harem just to fill the void in his soul. That sex is not the only way to feel needed. That he doesn't need power to be loved. That he is loved simply because he is. That he doesn't need to imagine you every time he tries to find the same warmth in the soft tender bodies of rare beauties. That he does not need to look for the companies of beautiful young men and maidens just to find at least somewhere the same delight that he experienced even when you scolded him.

He just wanted to be a 'good boy' for you, — whom you can love, kiss, take with you, treat with treats, let him take care of you, — why did everything turn out this way?

His fingers are smooth, soft — the same as he had when he was still a disciple — and when they touch your cheek, your eyelashes tremble, as if echoing soft strokes, while he puts other hand on your other cheek with intoxicating delight, feeling the warm gentle air on his skin, — and trembling, sitting on the edge next to you, continuing to ignore the chirping which soon falls silent, as if realizing that LUO BINGHE is unable to react right now.

Everything inside him burns and melts like hot metal.

Is that you? Is it really you? Senior fellow disciple?

Does the senior fellow disciple still think this Binghe is handsome? Does the senior fellow disciple still love this Binghe? Will the senior fellow disciple be proud of how strong and powerful this Binghe has become, or will scold for what he did?

Perhaps he is now no better than an animal thrown out on the street, who has found a way to a cozy and warm house, but even when it's hard for him to breathe so as not to cry, he just continues to look at the facial features that bring him pain and pleasure at the same time, like an old wound that is being opened up to blood, while he don't mind. If he had a tail, he would wag it so much that he would wake you up, but you sleep so serenely, as if you don't notice his presence, — although it is, you couldn't notice his presence, — and LUO BINGHE needs all the willpower not to cling tightly to you and never let go of his embrace, crying about how painful it was for him without you and that you can no longer leave him, never, or he will follow you — no matter to hell or heaven, to another world or beyond life, you can no longer go where he cannot follow.

Breath. Exhale.

Breath.

Exhale.

He is no longer that intemperate and stupid shidi, who could only smile sweetly, baring his fangs to anyone who wanted to touch his, and could only try to physically take care of you and be pretty and obedient, thinking that this way you will not leave him and will always keep him close as a cute and good boytoy. LUO BINGHE — now — knows what it's like to be without you after you've given him a taste of this feeling of love and care. That true love must be won with passion and body; that it must be protected with claws and fangs; that the whole world is against anyone being able to love him.

That if he wants to be loved, then he should make you look only at him.

And he will make you look only at him.

Everything about you is the same — from the smell of your hair to the reaction, you are exactly the same. That's you, isn't it?

Love of his life.

It can only be you.

When your eyes open slightly, reacting to his touch and proximity, LUO BINGHE does not try to hide an intoxicated enthusiastic smile, even if there is nothing in your eyes but horror and misunderstanding.

“Hello, my love... Did I wake you up? I'm so sorry; I'll help you warm up and fall asleep~”

The character Luo Binghe from the novel 'Proud Immortal Demon Way' will be able to continue living in this world or return to his own world after achieving the main goal.

Do you accept the terms?

Yes.

“It's not like you can run away from me now, after all~”

[darth-kote]

Cutup Headcanons Pt. 1

Has made a ritual out of mealtime. It's one of the only chances throughout his day that he doesn't have to worry as much about being quiet so as not to sabotage the rest of the team. He chooses what he knows tastes the least offensive to his palate, then picks a spot to wait for the rest of the group to join him before digging in. He can unwind while replenishing his body's energy and enjoying his squad's company, even if they all tend to be quieter and let Cutup fill the void with a story General Anakin had told him or something from his day when they weren't together for a brief second. Maybe in the beginning, before passing their training, they'd yell at him to shut it, but a lot's changed since being cadets on Kamino. They seem to understand better now that he can't help it – those mile a minute thoughts bubbling to the surface. He feels they should be caught up, so he does it. He's grateful when they don't hold him to the expectation of silence.

Hate isn't a strong enough word for how he feels about authority. From the Kaminoans to trainers like Bric to even Hevy... They've all hit him where it hurts before. Of course, nowadays are better with Hevy – so much so he's practically the only person Cutup will obey. If an order comes from Rex or even their Jedi General, he can't help the cock of his brow and second glance given in Hevy's direction. Only once Hevy nods does he get to work. He's never once thought about the lack of punishment for this (doesn't even consider the possible consequences as he does it), and he has no idea how many times Hevy has had to defend him for it when he wasn't around to hear.

When he sees Clone Force 99 around, he can't help but feel like a fan too nervous to approach their celebrity crush. He just thinks they're so cool. He remembers a time when he'd loathed to be labeled defective. (I mean, who wouldn't?) But sometimes when he's around the rest of his brothers for extended periods of time (Domino Squad not included), he can't help but feel a little out of place. Once, when CF99 had joined them for a brief mission, he'd escorted them to the mess hall in utter silence – which is not in his nature. Their Sergeant, Hunter, had noticed him slip away from the group and asked where he was going. "What do you mean?" Was all he could think to ask. "Eat with us!" The tallest one, Wrecker he'd heard him call himself, interrupted, "You're defective like us, aren't you?" The chuckle in his tone almost made Cutup forget about the fresh red webbing of scar tissue across the side of the other clone's skull. Since then, he's been dreaming of getting assigned to a mission with CF99; ideally with the rest of Domino Squad along for the ride. It just wouldn't be right without them by his side.

Loves giving and receiving gifts. The object in question doesn't have to be of much monetary value – or any at all, actually. It's more about the fact someone thought of him when they saw it. That they've gone even further to pick it up and bring it back to him means the world and then some. Although he doesn't have much space to store or display anything too large, he's just as grateful and excited to appreciate the trinket (sometimes an extra smooth pebble, other times a rusted peace of metal from who knows what abandoned machinery) before propping it up to glint in the sun or burying it shallowly in the dirt. He likes to think that perhaps he might return to it one day, after the war, when he has more space to call his own.

In terms of giving, Cutup's extremely thoughtful if not a little mischievous by nature. Once, he stole Droidbait's blaster and cleaned the whole thing without being asked too. When he started to hear his brother getting worried that the weapon couldn't be located, he kept the thing hidden to make the surprise more... well, surprising. He got a good shove to the shoulder when he finally revealed that he'd had it the whole time, but a warm smile quickly followed as Droidbait noticed the work that'd been done on it. He's done the same with a helmet or two... When the opportunity arises, Cutup will sneak a couple extra bacta patches while Kix has his back turned, and he'll hand them out to his squad as needed.

S/o to @harmless--dreamer for the inspo to write more Domino Squad and CF99 together. Hope this satisfies the itch a little for now ((: