#i have a lot of thoughts and i must scream

[tsunaso]

“OH MY SWEET SUMMER CHILD”

pairing. Omega!Mikey x Omega!Sanzu x Alpha!male reader

synopsis. karma reduced Sanzu Haruchiyo to nothing and took another omega down with him. — 5.7k words part one.

warnings. mdni, nsfw, amab reader, dead dove, drugging, bitching, degradation, dubcon (due to altered state), dark omegaverse, humiliation, feminization, overstimulation, breeding, knotting, forced submission.

Sanzu didn’t know how much time had passed.

Minutes? Hours? It didn’t matter.

The heat was settling into his bones, wrapping around his spine like a slow, venomous snake. His body felt wrong—too hot, too needy, too fucking weak. He hated it. Hated the way his scent grew richer with every passing second, filling the room with a sickly sweetness that made his stomach turn.

It wasn’t his scent. Not the scent of an alpha.

The realization sent a fresh wave of rage crashing into his ribs, but it was a hollow kind of anger—desperate, useless.

The door creaked open, and Sanzu barely lifted his head before the thick, heavy presence of M/n’s scent filled the room. It should have been oppressive. It should have made Sanzu bristle with defiance.

Instead, it just made his stomach twist.

M/n strolled in leisurely, the smirk on his face downright amused as he took in the pathetic sight before him. “Well, well,” he mused, crouching beside Sanzu. “It’s setting in faster than I expected. You must have had a lot of suppressed omegan traits for it to be hitting this hard.”

Sanzu clenched his jaw, refusing to acknowledge him, but he knew—knew—M/n could hear the way his breathing had changed. Shallow. Unsteady. Desperate.

“Still in denial?” M/n hummed, his voice dropping into something lower, darker. “That’s cute.” He reached forward, barely ghosting his fingers over Sanzu’s jaw.

A violent shudder wracked Sanzu’s body. His own skin felt wrong, hypersensitive in ways he didn’t understand. He wanted to pull away, to snarl, to bite—but the moment M/n’s fingers brushed over his scent glands, his body froze.

Felt good.

No. No, no, no, no.

Sanzu jerked away with a choked noise, his breath coming out uneven. His entire body was trembling, his muscles twitching like he was going to rip himself apart. His scent thickened with frustration, humiliation, and something else—something darker.

M/n clicked his tongue. “Pathetic,” he muttered, standing up. “You should be grateful we’re keeping you. If I let you go now, you’d be torn apart by the first alpha that caught your scent. Maybe that’s what you deserve, though.”

Sanzu’s stomach twisted violently. His instincts recoiled at the thought—exposed, helpless, left to fend for himself in a world where he was nothing.

No pack. No status. No protection.

He needed—

Sanzu stopped breathing for a second.

He needed protection.

His body was crying for it, his instincts clawing at his mind, screaming at him to find someone stronger to keep him safe. He bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood, but it didn’t matter—the panic was already setting in.

He needed—

The door opened again.

A sharp, unmistakable scent flooded the room, cutting through the haze in Sanzu’s mind like a blade.

Omega.

But not just any omega.

Him.

Sanzu’s body reacted before his mind even caught up. His scent spiked—needy, desperate, craving.

Fucking disgusting.

He felt bile rise in his throat, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the unbearable pull in his gut. The part of his mind still clinging to reason was screaming—raging against the betrayal of his own body, but it was already too late.

Because the omega had already noticed.

He stepped into the room without hesitation, his black eyes locking onto Sanzu with something close to boredom. His scent was sharp, unwavering, and infinitely stronger than what Sanzu remembered from that alleyway.

And Sanzu—

Sanzu leaned toward him.

It was so fucking small—just a shift in posture, the way his breath caught slightly in his throat—but it was enough.

The omega’s lips curled. “Are you serious?”

Sanzu swallowed thickly, his throat too dry, too tight. He wanted to say something, anything, but his body was moving on its own, drawn toward the closest source of comfort.

The omega took a step forward. Sanzu flinched.

Not from fear.

From restraint.

From the unbearable, crawling need under his skin.

A sharp scoff cut through the thick air. “That’s fucking disgusting,” the omega muttered, his voice filled with pure, unfiltered disgust.

Sanzu trembled violently. His breath stuttered, his scent betraying him even more, turning unbearably needy. He wanted to scream, wanted to rip off his own skin, wanted to run—but he couldn’t.

His body was begging.

And the omega could smell it.

M/n chuckled darkly from the doorway. “Ah… seems like he’s really starting to feel it now.”

The omega barely acknowledged him, his gaze still pinned on Sanzu like he was something rotten stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

Sanzu wanted to hate him. Wanted to spit in his face, snarl, demand that he wipe that fucking look off his—

But all he could do was stare, trembling, desperate, as his body betrayed him more and more with every second.

The omega sighed, voice thick with irritation. “What a waste,” he muttered. Then, after a moment, he tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing.

“…Does he even know my name?”

Sanzu stiffened.

A slow, cruel smirk spread across M/n’s lips. “Oh,” he exhaled, amusement flickering in his voice. “He really doesn’t, does he?”

Sanzu’s stomach dropped.

The omega—the omega he had tried to take—stepped closer, just enough that Sanzu could feel the ghost of his pheromones press against his skin. He crouched down, leveling Sanzu with a blank stare.

“You really don’t know?” he murmured.

Sanzu’s mouth went dry.

The omega’s expression barely shifted, but something in his gaze sharpened.

“Sano Manjiro,” he said flatly. “But you—” His lips twitched up in a cruel, humorless smirk.

“You can call me Mikey.”

Sanzu’s heart pounded in his chest.

Mikey.

That name—he knew that name.

The second in command of Bonten. The most dangerous omega in the city. The untouchable king of the underworld.

The one fucking omega he should have never, ever laid his hands on.

Mikey stood up, rolling his shoulders like this conversation had already bored him.

“Keep him,” he muttered to M/n, already turning away. “I don’t care.”

The door shut behind him, and just like that—his presence was gone.

Sanzu barely heard M/n’s chuckle, low and dark in the back of his throat.

“Well,” M/n hummed, stepping closer, reaching down to cup Sanzu’s trembling jaw.

“Now you know.”

　　　　　　　　· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·

Sanzu was losing.

His body was drenched in sweat, slick and trembling, heat curling through every inch of him like a wildfire he couldn’t put out. His breathing was ragged, uneven, little whimpering noises slipping from his throat no matter how hard he tried to choke them back.

Everything hurt—his stomach ached, his thighs shook, his hole clenched around nothing, desperate for relief that wouldn’t come.

It was so wrong—so fucking wrong—and yet, no matter how hard he fought it, his body was needy in ways he couldn’t ignore.

His pussy—no, not pussy, not that—his hole was aching, fluttering open and empty, making his hips twitch against the mattress.

And worse?

His dick—his useless, pitiful dick—was soft.

No knot. No hardness. Just a sad little thing, sticky with leaking slick, resting against his stomach, completely ignored by his own heat.

His body wasn’t asking to be fucked like an alpha. It wasn’t even acknowledging that part of him anymore.

It was begging to be bred.

Sanzu bit his lip so hard it split, blood mixing with the embarrassing, syrupy sweet scent pouring off him. His thighs pressed together, trying to rub some kind of friction against his swollen, puffy entrance, but it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

The door creaked open, and Sanzu’s entire body froze.

A thick, powerful scent flooded the room—alpha.

His body reacted immediately, thighs tensing, hole fluttering pathetically. His head snapped up, and through the feverish haze clouding his mind, he registered M/n standing in the doorway, watching him with pure amusement.

“Tch.”

M/n stepped forward slowly, hands tucked in his pockets, completely unbothered by the thick, humiliating scent in the room. His sharp gaze flicked lazily over Sanzu’s wrecked form—his sweat-drenched skin, the way his legs shook, the pathetic mess of slick and shame pooling beneath him.

His lips curled.

“Look at you.”

Sanzu trembled.

M/n crouched beside him, resting an elbow on his knee, tilting his head. “What happened to all that attitude, hm?” he murmured, voice low, mocking. “You were barking so loud before. Now look at you—”

His eyes flickered lower, to Sanzu’s shamefully soft dick.

A slow, wicked smirk spread across M/n’s face.

“…Well. That’s disappointing.”

Sanzu’s stomach twisted into knots.

M/n reached out, gripping his chin, forcing Sanzu’s dazed, glassy eyes to meet his own. “Not even hard?” he murmured. His thumb ghosted over Sanzu’s lower lip, pressing down slightly, smirking when Sanzu’s mouth parted automatically.

“So useless.”

Sanzu let out a shaky breath, his fingers digging into the sheets. His entire body was burning, every nerve screaming for relief, but the humiliation coiling in his stomach was just as unbearable.

M/n hummed, tilting his head slightly. “I wonder…”

His free hand drifted lower, over the curve of Sanzu’s waist, his soft, pathetic belly, down to his thighs, which tensed beneath his touch.

Sanzu stiffened.

No. No, no—

But M/n ignored him, pushing his thighs apart effortlessly, exposing the soaked, puffy mess between his legs.

Sanzu whimpered.

“Awww,” M/n cooed, mocking, watching the way Sanzu’s slick dripped down onto the sheets. “All swollen and puffy. Poor thing. No wonder you’re suffering so much.”

His fingers ghosted over the sensitive, twitching entrance, making Sanzu’s entire body jerk violently. A choked, humiliating little gasp escaped him, before he could even stop it.

M/n’s smirk widened.

“Sensitive, aren’t we?”

Sanzu’s chest heaved, his thighs twitching, trying to press back together, but M/n’s grip on him was iron-strong.

The worst part?

His hole fluttered, clenching around nothing, desperately sucking in the air, trying to get something—anything inside.

M/n chuckled.

His fingers dragged lower, tracing the slick-drenched, swollen mess between Sanzu’s legs, his touch so light it made Sanzu’s breath hitch violently.

“Such a cute little pussy.”

Sanzu’s eyes went wide.

His heart slammed against his ribs.

“No,” he rasped, shaking his head, voice wrecked, barely there. “No, I—”

But M/n tapped a finger against his twitching, leaking hole, and whatever Sanzu was about to say vanished in a broken, needy little sob.

His body betrayed him.

M/n grinned.

“Ohhh,” he exhaled, mocking delight dripping from his voice. “You like that?” He pressed a little firmer, watching the way Sanzu’s entrance fluttered around the touch, how his body instinctively tried to take him in.

Sanzu’s breathing stuttered.

Tears burned at the corners of his eyes.

M/n leaned in, voice dropping to a low purr.

“Come on,” he murmured. “Say it.”

Sanzu shook his head, lips parted, breath coming in ragged little pants.

M/n’s smirk turned ruthless.

His thumb dragged down, slick gathering on his fingers, pressing just barely against Sanzu’s puffy, twitching pussy, pushing in just enough to make Sanzu’s entire body jerk violently.

A sharp, broken cry ripped from his throat.

M/n hummed, amused.

“There we go,” he murmured. “Just like a good little omega.”

Sanzu’s chest heaved, his entire body trembling as the heat twisted deeper, spreading through his veins like molten lava. His fingers dug into the sheets, his thighs quivering, still trying—weakly, uselessly—to press together, to hide himself from the hungry, amused gaze drinking him in.

But M/n wouldn’t let him.

“You’re still fighting?” M/n mused, tilting his head, his thumb dragging slow, lazy circles against the puffy, leaking mess between Sanzu’s legs.

Sanzu twitched violently, a humiliating, sharp gasp tearing from his throat.

It was too much.

The heat had already wrecked him, stripped him of everything, made his body hypersensitive—and now M/n was toying with him, pushing against the swollen, fluttering entrance just enough to make Sanzu’s instincts claw at his mind.

His body knew what it needed.

It was begging for it.

But M/n wasn’t giving it to him.

Not yet.

Sanzu bit down on his lip, his vision blurry, heat pooling low and deep in his gut. He wanted to scream, wanted to curse and fight, but the moment M/n pressed his fingers in a little deeper, a broken little sob escaped him instead.

M/n grinned.

“There we go,” he murmured, voice sickly sweet, mocking. “I knew you’d sound cute when you finally stopped pretending.”

Sanzu whimpered, hips jerking forward against his will, chasing more, desperate, needy—

M/n’s fingers vanished.

A sharp cry ripped from Sanzu’s throat, his body arching off the bed, his hole clenching around nothing, sucking in the empty air.

M/n laughed.

“Awww,” he cooed, reaching out to cup Sanzu’s jaw, tilting his flushed, tear-streaked face up toward him. “Poor little thing. Did you want something?”

Sanzu’s lips parted, breath hitching, his entire body burning. His scent spiked, thick with helpless, desperate need.

But he still wouldn’t say it.

M/n sighed, shaking his head, disappointed. “Still acting tough?”

Sanzu shuddered.

Then—

A sharp slap landed against his inner thigh, stinging, making him flinch and jerk.

M/n’s tone darkened.

“Say it.”

Sanzu’s chest rose and fell rapidly, his pulse pounding in his ears. His pride was dangling by a thread, fragile, barely holding on—

M/n’s fingers dragged lower again, teasing over the slick, messy folds, his thumb pressing against the sensitive, twitching entrance.

Sanzu gasped, thighs trembling, his body trying to sink down onto it.

But M/n still wouldn’t give it to him.

“Beg.”

Sanzu whimpered, fingers clenching into the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white. His mouth opened, but no words came out, just ragged little breaths, humiliated, broken noises.

He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

Another sharp slap to his inner thigh made him jolt violently, and M/n grabbed his chin again, forcing their eyes to meet.

“Be a good girl,” M/n murmured, his smirk widening, voice dripping with cruel amusement. “Tell me what you need.”

Sanzu’s vision blurred. His body ached, twitched, desperation clawing at his mind. His heat was devouring him, instincts screaming, pleading, demanding—

The words ripped from his throat before he could stop them.

“Please.”

M/n’s eyes gleamed.

Sanzu shuddered, tears spilling down his flushed cheeks, humiliation burning through him hotter than the heat itself.

M/n hummed, dragging his fingers lazily over Sanzu’s needy, dripping hole, making him whimper, squirm, gasp.

“Please what?”

Sanzu bit his lip, his throat tight, chest heaving. He couldn’t say it.

But his body was screaming it for him.

M/n sighed in mock sympathy. “Such a dumb little thing.”

Then—

His fingers pushed inside.

Sanzu gasped, his entire body arching off the mattress, a sharp, wrecked moan tearing from his throat.

It felt too good.

The stretch, the fullness, the way M/n’s fingers curled just right, pressing against something deep inside him, making his hole clench down, sucking his fingers deeper.

His useless, pathetic d*ck twitched against his stomach, leaking slick and precum, but still—still—not even half-hard.

His body had no use for it.

Only his soft, soaking-wet pussy mattered now.

M/n groaned, watching the way Sanzu’s swollen entrance clenched greedily around his fingers. “Ohhh, you were made for this.”

Sanzu let out a pitiful little whimper, his entire body trembling, his hips rolling down into the touch, chasing more, more, more—

M/n’s fingers slid out.

Sanzu sobbed.

“No,” he choked out, his hole clenching around nothing, slick dripping down his thighs, making a mess of the sheets beneath him. “No, no, please—”

M/n chuckled, his fingers coated in slick, watching the ruined, broken mess before him.

“Look at you,” he murmured, amused. “So desperate. So empty.”

Sanzu’s entire body shuddered.

M/n shifted, undoing his belt, pulling his pants down just enough to free his aching, heavy cock, already slick with precum, flushed, throbbing.

Sanzu’s breath hitched.

M/n’s fingers curled around his soft, dripping pussy, giving it a slow, teasing rub, making Sanzu cry out, his hips jerking forward.

“Want me to fill you up, sweetheart?” M/n murmured, mocking, taunting, rubbing his thick, leaking tip against the sensitive, twitching hole.

Sanzu nodded weakly, panting, lost, his body begging for it.

M/n’s smirk widened.

“Use your words.”

Sanzu’s breath came out in a ragged sob.

“Please, Alpha—”

M/n’s hands gripped his thighs, spreading him wider, holding him open and exposed.

Then—

He thrust in.

Sanzu’s back arched off the mattress, his entire body seizing, a sharp, broken scream ripping from his throat as his aching, swollen pussy was finally, finally filled.

It was too much.

It was perfect.

M/n groaned. “Oh, you were made for this.”

Then, he started moving.

Sanzu screamed.

It was too much—too deep, too good, the stretch burning hot and perfect as M/n’s cock forced him open, shoving inside with a single, brutal thrust.

His pussy clenched down immediately, desperate, needy, sucking M/n’s cock deeper, like his body knew exactly what it was made for.

Sanzu’s thighs trembled, his breath stuttering into a wrecked sob, and when M/n pulled back, only to slam in again, even harder, his body arched violently off the bed.

“Ohhh,” M/n groaned, hands gripping Sanzu’s hips hard enough to bruise, holding him still, pinned, completely at his mercy. “So fucking tight.”

Sanzu let out a broken whimper, his hands scrabbling at the sheets, his mind fogged and empty, drowned beneath the overwhelming, unbearable pleasure.

His useless little dick was still soft, twitching against his stomach, dripping helpless little beads of slick and precum—completely forgotten.

His body didn’t care about it anymore.

His body only wanted cock.

M/n’s hands slid up, gripping Sanzu’s waist, before he slammed him down onto his length, forcing him to take it all.

Sanzu screamed.

A sharp, wet slap echoed in the room as M/n’s hips smacked against Sanzu’s, stuffing him full, over and over, his pussy gushing slick, making a mess of both of them.

“Fuck,” M/n grunted, forcing Sanzu’s legs wider, watching his puffy, swollen little hole stretch around his thick length, sucking him deeper with every thrust.

“You like this, huh?” M/n mocked, snapping his hips forward, watching the way Sanzu cried out, his breath ragged, gasping, desperate. “This cute little pussy was made to be fucked, wasn’t it?”

Sanzu shook his head weakly, whimpering, but his body betrayed him completely.

His hips rolled back automatically, chasing each thrust, his insides clenching down, begging to be filled, bred, ruined.

M/n laughed.

“Look at you,” he murmured, voice dripping with pure amusement, watching the way Sanzu’s hole clenched greedily, slick dripping between his thighs.

“You’re just a fcking pussy now, aren’t you?”

Sanzu let out a choked sob, humiliation burning through him, but he couldn’t stop.

Couldn’t stop taking it.

Couldn’t stop wanting it.

Couldn’t stop needing it.

M/n grinned, leaning down, his breath hot against Sanzu’s ear.

“Say it.”

Sanzu’s breath hitched violently, his body shuddering, overwhelmed, his vision blurred with tears.

He couldn’t.

He wouldn’t.

But then—

M/n’s fingers slid down, rubbing over his slick, swollen little dick, sending a white-hot spark of pleasure straight through him.

Sanzu screamed.

His entire body jerked violently, his pussy squeezing around M/n’s cock, soaking both of them in even more slick.

M/n chuckled, low and dark, his pace picking up, fucking into Sanzu even harder.

“Say it,” he growled, gripping his throat, his other hand still toying with Sanzu’s soaked little dick, stroking it in tight, warm palm.

Sanzu’s mind broke.

“I’m just a pussy!” he sobbed, screaming it, his body convulsing, drowning in mindless, unbearable pleasure.

“Good girl.”

M/n slammed into him one final time, shoving his cock as far as it could go with out catching on his knot, holding him there as his release spilled inside, filling Sanzu with hot, thick cum.

Sanzu let out a wrecked, broken moan, his back arching, his entire body shuddering violently as his own release ripped through him.

His pussy clamped down hard, milking M/n’s cock, desperate to be bred, his heat finally satisfied.

For now.

M/n pulled back slightly, watching as his cum dripped out, running down Sanzu’s thighs, pooling on the ruined sheets.

Sanzu was wrecked.

His breath came in ragged, choked sobs, his thighs twitching violently, his entire body overheated, soaked, ruined. His puffy, abused little hole was still fluttering, gaping, leaking M/n’s cum onto the sheets beneath him, his body still crying for more.

But his heat wasn’t over.

His instincts weren’t satisfied.

His pathetic little clit—his soft, useless excuse of a dick—twitched against his stomach, dripping slick, ignored, forgotten, completely useless to the heat wracking his body.

And then—

A new scent flooded the room.

Sharp. Cold. Omega.

Mikey.

Sanzu’s entire body tensed violently, his breath catching, his dazed, glassy eyes barely able to focus as he turned his head.

Mikey stood in the doorway, his dark, empty eyes dragging over Sanzu’s ruined form, his lips curling into a slow, disgusted smirk.

“Still in heat?”

Sanzu shuddered, a fresh wave of humiliation burning through him.

Because Mikey was right.

His body was still aching.

Still needy.

Still empty.

And Mikey could smell it.

M/n hummed, casual, lazy, watching as Mikey stepped closer, his movements slow, deliberate, his scent curling around Sanzu like a noose.

“I was wondering when you’d give in,” M/n murmured, tilting his head. “Figured you’d be too disgusted to touch him.”

Mikey’s smirk widened. “I am disgusted.”

His sharp gaze dropped to Sanzu’s trembling, slick-drenched thighs, his ruined little clit twitching uselessly, and a low, mocking chuckle slipped from his lips.

“But he’s already dripping for me, isn’t he?”

Sanzu let out a soft, broken noise, his shame and desperation mixing into something unbearable.

Mikey stepped closer, the mattress dipping as he crawled over Sanzu’s body. At some point Mikey must off taken off his clothes because Mikey was pressing down against him, his own useless dick rubbing against Sanzu’s stomach, leaking precum.

Sanzu’s entire body tensed violently at the skin-on-skin contact, his instincts screaming at him to submit.

Mikey’s lips brushed against his ear, his voice a cold whisper.

“Little bitch,” he murmured.

Then—

His teeth sank into Sanzu’s scent gland.

Sanzu screamed.

His whole body arched off the bed, his clit twitching violently, slick gushing out of him, his heat kicking up even stronger as Mikey’s dominant omega scent poured into him.

Mikey licked over the bite slowly, savoring Sanzu’s pathetic little sobs.

“You’re so fcking weak,” he whispered, his hand dragging down Sanzu’s trembling stomach, his fingers ghosting over his pathetic, useless little clit.

Sanzu flinched violently, letting out a wrecked little whimper, because Mikey was touching it like it was a real pussy.

Mikey grinned.

“Awww,” he cooed, mocking, rubbing his fingers over the soft, twitching flesh, watching Sanzu’s entire body jerk uncontrollably.

“Look at this cute little clit.”

Sanzu sobbed.

Mikey’s fingers pinched it, rolled it between his fingers, rubbing tight little circles, and Sanzu’s breath hitched violently, his legs trembling as his body reacted against his will.

“Doesn’t even get hard anymore, does it?” Mikey murmured, his voice pure condescension.

Sanzu whimpered, shaking his head weakly, his body fighting him, his hips rolling into Mikey’s touch despite himself.

“Poor thing,” Mikey purred. “Bet it feels even better when I play with this messy little pussy, huh?”

His fingers dragged lower, teasing Sanzu’s drenched fluttering little hole, and Sanzu sobbed, his thighs twitching open even wider.

“Such a cute little thing,” Mikey whispered, mocking, taunting, pressing a single finger inside, watching Sanzu’s wrecked expression twist in unbearable pleasure.

Then—

M/n grabbed Mikey’s chin, yanking him up.

The omega snarled, but M/n just smirked.

“You’re awfully worked up for someone who wasn’t interested,” M/n murmured, his fingers dragging over Mikey’s entrance, rubbing over his slick-drenched hole.

Mikey’s breath hitched.

A sharp, violent shudder ran down his spine, his thighs twitching, pressing together instinctively, but M/n’s hand was already there, keeping them spread wide.

“Fuck off,” Mikey snapped, voice low, biting—but it wasn’t as sharp as it should’ve been.

Because his scent was changing.

It was subtle at first—just the slightest shift, something thicker, sweeter, mixing with the overpowering heat-heavy scent already filling the room.

M/n inhaled deeply, his grin widening.

“Ohhh,” he exhaled, his thumb brushing over Mikey’s slick entrance, feeling the way it fluttered under his touch.

“You’re feeling it now, aren’t you?”

Mikey tensed violently.

Because he was.

It had started the moment he walked into the room. The moment Sanzu’s ruined, heat-heavy scent hit him, the moment M/n’s thick alpha pheromones wrapped around him like a noose.

His body had reacted instantly.

He’d felt the tug in his gut, the slow, creeping burn pooling low in his stomach, the way his own slick started leaking out of him before he could even process it.

Sympathy heat.

He wasn’t even in his own cycle—his body was just responding to the scent of another omega in distress, to the dominant alpha presence pressing down on him.

It was natural. Instinctive.

And completely fucking disgusting.

Mikey clenched his teeth, his thighs trembling, his body fighting itself—but it was too late.

M/n chuckled darkly.

“You walked in here thinking you were better than him,” he mused, pressing his fingers against Mikey’s twitching, slick hole, watching the way it clenched down, desperate for something to fill it.

Mikey let out a sharp breath, his back arching slightly, his useless little dick twitching against his stomach.

M/n leaned in, his lips brushing against Mikey’s flushed, overheated ear.

“But now you’re just as bad,” he whispered.

Then—

He pushed a finger inside.

Mikey gasped, violently, his entire body jerking, his hole clenching down tight around M/n’s finger, sucking it deeper.

Sanzu watched.

Watched the omega who had mocked him, who had called him pathetic, who had looked at him with nothing but disgust—

Now writhing, panting, falling apart just as fast.

The realization sent a fresh pulse of slick out of Sanzu’s swollen, puffy little pussy, his thighs shaking, his own heat spiking again.

Mikey bit his lip hard, his breath ragged, his fingers gripping the sheets beneath him.

“Still trying to act tough?” M/n mocked, crooking his finger, pressing against that deep, sensitive spot inside.

Mikey let out a sharp, wrecked noise, his hips jerking forward, chasing the touch against his will.

Sanzu shuddered.

Because he recognized it.

That exact moment.

The moment when your body stopped listening to you.

When instincts took over completely.

M/n grinned.

“There it is.”

Mikey let out a ragged breath, his thighs twitching, his hole clenching hard around M/n’s fingers.

M/n leaned in, voice low, teasing.

“Do you get it now?”

Mikey trembled.

M/n dragged his fingers out slowly, leaving Mikey’s wet, clenching hole twitching around nothing, before pressing his slick-coated fingers against Sanzu’s entrance instead.

Sanzu gasped, his entire body arching, his soft, dripping little clit twitching uselessly against his stomach.

Mikey watched.

Watched as Sanzu’s puffy little pussy clenched around M/n’s fingers, his pretty little hole sucking them in greedily, instinctively.

Watched as Sanzu sobbed, wrecked, broken, completely lost in heat.

Watched as his own body reacted.

Slick dripped down his thighs, his entrance fluttering, aching, needing.

M/n smirked, watching both of them now.

“Two desperate little omegas,” he murmured, dragging Sanzu closer, grinding his slick-drenched pussy against Mikey’s dripping dick.

The contact was electric.

Both omegas let out a sharp, broken moan, their bodies trembling, reacting, needing more.

“Aw, fuck,” M/n chuckled, watching them twitch and whimper, their little cocks rubbing together, leaking slick.

“You’re both fucking ruined, aren’t you?”

Mikey growled weakly, trying to pull away—but the moment he moved, his dick dragged against Sanzu’s swollen pussy again, sending a sharp, violent pulse of heat through both of them.

Sanzu sobbed.

Mikey gasped, eyes wide, breath ragged.

M/n groaned, gripping Mikey’s hips, his hands strong, bruising, keeping him still.

M/n lined himself up.

Pressed the thick, leaking tip of his cock against Mikey’s twitching little hole.

Mikey’s breath caught.

He tensed.

M/n leaned in, voice low, rough, cruel.

“Since you think you’re so much better than him…”

Then—

He thrust in.

Mikey screamed.

His back arched violently, his hole clenching down around M/n’s cock, trying to suck him deeper, his heat finally, fully taking over.

M/n let out a low, satisfied groan, burying himself to the hilt, feeling Mikey’s tight, desperate little hole twitch and squeeze around him.

Sanzu watched, shaking, helpless.

Watched the strongest omega he knew finally submit.

And M/n?

M/n just grinned, grabbing Sanzu by the waist, forcing him forward, pressing their bodies together.

“Now,” he murmured, dragging his thick, hard cck out of Mikey’s soaked hole, lining himself up with Sanzu’s ruined, twitching pssy instead.

“Let’s see which one of you can take me better.”

Then—

He f*cked them both.

And neither omega stood a chance.

Sanzu’s wrecked little pussy clenched down greedily as M/n’s thick cock slammed into him, shoving him forward onto Mikey, their sweaty, slick-drenched bodies grinding together, their soft, useless little dicks rubbing with every brutal thrust.

Mikey’s mouth fell open, a wrecked, choked moan spilling out, his entrance fluttering pathetically, still slick with M/n’s release from the first round.

And now—

Now, he had Sanzu’s heat-soaked body pinned against him, rubbing against his aching, twitching, desperate little hole.

“You two are so f*cking filthy,” M/n groaned, his grip bruising as he slammed into Sanzu harder, faster, forcing the other omega’s body to grind against Mikey’s.

Sanzu sobbed, whimpering, broken, his legs shaking violently, his hole so swollen and abused it could barely hold M/n’s thick length inside.

But his body refused to let go.

Every thrust forced slick out of him, drenching both omegas in his heat-drunk mess.

Mikey hissed, his own body reacting, his entrance clenching, his hips bucking forward to meet the friction.

M/n grinned.

“Awww,” he mocked, watching Mikey’s wrecked expression twist in unbearable pleasure. “I thought you hated him?”

Mikey’s breath hitched violently.

M/n dragged Sanzu off his cock, watching his swollen, puffy little pussy clench around nothing, his slick dripping onto the sheets.

Sanzu whined loudly, his entire body jerking forward, desperate, needy, lost.

And just as quickly—

M/n shoved into Mikey instead.

Mikey cried out, his back arching, his hole stretching wide, swallowing M/n’s cock so deep his entire body shook.

Sanzu watched helplessly, watched as M/n buried himself to the hilt, stuffing Mikey full in one sharp thrust, watched as Mikey let out the most wrecked little whimper, his slick gushing around the thick length inside him.

“Alpha—” Mikey choked, voice wrecked, humiliated, needy.

M/n’s grin widened.

“Ohhh, you’re calling me Alpha now?” he taunted, grabbing Mikey’s throat, forcing him to look up.

Mikey’s legs twitched violently, his face flushed, his breathing ragged.

M/n fucked into him harder, dragging another broken moan from the smaller omega’s throat.

Sanzu whimpered, his thighs clenching together, his own pussy throbbing, aching, his slick-covered clit twitching against his stomach.

“Look at you,” M/n murmured, watching as both omegas trembled beneath him, their bodies writhing, leaking, begging for more.

He reached down, gripping both of their chins, forcing them to look up at him.

“You’re both nothing but little cock-drunk whores now, huh?”

Sanzu sobbed, his body too far gone, his heat too overwhelming, his mind too ruined to do anything but nod.

Mikey squeezed his eyes shut, his lips trembling—but his body betrayed him too.

Because he nodded just the same.

M/n groaned, dragging himself out of Mikey, grabbing Sanzu, shoving back into his soaked little pussy instead, watching as the pink-haired omega collapsed backward, his entire body trembling, shaking, his pussy fluttering, welcoming every brutal thrust.

Mikey was panting heavily, his hole clenching around nothing, his body aching for more.

M/n smirked. “See, Mikey?”

He reached down, grabbing Mikey’s hips, lifting him slightly, positioning him over Sanzu’s heat-soaked body.

“Since you’re both so desperate, why don’t you fuck each other for me?”

Mikey’s breath stuttered.

Sanzu let out a wrecked, soft little sob, his body already moving on instinct, his hips rolling upward, rubbing against Mikey’s swollen, slick hole.

Both omegas gasped.

Mikey twitched violently, his fingers digging into Sanzu’s skin, his heat-soaked body grinding down automatically.

Slick poured out of them both, mixing together, making a disgusting, messy pool beneath them.

M/n groaned at the sight, gripping both of their waists, forcing them to grind harder.

“Fuck, look at you two,” he muttered, watching as they writhed together, slick-drunk and heat-crazed, rubbing their little pssies against each other, whimpering, gasping, too lost in need to care about anything else.

“You were supposed to hate each other,” he chuckled, his fingers digging in, keeping them moving, making them chase the pleasure.

“But now you’re nothing but my desperate little omega toys.”

Mikey let out a wrecked moan, his body shaking violently, his hole clenching down around nothing, his heat consuming him.

Sanzu was already gone, too deep in submissive omega bliss, his thighs trembling, his slick-covered clit twitching, completely, utterly broken.

M/n groaned.

“Since you both worked so hard—”

He grabbed Mikey, slamming him back down onto his cock.

Mikey screamed, his entire body arching, his hole sucking M/n’s length so deep his stomach bulged slightly.

Sanzu watched, panting, twitching, his own pussy clenching around nothing, jealous, needy, wrecked.

M/n fucked into Mikey harder, his pace brutal, merciless, making the omega collapse forward onto Sanzu’s chest.

Sanzu could feel the way Mikey trembled, the way his body shook, could feel the overwhelming heat radiating off of him.

And then—

M/n slammed in deep, biting down on Mikey’s scent gland, filling him, stuffing him full of thick, hot cum.

Mikey screamed, wrecked, mindless.

His hole clenched around M/n’s knot, locking him in place, milking him, his own release spilling out of him, mixing with the slick covering both omegas.

And then—

Sanzu whimpered.

Still empty.

Still aching.

Still needing.

M/n grinned, looking down at his ruined little omegas.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart,” he murmured, dragging his fingers through Sanzu’s dripping slick.

“You’re next.”

And Sanzu?

Sanzu knew—

He would never escape this.

And worse?

He didn’t want to.

[sammyluvr]

✶ safe now — sam & dean w.

cw : gn!winchester!reader, hurt/comfort, reader is the youngest sibling, blood, injury & pain, implied torture, nicknames (bud), poorly edited, no y/n, 1.4K words. requested !

summary : your brothers rescue you after you're kidnapped and tortured by demons.

there’s a moment where everything is quiet. maybe it’s minutes. hours, perhaps. you don’t really know, because nothing makes sense anymore. up and down don’t mean much to you. and you can’t tell if everything hurts, if it burns, or if you can’t feel anything at all.

then, it’s not quiet anymore. it’s loud, and yet, it’s muffled. you can’t distinguish one sound from another. a crash and a yell, maybe even a scream. more crashing, but it all sort of sounds the same, so you’re not the most reliable narrator.

but there’s something familiar in it all. the clamor, the fighting, you think it must be. the shout of a word that you know to be your own somehow, and the blurred shape in front of your barely open eyes. it’s your name, you realize. the shouted sound was your name, far away. it’s not far away anymore, murmured and panicked, and the face in front of you, going in and out of focus, is sam’s.

oh, sam. you hope it’s really him. that means this is all over.

and then you decide that you can feel and everything does hurt, because there are hands wrapping around you from behind. they frighten and confuse you at first, but before you can thrash away or cry for sam to help, dean’s voice is in your ears and you don’t fight it.

“i got you,” he says simply, soothing you without any effort at all. he’s holding you up so you don’t fall once sam unties you from where you’re strung up by the wrists, like the carcass of a slaughtered farm animal. you try not to whimper. it would embarrass you. it’s hard, though, because his strong hold is aggravating the cuts and bruises that litter your bore torso. you wonder if his hands are warm or cold, but you can’t really tell despite the fact that your skin there is exposed. you were stripped of your shirt, you think.

sam’s talking too, voice so gentle that the sound of it is the most calming part. you’re sure he’s saying comforting words, but it’s hard to focus on more than one thing at a time. his hands work quickly to free you, and then you’re slumped back against dean’s chest. your legs aren’t working all that well right now.

dean’s hold is awkward and you can sag forward, right into sam. dean lets him take you, his hands itching for his weapon. there could be more demons and he’s got to protect you. he’s the one with the demon knife.

you can imagine the dead bodies in the hallway, the vessels of all the demons who were guarding the place. but you don’t see them, your eyes having drifted closed and your head tucked away into sam’s neck. dean must be leading the way, ready to kill for you as many times as he must today, and forever.

but all the demons have been disposed of. no one gets in the way, and they carry you right out to the car. sam helps you into the back seat with him and it hurts like hell to move at all, but the smell of leather puts you at ease, finally. you’re still so out of it, oblivious to sam’s face that doesn’t bother to hide the worry and the pain of seeing you like this. you’re oblivious to the fact that dean can barely look at you, horrified by the thought that he could’ve prevented this, maybe. it wasn’t his fault that you were snatched away in the night, but both brothers will blame themselves.

you were hungry, so dean left for food. and then, the motel room felt stuffy, so you went to take a walk just around the parking lot. sam didn’t get into the shower like he planned to, waiting at the creaky table for you to come back. and when you were gone for more than five minutes—sam knew you’d get cold quickly because you ignored his advice to grab a jacket—he went out to look for you. you were gone, so he called dean, searched for you. dean got back and yelled at sam. how could you leave them alone? dean was asking himself the same question.

“hey, look at me,” sam says, voice pleading. you aren’t very responsive, and it terrifies him. the car is already moving, you realize. your eyes find his and you feel his fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling your arm through the sleeve of his jacket. everything hurts so much that you never realized that you’re cold. where there isn’t blood, sam can see goosebumps. he’s gentle as he pulls the fabric around you, trying to keep you warm without hurting you any further. “there you are,” he murmurs.

“you’re fine, bud,” dean says from the front seat, voice tense as he splits his attention between the road and checking on you through the rearview mirror. when he can’t look, he’s listening. you let out a sound, meant to acknowledge them both. your awareness sharpens, and so does your pain.

“i’m fine,” you mumble back, voice flat and quiet. even sam can barely hear it, but dean catches the words too. “it’s all fine. i– i didn’t say anything. i didn’t say anything.” dean glances back, and sam looks at you in confusion.

“you didn’t say anything?” he repeats softly, trying to understand what you mean.

you give a jerky nod of your head. then you shake it the other way. “didn’t say anything,” you say again, “about the tablet. they wanted to know, but i didn’t say anything.” your voice is breathy and tired, and you’re mumbling so much that sam can barely make out what you’re saying. but he understands now, why you were taken. the tablet; you mean the demon tablet. the demons took you to get information on the demon tablet, thinking they could break the youngest winchester. 

of course, they couldn’t, but the thought boils his blood with fury. that anyone thinks they can use you for something like that. or that they think you’re a weak link, just because you’re the youngest. or maybe it was to cause the most chaos, the most panic. to mess with you is to raise hell. that’s what demons are for, of course, but they were stupid enough to think it wouldn’t just get them all killed.

“they took you for that?” dean growls, his voice dangerously vicious, “the fucking demon tablet?”

“the demon tablet,” you breathe out, your less bruised cheek finally falling to sam’s shoulder with exhaustion. he tucks you even closer into his side. “i didn’t say anything, though.”

“we know,” sam murmurs, wanting to ease your anxiety. his heart aches that you think the stupid tablet is the most imortant thing here. you’re bleeding all over his jacket and practically delirious from pain. you’re all that he and dean care about right now. “we know. we don’t have to worry about that now, okay?”

“mhmm,” you hum, “cuz they still don’t know where it is.” your voice is so hoarse. as if you’d been screaming. presumably, you had been, and that makes your brothers see red. dean’s grip on the wheel is knuckle-whitening, and sam is only able to be gentle for your sake. his shoulders hold all of the tension just like they hold up your trembling body. the car almost swerves before dean has to force his thoughts away from what you might’ve endured. he’s all too familiar with demon torture. he thinks about killing the demons who hurt you over again.

sam thinks about it too, but just for a moment. “yeah. and because you’re safe now,” he tells you firmly. 

“safe now,” you echo softly. everything hurts. the pain is bone-deep, but you believe him when he tells you that you’re safe now. “i knew you’d come get me,” you mutter, eyes never staying open for longer than a moment or two. you look as tired as you sound. maybe that’s what got you through it; the knowledge that it would be over, one way or another. either your brothers would come to rescue you and kill your captors, or you’d die first. they certainly would’ve still killed all those demons if that were to happen, and probably many, many more. but no one likes to think about that.

because you’re safe now.

[kathelovecatsandfeminism]

He's Rick

warnings: rick grimes x reader; angst with happy end; smut; a little of spanking; pet names; rick needs a hug; mention of lori, carl and judith; p in v; unprotected sex; confession of feelings; fluff; heavy eye contact; no use of y/n; The spelling has not been fully revised and it is always good to remember that English is not my first language, so be nice. I think that's all.

Night had already fallen over Alexandria, but unlike sleeping on the road, here the darkness was not dangerous, the dim lights of the streetlamps dispelled the darkness, as did the lights from the windows of some houses. It didn't seem real, a place to really live, a house to take care of and a comfortable bed to sleep in, clean clothes, vegetable gardens for the kitchens and generators bringing the heat of the lights, it didn't seem real after so much death, so much human decay that had passed before your eyes.

It also seemed very ungrateful of you to be feeling so miserable while others celebrated the blessing of being able to “celebrate” the life that walls provide. You still didn’t know how you felt about it, “normality” was almost a stranger to you now. Your mother would have said “ungrateful girl.” You didn’t like to think about her. 

But the sadness was there, settled in your chest, painful and suffocating after so much crying, eyes red as the tip of your nose. That was why you were standing in the kitchen, dressed in a pretty dress — a gift from Deanna — you wouldn’t allow yourself to be seen like this. It’s funny how the most subtle thing can make us crumble. So why?

…..ah grimes, that was it wasn’t it?

It all started with an innocent conversation, because the devil is in the small details.

You were invited by Deanna for a short horse ride around the city, a bureaucratic conversation, you always knew how to sniff them out at your old job, at home. The group was causing problems, no….. no, Rick was causing problems and you were Rick's right-hand man, it was rational to turn to you, wasn't it?

But again no. For Deanna it was natural to turn to his woman, because is this what you were, obviously….. weren't you?

She must have noticed the moment when confusion turned to realization and ended in disappointment on your face, because she - very delicately - apologized for the assumption, it took a lot of strength in you to utter a simple "don't worry". The ride home was silent.

An observation took over your thoughts, between constant escapes, arguing and surviving today to fight tomorrow, you never had the privilege of being able to think about the meaning of your relationship with Rick, worse, you never wanted to actually face what you knew you felt for him. There are commanding words of priorities in your mind that developed to find a home here, somewhere along that path the two of you became inseparable, to the point that seeing one could have found the other too.

You knew him from before the zombies, your father was an officer of his officer, you saw each other a few times and talked even less, he seemed like a good man. But now looking back he was always there, he covered your back - even too much - and you did the same for him. He helped him with the children, maybe a little more than the others. It had been a while since Carl had asked you to comb his hair, even with your fingers, it had become a habit and you knew who he was pretending you were.

Judith was still a little thing who liked to sleep with you

Rick helped you with your younger sister - teenagers are worse in the apocalypse - she couldn't help but believe in the loss of her parents and sometimes she was filled with rage because you hadn't come back to look for them - but there was nothing to come back to - she screamed and pushed you like a child, in those moments it was Rick who calmed her down, you never knew how he did it. 

Not that everything was perfect, you fought too and badly, two stubborn people when they thought they were sure of something. It was Rick who made peace most of the time.

 No matter what happened, one would find the other like a magnet, he had promised you that when your world fell apart and only he was there to lift it up. It was in his arms that you slept on very cold nights. Having him seemed right, there was something there, something that until then you pretended not to see. 

But did you really have him?

Admitting to Deanna that you weren't hurt, it burned your skin and the wounded pride created a balloon in your throat that made it hard to breathe, you cried.

For some reason you felt so small and ashamed, you didn't have the courage to question him, what if he thought there was nothing to question? just a good friend and nothing more? Your head hurt, because everything was so confusing, you weren't ready to see him again.

It had been a week since the conversation with Deanna, a week since you gave a flimsy excuse to Rick and Carl, that Michonne needed you close. A week since you ran away like a coward. It was in her kitchen where you cried.

but he's Rick, he knows you

So it was no surprise when he appeared at your door - Michonne's door actually - breathless and blushing as if it had been hard for him to come here.

"hi"

"hi" came out almost silent

You both spent a few seconds standing in the doorway, his eyes were so warm - even if more tired than usual in contradiction to the new reality that out of habit or a second nature of yours, you moved away so he could enter, there was not a single day that you denied him from entering your life or your heart.

You walked towards the kitchen and in silence he followed you as he always did.

Rick in the dim yellow light of the kitchen looked more handsome than ever. He had gotten rid of all that beard, his hair was still wet and combed back, with curls at the ends indicating that he had just gotten out of the shower. He wore a white shirt that was tight on his biceps, a little short above the waistband of his pants, a worn blue wash, he always looked good in blue - he looked younger - and he wore those damn boots on his feet. 

He was still as handsome as the day he came back into your life, a certain warmth settled in your chest. 

However, as much as he looked good, he also looked defeated, shoulders slumped and red, tired eyes with a big crease above them. 

Like when you finally recognize that there is something in the corner of your eye and now it is no longer possible to ignore that space, after having looked at what you felt for him, you could not ignore the desire to be held by him, to kiss the newly discovered skin, to hug him tightly.

Stopping in the middle of the kitchen, you turned around, putting some distance between you two. You expected him to break the silence and reject you right away, maybe that would be the “easy” solution, after that you could move on and pretend nothing had happened, but when he held your gaze with such tenderness and sadness at the same time, you quickly looked away, unable to accept anything from him, that was going to hurt. He took a step closer with his arm half raised as if he wanted to comfort you, but he hesitated. The truth is that he knew why you were running away from him like a wounded deer. He had insisted enough with Deanna to get a half answer and then it was easy to put everything in place. 

There was this big elephant in the room of unsaid things, where to start? Rick wasn't proud that he had placed you in a limbo of uncertainty, the dynamic between you two was so domestic in contrast to the reality you lived in, like when he fell asleep in your arms while you brushed your hair with your fingers after a really, really bad day and he didn't feel worthy of you or how despite his distraught state, his eyes always softened when they met your face.

He wished he had told you how he had come to keep Lori's wedding ring - a bitter reminder of everything he had been through - in his pocket because your expression would turn sad whenever you played with it on his fingers. 

Oh, and Lori... 

He couldn't protect her, no matter how hard he tried, it wasn't enough in the end, and then came the nightmares in which he couldn't save you, he always became more distant after them. Irrationally loving you seemed to cast a dark shadow over you, putting you in danger, but moving on without you? It seemed to condemn him to wander with a big hole in his chest.

He spent so much time holding back, as if his mere touch would make you break.

Rick was a cowardly and stupid man, incapable of giving himself to you, fearing the day he would lose you.

A stupid and cowardly man... a coward... a coward, he was already losing you and worse, because you thought he didn't want you.

"I'm a coward" came out without realizing it, he had assumed that serious tone he used when he took control of a situation, the southern accent was stronger. He caught your attention, but your eyes continued to focus on a point behind him, always avoiding his eyes.

"What?"

Rick took another step closer.

"I'm a cowardly man who doesn't deserve you" confusion adorned your face in the dim light of the weak yellow light.

“Too cowardly to admit it…..damn it!” He ran his fingers through his hair, anxious.

Rick looked disconcerted, lost, it wasn’t normal to see him like this only when his shoulders were very tired and he inevitably ran to find some comfort in you.

Seconds of silence passed, as if he carefully considered his next words.

Then the moment passed and his shoulders straightened.

He slowly approached you while you backed away like a skittish animal, he stared so intently into your eyes that you felt completely exposed. The slow chase ended when your back hit the kitchen counter, cornered, the proximity, how intimate everything seemed, your mind spun in circles chanting his name. That was one of the problems, he took you out of your orbit.

both of his calloused hands went up your neck to cradle your face, so delicate, now the only distance between your bodies were the atoms of air. his touch almost burned your skin, even if you were reluctant you melted with the heat that emanated from his body.

it was no longer possible to escape from those blue eyes, noses brushing, mouths open and tense breathing “It’s a broken world and you’re the only thing that puts it back together” he continued to rest his forehead on yours “til my last breath, I am yours because I love you”

Shock took over your face, never in your most idyllic dreams would you imagine this scenario, so vulnerable because he loves you. Love is too strong a word to play with. Rick wasn’t the type to play with his word.

“you love me?” you asked in a whisper, afraid of the answer, then he started running his fingertips through your hair, over your face, saying a silent “beautiful” more to himself than to you “I think that’s what it’s called, isn’t it?” he looked at you curiously “I always come back to you, even if it’s crawling, but I come back. It’s your face that my eyes search for in a crowd, it’s your opinion that I seek before any decision, it’s your smile that makes all this mess worth it, it’s another reason to survive and when I see you with the children….. God, it’s like coming back to a home I didn’t know I had, it seems almost immoral to have this at the end of the world… I’m afraid the universe is waiting for me to take what I want just to take it from me, believe me, I couldn’t go on without you. So yes, I love you.”

You knew many things about Rick, how he likes his drink, about his grandfather in the war, about how to read his gestures, but mainly that he was a man with a good and kind heart and above all honest.

The light made your eyes bigger and brighter with the tears that were now flowing, which were becoming a sob and then a loud cry, but it was okay, he is Rick, he knows you, so smiling and sighing a “come here” he held you tight in his arms, wetting his shirt. Slowly he adorned the top of your head with kisses, reducing the crying, the tears gave way to a big smile. You pulled away so you could look into his eyes, which to your surprise were also teary, but he smiled broadly, both of you sharing a look.

 Silence fell in the room, but it was light and calm, of accomplices who had shared something very sacred. Rick took one of her hands and lifted it into the air as if preparing for a waltz. “In a perfect world, I would have told you this after a fancy dinner and taken you dancing.” You couldn’t help but smile, he was always an old-fashioned guy. 

“I like to dance.”

 “I know.” Using the hand that was in the air, he spun you around in his arms. 

“You always know.” It was like being a little girl again, cheeks burning and all. 

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, humming in agreement. 

“You should.”

In the blink of an eye, he had you in a very tender and deep kiss, as if he regretted all the kisses he had wanted to give you but couldn't. It didn't take long for him to become fiercer, hungrier, his hands were clenched in the back of his shirt, as if he was afraid the moment would evaporate like a dream.

Testing the waters, one of Rick's hands went down to your hip, gently, but giving it a light squeeze. You sighed, there was a hunger in you that was no longer possible to contain

"Take me to the room, please" you asked slyly

"Yes, ma'am" and as if you weighed nothing he picked you up and you wrapped yourself around his hips, sharing small kisses as you went up the stairs. Between kisses, you found yourselves unable to hold back your giggles, it was good.

Entering your room, he carefully laid you down on the bed and for a brief minute just kept looking at you as if he needed to convince himself that this was real, that something good and beautiful could be born in such a vile world. The moment was only broken when you extended your hand inviting him. Gratefully, he took off his white shirt, throwing it somewhere in the room and lay down between your legs.

 It was strange to be like this with him, but at the same time so familiar, as if it were right. You pulled him in for another hungry kiss with tongues, teeth and all, running your fingertips over the muscles of his back, pressing him against you. He moaned into your mouth, needing his hips against yours, eliciting a moan from you. 

He went down to your neck, distributing wet kisses to soothe the marks he was leaving - something intimate in him liked the idea of ​​claiming you publicly - going down to your collarbone and only stopping over the bust of your dress, searching your eyes in a silent request. He laughed at the intensity with which you nodded. 

He made sure to lower the straps very slowly, but it didn't take long for him to grab one of her breasts as soon as they were exposed. While he licked and sucked one, he played with the tip of the other with his fingers. When he was satisfied, he reversed the order.

By now you were a mess of moans and whimpers, rubbing against him in search of any friction. 

That day Rick discovered many things about you: first, you were loud - a pleasant surprise -; and second, you were sensitive as hell and he was going to take advantage of that.

He continued to move down your body, trailing chaste kisses along your clothed belly, nibbling on your dress, lingering on your lower abdomen while one of his hands lovingly brushed the skin on the inside of one of your thighs, almost reaching where you wanted, but pulling back just in time. He came back to my eye level "do you want to be good for me?" Oh, he wished he had a camera to capture your reaction, all blushing and goosebumps. Third thing - although he already suspected that.

No answer. Then the hand on your inner thigh went straight to your clothed center, taking you by surprise “baby, talk to me”

Your brain was already so far away and started to nod and only then remembered to answer “I want” clearly satisfied with the answer he got up from the bed, you almost protested against the loss of contact but when he pulled your legs to the edge of the bed and knelt between them, you already knew it was over

“this comes off” you lifted your hips so he could take off your panties “and this stays here for now” he bunched your dress at your waist.

You already knew you were very wet but when the cold air of the room hit you and Rick ate you with his eyes even more blush painted your skin.

 He brought his lips closer to your pussy, blowing only to see you squirm, smiling satisfied with the result. He looked at you with such hunger, you couldn't hold his gaze, but more knowing than you were his hand leaving a slap on your right thigh. When you turned your eyes to him it was clear on his face, pupils dilated in a stern look, jaw clenched, don't do that again. 

So you did... or tried to because when he gave a first slow and long lick between your folds by instinct your head fell back before you could come to, another slap, on your left thigh now. 

Damn bastard Rick Grimes

Leaning on your elbows, you looked at him again, trembling with desire as he sucked your clit with just the right amount of pressure. You were already high at this point because Rick would eat you out like a starving man. After a few more licks, two thick fingers poked your entrance, smearing themselves with your arousal and, to torture you, as a final blow, he inserted them while he curved them, hitting that exact spot - it was so different from yours, better, bigger and they were Rick's - and he went back to sucking on your spot. Thank God no one was home because you looked pathetic in his hands.

All you could think about was the pressure and the heat and the unfolding and growing in your belly, it was too much. Your back arched, your toes curled as you were a mess, reciting his name like a prayer

Rick…….Rick…….Rick

When his big hand reached for yours to hold while he pressed it against your hip to keep you in place while he intensified his actions until your peak reached you and you rode him fucking Rick's face

you came hard and loud, singing his name

he made sure to take every drop of you until overstimulation. When he got up from the floor, you could barely support yourself on your elbows to look at him. He licked his lips like after a good meal. Sucking his fingers and letting out a "sweet" he rested one of his knees on the bed and pulled you by the torso like a rag doll - very soft now - making you sit up "arms up" and he removed the dress over your head. He seemed so careful "good girl" he says and you couldn't help but tremble at those words, you wanted him inside you SO MUCH, so your hands flew to undo his belt and pants

"anxious?" oh that cheeky smile would kill you

“you have no idea”

“Ah….I can imagine, hon” he finished by giving a sweet kiss on the top of your head

When he stepped out of his pants and you were face to face with his red, veiny cock, already weeping with pre-cum. You wanted to feel the weight of it on your tongue - another time perhaps because you could swear you would start crying if you didn't feel him inside you soon.

You lay on your back in the center of the bed, spreading your legs wide for him. If you looked like the hot mess you felt, you would be lost.

He asked for your hand and you gave in. When he placed himself between your legs it was as if he belonged nowhere else than here, with you. He spent a minute hovering over your body, his eyes examining you, recording every detail, you were a very beautiful mess. He kissed you again, less hurriedly but equally hungry, his tongue playing knowingly with yours, biting your lips, pulling you towards him.

Anxiously, you tried to rub your hips against his - of course he noticed - he took your hand in his and placed it on his cock - you couldn't resist and applied some pressure, he shuddered.

With his hand on yours controlling the movement he brought the tip to your folds and played with them, making you squirm with anticipation, lubricating you well, threatening to enter. It was only after you called his name tearfully that he thought you had suffered enough, but Rick couldn't contain himself, he wanted to engrave this moment very well in his memory. You were all open on the bed for him, whimpering his name, you became very gentle in his hands, it was fascinating.

You had your heads together, staring at the spot that connected you when he finally entered you, both of you letting out a long sigh. He slowly went all the way in, until you felt his balls pressed against your ass - and god you could feel every bit of him, that stretch, filling you up just right - only for him to pull back almost all the way out and slam back into you harder. “look at me, baby” he called your attention.

Rick was an eye contact guy and you did your best to maintain it as your eyes rolled back in pleasure. He built a steady, deep, passionate rhythm, hitting that spot that made your brain short out every time, your back arched, you wrapped your legs around his waist, skin to skin, hot, sweaty, your hips racing to meet his. You smiled victoriously when he buried his nose in your neck and started moaning in your ear, your knot was tightening.

The temperature of the room had increased, a mixture of sounds of skin slapping, your meaningless pleas in the cloud of pleasure, Rick who will now return to mark your neck to suppress his own moans.

“Rick….please….please” you didn’t know what you were asking for but he is Rick, he knows you. his face came out of hiding in your hair, he gave you a quick kiss on the lips and pushed your knees against your chest, the new angle would be the death of you and by Rick’s state his too whose thrusts began to become erratic. You were very close to the edge, on the border between pleasure and consciousness and when Rick began to make circles on your clit you took his mouth in yours suppressing a loud moan as you came, your vision going white. Rick came soon after by the way you were squeezing him as you came down from your high. He may have drawn blood from your lips when he bit your lip as he released long, thick loads of semen inside you draining you of every last drop. He remained inside you even after he softened, the state of euphoria preventing you from thinking about the consequences.

You both collapsed together, it was a comforting feeling to feel his weight against you, you felt safe.

When his attention turned to study your face again, he looked calm, relaxed, happy - something very hard to see - he had such loving eyes and they looked at you, he took his time like that, serious, focused. You would never know, but in that intimate moment he made a promise, he would not allow anything or anyone to hurt you, he would not allow it. He knew you could handle it, you had already proven yourself many times, but you were still the woman he loved and nothing else mattered

it was you who took him out of the sea of ​​their thoughts

“hey, rick”

“hm”

“I love you too”

“yeah?”

“yeah”

He smiled broadly, inverting the position of the two and brought the back of his hand to sprinkle kisses there, that tender gesture made you smile. Rick was yours.

.....................................................

Today had been a long day of work in the city, the kind where you pretend you didn't notice you were taking a little longer to shower. It was the first place you went after getting home, the murder house - your house - that fact still made you smile at nothing. Before going into the bathroom to shower, you passed Carl and a small blond head heading out, in a hurry but not enough.

"Should I worry, Carl?" Dusk was slowly falling outside.

"No, no, Carol's new recipe."

"Where's your dad?"

"Daryl," the boy shouted over his shoulder. You answered with a low "Okay," too tired to think about it now. Right after the door slammed.

Okay, you may have taken too long because when you came out of the bathroom there was a dress on the bed, the one Rick liked to take off. Half curious, half suspicious, you put it on and went downstairs to get something to eat. Most of the lights downstairs were off except for the ones in the kitchen. You walked there, only to find a very well-dressed Rick - a button-down shirt with the tops open and black jeans - dinner on the table and a humble flower in his hand. “Rick” you called affectionately, tilting your head to the side with a smile on your face you were walking towards him but he stopped you in the middle of the way with a signal to stop, you don’t know exactly where he was hiding, but suddenly a melody started playing through the room, he came back shyly, took your hands in his, still holding the flower and you started dancing alone in the kitchen and you don’t remember feeling so loved because he's rick, he knows you

[cervvsq]

rules. — ii

part i

summary: the aftermath of coriolanus’ doings causes many unsolved problems between the two of you, and your marriage needs to heal.

warnings: talk of sex but no actual smut, you dealing with the consequences of what happened to you, angst, swearing, ends in fluff 😇

masterlist

sighing, you shut the door to your bedroom, kicking off your heels and walking into your large closet. once again, another painfully awkward dinner with your dear husband.

stopping in your tracks, your eyes landed on the box sat on your vanity, the material already looking expensive from afar. you couldn’t help but roll your eyes.

another one.

stalking towards the millionth gift, your fingers delicately unraveled the silky ribbons.

it was beautiful, you had to admit.

a thin band of gold created a glistening yet classy necklace, with a small clover in the middle. the exact one you and clemensia were chatting excitedly about during last night’s dinner with associates.

must be a coincidence.

those 4 words were on repeat in your mind frequently now. especially every time the product you barely mentioned ended up on your vanity table the next day and every time your lips dared to tug up into smile at your husband’s antics.

no amount of financial gain he could grant would be close to the amount of pain he had caused.

it was a harsh reminder at times. that you couldn’t see him the same as before. and oh, how badly did you want to.

to forgive him, to go back to how it was.

before the awkward silences in car rides.

before rushing to go to sleep before he comes to bed.

but no. even if you had some form of love for him, it wasn’t enough to falter the absolute loathing you felt towards him sometimes.

the pure hatred you felt for letting him take advantage of you that night. in your most vulnerable state.

the pure hatred you felt for yourself every time you looked at your bare body, knowing he had ruined it. he had chewed you up and spit you out, leaving a memory of the girl who viewed herself as a siren.

so no, his little gifts didn’t bring much joy anymore.

as if another fucking necklace is going to make up for what he’s done. it sure wasn’t the first thing around your neck lately. hell, maybe he should stab you and buy a new dress, then everything will be fine—

“i take it the necklace is not to your liking.”

his voice ripped you out of your frustrating thoughts. your narrowed eyes and fingertips digging into the leather box snitched on your inner feelings. turning around, you faked a smile for what felt like the tenth time today.

“it’s beautiful. thank you.” your teeth gritted, “it’s the… third piece of jewellery this week.”

coriolanus matched your tight smile. “yes, well, my wife can never have too much fashion items. what else would you and clemensia giggle about?” he tried to diffuse the tension.

you didn’t laugh. instead, you nodded, your smile dropping as you turned around and placed the box somewhere it will only be merely glanced at. he didn’t need to know that.

the last thing you heard from coriolanus was a small sigh, before he walked into the bathroom.

no more words were shared for the rest of the night.

ᥫ᭡ 4 days later

5 times.

5 times did you have to endure adding another present to your shelves. at this rate, you would need a new room dedicated to his gifts.

you found yourself wondering why he was doing this. were they meant to be apologies? that nearly made you laugh.

it angered you, not knowing why. did he feel guilty? he must do, why else would he bawl in your arms the next day?

you thought about that moment a lot. more so than the actual assault. it had perplexed you, really. sometimes it disturbed you.

how he could go to hitting you, screaming in your face, punishing you — to staining your skin with his poisonous tears.

“‘m sorry, i’m so fucking sorry,” he had cried. the sound of his wracking sobs made your heart clench, even if the very man you had tried to love destroyed you.

nevertheless, you were sick and tired of adding another bracelet, another pair of heels, or another goddamn dress to your shelves.

so imagine your surprise when yet another box of whatever luxury item he had bought showed up on your vanity.

you could not care less at whatever contents it held.

letting your nails dig into your palms and your expression to harden, you strutted towards the prize. picking it up, you didn’t spare another glance at anything else as you quickly paced towards coriolanus’ office.

usually, you would knock first. it was what a proper wife does, to not disturb her husband. now, you hoped with every morsel in your body you did disturb him.

slamming the box onto his desk, you ignored his dumbfounded expression.

“i want you to send this back. and every other gift you’ve bought for me recently.” you breathed heavily, shooting daggers at him.

his floored look only lasted for a few seconds, and he lowered the papers in his hand. he now simply stared at you, calmer than ever.

“as you wish. i’ll get someone to escort it out of our room later.” he stated, before picking up his documents and scanning them again.

oh.

you felt rather foolish standing here now.

“…you’re not going to ask why?” you replied, now the stunned one.

he shook his head.

you let out an exasperated sigh. “coriolanus.”

he looked up, raising his eyebrows for you to continue.

blinking a few times, you were at a loss for words. “do you even care?”

there was a deeper meaning beneath your sudden question, and you both knew it. it had remained unspoken between the two of you, even if the tension had raised tenfold in the air.

setting down his papers once more, he cleared his throat. a habit of his you’d noticed whenever he was trying to remain being the one in control of the conversation.

“i have no problem if the clothes aren’t suitable enough for you—“

“that’s not what i meant.”

he paused. you tried not to look at the way his hands were trembling ever so slightly. “explain it to me, then.”

“you… i-” you sighed, now feeling helpless. “how long is it gonna be like this, coriolanus?”

you shouldn’t have came here. every logical part of your body was screaming at you to just walk out, leave him be. but you couldn’t. you had to save your marriage — even if it was you who needed saving.

he opened his mouth to speak, yet no words left his lips. for a moment, you almost felt scared. it’s not like before. you didn’t need to shudder with worry at the thought of saying the wrong thing, refusing to go anywhere private in fear of getting a cruel scolding, maybe even a harsh slap.

if you had barged into his office and bombarded him with these questions a few weeks ago, you would’ve already been bent over his lap getting called names you didn’t think a president would even know.

but instead of grabbing your hair and reminding you who’s in charge, he stood up, straightening his suit. “i have an important call i need to make at work.”

just leave! you told yourself, but you found your feet moving to stand in front of him before you could register.

“no, don’t walk out on me.” your voice was stubborn, refusing to let him go.

oh, how the tables had turned. weren’t you the one getting threatened not to leave every day? now look at you.

he didn’t care, simply walking past. “coriolanus.”

he picked up his briefcase.

“coriolanus!” you were pleading now.

he opened the door.

“coryo.”

he stopped. you fell silent.

that name hadn’t left your lips ever since the incident occurred. it was almost unknown to you now — a shadow of who he was.

as embarrassing as it felt, you felt tears pool in your eyes. he didn’t turn around.

you both stood there, his back to you, anticipation and uncertainty revolving around the room.

as much as you thought you despised him and his ways, you wanted nothing more than for him to turn around and tell you everything you needed to hear. how much he hurt you, how much you needed healing.

the only thing you received was a sigh and his footsteps receding down the hall.

ᥫ᭡ one day later

you and coriolanus hadn’t spoken much since that afternoon. another day had gone by, and you were exhausted. funny how he can find a way to tire you out even when he practically lives at work.

now, turning your bedside lamp off, the last step of your evening routine was to fall asleep before he came home. the last time you were still awake and felt him getting into bed made your heart race. spending another sleepless night trying to pry off nightmares was not very tempting.

an easy task you would’ve thought, until you felt a hand on your bare shoulder.

freezing, you didn’t think twice to know who it was.

he murmured your name, almost asking if he can touch you. there’s always a first time for everything.

other than small brushes during dinners and fake hand holding during galas, this was the first time he had put a hand on you in private.

after a moment of deep contemplation and pretending to ignore the uncomfortable twist in your stomach, you nodded.

he slowly, carefully laid down on the bed, his arm reaching across and smoothing against your upper body. as if he was terrified you were going to shatter into a million pieces at one wrong movement.

he wasn’t entirely wrong.

his chest pressed against your back, and he lowered his face into your hair from behind, legs not touching. only 3 parts of your bodies were grazing together and his heart was pounding against your back. yours was doing the same.

in silence, you didn’t dare to move. for weeks now, the thought of you two even hugging again was enough to send you into a spiral. but strangely, this felt… different.

this time he wasn’t pressing his cock against your ass, placing kisses along your neck.

this time he wasn’t embracing you after hours of sex.

no, this was different. he was different.

“the sheer pain i have caused you… will haunt me until the day i die.” his deep voice rang in your ears. “and i do not expect one ounce of your forgiveness, nor do i deserve that privilege. i just…”

he trailed off, taking in a sharp breath and exhaling through his nose. was he crying?

“i need you, so, so much. i love you, and the thought of how much suffering i have delivered throughout the years makes me sick.”

now it was your turn to cry.

“you scared me that night.” you whispered, trying to not reveal your breaking voice.

he coated your hair with tears. “i know. i’m sorry, i’m so sorry.” he whimpered.

you didn’t respond. just laid there, quiet tears feeling like droplets of blood as they hit the sheets.

maybe you were an idiot to admit that been back in his arms was comforting. but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t overwhelming.

so, for the rest of the night, you stayed like that. letting his arms tighten every once in a while when you shifted in sleep, still horrified at the thought of losing you.

ᥫ᭡

something in the air had changed between you and coriolanus that night.

whether is was his seemingly heartfelt apology or the way neither of you pulled away from each others touch all night, who knows.

but there was no denying the fresh lightness you both felt when waking up tangled together. of course, your mental wounds still had a long journey yet to heal — and maybe they never will fully. he knew that, and from his words and the way he was staring at you right now told you he would help in anyway possible.

that didn’t mean everything was sunshine and rainbows, no. a sincere apology wasn’t going to erase all the torment you had endured — nor was it going to allow him to go back to how he used to treat you.

over the past few days, it almost felt like things had gone back to normal. almost.

sure, you still hadn’t kissed yet, and he hadn’t uttered another word about what he had done after a couple days.

but suddenly you didn’t dread the thought of him coming home, dinners weren’t unbearable — in fact, he even waited until you were finished to leave the table. usually it was the other way round.

the end of your day began feeling like the beginning, what with this little routine you and coriolanus had formed. every night, after dinner, you both would get ready for bed together. no interruptions, no standards, just the two of you in your own little world. it quickly became the highlight of your day.

tonight was a particularly special night.

your routinely procedure had been scheduled earlier it seems, with the time being 6pm and the shower already raining down onto the bathroom tiles.

“do you think i should wear the blue or red dress this evening, coryo?” you called out from your dressing room.

“both would look amazing on you. but red, i think, would suit you perfectly.” he replied from the steamy bathroom, his deep voice not needing to raise to echo off the walls.

you smiled at his choice, nodding as if he could see you.

holding the pretty crimson dress in front of your full-length mirror, you couldn’t help but feel all giddy inside. as if you were 19 again, getting ready for your first date with coriolanus.

it might as well be your first date all over again, with your freshly mended marriage. coryo had proposed an evening out at one of the finest restaurants in the capitol, all booked out for you of course. you had smiled and agreed, as if you weren’t buzzing with excitement at getting dressed up for an event you were actually looking forward to.

whilst you applied mascara, coriolanus walked in, wrapped in a towel. he had lost some weight during the past few weeks, yet his muscles were still rather prominent. you never commented on this observation.

“you look…” he let out a deep breath, struck by your pure beauty.

rolling your eyes playfully, you nodded towards the newly bought suit laid on your bed. he insisted on buying you clothes, yet that didn’t mean you couldn’t return the favour. even if it was with his money.

a chuckle was heard from him, “darling, you didn’t need to.”

“you don’t like it?” you tilted your head, walking up behind him and wrapping your arms around his torso.

he shook his head immediately. “no, no, i love it. thank you, i didn’t think buying suits for me was on your mind. you’ve seen how many i own.”

“you’ve seen how many dresses i own, too. yet you still continue to buy me more.” you retorted. he smiled fondly, turning around and placing his hands on your waist.

your eyes met, the light banter turning into something deeper. the strain in his piercing blues was evident, and you knew what he was preventing himself from doing.

preventing himself from smashing his lips onto yours, taking what’s his and showing you just how gorgeous you are right now.

you’d be lying if you said you didn’t crave that just about now.

but kissing was a big step to cross, at least for you. maybe he didn’t see it — but even his hand grazing along your neck made your heart race.

if you were being honest, you’d say it wasn’t him kissing you that made your anxiety spark. it was not knowing how you’d react that scared you. what if you despised the feeling of his lips on yours, and all of this progress so far was for nothing. or what if you were just overthinking it and the more physical contact, the more closer you both got.

either way, your view on it was black and white. it was a miracle or a train wreck. you didn’t want to risk the chances.

so, you stepped back, pulling yourself out of your shared trance, smoothing your hands over your dress. you tried to divert the conversation, hoping he’ll follow. “what time is the car coming?”

he cleared his throat, luckily catching on to what you were trying to do. “30 minutes now. i’ll get changed, wait for me in the living room.”

that wasn’t a question; you of all people would recognise. you nodded, giving him a small smile and leaving the room.

even if things had… adapted in your relationship, coriolanus’ knack for commanding didn’t waver at times. not all of his habits had been set in stone, though coriolanus was a naturally controlling man and nothing would change that.

ᥫ᭡

clutching onto coryo’s hand, you giggled as you walked out of the restaurant. your laughter was fuelled by the pure joy of the night you’ve had — and maybe the couple glasses of wine you drank. coriolanus had made sure you watched how much you poured, so maybe you were a little tipsy.

being drunk would remind you of that night, and that was awful to think about. good thing this night had made you ecstatic.

“thank you for this, coryo. you always know how to make me smile.”

now it was his turn to laugh, stopping you both to stand in front of the fancy building you emerged from. “so do you, my love.”

it was almost as if the stars aligned exactly for this moment, the deep black sky littered with white dots of glimmer. the moon shone proudly down onto you both, his tall figure exaggerated as he towered above you.

your hands went up, his once neat, gelled hair now slightly messy, showing off his curls more. distracted by taming his hair, you didn’t realise how profoundly he was admiring your face, his pacific eyes roaming over your features. taking in his beautiful wife.

your eyes met his. you nearly blushed. “what?”

he didn’t reply.

deep, deep yearning was the only way to describe the look on his face right now. you batted your eyelashes up at him, oblivious to the unrequited love he was silently expressing.

maybe looks weren’t enough.

he leaned forward, gently capturing your lips with his.

at first, you were completely taken aback. but with his hands resting on your hips and the small patter of rain beginning to fall above you, you couldn’t help but fall into his touch, kissing him back just as tenderly.

a mix of relief, desire, and slight hesitance laced the kiss. it wasn’t like anything you had predicted — no, it was nearly perfect. you could tell he didn’t want to hurt you, and the usual hunger and lust which poisoned your kisses before had died down.

you broke the kiss when the sound of the car pulled up. you couldn’t be happier that was the only reason.

your foreheads rested against each other for a moment as you caught your breath, not caring about the droplets of rain coating your hair. coryo’s hand came up to your cheek.

“let’s get you home, yeah?” he murmured, taking your hand and walking towards the car.

the ride home was somewhat healing in itself.

no longer sitting the furthest distance from one another, his hand snaked around your waist as your head rested on his shoulder.

no radio silence filling the car awkwardly, now it was filled with light teasing and small reassurances.

“did you enjoy tonight?” his voice was low, right by your ear yet strangely soothing. you sleepily nodded, feeling your limbs relax. he leaned back against the leather seats and pulled you closer, your head resting on his chest.

the last thing you heard before slumber took you was, “go to sleep, my sweet girl. i’ll wake you when we arrive.”

ᥫ᭡

shifting lazily in your drowsiness, you cracked your eyes open, expecting to be met with your husband’s voice telling you you’re home. instead, you were met with the sound of the tap running in the bathroom and the sight of your silky sheets.

“coryo?” you croaked out, still practically half asleep.

rubbing your eyes and reluctantly getting out of bed, you walked over to your nightgown set on the armchair in the corner. he must’ve laid out some pyjamas for you. part of you wished he would’ve dressed you himself.

taking off your tightly clasped bra, you pulled the silky gown over yourself and walked into the bathroom, greeted by the sight of your shirtless husband brushing his teeth.

he spat out the toothpaste into the sink once he saw you. walking over, he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“how did i get upstairs?” you questioned, voice delicate.

“i brought you up.” he mumbled simply, leaning down to bury his nose into your hair. he was tired too, even if he wouldn’t admit it.

“you carried me?”

he nodded, pulling away slightly. “is that okay?”

you didn’t reply. it wasn’t for the wrong reasons, but you couldn’t help just staring at him, almost dumbfounded.

who was this coryo who carried you to bed when you fell asleep? who knew, but you desperately didn’t want him to leave.

if you could see yourself now a mere few weeks ago, hell, maybe even 6 months ago, you wouldn’t of believed it. it was almost too good to be true.

maybe it was just the small wine intake taking over that brought you to tears. it sure surprised you, as it did for coriolanus.

“oh, oh darling. c’mere.” his concerned tone only made you cry even more. little did he know it was happy tears. he pulled you into his strong chest, like he was protecting you from the rest of the world. “what’s the matter?”

“i just-…” you blubbered, flinging your arms around him.

“breathe, sweetheart. talk to m—” his words were abruptly interrupted by you reaching up and kissing him vehemently.

he was taken aback for a moment, but he quickly found the rhythm and kissed back with just as much passion. his hand went to the back of your head, fingers holding you firmly.

the once deep, emotional kiss you had initiated gradually turned into something softer, slower. your hand rested on his jaw, feeling how your mouths moved meticulously against each other.

the motivation for suddenly catching his lips with yours was unbeknownst to you. whether it was the overwhelmingly strong realisation that coriolanus snow had changed for the better, or the unadulterated gratefulness you felt for the Gods above that they had freed you from your torment, who knows. all you knew was that the nostalgic craving of having his lips on yours was back: more than just a longing memory.

pulling away, you both let out a breath of air. your lips were tainted with colour from his own, cheeks flushed from his heavy breathing.

a breathless chuckle left you both at the same time, and his hands slid to the back of your thighs, lifting you up as if you weighed nothing and walking into the bedroom.

ᥫ᭡ the next morning

coriolanus was entranced by the old sight of your hair splayed across your pillows, lips slightly parted as your legs tangled with his. it was times like this that kept him going.

your eyes opened after a few more minutes, a small yawn escaping your throat as you stretched. coryo leaned forward and placed a small kiss on your temple.

the ruffled pile of your nightgown laying at the bottom of your bed used to be a telltale sign that you and coryo had had the time of your lives the night before. mostly coriolanus.

now it wasn’t remotely related to sex.

your nightgown and coryo’s trousers had been ditched last night, simply because the feeling of each other’s warmth was the equivalent to a lullaby. it had coaxed you both to sleep, being completely enclosed in one another all night. it felt like a fairytale.

“what’s going on in that little head of yours?” coriolanus smirked. you smiled, moving to place your head on top of his bicep.

“just… how much we’ve changed.” you admitted.

his relaxed demeanour slightly shifted at the topic of how they were in the past. he nodded. “go on.”

“i wouldn’t imagine us like this a few weeks ago,” you continued, “it all just feels crazy.”

“in a good way, i hope.” he tilted his head.

“definitely in a good way. i prefer it like this. no arguments, no standards, no… rules.”

he chuckled at that last word. “rules?”

you giggled, cheeks heating at your choice of words. “yeah, your orders, i don’t know.”

he shook his head with a fond smile. you knew he felt guilty about the ordeal, but still being in the presence of the president, your husband, made you feel a little stupid at times.

he pulled you closer, lips brushing against yours. “so no more rules?”

“no more rules.”

ᥫ᭡ end.

eee so happy i finished this! sorry for the late post, severe case of writers block has been on and off for days 💔 hopefully this healed u from part i, it sure did for me :)

[abductedhiko]

Blood

Based off of one of @junkiepunkie’s posts

My first rose killer work ✌️✌️

Tags: @oh-phoenixx @invasiveroadkill @sunshinewhosketches @butyoureastarr @im-a-mess-of-a-person @printershorts

TW for violence and n@zis (violence HAPPENING to the n@zi dw)

He tasted the unmistakable warm, metallic, tang of blood on his gums.

Barty ran his tongue over his teeth, tasting it. That flavor, the pain, felt like electricity zapping in his veins. The thrill of the fight was one Barty chased often. He longed for that familiar ache in his jaw, just to remind him he was real. Often he found it in small local bars and pubs after getting too drunk to think straight.

The man, a skinhead, had tried to punch him hard in the face, But Barty was quicker. The heavy drugs he had an appetite for had worn him down and made him skinny, but his senses were heightened with adrenaline.

He quickly ducked, before slamming his fist into the man’s chin. He stumbled back from the blow and fell on his arse, slurring curses. Barty relished in the way his knuckles stung from the impact.

“Yeah? You like that you son of a bitch?” Barty asked him manically. He crept toward him, step by step.

“You’re fucking insane.” The man spat.

“I get that a lot.” Barty smirked, he quickly grabbed a beer bottle laying empty on its side and slammed it to the ground by the neck. He lazily held the jagged piece to him.

He bent over the man, a dangerous gleam in his eye. “Hmm? That’s a cute symbol on your arm… would be a real shame if you couldn’t see it anymore…”

The man didn’t get a moment to flinch before Barty slashed at the Swastika in his arm. The skinhead screamed in pain, and Barty let out a little giggle.

“Look at you, squealing like a little girl. Not so tough anymore, huh?

Oh did Barty feel high. The adrenaline pulsed through his veins, and for once he felt alive. He felt in control. And it felt so, so good to have control without it being given or bought with daddy’s money.

Barty crouched, putting his face dangerously close to the skinhead, savoring that look of utter hate and fear that shone defiantly in his eyes.

“Go to hell.” The man snarled, before bringing up his fist and punching Barty in the nose. Hard.

The crunch of his bones were loud, but the pain was unbearable. Barty flung his head back as his back hit the ground with stars in his vision.

He hardly registered the soft squeaking of the man’s boots as he quickly scampered off.

#

Barty must have laid there for what felt like hours.

He was in a daze, a strange limbo between reality and sleep. He didn’t feel like getting up, his limbs were filled with rocks, and hardly felt up to trying to say something, for his mouth was made of cotton.

And so he laid. He laid for a good long while, in a daze.

Until it began to rain.

He hadn’t noticed it at first, the first little droplets were too small to feel, but they eventually grew. And came down harder. Harder and harder and harder. Until the sky was pounding down on him and he felt like sinking into the ground.

In a way, the rain was a comfort. Tough love. Wiping away the blood that streamed down his face and kissing the bruises that began to bloom along his cheeks.

I’m pathetic, aren’t I? He mused, but his thoughts were barely even thoughts.

In his head, only static and the thundering of rain remained.

#

Barty must have fallen asleep at one point, before he was woken up by yellow car headlights shining into his face.

“Bee..?” A voice called hesitantly. Familiar.

“Rosebud…” He called back as pushed himself to stand. He was so, so tired. Chill seeped into his bones, and hunger was a steady presence in his belly.

And just then, a body came crashing into him. Barty smelled vanilla and honey as he buried his face Evan’s neck.

“You asshole. Where have you been? I was up driving around these dodgy pubs to find you and here you are, soaked and bloody and bruised!”

Barty gaped, moving his mouth soundlessly. His voice as hoarse and hollow when it finally came out. “You care?”

“Of course I care!” Evan said incredulously. "What kind of question is that?!"

“Why? For someone like me?” Barty breathed. Those words sent a flutter of relief in his chest. He hadn’t realized it then, but something cold and rotten had melted within him. “Of all people you pick the drugged up, filthy yob.”

Evan pulled back, looking at him pointedly. “Don’t make me rethink my choices. Listen, believe it or not, you’re a good guy. Even if you make some bad choices that worry me and hurt you. I know you, and you’re a good guy deep down."

Barty was speechless, looking at Evan and utterly gaping at him in shock.

“Now get your sorry arse in the car, I’m taking you to the hospital for that nose.”

[asteral-feileacan]

Update on the Arcane situation, in bullet points, according to me at 1:30 am, and mostly not in chronological order:

man took a chainsaw to the back but eh you know him he'll be fine

my blorbo is now jesus apparently, this definitely won't end badly right guys?? right??

OH MY GOD THEY WERE ROOMATES

so like 4 of our main characters have just been like temporarily deleted from the universe, that's a little concerning

manic blorbo takes on child assistant who follows her around, accidentally adopts said child

where is jesus i miss him

oh we still have 6 more episodes to go

cait no

jayce, ily, but i think now might be a teeny tiny bit late to think "hey maybe we shouldve listened to the ferret on this one"

also i have a lot of feels about sevika and jinx and their shared loss

ALSO VI WIPING AWAY HER NAME IN THE OPENING CREDITS?? HELLO WHO WAS PERMITTED TO DROP SUCH A BOMB ON ME STRAIGHT AWAY

cait no x2

whiplash but like viktor and jayce are giving me emotional damage and i want more of it thank you

still giggling over they were roomates

ugh the jarring, faded, charcoal-esque animation/stop motion with cait, fully 3D and rendered in the center during the funeral jsgsbsjajah

last i can think of but not least, CAIT N O.

@sinvulkt @hellphrog i am not okay please help me get through the next 6 episodes

[s1x-foot-deep]

scene from the radio drama+Great Soft Jelly-Thing concepts

[littleoddwriter]

I haven't really seen anyobody talk about this here-

Caracalla lost everybody close to him (father figure and twin brother) on the same day, both technically by his own doing, but doesn't even remember half of that anyway, and is now desperate to keep at least one person around, still. he might not even remember his own screaming voice demanding her crucifixion due to her betrayal. and if he does, he clearly wants to take it back and keep her alive and around him. in terms of human companions, she's all he has left. except for Macrinus, of course, but he's still new and another father figure, unable to fill that gaping hole Caracalla's real mother has presumably left and Lucilla is going to leave if she dies. but since Macrinus has the emperor wrapped around his little finger already, just a few words from him convinced Caracalla that this was, in fact, necessary and the only way; thus, sealing Lucilla's fate.

it's devastating to me...

[thedeadthree]

𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐆𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐆𝐄: 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐈𝐋𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 ➸ irulanne . the rook .

𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒 . 𝐄𝐋𝐅 . 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐄 .

-`. template by @kanos . coloring . icons .

✧ ― 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 (ask to be added or removed or interact 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞!!):

@pavus, @wlwaerith, @shadowsofrose, @grapecaseschoices, @nokstella

@queennymeria, @risingsh0t, @carrionsflower, @leviiackrman, @griffin-wood

@confidentandgood, @aceghosts, @tommyarashikage, @shadowglens, @yharnams

@anoras, @theelderhazelnut, @florbelles, @celticwoman, @pinkfey

@kyberinfinitygems, @cloudofbutterflies92, @carlosoliveiraa, @shellibisshe, @adelaidedrubman

@lavampira, @capelizabeth, @socially-awkward-skeleton, @statichvm, @unholymilf

@aezyrraeshh, @imogenkol, @aceghosts, @full---ofstarlight, @ellierenae

[cicadascribbles]

Immortal characters like vampires and gods and whatever are always depicted as being apathetic to downright delusional as a byproduct of their immortality.

Being godlike and powerful makes them jaded and unempathetic (Greek gods in media) and the restless search for connection and validation makes them delightfully delusional and manipulative (many of the vampires in Interview)

But then you move into the robotic vein of immortality and you find a completely different kind of emotional composition entirely.

I was chatting with @rxmain-lettuce and essentially listing off every popular robot in media these days from Wheatley and Glados to AM and Auto.

When you have a character achieve immortality it so often comes with the consequence of depression and loneliness. The immortal’s loved ones pass on and they watch decades pass them by. It results in a character inherently out of touch with reality.

Even well meaning immortals in media like Heimerdinger (Arcane) are slightly deluded in an outdated or lofty way of thinking.

And then you have immortal robots who are anything but apathetic and jaded.

Robots like Glados and AM who completely sidestep apathy by being so hatefully vengeful

It’s almost what keeps them alive.

But then you get into robots like Auto or Five Pebbles who aren’t directly hateful but are antagonistic simply because their intended purpose no longer aligns with that of the human protagonists.

It’s also important for me to mention that I’m largely talking about antagonistic robots. There are plenty of friendly robots in media, however I feel that the characterization of an evil robot is something set into our very history with technology.

I mean the whole idea of “robots are going to kill all of humanity” could’ve started as early as 1900 when the poster, “An Unrestrained Demon” was prevalent.

We’ve always feared technological advances and personally I think we should go back to thinking about how robots are gonna take over the world. The his who thought of that and made movies out of those ideas were genius.

We don’t got jaded, sad, hateful little robots like we used to

[feliciadraws]

*WANDERSONG SPOILERS*

Okay excuse me while I scream for a bit Man oh MAN there is so much to unpack here;

I'm currently in the Crater in Mohabumi (I think it's called) in the kingdom of Chaandesh, and this is one of the most simultaneously interesting and heartbreaking moments of the game I think, not least after seeing and hearing about the war between Chaandesh and Rulle from both sides and how this war is affecting the people of Chaandesh, who it seems have actually been needlessly vilified by Rulle to the point where Hala ended up running away and getting herself KILLED because she wanted the war to stop and no-one would listen to her- Okay so- Miriam and the Bard talking and dancing in the Crater about themselves and how Miriam's been on a semi-existential, soul-searching journey of her own while the Bard's been on his own quest, and how she admitted that she actually admires the Bard's positivity in spite of not being the hero and his happiness and sureness with himself, but the Bard admitted to her that he himself actually tries hard to be positive despite feeling immense sadness in himself over not being the hero (as evidenced with his depressive spell in the aftermath of his discovery of the truth and mission to shut down the toy factory in Chismest Town) and that how the so-called hero herself is still running around killing Overseers and how nothing he does or will do will matter in the long run, but nevertheless he still pushes on and keeps trying... And how Miriam admitted to him that she admires that about him, against the weight of the uncertainty she feels within herself...

This is...I'm losing my freaking mind over here and my heart hurts and I've got the game running in the background as I'm typing this and I'm in both my thoughts and my feels as the Crater theme plays in my headphones...

The Crater theme is an actual banger by the way, great to have a mini existential mulling to.

[fangirlanxiety74]

Alright this has been in my head for awhile now so I'm gonna finally discuss it here: IHNM gang but what Undertale soul they represent. Yes I am aware there's only 5 of them (not including AM) and 7 hearts, but yk, I think some of them represent more than one soul

And starting off with that

Ellen: KINDNESS and PATIENCE. As far as the series describes her, Ellen is very much a kind and patient person. These are core parts of her that AM either couldn't take away, or chose not to. But she's constantly described as the group's morale, she's the one always trying to comfort them and keep them going, she's characterized as very patient, she's the one actively going out of her way to help Benny. I just think this makes the most sense.

Gorrister: JUSTICE. Ted kind of outright says it, but this was the core part of Gorrister that AM took from him. Gorrister is literally described by Ted in the short story that he was a peace marcher, an activist, someone who stood for their morals and did what's right. I feel like it's a no-brainer that he would be the one to have Justice as his soul.

Nimdok: PERSEVERANCE. Nimdok is the one who kind of kicked off the story from when we're introduced into what's going on. He's the one who got the plot to start moving, telling the group that there was canned food in the ice caves, who insisted they go and find it (with the help of Ellen), he's the one who was willing to try and fight the giant bird and asked AM for weapons to do so, even if it didn't go the way they wanted to and he had to give up and keep the group moving. And also, given his age compared to the others, I think you have to have perseverance to continue to keep going and try to live/keep others alive in such a depressing situation. Maybe this one is a bit of a stretch, I feel like it is, but that's how I interpret it.

Ted: DETERMINATION and BRAVERY. I feel like it's kind of easy to give Ted determination as the protagonist of the series, but also given how I understand determination to work in terms of Undertale, I think it fits? I mean, to pull a drastic move as killing the other survivors, the only people he has ever interacted with for a 109 years, just so they can have peace and through that, challenge AM and the horrors he's put them all through? I feel like you have to be pretty determined that it's even going to work to pull that off. Especially since with how he's characterized, he believed they were all out to get them. He thought they hated him, that they were jealous, etc. and he still went and put them before himself and submitted himself to an eternity of Hell. I can also consider this a very incredibly brave thing to do, so that's why Bravery is included.

Benny: INTEGRITY. Benny is the hardest one to pin down in terms of the souls. My immediate thought is Bravery as well, since you can interpret the act of him finding what he thought was a way out and immediately gunning for it, (possibly) knowing of the dangers and consequences that would come with trying? But also, I can argue that Integrity was the trait that AM took from him. As far as I understand how he's characterized in the short story, he was a scientist, a theorist, a college professor, etc. And with that kind of profession, I imagine he lived a really good, honest, moral life, and AM stripped that from him to turn him into just a person who works on pure instinct. But this could also be just me reading too many fanfics that involve Benny and characterizing him this way.

Uhhh anyways this was just me talking about their characters because I really like them all, others less so, but I also really like Undertale and I just wanted to do a silly character study so!! Yeah if you got this far thank you to listening to me ramble lol

[byanyan]

ㅤbeen thinking today about how byan's anger can be really scary to witness... it's very... raw. anger is the emotion they feel the most intensely, and the one they filter the least. it's raw, it's heated, and it's very instinct-driven — they have very little control over it, and they're certainly not thinking before they do or say anything. impulses are followed, whether it's to lash out and cause harm to whatever has hurt them, or to throw or break whatever is within arm's reach just to release even a little bit of the energy that's overwhelming them. they don't know what else to do with it. literally no thoughts, all that their mind can focus on is the emotion; they just want to get it out and stop feeling this way (and/or ensure the person who's pissed them off gets what they deserve) and they'll do whatever it takes to ensure that. i think that lack of control really shows too, like it's palpable in the air and adds an extra layer of discomfort and uncertainty if you're in the same room as them. concern for one's own safety is valid in such a scenario too tbh, because they have hurt people in the past who they never would have caused harm to normally (both directly and indirectly; sometimes by their own hand, other times as an unintended consequence of them throwing/breaking something). it's not something they're proud of, but they also just... don't know what to do about it. ...they're honestly afraid of their own anger, at times. afraid of what they're capable of and what they might one day do.

[azurecoffin]

hi who wants to hear my crackship of nature girl x dryad

plz I think the way out of nature girl's emo phase is sapphics hear me out plz

[nancywheeeler]

anyone for going to the woods and screaming at the top of our lungs?

[rosicheeks]

okokokok i need a minute. like. first of all i’ve seen wicked a lot a lot bc my family loves it and i love it and it’s all our favorite so like you singing from it is insane but then your VOICE… angelic. wonderful. beautiful. perfect in every way. 99999/10, would love to have you give me a makeover 💖💖💖 also you’re so fucking pretty in that vid???????? like oh my goshhhhhh you are unreal i cannot believe it

-🌸 (i am just in awe)

🥰