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readychilledwine · 9 months ago

Note

Could i request something where az and reader are mates. They have a huge fight and “break up” and reader leaves the court. She finds out that she is pregnant and writes him a letter. He never shows up so she thinks he doesn’t want the baby. Rhys visit the court she is in and sees her with a child maybe a couple months old. He is mad because she didn’t told him and when he ask her why she keeps his nephew away she tells him that she wrote az but he never answered. Rhys is mad and ask az what is up with him to just leave his pregnant mate. Unbeknownst to him that az was searching for her the whole time. Az tells him that he never got a letter and they find out that maybe elain burned it. It takes some time for them but they find their way back and just fluff azriel dad who teaches his son how to fly.

( you could write more angst between reader and az because of elain or you could use a maid or something who wants az)

Here Without You

Summary - Being a single mother was more painful than you'd ever thought it would be, especially when your son's father was just a court away.

Warnings - Angst, Elain showing those claws, single mom status, a child, PPD and the thoughts that come with it, **edited to add** cheating

A/N - I had one of my friends who is a single mom help me with this one while also imagining my life without baby daddy, and um, yeah. We cried a lot, so hopefully, you all do too.

*message from Liz regarding the ending at the end*

💙Peep my Azriel Masterlist Here💙

You had decided whatever you had done to offend the Mother must have been truly unforgettable and unforgivable as you sank against the wall of your family chambers in the Day Court Palace.

Being a new mother was the hardest thing you had ever and will ever do. You had finally gotten Nox down after 3 hours of fussing and tears, and now you waited. He'd sleep 2 hours if you were lucky, wake up crying, and you'd start the process over.

You had wished for your mate more times than you could count, but that bridge was long gone and burned. He had ensured of that by not coming when you wrote him, by not even bothering to write you a response.

The last fight between you and Azriel had been ugly. Glasses had been thrown, a bottle of wine knocked over in rage, cruel words you would both have to live with ringing in your ears like a scream. 350 years. Gone. Thrown away like garbage. All for Elain.

Selfish, plotting, destructive Elain.

You stood, body swaying with sleep deprivation setting in before sitting at the table where your now cold food set. You were too tired to eat, choosing to instead drink the water you had been desperately craving 4 hour ago.

You had wished you could turn it to wine, drink it with no consequences, and still feed Nox when he woke, but that was not the reality of the world. So, instead, you allowed the room temperature flavorless beverage to slide down your throat before moving like a ghost to the couch. There was no point in getting comfortable in your own bed. You would have to be up soon anyway. It wasn’t as if you had help.

You were alone.

And that wasn't even the most painful part of it.

The most painful part was setting in doubt. The growing disbelief that you weren't capable of this, that Nox deserved more, that you should have dropped him at the cabin you had no doubt Elain had moved into, leaving him with her and Azriel to allow you to-

You cut your brain off, refusing to put those words into a full thought. Refusing to believe that your disappearance or death was better for your son than this.

This had to be enough, you had to be enough, because Gods if it wasn't and you weren't, then what truly was the point in living any longer.

Helion entered your chambers the next morning, eyes falling to where you were sat on the floor, shoulders shaking as sobs tore through you. He placed a large warm hand on your shoulder before taking Nox from your arms. "I know I can not offer much of a break due to his feeding cycle, but when is the last time you ate a hot meal, y/n?"

You shook your head. He was 2 weeks old. You supposed it had been before labor. Since then, it had been moments begging for just a second of deep sleep. Moments begging for the Mother to help you, to guide you. Moments where those prayers went unanswered as if they were just thrown into a void. "I don't remember."

Helion could have killed Azriel for you, for Lucien, for Nox. He almost had when you had winnowed yourself here, collapsing in his arms from the exhaustion magic and a growing babe had caused your body.

You hadn't known when you came to the Day Court, begging your oldest friend for a week of safety and healing that you were pregnant, but the High Lord had scented it the second you appeared.

It left him wondering how the hell Azriel hadn't.

"Let me hire a wet nurse for you," he offered again, knowing you would turn it down since your depressive state had you hyper fixated in this belief that all you were good for now was your breasts, and if you gave that duty away, what purpose did you have? "At least for the next few hours. To give you time to rest?"

You still shook your head, messy, tangled hair trying to sway. "I can't. I can't burden someone else."

Helion turned his head away from you, willing himself not to cry at the emptiness of your voice, at the lifelessness you had become.

"The Night Court and Spring are coming today," he started slowly. "I am the magic selected neutral ground for Tamlin and Rhysand to begin setting a peace treaty and trade routes." He waited for your reaction, almost breaking further as you gave him none. "Do you want to see any of them?"

"Lucien and Tamlin."

Helion felt his heart shatter for Cassian, the male who had been asking about you for months now. "The general-"

"Is Azriel's brother. And probably has taken his side. Attempts to see me are probably to give him some sick sort of satisfaction."

He dropped the subject immediately. Nox was asleep, content in the High Lord's arms. "I have time before they arrive, go nap." Helion ordered it, eyes blazing a soft gold and forcing you into submission.

Your bed had never felt so soft.

Helion was walking with Nox around the Palace, smiling and cooing the little male. He was always content when he was being held, and you were so deeply asleep you hadn't even noticed Helion holding the boy to your chest as he nursed. He walked towards where Lucien and Tamlin were.

His son, his pride and joy, looked just radiant in his Day Court attire. The soft, off-white pleaded fabric draping him showed the new healthy build he had gained since Azriel and Elain's transgressions, a golden snake wrapped his bicep, new golden earrings adorned those many piercings.

Lucien paused, a look of concern etching his face when he saw Nox before shaking his head rapidly.

But it was too late, Helion was already in the room where Rhysand also stood with the Inner Circle. The Lord of Night's face fell as he looked at the Illyrian boy, looking so happy up at Helion as he dozed off.

Cassian had frozen, mid sentence with Nesta. He had tried to take a step, wanting to see the babe he immediately knew was his nephew. His eyes met Helion's pleading with permission to approach. Elain's face had paled. A mix of guilt and fear running across it before she schooled it into a faked look of hurt and sadness.

But it was Azriel's face the broke the High Lord. It was a look he knew all too well.

The look of a father who missed the birth of his child.

The look of a father who didn't know he had a child.

The look of a father mourning lost time.

Lucien moved to Helion, taking Nox before leaving the room quickly. The boy did as he always did when his head found Lucien's warm bare shoulder. He released a heavy breath, snuggling into that familiar scent and warmth. "Your mother did not call for me last night," they all heard his soft voice trailing off, speaking to their nephew softly.

"You will tell me everything I do not know," Rhysand demanded as if he was in his own court. "When the fuck was he born. Why were we not informed of her pregnancy?"

Tamlin looked to Helion, digging the shit further. "Is she in the same room as last time?" The Lord of Day nodded. "I will go see her while you all deal with this."

Helion didn't answer, walking to the centered round table and taking the head seat. "To begin, Rhysand, this is my court. You will not make demands of me in my home." They all sat, aside from Azriel. His gaze was locked on the hallway Lucien and Tamlin had gone down.

If he ran, he could catch them. He could see you. He could-

The slam of hands on a table ripped him from his thoughts, and his head snapped to Helion. The High Lord was blazing, glowing like the sun itself, heat radiating from him. "Sit. Down."

An hour later and Rhysand had the bridge of his nose pinched between his fingers. "You saw her send each letter?"

Helion rolled his eyes, nodding again. "Every month after every check up and once after the birth."

Rhys pointed to Azriel. "But you never got them?"

"My son wouldn't be in another court if I had," Azriel's voice mirrored yours. Broken, empty, mourning. Mourning what was, what he had missed and would never get back. "You're sure she sent them to me?"

Helion could have snapped his neck. "Who else would have fathered her babe? You are the one who stepped out of the bonds of marriage and mateship. Not her."

Azriel paused, a sudden look of anger gracing his face as he looked up at Elain, shadows curling his ears. Nuala appeared, setting envelopes down in front of Rhysand. "In her room. Under her bed in a locked chest. Along with every communication you had tried to send to y/n, my lord."

Feyre gasped, turning her back to Elain and leaning further into Rhysand, holding Nyx tightly between them. She remembered those first few weeks. The sleepless nights, the pain, the emotional down pour. She would not have survived without Rhysand. Without Nesta and Mor. Without Cassian and you and Azriel. Her sister, the one who had held her as darkness swallowed her mind after her son's birth, had allowed you to endure this alone.

Azriel's hands shook, reaching for that stack. He separated out the letters. 10 for him. 2 for Rhysand and Feyre. 2 for Mor. 2 for Amren. 4 for Cassian and Nesta.

Helion stood. "I will let you all process this. Call for me when you are ready to do negotiations. The sooner you all leave, the better for her."

Rhysand's eyes shot up. "You won't let us explain to her-"

"Does it change the fact that he took Elain to their marriage bed? Does it change that he signed the annulment papers." Silence filled the room. "I believe that's why she left. Correct?" Rhys grit his teeth nodding. "Then all this changes is me, someone she trusts and feels safe with right now, informing her of what happened and allowing her to decide if she wants to reach out again from that point." He made a pointed look at Elain. "Which would not matter since I cannot see you removing the parasite from your court."

Helion walked into your room to Lucien and Nox laying skin to skin, a blanket over them as Tamlin held you, long fingers running through your dark hair. "And?" His son said.

"Your mate hid the letters regarding her pregnancy." Lucien whistled. "She's a snake hiding behind beautiful scales."

Azriel had tracked down your room with his shadows easily. The inner circle had been excused for the negotiations and allowed to explore the city. Cassian had flown Elain home, Mor and Amren winnowing Nesta behind them. Cassian wanted Elain out of his house, and Azriel could not have been more grateful to his brother for having his back.

He entered the room slowly and quietly. You were placing the babe in a crib on the balcony. It was shaded from the sun, shielded to remain the perfect temperature, and yet gave him access to fresh air, to the breeze.

You turned, eyes wide the second you saw Azriel. He moved to you so quickly that you could hardly process it. One second, your feet were on the ground, and the next, arms held you tight against him. Azriel was breathing deeply, memorizing your scent all over again.

He set you down, keeping you close to his chest, and sent a prayer to the Mother. "Elain hid all the letters," he began slowly. "She kept them all in her room. I didn't know. Had I known about you, about him, I would have crawled the very depths of hell to bring you back home to me."

You didn't answer. Tears fell as your body relaxed into him. It wasn't fair. The hold he had on you. The need you still felt in your bones when he touched your skin. You ached for Azriel so deeply it echoed into your bones. You longed for his smell. His voice.

Azriel took your silence as permission to continue. "I made a mistake. I will never be able to make up for it. Elain knew the second you left, I wanted to correct this. I was so blinded by her, by the feeling of being needed like that again, that I forgot how precious your independence was. How beautiful it is."

He couldn't stop himself from kissing the top of your head. "You are all I think about. Morning, noon, and night, it is always and will always be you. I am so sorry for what I have done. I am sorry for hurting you, for ruining us, for hurting the family we should be raising together. There are no words for my remorse."

"Why?" Your voice broke as you asked. "Why wasn't I enough?"

Azriel pulled back to look at you, hand raising to hold your chin and force eye contact. "Y/n, you are not at fault for my actions. You did nothing wrong. There is no partial blame, no what ifs. I fucked up. I made a mistake and it cost both of us everything. You are the victim of my actions, not the catalyst."

He saw you process those words and saw as they sunk in. "You were and are more than I will ever deserve. I want to spend my lifetime making up for it. Becoming a male you are proud of. I want to be the father I never got to have. I want to be the husband and mate you deserve. I know it will take time, and I do not expect your forgiveness today, but if you give me a chance, I will go to my grave worshipping the ground you two walk."

"Do you want to meet our son?" He broke at the question, feeling the bond opening back on your end. "This doesn't mean we're back together. It means we need to coparent for him while we work on things." He nodded rapidly, following you to the bassinet.

It felt like the world was coming full circle. You knew it would take time, that you two had many things to discuss first. This was a needed good start, though. Your pain eased slightly as you pulled back the curtains to the crib and whispered, "Azriel, this is Nox, your son."

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho

**I have received some pretty nasty anon asks, some unconstructive comments, and a good amount of general negativity regarding this fic. If you are unhappy with the ending and want to know why I made the choices I made as the author, click #discussingherewithoutyou. Unconstructive comments will be receiving the same copy and paste answer from here forward.

My time and content are free. If you do not like them, scroll.

General Taglist:

@mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium

Azriel Taglist:

@elle4404

#acotar #acotar x reader #send asks #send anons #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x yn #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #discussingherewithoutyou

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after-witch · 11 months ago

Text

The Driven Snow [Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Reader]

Title: The Driven Snow [Yandere Coriolanus Snow x Reader]

Synopsis: You're a District 2 school graduate who comes to the Capitol with her father before the 11th Hunger Games. You don't expect to meet anyone kind, especially not someone named Coriolanus Snow who offers you his arm, his smile, and treats in secret.

Word Count: 5270

notes: yandere, abusive relationship, non-graphic descriptions of torture and death (not against reader); uses a mixture of book and movie canon

The Capitol was not as dazzling as your father described it but then, he had seen it before the war. Though perhaps it was your own bitterness that made you ignore the signs of returning prosperity that sets it above everywhere else.

The repaired elaborate buildings, the fresh pungent smell of plaster and paint. The cars pumping exhaust fumes into the air. The low rumble of garbage trucks that pick up bright green garbage cans, some of which are actually teeming with plastic trash bags. Such waste was unheard of, even in the oh-so-loyal District 2, where only the lowest of the low find themselves starving.

Although not-starving didn’t mean that everything was plentiful.

You, though, were lucky enough to avoid the lima bean heavy diet that some of your classmates (now former--graduation was months ago) lived on. Or were you? The meat that graced your family’s dinner table, the pats of butter on toast, were all courtesy of your father’s immense talent in building creative weapons that allowed the Capitol to stamp out every last bit of rebellion in the Districts. That allowed them to regain control. That allowed them to create the Hunger Games.

Which is why you were in the Capitol now. Oh, not to participate in them. Your father’s status in District 2 had seen to that; it would be a scandal if the name of his beloved daughter were to ever be pulled.

You were there because your father had been given a lucrative contract, one that was sure to cement your family’s wealth for generations: a contract to build high-tech weapons for the Hunger Games themselves.

They would still be killing. But on a much smaller scale, you supposed, than the weapons your father designed during the war.

Still. Blood was blood. And if it had to be spilled, well, there was nothing you could do about it except hope they died quickly. Especially the ones from District 2.

Last year’s Games’ had been awful enough. Your family had watched the Games on a modest television set in the privacy of your living room, sent courtesy of the Capitol.

You wondered if you would ever get the sight of Marcus’ battered, bloated face from your mind; if you would ever unhear the way his body thumped to the ground when that girl had killed him, out of mercy. If you would ever stop imagining what it must have felt like in those last moments.

But it wasn’t all horror. You’d liked Lucy Gray well enough, even though she was from 12. She had a wild way of dressing and the singing--it was practically theatrical, compared to what you’d heard about the previous games.

Maybe that was why your father got this contract: theatrics. Maybe the games would be more dramatic from now on. Maybe they wanted tributes like Lucy Gray, who sang and spit and poisoned her way to Victory. It was strange, really, that there’d been hardly any talk of her since her win.

“Father?” You asked, quietly as you could.

Both of you were standing in the foyer of the grand university in the Capitol. The outside was still a little ravaged, but inside, it was perfectly lovely. Walls lined with books--perhaps some of them were fake--and marble floors and marble busts dotting the sight lines.

“Mm?” He replied, eyes scanning over his clipboard. He flips it, here and there.

“I was just thinking. About last year’s games. About Lucy Gray, and how the Games--”

Your father rounded on you, eyes suddenly serious and blazing.

“Quiet. Weren’t you paying attention on the way here?” Admittedly, you were not. You’d been daydreaming about what you might do now that you were done with school. There was no university in District 2, and your father hadn’t even mentioned a job. “You’re not supposed to mention--”

“Not supposed to mention whom? Ah, ah, ah. Lucy Gray Baird?” called a voice, almost in sing-song.

Your father stood up stiff, and the life seemed to drain from his face.

Both of you look towards the sound of the voice, and now it’s your turn to stiffen. The voice came from a woman standing in the doorway of the very office that your father was waiting to enter. She was wearing an elaborate jacket made of what looked like rainbow snake scales. Her hair was gray and curly. She had, you realized, two different colored eyes.

Your father swallowed, and you could see the apple of it bob up and down. It made you think, abruptly, of suckling pigs.

“Dr. Gaul,” he said, in a voice far too tight to be relaxed. “I apologize for my daughter’s insubordination, I assure you, she meant no--”

Dr. Gaul waved her hands at him and approached you.

“Did you like last year’s games?” She didn’t look angry. No, she looked delighted.

“I…” It was your turn to swallow, your turn to feel that tightness. “It-it was the first time I’ve watched them, ma’am.” You want to ask this woman: do you think I liked watching someone from my District 2 so horribly? Or any District, really? Did I like it?

Her smile grew wider.

“I’m glad. You’ll be watching them every year from now on, I hope. We have big plans.” Her eyebrows raised high. “Big changes. Thanks to men like your father.” She glanced at him and you saw disdain flicker across her gaze.

And then another door opened, and you heard the sound of polished shoes on the marble floor. Dr. Gaul’s attention dropped away from you like you were nothing at all. She turned to meet the sound of these footsteps, and you did too.

It was a young man. Probably your age, you thought, with light blonde hair and eyes that your mother would have described as “baby blue.” He didn’t look at you, or your father. But that was nothing new. You’d only been in the Capitol for 2 days, and you’d already gotten used to being treated as lesser than. Though, at least, you were not so far down on the food chain that you lost your tongue.

“Ah, my protege,” said Dr. Gaul, giving the young man a grin. The smile on her face almost looked warm, which was somehow far more terrifying than her manic smile from earlier. “Ever the earnest student. Aren’t you supposed to be enjoying the day off, Mr. Snow?”

The young man, this “Snow,” chuckled and lowered his gaze. “I couldn’t stay away once I heard you were discussing some of the new prototypes for this year’s games.”

He finally looked at your father, and then at you. But only briefly.

“Can I assume that this is��?”

Dr. Gaul nodded.

“Yes. My little designer from District 2. And his daughter.” Her voice dropped a few octaves when she referred to you. She probably didn’t want you here, you thought. You weren’t supposed to come, but your father had begged the Capitol for a pass; it would probably be your only chance to see it, he said, so you may as well take advantage of the chance.

Snow nodded to your father. It was a surprising gesture, almost respectful. But cold, too, like it was done from necessity rather than anything else.

Your father stammered a bit and nodded back, and you felt shame begin to creep into your bones. It wasn’t fair, to be lesser-than. But weren’t others lesser-than you in your own District, where you ate better food and never worried that your name would get picked, that your blood would be spilled?

Everyone

But when Snow turned to you, he smiled. It gave him dimples.

It was the first kind smile anyone in the Capitol gave you.

“My name is Coriolanus Snow. I doubt you’ve heard of me, but if Dr. Gaul’s teachings have anything to say about it, perhaps one day you’ll know me as a Gamemaker.”

You didn’t know what to say. Congratulations, one day you’ll be coordinating Games that kill people? Instead, you gave your name, voice squeakier than you meant it. But it was fitting, you supposed. Here, you were a mouse, hoping you would get a bite of cheese and make it home unpoisoned.

Dr. Gaul’s face seemed to react slowly, as if she couldn’t decide what she thought about his words or your interaction, but a small smile grew on it, eventually. “I do have high hopes for you, Mr. Snow. Now, shall we?”

She gestured for your father to follow, face once again impassive with a sprinkle of disdain, as she led the two of them into her office.

Snow gave you a smile and a nod before he left.

You waved, stupidly.

Your father didn’t even look back.

I’m dead. I’m dead. I might as well be dead.

Your heartbeat kept time with your racing thoughts as you went up and down corridors, begging your shoes to be silent, wishing your breath would catch and stop coming out in terrible pants.

You were lost. You weren’t where you were supposed to be. If someone found you, if the wrong person found you, they would think you were running, trying to get lost in the Capitol; they’d think you were a rebel. They’d shoot you.

Just when you thought you might collapse and die from your own nervous exhaustion, you heard the most wonderful sound in the world.

Your name.

It was only the moment after that you realized it didn’t come from your father’s mouth, but the lips of--what his name--Coriolanus Snow. The young man who was a Gamemaker-in-training, or so your father said. But that’s all he would say. He kept tight about anything that went on behind closed doors.

But this Coriolanus Snow smiled at you, and didn’t look at you like you were some kind of insect he might want to pin on a board, and so when you whirled around to look at him you were smiling.

Ah--for a moment. For just a moment, you saw his muscles tense. You saw the expression on his face falter in worry. Like he thought he was about to miss a step on a staircase, and corrected himself; like he thought you were a wolf and you were only somebody’s dog, off their leash.

But it wasn’t too surprising. You knew most people in the Capitol thought anyone from the Districts wanted to rip out their throats.

Well, the worry was mutual. Except in your case, you were forced to walk around with the living proof of that worry--all those “Avoxes,” they called them. Without tongues, without freedom.

But you swallow all that. Because he smiled at you. Because maybe it wouldn’t hurt to make a friend. Especially right now.

“I’m--I’m lost,” you tell him, giving a shaky smile. “I was waiting for my father, but you see, I got to thinking, and I started to wander around and now I’m… well. I don’t know where I am, actually.”

His smile wasn’t very deep, was it? It was like the gloss of paint on the outside of the Capitol buildings. Pretty to look at, but there must be more underneath.

You expected him to lead you right back to where you’re supposed to be.

Instead, he asked you something.

“What were you thinking about?

You couldn’t tell him. Could you? But something about

“About… the Games.”

You don’t tell him that you were thinking about Lucy Gray and all those snakes, and the way that Dr. Gaul’s outfit that first day made you think of them. Because your father had slapped you across the face when you got back to your lodgings that night, and told you to never, ever bring up Lucy Gray Baird or the 10th Games unless you were directly asked. And you would probably never be asked.

Coriolanus gave a little snort through his nose. You liked it. It was nice to know that even Capitol people could seem a little dorky.

“They aren’t for another 3 months. Are you that eager to see them?”

You didn’t know what expression you made, exactly. It was so instinctive and fast that you didn’t have time to control it.

You only knew that it made him shake his head and offer you a sympathetic look.

“I apologize. That was rude, wasn’t it?”

And then he did a strange thing.

He offered you his arm.

Like you were Capitol, like you were a real person, and not some visiting District wench walking on the coattails of her arms-dealing father.

“Let me walk you back to the waiting area.”

And the stranger thing?

You took it.

You and your father were quickly moved into a small apartment within the university, once it became clear that he would be staying in the Capitol through the duration of the Games. It was best, he said, because ordinary people in the Capitol didn’t really want to see new faces from the Districts mingling around unless their tongue had been cut out first. It made them nervous. The rebel bombings, and all that.

You didn’t mind, because it meant you didn’t have to be flanked by Peacekeepers on the streets.

And, well.

You got to see Coriolanus more often. Sometimes he greeted you, sometimes he didn’t. He did it less often when Dr. Gaul was there, unless she was talking to your father and it gave him an opportunity.

He asked you things, too, when he caught you walking back to your father’s little apartment. Like what you did back home. What you liked to do. Whether you went to school, and what you planned to do now that you have graduated.

This morning, he caught you drawing while you waited in a chair outside Dr. Gaul’s office. Sometimes you waited there--you would admit to no one that it was to catch a glimpse of the kindest person you’d met in the Capitol--and other times you stayed in your temporary home.

“What are you drawing?” He asked. But he had a way of speaking that you’d quickly clocked into. He can make a demand sound like a polite little question. Oh, he wasn’t mean about it, but it reminded you of the way your father talked to his underlings back in District 2. On his home turf, he was far smoother than he was here, where his voice stammered and sweat beaded on his neck.

So you handed it over, even though, to your greatest embarrassment, you’d drawn… him.

“Why me?” He had a smile on his lips. His smiles were nice. Kind. The kindest you’d seen since you came here. But they always felt like that fresh coat of paint; like you didn’t know what he really meant by them, and that was how he liked it.

“You’re… important,” is all you could come up with. You felt small, then. He would dismiss and probably never want to talk to you again. What a stupid answer from a stupid girl.

But he just smiled. It was like paint peeling a little. You could see underneath that he liked what you said, although you weren’t exactly sure why. And his expression tightened up so quickly, protecting what you’d seen, that you weren’t entirely sure if it was real or not.

“I’m just a humble student at this university. Not so important. Not yet.”

You were really going to die, now. This wasn’t some panicked imagination gone wrong, some flight of fancy that took a wrong turn.

A pair of stony-faced Peacekeepers had walked up to where you sat in the waiting area near Dr. Gaul’s office and ordered you to come with them.

You asked to talk to your father. They said no. You asked where you were going. They yanked you up.

And now they were leading you down hallways that you’d never seen before, where there weren’t even Avoxes roaming the halls with brooms and dustpans.

They didn’t even answer, just spun around and walked back the way they came. You pushed the door open reluctantly--what the hell was going to be on the other side?--and it was--it was--

It was Coriolanus. Standing there in a nice suit, eyes downcast on a book. Until the door creaked and he looked up.

“What--why did you bring me here? Did I do something wrong?” The thought went through you, that perhaps this had all been a test, to see if you were loyal to the Capitol and he’d found you wanting.

“No,” he said, simply enough. He set the book down and gestured for you to step inside. You did, because what else were you going to do, in some strange room in a Capitol University where you’d been forcibly brought by Peacekeepers.

Snow studied your face. Your eyes darted around, from him, to the room, to the door.

“I wanted to see you,” he said, a little softer. “In private.”

“Me?” You furrowed your eyebrows. “But… why?”

He smiled. “Come now, you’re a smart girl, even if you aren’t in university.”

You really didn’t know. Not at first. But then you watched the way his expression softened, and you remembered it, or glimpses of it, that he’d given you before. When he complimented your drawing. When he said your name. When he escorted you back from the maze of hallways. And his smiles, all his smiles, although you were never sure how much they meant coming from home.

He took a step closer. You didn’t dare step back. You weren’t sure if you wanted to step back, but it didn’t matter, either way.

He pressed his lips to yours and took your first kiss, in a secluded little study in the heart of the Capitol University.

Your days became routine, although the routine was strictly forbidden and could have probably gotten you executed or at best, gotten you a one-way ticket to a tasteless existence.

You wake up. You stay in your apartment. You wait for the Peacekeepers. You get summoned here and there, always private rooms, secret rooms, rooms out of the way. You meet Snow--Coriolanus, he said, call him that--and you talk (well, mostly him) and kiss and sometimes a little bit more. He gives you gifts. Trinkets, necklaces that you can only wear under your shirt. Food, flaky pastries made with mountains of sugar, sandwiches made with cream and cucumber.

But how much longer could it go on? The Games were going to start soon. As soon as they were over, you were going back to your District. There would be no more meetings, no more kisses. No more wondering how far he wanted to go or why he liked you or even if he even liked you as anything more than someone to keep him busy.

You didn’t dare talk about the Games, but you did talk about this. In the kindest way you knew how for such a sensitive subject.

“I’ll miss you,” you told Coriolanus after one meeting, when you’re both sitting on a sofa and he’s got your fingers tightly wound in his. He squeezed them tight.

“Miss me?”

“After the Games,” you clarified. “We’re being sent home right after.”

He squeezed your fingers until it hurt a little. Then he looked up at you. To see if you would say something? Or did he not know how strong he was?

“Oh, that. I can arrange for you to stay.”

Your chest began to feel sick.

“Stay? In the Capitol?” You were torn about Coriolanus, but you didn’t want to stay here. You couldn’t.

“Yes,” he said, as if it was the simplest answer in the world. “You wouldn’t be the first person from the District granted such an extreme privilege. I’m sure I could--”

“But I don’t know if I want to stay.”

His gaze narrowed and you felt your stomach clench. He looked at the necklace you’d pulled out as soon as the door was shut, at your lips where a dollop of strawberry cream still rested.

“I treat you so well, and you don’t know if you want to stay with me?”

His voice was calm, and that scared you. It would have been better if he flew off the handle.

Instead, he simply stood up and gently sent you out the door, and called the Peacekeepers to bring you back to your apartment.

Every night for the last week, you have cried yourself to sleep. Because every day for the last week, Coriolanus Snow has not sent for you. Not even once.

What if he told someone? What if you got sent back early, and your father was shamed? What if they broke his contract? Or--worse, worse, worse. There were so many worse things than merely being sent back to District 2.

And then he sent for you, and it was the longest walk of your life, though it was no farther than any of the times you’ve been escorted to your secret meetings.

This time, when you pushed open the door, Coriolanus was not alone.

There was an Avox in the room.

It was someone from District 2.

You didn’t know her. Not personally. But you saw her, before. She worked in one of the munitions factories and you watched her walk to work from your classroom window sometimes. Then she stopped showing up, and you thought perhaps she got married.

That delusion was shattered the moment you saw her, eyes downcast to the floor, wearing a simple gray tunic.

It’s not until Coriolanus tells you to hurry up and come in that you’re able to move. Even then, you weren’t sure how your body did it; how your arms managed to gain the mobility to shut the door, to twist the lock; how your legs moved, one foot in front of the other, until you were standing stiffly in front of him.

The Avox--you wish you knew her name, but she couldn’t give it to you now, even if you asked--moved seamlessly to a table set up nearby. There was tea and sweets. The sort of thing that you and Coriolanus had been enjoying together for the past few weeks. The sort of thing that you were sure would sit sour in your stomach, now.

The cup shook in your hands when she handed it to you, and your tears dripped right into the tea.

Coriolanus glanced at the Avox and waved his hand. She left obediently. She would never tell the secret she witnessed in his room, that much was certain.

And then he looked back at you.

“Don’t cry,” he said. Soft but firm. A command, not a coo. “You shouldn’t cry here, in the Capitol. You should be grateful to be here. You should be grateful that I’ve arranged all this for you.”

“I am,” you whispered.

“Then show me that you are.”

And you did.

You said what he wanted and looked to him to show you how he wanted you to act, and did just that. You didn’t argue, even to lightly banter. You kissed him and nodded along when he told you about how things would be after the Games, when he had arranged for you to stay.

All you had to do was keep him happy until the Games were over, and then you could go home.

Bitterly, all of this made you realize just how much of your father is in you; he knew how to appease the Capitol. You could do the same with Coriolanus Snow. At least until the Games were over. Just keep him happy until the Games were done and the blood was spilled, and you would go home.

They wouldn’t let him keep you here after the games. You were sure of that. You’d overheard some of Dr. Gaul’s assistants murmuring how glad they would be to send the District profiteers like your father home once the Games were over. And you? You’re just his useless daughter, an appendage he brought like an unwelcome suitcase. Why would you be allowed to stay?

The Games were over. The winner was from District 1.

You were going home any day now. Just as soon as your father finished tinkering with the designs, gave his notes on improvements that might be made for next year.

The thought gave you a delightful bounce in your step. It was like having a pat of sweet butter in your shoe on a day when you needed good luck-- District 2 superstition, although the strict rationing meant most people didn’t have even a pat to slip into their shoes anymore.

The sweetness didn’t even disappear when the Peacekeepers showed up to bring you to Snow. It was going to be a bittersweet farewell, you were sure. He might be angry. But you would kiss him and tell him that there was nothing he could do, and how sorry you were not to be able to stay, but that was how things had to be.

Except they didn’t bring you down a maze of corridors that led to a secluded room.

They brought you right into Dr. Gaul’s office.

Breakfast threatened to evacuate your stomach with every step. Not just because of nerves, but because of what you saw. Rows of experiments in glass tubes; some of them move. You walk by a room with a half-open door that showed someone strapped to a gurney, face contorted in a silent scream as they fought against restraints. You almost did lose breakfast, then.

But somehow you made it to the desk of Dr. Gaul without a dribble of vomit to show for it.

The Peacekeepers left with no fanfare and you stood there, ramrod straight. Did she know? Was she going to tell you that you were going to be strapped to one of those gurneys, now?

“I’m keenly aware,” she said, keeping her hands primly folded, “on how much you’ve enthralled my star pupil.”

Toast. That’s what will come up first, you thought . The toast.

“I don’t know what you mean, ma’am.” Your voice was so thin and tinny that you didn’t even believe yourself.

And then the prim facade cracked, and Dr. Gaul threw her head back and grinned.

“You really think I don’t know everything that goes on within these walls? I know every time one of my lab assistants runs into the bathroom to throw up after a particularly nasty experiment. I know every time one of our university professors sneaks into a closet to down a vial of morphling with a student. And I certainly know when my newest protege is having an adorable little District girl brought to him for… canoodling.”

You weren’t even embarrassed. No. You just felt terrified to the bone. You only hoped that you’d be killed, shot against a wall, instead of made into an Avox. Let there be some mercy in this world.

”He’s asked to keep you, you know.” Her voice was low, almost a drawl. She tapped her fingers on her desk rhythmically.

“My Coriolanus Snow wants a bird of his own.” Her smile turned darker. “Not a songbird, though. Oh, no. I think he’s had enough of those.”

Her gaze bored into yours, each color magnified by her intense expression. “I think if I let him have his pretty caged bird, he’ll be happy. He’s more productive if he’s happy.” She smiled. “I like productivity. It keeps the Games more interesting.”

She looked you over one more time, and then waved you away.

“I’ve granted his request. You’ll be staying here indefinitely, courtesy of one Mr. Snow. Your father has already been told.”

You were wrong.

It was not the toast that came up first, but the sweet butter you’d patted on top.

You still had your tongue, but you felt as though it was useless, stuck to the roof of your mouth, as Coriolanus fussed over your outfit. Or rather, as he directed an Avox to fuss over it for you. He could afford his own personal servant, now, he told you. He’d almost flinched after he said now, and you didn’t dare press him on it. Had he not been able to afford one before?

“We can’t walk arm-in-arm in public,” he said, walking around you, making sure the outfit was just-right. “But you can stand by me if I stop and direct you forward.” He reached over and fixed one of your buttons. “Don’t speak to anyone unless I’ve told you to, or they speak to you first. Always address someone older as ‘sir,’ or ‘ma’am.” He pointed at your hair, and the Avox began to fuss with it, eventually covering it in a colorful wrap that Coriolanus said was popular right now. “Address someone our age by the last name and Mr. or Ms.”

When he was satisfied with your appearance, he sent the Avox away. You liked it better that way, it was one last reminder of the horrors in the Capitol, even for someone “privileged” like you. You’d only been without your father for 3 days, but you felt like your nerves were continually on fire. You wanted to go home. You wanted your family. You wanted out of this place.

But that wasn’t going to happen.

For now, you were still living in the small university apartment the Capitol had given your father. Coriolanus insisted on it, until he could figure out how to move you into his own sprawling apartment that he shared with his cousin, Tigris (who, at least, genuinely sounded lovely) and his grandmother, Grandma’am. She was the sticking point, or so you were told, with a thin smile. She hated Districts, and she ought to, he said. They killed her son. His father.

She would hate you, too. Even if Coriolanus wanted you enough to make you stay with him; wanted you enough to keep you. But for how long? And would he change his mind, if you couldn’t fit in?

He said your name, and you snapped yourself out of your thoughts. He held you by your shoulders. Gently. Like one would an unruly child that hadn’t yet learned that there were such things as salad forks and dinner forks, as polite conversation and etiquette.

You got the feeling you wouldn’t have long to learn all of those things and more, to make him happy.

“Remember,” he said. “You’re District. You’re here because the Capitol has recognized that your loyalty can benefit us in some way. Be grateful.”

“I am,” you said, reflectively.

“Be happy..”

“I am,” you said again, your chest hitching.

He smiled at you. Was it real or not real?

You smiled back, regardless. And he liked that, evidently, because he leaned forward and kissed you. Then he scrutinized your face and wiped at your lips with his thumb--the kiss had smeared your lipstick.

“Good.”

He gestured towards the open doorway. This time, he didn’t take your arm. There would be too many people lingering in the university hallways, all making their way to the soiree held to celebrate the end of this year’s Games and discuss what improvements might be made for the next year.

You dutifully walked behind him, just like he said. And you would do exactly what he said in all respects. You would stay quiet unless you were spoken to, you would certainly never bring up anything confrontational or controversial, and you would make a good impression. You would be a loyal, grateful District citizen who was given the opportunity of a lifetime thanks to the graciousness of Coriolanus Snow.

Of course you would.

Your life depended on it.

#yandere coriolanus snow #yandere hunger games #yandere #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes #/slaps trunk #this baby can fit so many references to the books & movie in it.#... well not SO MANY #but enough

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livelaughlovesubs · 6 months ago

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Incubus fyodor 1

Dom!priest!reader x sub!incubus!fyodor

Warning: pegging, CNC, against a wall, in a church lol, also taking virginity??

Sometimes I use strap, most of the time dick or whatever. Then anyone can feel included? Idk?

This was requested by 🍮 anon, like a loooong time ago. Gonna repost it now :> (was too lazy to do so but now that you are back-)

Fyodor was just wandering around, looking for his next victim. It was boring to keep staying at one place, he always craved something grandiose and better. One day he ended up at a church after going around town, he detested those places due to his nature. But then he saw you through the windows, a diligent priest working for god. Proud, hard working and kind. What a sight, you must have never known the pleasures of the flesh. Oh how he pitied you, guess he will just ‘enlighten’ you then~

The incubus was wandering inside the building, looking everywhere for you. Until he found you in the chancel, the sacred place. Perfect, let's see how sacred it will be after he defies god’s little helper. Protecting one’s innocence? How laughable.

Fyodor walked inside, wrapping his hands around you and holding you from behind. Hands running all over your torso, grinning in delight as he said, “come on, let's have a little fun~ I can fulfil all your fantasies...” before he could even react to it, you took hold of his hands, turning around and twisting them in the process. “aAHH-”he yelped, falling backwards and taking a few steps back, his body hitting the wall. Your hand pinning his wrists over his head, knee pressed against the wall in between his legs. He felt you apply pressure to his crotch.

The boy gritted his teeth, showing his fangs. "Are you a demon?" You asked nonchalantly, while he struggled against your strength. Fuck, why were you so strong? “Yea and? What, gonna exorcise me? Haha.” “An incubi probably, by the way you were touching me.” You came to that conclusion, not an ounce of emotion present in your voice.

Continuing on as if you didn't hear him, thinking for a second. “I suppose you wanted to feast on me?” He stared at you with a skeptical look, why did you seem so interested? Before he got the chance to ask you, you commented, “I'm sorry that you were born this way, having to rely on such sinful acts to survive.. what a pitiful being.” “What, oh no you are the pitiful thing here, I bet you don't know what pleasure is, all because of some prideful faith. Want me to teach you?” Fyodor said cheekily, grinning as he looked up at you, his knees bend slightly due to the position.

“Don't get me wrong, I don't detest your kind. God has taught us to accept anyone. In fact, i’d be willing to help you, so that you don't need to bother other innocent souls. It's the duty of a priest.” He didn't understand what you were hinting at, for him you were talking garbage. “You aren’t going to seal me or anything?” The demon was genuinely confused, you want to help him? Why? “No need to fear anything, I'm sure you have experience in this field after all.” Next thing he knew you turned him around, his back arching like a crescent moon. “What are you…” suddenly you pulled his pants down, exposing his plum butt. “Huh?! wha-" poor him, that incubus was super confused now, this can't be what he thinks it is right?

Seems like his worries came true, it was what he feared, he knew when he felt your tip press against him. “Hu-huh? Wait a second..! I-I thought you were...” “I've learned many ways to deal with succubus or incubus, don't worry I'm quite experienced too.” Then you entered him, yearning a surprised moan from the male. “Ahh..!” Fingers desperately gripping the wall, looking for anything he can clench onto, eyes looking back and trying to understand the situation. He was getting… topped? By a priest nonetheless??

Him? Up until now he has only ever been on top. What experience, this is his first! Fyodor felt another push from you, the strap slowly driving into him. “You are so tight... ah, what's your name?” “Why do you care, pull it out!” “I'm sorry, I can't do that.” “Why?!” “Because I have to subdue you first, to make you submit.” Your voice was serious as you said that, pushing more of your dick inside him. “UgHh! Slo-slow down...gentle, gentle! Ah, hu-hurts..” the boy whined now, crying softly as his dick twitched in excitement. “Oh? It is your first? Maybe you aren’t as dirty as I thought.” Still using the same emotionless voice as before, you kept unintentionally leave snarky remarks behind. All while your free hand collected the slick around his rim, covering the toy with it.

“So wet already, more than many others of your kind.” Were you mocking him? He wanted to insult you, if only the dick wasn't making his mind go blank. “Ahh...you, I won't-mhm! Fo-forgive you.” “I don't need your forgiveness, only gods.” You said, before starting to move and trust into him. Then you explained, “in order to excuse this sin I had to commit due to your existence, we will have to work hard to beg for forgiveness.” “AhHh! Ah-aHh.ah. Oh-uhh..uhm! Nghh..!” Each trust was paired with whimpers or a moan. Cute squeaking sounds escaped him, face and shoulders flushed red and figure covered in sweat now. His filthy fluids were running down those slim and shaky legs, eyes rolling into the back of his head. What was he doing, didn't he plan on fucking you at first? So how was he getting dicked down now. It was still too hard to comprehend. Yet it felt so good.. it was melting his brain, he has never felt anything this amazing before.

“Such inappropriate noises you are letting out, i guess you are enjoying yourself?” The hand which you used to collect his slick was now on his hips, holding him in place since he kept trying to wriggle his way out, trying to escape those blissful sensations. “Ah..wait..ah-Uhm! This is..no-no good..stop aHh!” He whispered, shortly after tears started rolling down his blushing face. You only picked up your pace, going faster and rutting into him roughly, sometimes you'd brush against his prostate which made him cry out even more. “Ah-aAhhH! OOHh! I'm c-close.. m’gonna cu-cum.” Fyodor breathed out, his entire being quivering in pleasure. This was heaven. Don’t get him wrong, he knew nothing of heaven but this is how he'd imagine paradise to be like. He was filled with pure ecstasy, it was damn addicting and he doesn't think he will ever get over it.

“You have to beg for forgiveness, and to excuse your pathetic self.” You whispered into his ear. Like a spell he couldn’t disobey, he immediately began pleading with.. whom? God? You? Ugh.. to think he had come this low. “AhhHhAA!! ohHh! For-forgive meHHnghh~..!!” His release came in torrents, coursing through his veins and making his legs go weak. He felt so helpless, so exposed and vulnerable with you. And it was the best feeling he has ever experienced, never in his life did he knew something like this was possible. Those noises were filled with desire and longing, loud and clear as he painted the wall white, “aAhHahhhH~!” A shudder ran down his spine, hole clenching down onto you.

The slick was all the way down to his knees now, and he was still lost in subspace. Guess the climax was pretty intense, rendering him to such a whiny mess. You weren't sure if he could understand you, but you tried it anyway. “So, may I inquire the name of you pitiful thing?” There were no answers, only breathy whines and pants. Eventually he gasped out his name meekly, mumbling, “fyo-fyodor…” After blinking a few times, you leaned down to his ear and uttered in a seductive, as well as sadistic voice. This was the first time he heard your tone change. “I'm going to keep you here, so that you wont cause troubles for others. You don’t mind being my pet fyodor, isn’t that right?” And you let go of him after finishing your sentence. Hands leaving his body. Ahh..another shiver travelled down to his core, how could he ever refuse such an enticing offer? Without your help, his legs finally betrayed his body as he crashed down onto the ground. Sitting there looking all ravaged while a sticky white puddle formed beneath him. Fyodor looked at you over his shoulder while panting heavily, tongue hanging out from his blushing face like a dumb little pet.

Part two

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uriekukistan · 3 months ago

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JJK 265: The Role of a Sorcerer

one of the focal points of jjk since the beginning has been the roles and responsibilities of jujutsu sorcerers. it's a question that gets thrown around a lot between different characters: as sorcerers, what is the right way to live? it's a driving force behind many of the major events of the story, and the cause of fragmentation, where different paths could have been taken, but weren't. and in one chapter, yuuji dismantles it all.

as much as i'd love to talk about this when it comes to every character, i picked a few that i think are interesting (to me) and carry a lot of weight throughout the story to discuss, including gojo & geto, megumi, yuuta, and, of course, the man of the hour, yuuji.

Gojo & Geto

the main difference between them right from the start is the way they view their roles as sorcerers, and this fragmentation influences their trajectories going forward, and the trajectory of jjk as a whole.

at the start, geto believes that his role as a sorcerer is to protect non-jujutsu sorcerers. as someone who is strong, he must protect those who are weak, and he must keep those who are also strong in check. he accepts this as his role without much question, and he takes it seriously.

in contrast, gojo thinks that idea is, well, garbage, and he argues with geto about it, calling him self-righteous for thinking that way. where geto focuses his concept of his role on those who are weak, gojo focuses his on those who are strong. his role is simply to be strong. he acts to get stronger and prove that strength.

another place where their opinions diverge in conceptualizing their roles as sorcerers is when it comes to finding meaning in their actions. where gojo doesn't think there needs to be meaning in their actions, geto disagrees.

ultimately, his search for meaning leads to his downfall, as he reaches the conclusion that being a sorcerer is a thankless job, cleaning up after and saving the humans from their uncontrolled cursed energy. he decides that sorcerers are the ones who need protection from humans, because they are subjected to the horrors that humans generate, while those humans live in ignorance.

meanwhile, as gojo matures, he doesn't ditch the idea that strength is what matters as a sorcerer, but he shifts his idea of role to raising a generation of strong sorcerers who can rely on each other. and ultimately, these leads to his downfall too. thoughts on this here under point 1.

regardless, their ideas of their roles are major driving factors of their decisions, and therefore the plot of jjk. their roles are what doom them to their respective fates.

Megumi

megumi has made damn sure we know what he believes his role is. he's a sorcerer, not a hero. he doesn't save people because he has to or because it's the right to do. he saves the people he wants to save. that's all.

he uses his conscience to decide who he wants to save, and that is his decided role.

and this is what dooms him too. his decision to save yuuji is what left him vulnerable to sukuna, and his desire to save tsumiki from the culling games left him open to be manipulated by yorozu, as she pretended to be his sister in order to take advantage of what megumi was willing to do so she could play her own version of the culling games. that shock and hurt is what let sukuna latch onto him so easily, and submerge his soul in the depths of his body.

Yuuta

yuuta decides that his role is to not let others be alone. of course, this is most notable when it comes to gojo, but it's shown throughout jjk0 as well, such as when he refuses to let inumaki go against the curse that geto planted alone.

he also expresses this to yuuji after he fake executes him. he makes sure yuuji knows that he isn't alone in his feelings, and that he's not to blame. empathy is one of yuuta's strongest traits, and he makes it his role.

this is why he is willing to go as far as taking gojo's body, because he knows how gojo has to toss aside his humanity to fight all of these special grade curses (for example, when he used his domain expansions while humans were around despite knowing it would cause damage to them), and he doesn't want him to be alone in his inhumanity.

and while yuuta isn't dead yet, his role has doomed him, because, well...

Yuuji

now we come to yuuji, the sorcerer who shakes this concept to its core in jjk 265.

he's someone who'd decided his role before he even became a sorcerer. he wants to help people, and he wants to guide them to proper deaths.

he also accpets his role as sukuna's vessel, and tries to maintain those two parts of his chosen role simultaneously. however, as we know, he fails to balance being sukuna's vessel and saving people in shibuya (i hesitate to use the word fail because it was not a failure of yuuji's, but i hope you know what i mean).

this causes a shift in his idea of his role, especially once megumi asks for his help in the culling games. he embraces this role as a cog. he will help out fushiguro, he'll help unseal gojo, and then he will die. that is his new role.

quote from yuuji in 265:

until recently, i thought i should simply live to fulfill my role as i understood it. i thought if i died like that, i could at least consider it a proper death. but now, i feel like that's not entirely right. ... just the tiny fragments of memories that make up a person drifting elsewhere give value to a human life. ... people aren't tools. we aren't born with any set roles

yuuji completely rejects the idea that people are defined by theid roles at all, whether they are jujutsu sorcerers or not. he sheds his mindset that he needs to help people, or give them proper deaths, or fulfill a role than die in order to be worth something. instead, he accepts the value of his life as a collection of all the things he's experienced and the people he’s known.

and in doing this, he shakes the world of jujutsu kaisen to its core, and creates another crack in the cycle.

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mindmelter · 11 months ago

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New Soldier Skin

Nick found it weird that the doctor was calling him again for a check up, he had done one early that month and they normally don't do twice a month. But he had no choice in the matter, he was just a soldier.

"I'm feeling perfectly fine doctor, there's no need for another check up, also I'm out of duty tomorrow"

"Nonsense, It's very important that we keep track of the health of our soldiers, now stand on the scale over there please. We just want to make sure that you are ready to return to your family, I bet you must be really excited right?"

"Yes I am, Doctor, It's been a long time, can't wait to see my wife and kids back at home" He said getting on the scale.

The doctor's friendly expression changed drastically once Nick was standing on the scale with his back to him, now the doctor had a blank and emotionless expression. The doctor walked to his laptop on his table and pressed a key.

"My wife can't wait to see me back at home, and the kids are really...huh?" The soldier looked down at his feet confused, he could feel the scale vibrating beneath his feet, he tried to take his feet off the scale but he couldn't, his feet were stuck to the scale like a magnetic force was pulling them down "That's weird, I can't pull my feet off the scale, doctor?"

"Thank you for your service, Nick" It was all the Doctor said before pressing another key on the laptop.

"What? What is..." Before Nick could finish, he felt a strong electric shock run up from his feet and spread to the rest of his body, he could feel every cell in his body being hit by the eletrical charge. His body became rigid and he grunted for a few seconds, but then the humming of the scale stopped and he fell to the floor completely hollowed out. His hollow head on the floor with smoke coming out of his orifices.

The Doctor looked unfrazed at the lifeless bodysuit on the floor, actually, he looked even bored with the whole event.

"You can come out now, your new skin is ready" The doctor said and then the door opened and a humanoid alien entered the room. The white humanoid alien was wearing a visibly worn out and torn open human skin, it was very damaged with holes and scratches, and was also missing half the face, under the skin it displayed the alien true form, a white gelatinous goo.

"It was a shame that your last human skin was damaged in battle, you're always so careless with your skins. The General was furious." Said the Doctor.

"I know, I will be more carefull this time" The Alien said looking at the skinsuit lying on the floor, suddenly his true white form started to melt, hollowing out his current damaged skin, his gelatinous form crawled on the floor in the direction of Nick's skin and started to enter through the holes in his head, mouth, eyes, nose, ears, soon the hollow body of Nick started to inflate and gain life, Nick's flat muscles started to get bigger to their full power. The alien was filling every part of Nick with It's slimy form, filling it like a balloon.

After a few seconds he stood up in his new human body, Nick's eyes were completely white with the gelatin alien body underneath, but they quickly started to turn into normal human eyes, now identical to Nick's eyes.

"Do you have any new assignments for me Doctor?"

"No, actually this was his last week of service before his break, you're going back to his family tomorrow"

"Are you serious? It's so boring to pretend to be a husband and a dad, You know I like the action, I want to go into combat!"

"Sorry, but I'm just following orders from the General." The Doctor said grabbing the deteriorated human skin from the floor and looking at it with a disgusted expression. "This was your fourth skin only this year" The doctor then threw the human suit inside a garbage chut on the wall, then he closed it "That's why we chose Nick to be your next skin. The General thinks it's better for you to spend some time out of combat. I know It's not fun to have to pretend to be our skins, but I guess it will be good for you to relax a little, besides you don't have to act exactly like Nick, you just have to not act too much out of character"

"Is being fucked by men too out of character for this hunky skin?" The soldier asked with a devious smile, looking at the doctor with hungry eyes.

"As long as his wife doesn't find out..." The doctor said dropping his pants to the floor, exposing the jockstrap he was wearing.

They both started to make out as Nick groped and squeezed the doctor's big package. Nick dropped to his knees and lowered the Doctor's jockstrap and was in awe to what he saw.

"Wow, your skin is so freaking hung!"

"He used this thing on a lot of women, but I didin't used it in a long time"

"Fill it up, I want to see how big it when completely filled"

The doctor member started to inflate like a modelling balloon in a fraction of seconds.

Nick then started to suck it while he jerked his own hard member. A few minutes later Nick was lying on the doctor's table with his burly legs up being roughly fucked by the doctor's thick cock.

"How is my health, doctor?" Asked Nick with a grin while having his hole stretched by the doctor's big member.

"You're fine... really fine. You are free to go to your new family. Just don't forget to smile and say sentimental words when you see them, like how much you missed them"

______________________

Monthly Report:

Doctor, I'm having a blast in Nick's skin, you were right, I needed a break from all the action, I can have as much action in here with a body like this, I lost count of how many guys fucked me already. Apart acting like a gay slut in the shadows, his wife and kids don't even suspect their beloved husband and daddy is just a skin now. I guess I'm doing a good job as Nick.

End of report.

#bodysuit

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chososwifey24-7 · 2 months ago

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Rutheless

Yakuza boss sukuna x fem!reader

Cw: Nsfw, 18+, blood, death, kidnapping, swearing, fingering, oral sex (male receiving), pv penetration, mating press, consensual sex, no protection (reader is on birth control), cum eating, rough sukuna, aftercare.

Run. Breathe. Survive.

That's all you could do. The image of the tattooed man entering your house and beating your father to death. The cut on your side from one of his lackeys stung on your side and burned.

Where the hell would you run? Where the hell would you hide? They had seen your face. They had seen the fear, the pain, your face.

You could only assume your father got himself into more debt. Unpayable debt. Tears rolled down your cheeks as you continued to run. Labored breaths escaping you.

Legs giving out. That's all you felt as you fell to the concrete in the alleyway you were escaping through. You scraped your knees and your palm.

Gasping. Your lungs needed air. You needed to breathe! Why the fuck wouldn't your body cooperate?

You heard the footsteps before they saw or heard you. You pulled yourself behind a dumpster, a mouse scurrying across your foot. You wanted to scream, wanted to run, but where would you go? You'd be caught.

You heard their voices up and down the alleyway. They stalked it like predators. They sounded excited, excited to finally catch their prey.

You felt more blood seeping through your shirt. It couldn't be that deep of a gash, but through all the running and escaping, you had no time to put pressure on the wound to stop it from bleeding.

That's when you heard him. The man that had beaten your father to death and enjoyed it.

"Where the fuck did she go? You two were supposed to get her."

His voice was low, gravelly, haunting.

You could feel your chest rise and fall quicker and quicker as you heard the footsteps come closer and closer yet to the garbage can.

"We tried to Mr. Ryomen. That bitch is quick."

The other man laughed at his buddies words. He laughed obviously in agreement to the statement. That's when you heard the click of a gun.

"If you can't do something as simple as catching a damn brat, you aren't useful to me."

You tried to stay calm and quiet. You covered your mouth with both hands. Your phone was still at home. You could call anyone to save you.

"No, no, Mr. Ryomen, we'll find her, we swear."

The man quickly tried to beg for his life. Plead for this Ryomen guy to spare him. That he could do better.

"No need."

You heard Mr. Ryomens voice before you felt his hand ensnared in your hair. Your eyes widened. How the hell did he know you were there?

You tried to scream and kick and punch, but this man was strong. He snapped his finger, and the lackeys of his were on you zip, tying your hands and feet together.

"No, no! Stop!"

You screamed and tried to wriggle from the tattooed man's grasp. The man you know now as Mr. Ryomen.

He simply threw you over his shoulder and a car came around the corner.

"Ah, Uraume, right on time. Perfect."

You were thrown into the backseat of the car before being blindfolded. That's all you remember before being dragged into a basement and left there.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

It had been days. It must have been. They brought you food and water ever once in a while. That's how you tried to track the days tied to a chair.

Unfortunately, things began to blur together. Things became more dull, you knew you couldn't get out of this, so why were you trying?

That's what you thought until Mr. Ryomen came into the basement and cut the zip ties off of you. Your immediate reaction was to try to fight. To throw punches.

He easily grabbed your wrists and held you with a grin. That sickening grin.

"I see you still have some fight left in you. It's surprising, but I came here to talk, not fight."

He simply threw you to the side, your back hitting a cold concrete wall before you fell to your knees coughing.

"You see, your father died because he couldn't pay back his money, and he refused to do anything to even try. So we told him we would take you. Sell you off, maybe. I haven't quite decided yet,"

He began explaining as he stalked towards you slowly and intimidatingly. You couldn't even run away, your back was against the wall, literally.

"But you're so damn pretty I thought, why not just pay me back with your body. Yeah?"

He said as he kneeled in front of you and grabbed your chin roughly.

"Because that sounds more appealing to me."

He licked his lips and leaned in closer to you. His face was so damn close. His lips planted a kiss on your cheek before he grabbed you by the hair and tilted your head back.

He chuckled to himself as he watched your tears stream down your face and your eyes closed tight. He took his other hand and wiped a tear from your face and cooed in a mocking tone.

"Oh, there there. There's no need to cry. I'll simply use you until your father's debt is paid back, then I'll send you on your way."

That's when your eyes met his and you bit your lip a bit.

"How much is my father's debt?"

He thought for a moment and then turned back to you with a glint in his teeth. His smile so damn bright, but so scary attention same time.

"I think it was somewhere around 500,000 yen. Quite a bit if you ask me."

Your jaw dropped. How were you supposed to pay that back off soon. The doubt began to creep in. You thought that maybe you could screw him for a few days and get out of here, but 500,000 yen! That was almost impossible to pat back soon.

He saw your facial expression and chuckled.

"3 months. Stay with me and let me do with you as I please for 3 months. After that, I will let you go."

His deal was intriguing, but 4 months, that was a long time. Could you honestly handle him? He wasn't bad looking, but he wasn't the person you'd want to spend the rest of your life with either.

You only had this option, though. You looked up at him in the eyes with determination. You didn't want to be sold off, so you'd chose the lesser of two evils.

"Fine. 3 months. I'm all yours."

The glint in his eyes seemed even more evil than it did the first day he had caught you.

"Alright. Since I can do whatever I want with you, why wait. Let's get your debt repayment started."

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

That's how you fou d yourself on your knees in sukunas room on your knees in front of his aching cock.

It was huge, and he wanted you to fit all of that in your mouth? There was no way. You leaned forward, though. After all you did tell him yes.

Your tongue gently licked the underside of his base, and he groaned deeply. You got to his tip and began to gently suck on it before going down on him a bit more.

"Oh fuck. Keep going."

He said as he tried to push your head down a bit. You were sucking him off, and he was loving it. Your mouth was addicting.

After thrusting into your throat and making you gag, he came.

"Swallow it."

Tears rolled down your face from his roughness, but you listened to him. Swallowing it, you looked at him and stuck out your tongue.

"Oh fuck, good girl. Now, up on the bed, I'm not done with you yet."

You did as he said once again and got up on the bed laying on your back and spreading your legs.

He whistled lowly as he took his fingers and ran them ul and down your folds, collecting your slick before roughly shoving them in you. You let out a scream before he began to finger you.

The pain slowly melted into pleasure and you were a whimpering mess on his finger.

"Ah, Mr. Ryomen, oh, please! I'm gonna cum!"

You screamed out, and before that knot could break, he pulled out his fingers and began to suck them clean.

"Mmm, you taste divine. Ilm have to save that for another day, but right now I want you cumming on my cock."

He strocked himself once, then twice, then lined himself up with your entrance.

You squirmed a bit before he shoved himself into you. Your mouth opened in a silent scream before his lips met yours in a hot teeth and tongue make out.

His thrusts were hard, rocking your entire body and the bed. He pulled away from the kiss and growled lowly as he continued.

"Are you in the pill?"

He asked as he thrusted a bit quicker as he was approaching his high.

"Ah, yes, yes. I'm on the pill."

You manage to get out in between thrusts. After those words left your mouth, he was grabbing your legs and pushing them to your chest in the meanest mating press ever.

Your moans became more high-pitched, and his thrusts picked up to an almost inhumane speed. You both were getting close.

Your hands moved to his shoulder and gripped them tightly. Your vision going white and his thrusts stilling as you both came together. His hit seed filling you and feeling weird.

You laid there for a second coming down from your high, and you couldn't help but admire his tattoos. You lazily took a finger and began to trace over them. He hummed gently and let you.

You groaned as he pulled out of you and left you to run to his bathroom and run a bath.

Soon, he came back to you and picked you up bridal style. Another groan leaving your lips, your lower abdomen hurting a bit.

He slowly set you down in the warm water before getting in behind you and holding you close to him.

Your eyes were fluttering closed as his chest met your back. This felt better than the sex itself. Being taken care of.

His arm wrapped around your chest and pulled you closer to him. He gently bit your ear before whispering to you.

"Get some rest, I'll carry you to bed if you fall asleep because both know this is far from done."

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁❁

Tag list

@yandere-stories

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almostempty · 10 days ago

Text

the meet ugly (javier peña x f!reader)

WC: 1.6k | Other fics | Rating: it’s ? fluff? No smut

last one for today, sry for spamming anyone, it was an all-or-nothing scenario in my mind

Summary: your bad day gets worse when a trash bag spills on you. your neighbor javi tries to help but you both get stuck trapped with him and a dumpster.

Note: this was for the meet-cute, but i had to do something nobody asked for aka make it gross ??? it’s my clown blood idk

Tags/warnings: au modern javi lives in your apartment complex, description of cold leftovers from your garbage spilling on you, it’s just flirty peña idk it was an exercise for me to write something short and without smut, i’m assuming that dumpsters locked behind fences are relatable enough for all, no y/n, reader is able-bodied, all mistakes are mine just pretend like you didn't see them, i think that's all ty <3

You groan as you wrestle with the trash bags, their weight pulling on your arms while you trudge down the cracked concrete stairs. The holly bush at the bottom catches on your shorts again, its spiky branches scraping across your leg. Mocking you. You bite back a curse. The day has been a disaster from start to finish, and now you’re hauling half your apartment’s trash to the dumpster, trying not to lose your temper.

Why does this apartment complex even have holly bushes? It’s like someone got paid just to make everything as inconvenient as possible. Whoever designed this must have never experienced the luxury of hauling garbage bags between two overgrown defensive security bushes.

You’re still fuming about it, whoever designed this hellscape of an apartment complex, when you reach the gate for the dumpster. One of the trash bags, full of leftovers you’d rather not think about, digs painfully into your fingers. You adjust your grip, unaware the straining plastic is a ticking time bomb.

You trudge toward the dumpster enclosure, spotting your hot neighbor rounding the corner of his SUV, cigarette between his fingers. Of course, he would be out here to witness your personal walk of garbage shame.

He glances up, and you catch the moment his dark eyes land on you. His gaze sweeps over the bags, then to your face, a smirk tugging at his lips. He doesn’t say anything, but his look is enough to make your face hot.

Damn him.

"Rough day?" he asks as you approach the dumpster, his deep voice laced with amusement.

"You could say that," you mutter, already feeling defensive. He’s really the last person you want to see while you’re sweaty and cranky.

With a huff, you push the gate open and step into the dumpster enclosure, tossing the first couple of bags into the bin. The smell is overwhelming, but you just want to be done with it. You lift the last bag, but just as you hoist it up, the thin plastic rips apart, and cold, week-old pad thai leftovers land on your chest, feet, and everywhere but the dumpster.

You freeze, mortified. Of course.

Before you can even process what just happened, you hear boots scuff against the pavement. Javier’s already hustling over, cigarette still between his fingers, that damn smirk still in place.

"Need a hand?"

"I’ve got it," you snap, despite the fact that you aren’t moving. Unsure what’s going to make the situation any worse.

It’s hard to focus on the mess when he’s standing so close. His presence makes your embarrassment worse. Like, you could climb into the dumpster yourself and wait until the garbage truck picks you up on Thursday and takes you away.

"You sure about that?" He doesn’t move to help—just watches you with a look that’s far too amused for your liking.

"I’m sure," you grumble, tossing the ruined bag into the dumpster. "I don’t need your help." You commit to the mess, peeling cold noodles off of your chest and tossing them into the bin. You frown deeply, fishing out the leftovers that made it down your shirt. The smell and the texture make you nearly gag.

Javier steps closer, chuckling under his breath. "Right. Because you’ve got everything under control."

You glare at him, wiping your hands on your already-ruined shorts. “I think you’re a little late to be a hero. I’m already wearing the leftovers.”

"Never said I was a hero," he replies smoothly, taking another drag of his cigarette. "Just trying to be neighborly."

As you turn to face him, the gate behind him swings shut with a loud clang. He tries to shove it open, but it doesn’t budge. His expression doesn’t change much, but there’s a flicker of realization in his eyes.

“Oh, that’s perfect,” you mutter, crossing your arms. “We’re stuck?”

He tugs at the gate one more time before turning back to you, that smirk still in place. "Looks like it."

You stare at him, your frustration mounting. "You aren’t even going to apologize? How are you calm about this?”

Javier shrugs, leaning back against the gate and taking a long drag of his cigarette before acknowledging your question. He’s like the opposite of an anti-smoking campaign. You want to be the cigarette.

"Not my fault the gate’s a piece of shit. And I’m not in a hurry."

"You closed it," you counter, flustered and looking for someone to blame.

But even as you glare at him, you can’t help but notice how infuriatingly attractive he looks, the way his leather jacket pulls tight over his shoulders, the way his dark eyes glint with amusement.

Javier catches your gaze and quirks an eyebrow. "You’re staring."

You roll your eyes, heat flooding your face. "I’m not."

"You are." His voice is low, teasing, and the way he looks at you—like he knows exactly what he’s doing—is making it harder to keep your composure.

You step back, trying to regain control of the situation and you catch him laughing to himself.

“I really don’t see what could be funny about any of this,” you wave your arms, gesturing to your ruined clothes and the small space you’re both trapped in.

“Could be worse ways to spend the evening,” he drawls, taking a step towards you.

You pick another piece of rice noodle out from between your tits. “Yeah, like if the dumpster was on fire?”

You’re too aware of him. Of how his voice gets lower and rougher when he’s this close.

He chuckles, flicking his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it. "I’ve been in worse places. With worse company."

You swallow hard. The way his eyes flicker over your face, how his smirk never fully fades–it’s maddening. He knows what he’s doing to you. It feels like a sick joke.

"Yeah?" you mutter, your voice sounding breathier than you’d like. "And what makes me such good company?"

Javi’s eyes darken, and he takes another step forward, close enough now that you could smell the leather of his jacket, the faint tobacco on his skin if it weren’t for the foul stench of all of half the apartment complex’s trash in the container behind you.

"You’re more fun to argue with."

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you. “Don’t fuck with me, Javier. I’m already having a day from hell.”

He gives you a pouty look that makes you want to scream. “Why would I be fucking with you?” he asks quietly, almost sounding hurt.

You snort, incredulous. “I’m wearing last week's lunch and the only clothes that weren’t in the laundry. Don’t act like you’re flirting with me.”

He steps closer until there’s barely any space left between you. His voice drops, smooth and dangerous. "What if I am?"

For a moment, you forget where you are.

“What if I think you look good? Even with a garnish?” he asks and pulls a piece of cilantro off of your cheek.

All you can focus on is how close he is, the way he waits like he’s daring you to make a move. There’s no way he’s serious. He rarely says more than a curt hello, even though you walk to your cars in the parking lot at almost the same time every morning as you head out for work. Sometimes, he’ll wave if you pass him on your walk to the corner store.

You only knew his name because of the time he caught you trying to drag a dresser you’d scored at an estate sale up the stairs to your apartment on your own. He’d helped you carry it, despite your protesting, all the way into your bedroom.

“I’d say you’re literally stuck in here with me for the foreseeable future, so of course you’d say that.”

He sighs heavily, muttering under his breath at you, “Tan terca.” And in a move that makes your jaw drop, he turns away from you, stalking towards the fence with a fluid arrogance. Like an oversized cat in a leather jacket, he leaps at the chain link fence like he’s done it a hundred times. He hoists himself up, swinging over the top and dropping onto his feet on the other side.

He’s grinning at you when he unlatches the gate and swings it open, but you snap storming towards him. “How long were you gonna wait to let us out?”

He shrugs, “I thought Randy would’ve been out for a smoke before we had to wait long. Don’t exactly enjoy having to climb over a fence.”

“Right.” You slip out of the gate with a thanks, but when he says your name, you feel like your whole body is drawn towards him.

He eyes you, leaning in just close enough to make your pulse race again. “And if I were to flirt with you now?”

“I’d question your judgment,” you point to yourself, “I’m still in desperate need of a shower.”

His eyes lift, looking just past you, before he grins.

“Oh my god,” you cut him off before he says a word, “were you about to tell me I could use your shower?”

Everything about his mockingly sheepish look says you are right. You shake your head at him in disbelief, but you can’t stop the smile that spreads on your face. It takes all of your strength to walk away but head towards your own apartment.

You make it to the top of the stairs before the sinking feeling hits. You deny it until you check the door for yourself. Of course. After everything that went wrong today, it only makes sense that you would lock yourself out of your own apartment.

You berate yourself all the way to his door. It swings open after the first knock, and he gives you a look that has your cheeks burning. His eyes gleam, and you just know he’s going to enjoy this before his smoky voice even reaches your ears.

“Changed your mind?”

divider @cyberangel-graphics

General tags 💗:

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange

#javier peña #javier peña x you #meet cute fic #javier pena x reader #javier peña narcos #javier pena fanfic #ppcu fanfic #javier pena fanfiction

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jellicatty · 3 months ago

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❝ THE OTHER WOMAN ₊˚ ❞

A tale of an unfortunate woman— cursed with a lonesome life, pouring all of her love to a wretched and unfaithful man.

╰┈➤ contains : sukuna x female reader. cheater! sukuna. toxic relationship. other woman is mean. written in other woman's pov. third pov. sfw-ish. angst.

╰┈➤ note : unedited because this was from my archives + wrote this two years ago lol. this fic is inspired by Lana del Rey's The Other Woman ! I loved the song so I used it for some inspo hini >____<

Oh, other woman, how lonely you must be.

The other woman has time to manicure her nails

The other woman is perfect where her rival fails

And she's never seen with pin curls in her hair, anywhere.

She’s fresh from the boutique; luxury draped around her form. From head to toe, was the old money of the famous businessman— Sukuna Ryomen. Pride swelled on her chest at the sight of measly women with their cheap brands. She felt perfect amongst the sea of the low-cost. Though among piles of garbage, hidden jewelry resides.

Her eyes held the usual disgust and her ego stood tall, yet the doubts at her head fought for their lives. Face to face, was the wife of her beloved. She looked so spent, her beauty slowly fading with the times. They acknowledged each other’s presence as poor Y/n thought of her as a very lovely woman.

The other woman enchants her clothes with French perfume

The other woman keeps fresh cut flowers in each room

There are never toys that's scattered everywhere

The flower endured even the harshest of her tenor.

Suddenly, the woman’s sour mood turned sweet, her eyes scanning the bags and bags of expensive jewelry. But all of it didn’t matter to her. The woman in love quickly searched for the concealed letter, her heart fluttering once touching the rough, sealed paper.

And she read it, repeated it, hated it.

It was unfair.

How unfair it was for her to receive only letters. His touch, lonely woman yearned for his touch. Gritting her teeth, the woman let anger control her until red no longer consumed her body.

Amongst the ripped bags, was the other woman who desperately called for his love. But the woman knew he was busy with his own children, tending to them with his pitiful spouse, surrounded by numerous toys and annoying cries of her own devil spawns.

And when her old man comes to call

He finds her waiting like a lonesome queen

'Cause to be by her side

It's such a change from old routine

Most would run away with fear in their eyes once taking a quick look at his monstrous stature. But, her love clouded her mind. Instead of fear, it was adoration— heart erratic at his predator-like stare.

“Sukuna, my darling, how are you-”

“Who told you to speak?”

His words were enough to make her obediently follow. She was such a pet for him; all nice and loyal. To her, no action can be enough of a sign that love was not present. She was too far gone in her own fantasies. Too far gone in imagining his eyes lit up the same way hers do.

Although his eyes do shine, they do so with an obviously evil haze to it. His malicious intent clearly displayed within his cold gaze, and only a fool would ignore them.

But, the other woman is a fool.

A fool for offering herself to a man.

She didn’t question his order any further, only getting straight to undressing herself in front of his dark gaze. Used woman was useful, she served as his distressor, an enjoyment inside his boring life. No children, no toys, no cries, no demands, no complaints, no questions asked.

Between them was no love, only entertainment. Because to be by her side, is a change from his old routine.

Clueless woman thought otherwise.

But the other woman will always cry herself to sleep

The other woman will never have his love to keep

Other woman, why can't you just see?

His love was not yours, it never was.

His steel eyes will never search for yours. No rough hands will grasp your body tonight, for it will only be against his darling’s plush skin. His attention will not be at your seducing red gown or the skin that showed. His focus will only be on his darling’s enhanting dress that showed their uneven curves and cured insecurities.

Is it clearer now? Now, when Y/n's form is tightly pressed against Sukuna's, looking at you with those eyes? While their bodies slowly dance under the dim lights? Oh, she knows. Their gaze at you is unsettling, full of hatred for claiming what’s not yours.

And as the years go by the other woman

Stop dancing on the bridge. There’s no one beside you.

Will spend her life alone

You fell? How pitiful. No imagination can save you now.

Alone

The only cure for loneliness is death, right?

Alone

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna #ryomen x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #sukuna #jjk fanfic #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #| 𝐌𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐁𝐘 𝐉𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐘 (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

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likeshipsonthesea · 6 months ago

Text

you make me

bucktommy ficlet. had a convo about love. had some feelings. gave them to buck. enjoy~

The entire loft is soaked in the hazy blue light of pre-morning. Buck can hear the mechanical thrum of garbage collectors, a handful of singing birds, quiet but steady breathing. His body is sore, from work and then from Tommy, a satisfying reminder of a yesterday well spent. Everything is warm and soft like Saturday morning, even though he's fairly sure it's Tuesday.

The clock on his bedside table tells him it's much too early to get up for a Tuesday, so he turns over to get comfortable and ends up face to face with Tommy's sleep-slacked expression.

Buck watches him in that way that's only creepy if you're not in love. Takes note of his eyelashes resting against the tops of his cheeks, his lips shadowed by the slant of his nose, how the dawning daylight catches on the angles of his face. He wants to touch, but not enough to disturb the serenity of sleep on his boyfriend's face.

Eddie tells him he says that a lot. My boyfriend. "We all know his name," Eddie says, tone harsh but a creeping smirk giving away the joke.

When Buck brought it up with Dr. Copeland, she asked him why he thinks he says it so much, but it was towards the end of their session so they didn't really get into it. Buck thinks it's probably something to do with his self-image problems, or maybe his abandonment issues? Dr. Copeland's better with the answers than he is.

Calling him Tommy is fine, but saying my boyfriend says my meatless lasagna needs more starch just reminds Buck that Tommy's his and, even more novel, Buck is Tommy's.

Buck likes being Tommy's boyfriend.

Tommy's boyfriend knows Tommy's coffee order, and drops it off along with a savory treat for him at the start of a long shift. Tommy's boyfriend always knows exactly where Tommy left his blue-light glasses and grabs them before they head to bed so Tommy can read another chapter of the cheesy historical fiction novel on his tablet. Tommy's boyfriend is the one Tommy goes to after a hard shift, to talk to or hug or just sit in the same room with until the rest of the world is less heavy.

As Tommy's boyfriend, Buck is still all the things he was before--firefighter, brother, friend--but knowing there's someone who trusts him enough to sleep beside him and let him stare at their face like a creeper in the early hours of the morning--there's this unfathomable freedom to it.

It's like--if Tommy loves him, he must be worthy of it. It's a truth and a prophecy, self-fulfilling. It's this ever-turning cycle that bolsters Buck to be the best version of himself, and none of it feels like work because it's all tangled up with joy.

"How long have you been staring at me?"

Buck startles out of his internal monologue to find Tommy's left eye open. The right is buried in his pillow along with the lifted corner of his mouth.

"Probably a little too long," Buck admits, staring fixedly at that corner of Tommy's mouth.

Tommy's lips part to release a sigh before settling into a smile. "Evan. Go back to sleep."

"In a minute."

Tommy shifts closer on the pillow, his nose nudging Buck's, his morning breath awful and his eyes so close Buck thinks their eyelashes might tangle. "You worked a 24-hour shift yesterday. You need to sleep. You can stare at me tomorrow."

"Promise?"

Tommy brushes their lips together. "Promise."

Buck finds Tommy's hand between them and laces their fingers together. "Alright," he says, settling back into the mattress and letting his eyes shut as he brings their hands to his sternum. "Tomorrow."

#bucktommy #kinkley #evan buckley #tommy kinard #buck #9-1-1 #my writing #sort of fic #ficlet #look i have a lot of feelings okay #also have no idea how to tag this for the ship names #do i now wanna write a 20k fic where buck contextualizes himself #using/in terms of tommy's love for him?#perhaps #u couldn't prove it tho #also yes it's 3am we don't need to talk about it

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 5 months ago

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~Yanderes For Everyone~

Here's some yandere prompts and imagines, both romantic and platonic, for those who want some non sexual yandere adoration ❤️ Happy Pride!

Romantic/Asexual Scenarios:

M!Yandere x M!Reader

Yandere!Best Friend who couldn't figure out at first why it hurt so badly when you had friends other than him until a classmate attempted to ask you out

Yandere!Best Friend really just wants the two of you to continue playing games together, and live together, and adopt a couple of dogs together, and grow old together.. y'know, like how best friends do

Yandere!Best Friend becomes a complete menace when he learns what asexuality is, and that one can be both gay and ace

Yandere!Best Friend who is determined to prove that you don't need anyone else but him, even if it means cutting you off from the outside world

Yandere!Best Friend's method of "seduction" is stealthily turning off your phone's notifications while you're hanging out and tricking you into staying over longer than you intended

"You can't leave yet! I forgot to show you this new game I bought; it has couch co-op, and I just put pizza bites in the oven!"

Fem!Yandere x Fem!Reader

Yandere!Nun who enjoys her days at the convent, tending to flowers and taking care of those in need. She doesn't care so much about her vows to God, but enjoys a life free from the societal expectations she was gifted from birth as a woman.

Yandere!Nun is stunned when she sees you for the very first time. It was like witnessing an angel descend upon the earth, or experiencing a divine prophetic dream

Yandere!Nun loves being near her own personal angel, who's voice brings a joy she's never known before

Yandere!Nun is crushed when she learns that this isn't a final home for you like it is for her, and is instead merely a way for you to receive an education before your inevitable debut into society

Yandere!Nun who becomes determined to keep you with her, forever tending to the garden and feeding the poor, and decides that she will do whatever it takes to keep you by her side...

"Really, aren't you safer here? I mean, under God's protection, we can be happy! ..together.."

Yandere!Succubus x GN!Reader

Yandere!Succubus who's never enjoyed sex, not even once in the past thousand years she's been alive

Yandere!Succubus feels she must "grin and bear it", putting on a fake smile and bracing herself for the worse when she is once again summoned to the human world

Only to be floored by you, who summoned her from a spell in an ominous old book you found in the attic, not knowing that she was a succubus

Yandere!Succubus can feel herself falling for you every time she is summoned for some mundane task that doesn't involve her body, whether it be helping you finish a work assignment last minute or assisting with household chores

Yandere!Succubus refuses to answer the summoning rituals of lonely humans, instead spending all her time with you, even when you don't call for her

Yandere!Succubus knows that when it's your time, you will inevitably be punished, and has already made plans for your "departure" from this world

It'll be like you never died, you'll blink and be 25 again, baking cookies with her in your kitchen while she tells you about her day, laughing as she flirts with you and never questioning why Monday never seems to arrive

Yandere!Merman x GN!Reader

Yandere!Merman who meets you in a very silly and cliche way: being rescued after getting tangled up in garbage

Yandere!Merman acts distraught when you refuse to accept any gifts from him, trying to convince him that you don't need to be rewarded for doing the right thing

Yandere!Merman finds himself enamored with you, wanting to extend your visit longer, going as far as to grab your ankle when you try to leave

He begins running out of reasons to keep you, but you promise you'll be back again in the morning, and boy does he feel like crying when you stay true to your word and return to him

Yandere!Merman feels a little guilty about deceiving you, but when he learns that you're only there on "vacation" and that you'll be going "back to work" soon, he had to do something!

Yandere!Merman who finally gets you to accept a gift, a little glass vial that he claims is a traditional drink his people enjoy

He apologizes over and over again when the "drink" causes you to transform, robbing you of your legs. Wiping your tears away and crying himself, claiming that he had no idea it would have that affect on a human! But that he's ready to take responsibility, and take care of you for the rest of your new life under the water..

Yandere!Spirit x GN!Reader

Yandere!Spirit who's been dead for so long that they've forgotten what it was like to be human

Their body has warped as they lost memories of their previous life, elongating and discoloring, their skin a hollow grey and their body thin and stretched

Yandere!Spirit is approached one day by you, a human who not only can see them, but isn't afraid of them

Yandere!Spirit had forgotten what warmth was, but being in your presence was almost like having a heartbeat again

Yandere!Spirit becomes addicted to you, begging to stay by your side and continue basking in the sunlight of your smile, feeling that this is what it must have felt like to be alive

"Don't ask me to stay home.. does it really bother you that people think you're talking to yourself? I just.. please don't leave me again.."

Aroace/Platonic Scenarios:

Yandere!Catboy x GN!Reader

Yandere!Catboy who breaks into your house one day, and decides that your home is now his home as well

Yandere!Catboy demands attention and affection when he wants it.. and it usually just happens to be when you're busy

Yandere!Catboy has no sense of personal space, and didn't care if you're on the phone with your mother, he needs to use your lap as a pillow right. now.

Yandere!Catboy is a pain in the ass, treating you like a prince's servant, but he adores you in his own, possessive way

"Why do you smell like another cat?! I don't care if that skank was an aCtUaL cAt, those hands should only be rubbing these ears! Now get to it!"

Yandere!Big Sister x GN!Reader

Yandere!Big Sister who isn't actually related to you, but took pity on you and offered you a ride one night when you were walking home in the rain

Yandere!Big Sister sees herself in you, despite the gender difference, believing you to be as lonely as she is

Yandere!Big Sister begins keeping an eye out for you on her trips around town, doing her best to gain your trust slowly enough where she wouldn't scare you off

Yandere!Big Sister invites herself over to your apartment the moment she thinks you might not hate her, bringing gifts of junk food and beer

Yandere!Big Sister is so convinced that you are like her, that she "protects" you from your "obviously shitty" family, blocking their numbers on your phone while you're passed out, isolating you from the people that would hurt you

"That ass forgot your birthday?! I'm so sorry, kiddo.. If it makes you feel any better.. I already picked up a cake on my way over here~"

Yandere!Cult x Deity!Reader

Yandere!Cult Members who passionately worship you with a fervor that makes you worried for their mental stability

Resurrected from obsoletion, you were obviously overwhelmed with joy, being a small, nearly forgotten deity.. but when you witnessed your congregation, you realized they weren't regular worshippers

Yandere!Cult Members exist in a state of ecstasy for you, giving up their lives to join the cult they made in your name

Yandere!Cult Members who take what little text survived from your past followers, and turned it into a doctrine so absolute, that any deviation has them on their knees begging for forgiveness

And when you make yourself known, trying to calm the pitiful humans, share some comfort with them that you are not a god that enjoys this kind of devotion, the Yandere!Cult is in a state of euphoria, unable to comprehend your words..

"You appear! For us! We are not worthy of your presence, and yet you are such a kind and loving god that you appear.. for us!! No sacrifice is too great for one such as yourself!!"

Yandere!Toy Maker x GN!Reader

Yandere!Toy Maker who never liked humans; they talk too much, they smell funny, they grow old, and worse of all, they die

Yandere!Toy Maker changes his tune when he first meets you

Yandere!Toy Maker is fascinated by you, because unlike most humans, you don't annoy him; you're like a wind up dolly, only saying what he wants to hear

Yandere!Toy Maker uses you as his inspiration, making toys and dolls of all types that look like you, often gifting you adult sized clothes that are replicas of the outfits he makes for the little yous

Yandere!Toy Maker seriously considers stuffing your body, turning you into a toy that will never grow old; never leave him

But he could never.. even if he put a drawstring on your back, it wouldn't be the same.. he still doesn't have enough recordings of you talking to replace your presence..

✨Bonus✨

Yandere!Bed x GN!Reader

The mattress was on sale at the cheap little store you were visiting for the first time. And honestly, the deal was too good to pass up. When was the last time you got a new bed? Didn't you deserve to wake up not in pain?

So you brought it home.

It was a pain in the ass, but you got it into your apartment by yourself and set it up.

It. Was. Heaven.

You couldn't remember the last time you fell asleep so quickly, but it felt like you blacked out the second you laid down. In fact, it was so comfortable, you slept through all three of your alarms.

Shit.

But even being late to work and getting yelled at by your boss didn't faze you. The entire day it was like you were walking on clouds; you were so well rested that all you could think about was going home to your new bed: excited to sleep again.

And for the first couple of weeks, your coworkers didn't say anything. But they began worrying about you, suspecting that you might be depressed or something. All you talked about was your bed; how you never slept so well in your life, how laying down was like falling straight into the dream world... But you never looked worse.

Despite your claims that you were sleeping like a corpse, you were beginning to look like the dead. The bags under your eyes were hollow and heavy, your skin was paling, and your movements were slow and weak.

However, it didn't matter what they said.

That mattress was the single best purchase you've ever made in your whole entire life.

Lying down was like being enveloped in the embrace of a parent.

It didn't bother you when your boss fired you in front of your concerned fellow employees..

It just meant that you would have more time to sleep.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #gn reader #fem reader #male reader #fem yandere #male yandere #yandere monster #yandere ghost #yandere succubus #platonic yandere #happy pride 🌈#asexual #aroace #biromantic

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remarcely · 4 months ago

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Batmanfic Prompt: WHAT IF Batman got turned into a cat and Red Hood found him?

(This was a prompt somewhere on Tumblr but I lost the original post, if you know who it was let me know so I can tag them)

There were good reasons behind Batman’s rules. ‘Don’t travel without bat-shark repellent’, he’d always managed to get caught off guard the few times it had been missing from his utility belt. ‘All dominoes must be fitted with lenses’ was another. He’d gotten too many bugs in his eyes during his first year to waver on that. Then there was his ban of magic. There were too many examples to count for that rule and, as Bruce looked down at his hands only to find two small black paws, that number appeared to be climbing.

He wasn’t sure why this magic user had come to Gotham, or how for that matter, but one thing he was certain of was that when his body was back to being human again, he was going to throw them off a roof. See if they land on their feet.

Bruce stuck to the shadows and walked behind dumpsters and kicked over bins, stepping over newspaper pages so trodden on they matched the grooves of the streets. He headed further down the alleyway, ears twitching with each droplet of water that fell from the metal fire escape stairs to the puddle collecting the left-over rain beneath it. Sounds of chatter and laughter escaped through the back door of a restaurant, which was cracked open and preventing the fire escape to lock the establishment properly. A fatal mistake in a city like Gotham, especially on such a night when Batman wasn’t in any shape to protect them.

One of their bins was one of the many that had been knocked over. Bruce could smell it, half-full of scraps of food, the delicious scent of cooked meat and fast food. His stomach rumbled and Bruce drew back in shame. He hadn’t eaten before leaving the manor that night, much to Alfreds displeasure, and his hunger had been gnawing away at his focus the entire night. Bruce glanced around warily and slowly crept forward. No one would cast a second glance at it, surely. Stray animals eating discarded food was nothing unusual and, unless that damned magic user was lurking nearby, he wouldn’t be recognised as either Batman or Bruce Wayne. Of course, he would know, but this was hardly the worst thing he’d done.

Bruce darted forward before some unseeable force could stop him and tugged a mostly-wrapped flat shape from the bin. His sharp teeth tore the paper away to reveal most of a hamburger with a single bite taken out of the side. It must have been a mistake and returned. Bruce leaned closer and sniffed it. It smelled fine, nothing dangerous, and pretty damn tasty. His stomach gurgled again and, his hunger getting the best of him, Bruce took a bite. A very small bite, seeing as he was a cat and all.

He took another, and then another. He was pushing his nose further into the torn wrapping, lapping his tongue at the sauce, when two heavy footsteps at the mouth of the alley made Bruce freeze up. His head whipped back and tensed as he recognised the red helmet, illuminated by a single flickering street light.

The Red Hood.

The biggest threat to Gotham in the past few years, and not because of his kill count. It was high but, again, this was Gotham and they’d seen far worse. No, it was the unknown factor to the villain that terrified Bruce. He had no name, no face, and no idea who the murderer was. Even his motive was unclear and Bruce had struggled to piece together much to the mans goals, other than the death of the Joker and the destruction of Batman.

The Red Hood stepped forward and tilted his head to the side. There was nothing else of significance in the alley for him to be staring down other than Bruce. Painfully aware of the villains instability, Bruce took a few steps back until he was partially hidden behind the pile of garbage. Red Hoods chests moved strangely, almost as if he was laughing, but made no sound. It wasn’t until the man pressed something on the underside of his helmets jaw that Bruce could hear him speak.

“Hey there.” The villain spoke softly and crouched down. He removed one of his gloves and extended a hand for Bruce, trying to cajole him forward “Are you hungry, little guy?”

As demeaning as it was, meeting the Red Hood in the unwilling form of a cat was probably the best shot Bruce would get at gathering information on the villain. He acted the part and approached the man, bumping his nose into his bare fingers. The villain chuckled and petted him gently, scratching behind his ears.

“Not a little guy at all, are you?” He snorted at the flat stare Bruce gave him at the comment “You’re pretty big for a cat. Must be a fancy breed or something, huh?”

Bruce dared to place a paw on Red Hoods leg and stretched closer, nosing at his jacket and belt pouches. The Red Hood was armed to the teeth, guns holstered to each leg and another two hidden in his leather jacket.

Hood moved his scratches to under Bruces chin and neck “No collar.” He hummed and carefully picked Bruce up, adjusting the large cat to curl up on his chest half under his jacket “You’re all alone, aren’t you?”

Bruce paused. He’d never heard Hood sound so human before. Their previous meetings had consisted on taunts and threats, almost all of which were followed through on in the same breath. He had theorised that the Red Hood had undergone an intense trauma and found comfort in flying bullets and blood. Bruce could understand using violence to balance out the darker moments in people’s lives, he had done something similar through becoming ‘The Batman’, but hearing Red Hood speak so fondly to what he perceived as a stray hungry cat- it was too much. Bruce had found a ‘cat’ of his own, starving, and desperate, in an alley less than an hour away.

“How about I get you a proper meal.” Red Hood mumbled and ran his free hand up and down Bruces back, revelling in the softness of his dark fur. Bruce raised a front paw, batted his helmet lightly, and was stunned to hear him laugh “Come on, let’s go home.”

Bruce tensed and wriggled in the Red Hoods hold, not caring how ridiculous he might look. He’d only wanted to gather intel, not get the man emotionally attached to him. The shapeshifting-spell could wear off at any moment and he doubted the Red Hood would hesitate in shooting him if Batman suddenly appeared in his home.

“Fuck, stop that. It’s freezing out here, I’m doing you a favour, furball.” He grumbled and wrestled his hold on the cat.

Bruce yowled and made disgruntled noises when he realised he was completely pinned in place. He got louder when Red Hood laughed at him again, settling for swatting him with his tail.

Despite hating every moment of it, Bruce made sure to commit the route the Red Hood took as he returned to a safe house to memory.

#and that's all they wrote #I stated this at the beginning of 2024 and don't know how to finish it #feel welcome to add on #batman #red hood #bruce wayne #jason todd #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #ao3 writer #batman fanfiction #dc fanfic #batfamily #batfam

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bloodyserratus · 1 year ago

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get fucked

pairing: toji x fem!reader x sukuna word count: 4.1k synopsis: toji & sukuna fuck the living daylights out of you... themes/warnings: pwp, smut, MDNI, threesome, piv, degradation, praise, double penetration, oral, fingering...this is pretty explicit. they're both huge... i feel like they're both kind of ooc.

“Miss us?” Toji sneered as he stepped out in front of you, intersecting your path.

“Can’t say I did, Fushiguro,” you smiled sarcastically at him. The dark-haired male towered over you, lips turning down at the corners.

“That’s too bad,” his partner in crime, Sukuna, chuckled as he appeared behind you.

“What do you want?” you sighed.

These two had been bothering you for a couple of weeks now. They were your local, neighborhood delinquents who liked to frequent the restaurant that you worked at. You knew they were in some shady line of work, but had decided to just mind your own business. Aside from some crass flirting and lingering touches at work, they’d never done much to bother you. Today, though, following you on your way home was now escalating to a level that had you concerned.

“Can’t we just pay a visit to our favorite girl?” Toji’s lips curled up at the corners as he raked his eyes over you.

“Favorite girl my ass,” you rolled your eyes and laughed. “Come on,” you glanced at Sukuna, who had crossed his arms over his broad chest.

“What’s with the reaction?” Sukuna cocked his head at you, hiding his surprise.

“At best, I’ll be the next target of your bullying,” you rolled your eyes at the pair of delinquents, “At worst, I’m your plaything of choice for the next month or so. I have interest in neither, so I suggest you consider someone else.”

It should be easy enough. Though their personalities were more or less garbage, they were good looking and well built.

“You’re a smart one,” Sukuna chuckled, advancing on you, “You must be able to guess, though, that part of your appeal is the fight,” he reasoned, sarcastic words curling around your ear. Toji approached from the other direction until you were sandwiched between their chests.

“Tell us, pretty girl,” Toji chuckled, chest vibrating against yours, “Tell us you know that.”

Your breaths were choppy as they both pressed against you, overwhelming you with their size.

“I-,” you panted, chest tightening as they jostled you, hoping to get a rise out of you.

You placed your hands against Toji’s chest and pushed, trying to put some distance between you. It did not work.

“Wha-?!” you blinked in surprise when Toji lifted you up so that your feet were off the ground and pressed back into you, suspending you mid air against Sukuna. They both snickered as you realized your predicament.

“Why me?” you tried to ask, but your voice caught and trailed into a small moan as Toji’s leg slotted itself between your thighs, pressing against your core.

“Hmm,” his eyebrows rose with delight at the sound.

“There it is,” Sukuna snickered as his lips brushed against your neck.

You shuddered as he nibbled his way up the curve of your neck. Your hands shot out and gripped Toji’s biceps when Sukuna nipped sharply at your earlobe. Toji and Sukuna’s eyes met and a dangerous spark passed between them before Sukuna’s hands closed around your waist. To your surprise, they both stepped away and Sukuna placed you back on the ground before they vanished as suddenly as they had appeared.

“What the fuck?” you huffed, straightening yourself out.

…

You groaned and laid your forehead on the desk. You'd been working on holiday scheduling for the next three weeks and after cataloging all of the vacations everyone had submitted for, your brain was fried. You turned to pack up your things and head home and you’d been so caught up in your own thoughts that you didn’t notice people had entered your room until you turned back to face the door.

“Look what we found, Toji,” Sukuna grinned down at you.

“Look what we found indeed,” Toji smiled, cocky.

“What do you want?” you asked, body tensing at the sight of them and the memory of last time.

“More like…who do we want,” Toji smiled. His mouth was smiling, but his eyes promised something dark.

“Again…why me?” you asked, putting up a brave front, but you could already feel yourself responding to their presence. Recollections of the way they had overpowered you so easily had graced your dreams, day and night, a few times already.

“Something about you,” Sukuna considered you for a moment, “I want to see it break.”

Your eyebrows raised and despite your rational mind, you clenched at his words.

“I or we?” you couldn’t help but tease, “You guys really can’t do anything yourselves, huh? Always a package deal.”

Sukuna’s eyes flashed at you and you almost took a step back. His eyes were sharp and a strand of hair hung in front of them. You swallowed nervously…

“Have you been thinking about us, pretty girl?” Toji purred while Sukuna locked the room’s door. “You seem less difficult today.”

“Why would I be?” you asked politely, “Thinking about you, that is.”

“Because of the way you were panting, holding back your moans the last time we saw you,” Toji leaned down to whisper in your ear. His lips brushed against the shell and your mouth fell open with surprise. “Like a bitch in heat,” he laughed, condescending as hell.

“Oh get fucked!” you moved to strike him. Mistake.

“That's right,” Toji chuckled as he caught your wrist in his large hand easily. “You’re more of a hellcat than a bitch, aren’t you?”

You tried to pull away, but in all ways you were at a disadvantage. Toji lifted his arm and yours went with it. He was tall enough that this stretched you out uncomfortably and you were balanced on the tips of your toes. Your other hand moved reflexively for balance and it planted itself squarely on Toji Fushiguro’s firm chest. Your hand fisted in his shirt as he jerked you around, playing with you.

“You like this, don’t you?” Sukuna narrowed his eyes as he watched. Your mouth was agape and your eyes had grown slightly glossy at the way Toji disrespected you. He had to credit you…you’d managed to keep your sounds down, but everything else about your body language was so clear…you were turned on.

“Answer him, pretty,” Toji commanded and you looked up at him with begging eyes. “We all know the answer anyways, just want to hear you say it.”

You glared at him. You would never.

“So stubborn,” Toji’s voice was a low rumble against your fist, “Hope you know that I like that,” he grinned at you, backing you onto the desk.

“I wonder,” Sukuna cocked his head suddenly and placed a sharp nail against your neck. Dragged the pointed tip down to your collarbone and you shivered at the pain. “Still won’t admit it?” he goaded you, pressing and the tip bit deeper into your skin, just shy of breaking it.

“Pretty girl,” Toji gripped your chin and lifted it to meet his piercing eyes. “Answer us and we’ll give you what you need.”

As rough Toji liked to be, he wasn’t one to take without some indication of consent. Your eyes searched his and you must’ve seen or realized this because one of the coils in your stomach loosened with some sort of relief.

“...want,” you sighed, body sagging as you finally gave in.

“Oh you good girl, you,” Sukuna was at your back in a flash, hands running up your sides, grabbing and groping freely.

You moaned softly as Toji’s fingers traced along your inner thigh. You squirmed when they met your center and found it hot and wet.

“Dirty girl,” he snickered and rubbed, drawing a strangled cry from you.

“To-Toji,” you groaned, legs parting for him as Sukuna squeezed your tits harshly.

“Sukuna,” you panted when he squeezed your nipples through the fabric of your shirt. You were overwhelmed.

“She is dripping,” Toji laughed, caressing you through your panties. “I knew you’d be perfect,” he remarked smugly.

“Please,” your hips shifted desperately towards him, needing him to take more.

“Please what?” Sukuna cooed in your ear.

“More!” was all you could manage as Toji pushed your panties aside and stroked his fingertips lazily through your folds. The wet sounds brought heat to your face as you whined for him.

“We can give more,” Toji held your gaze, serious for a moment. “But if it’s too much, how will you tell us?”

“Safe word?” you answered, finding it difficult to focus when he grazed your clit repeatedly.

“And what is your safe word, pretty girl?” Toji asked.

“Sp-split Soul,” you stuttered out when your nipples were tweaked gently. Toji’s eyes widened a splinter at your answer.

“Aren’t you making your favorite a bit too obvious?” Sukuna teased upon hearing the name of Toji’s cursed tool, though he didn’t mean much by it.

“Fascinating,” Toji looked you over from head to toe one more time before he slid two fingers inside of you, drawing a loud cry from your lips. His knuckles stroked against you and you clenched around him, panting.

“She’s crying,” Sukuna chuckled, watching your eyes go glassy as Toji finger fucked you deeply. Sukuna’s large hands cupped your breasts and his fingers tweaked your nipples every so often as he nibbled on your neck.

“Wait, I-!” your eyes shot open as an orgasm barreled through you. Your body tensed in their hands and Toji’s fingers continued to curl up into you until the knot uncoiled you threw your head back with a loud wail. Sukuna’s chest was there to support your sagging body as you watched Toji lick your arousal off of his fingers.

“My turn,” Sukuna announced, shifting to take Toji’s place between your legs. His hands stroked down your inner thighs and his nails dragged deliciously along the soft, delicate skin. He watched with sadistic pleasure as it left long, red lines behind.

Toji took a seat behind you and palmed himself through his pants as he watched Sukuna’s handiwork. He throbbed at the marks and he thought about leaving a few marks of his own. His eyes widened with interest when Sukuna turned his hand around and tapped the backs of his knuckles, littered with rings, against your clit.

All of your muscles tensed at the sensation of cold metal against your hot, swollen clit and you let out a sound that was halfway between a squeal and a moan. Sukuna chuckled cruelly and kept up an erratic pattern until your back was arching up off of the table.

“Ha, hah, hah!” your soft pants were all that could be heard as Sukuna edged you mercilessly. “Sukuna, please!” you finally cried when you felt on the brink of insanity. You were surprised at the feral noise that escaped you when he stepped back and away, leveling you with a cruel smirk.

“Desperate little thing,” he chuckled and the way he peered disdainfully down at you shot a jolt of electric energy through you.

“Toji?” you looked towards the other man in the room hopefully. Your pupils dilated when you realized he was thrusting his hips, cock rubbing through the fabric of his pants against his palm. “Toji…,” you moaned, your voice dreamy and almost slackjaw at the visual.

“You sure know how to get what you want, don’t you?” Sukuna laughed heartily, helping you upright.

“May I?” you approached Toji, dropping to your knees before him.

“Polite when you need to be,” Toji rolled his eyes at you and shared a laugh with Sukuna.

You grinned and busied yourself with unearthing his erection. It was thick and heavy and tipped just slightly forward unassisted. You sighed with delight when you saw it, which served as a real shot to Toji’s ego.

“What a good little slut,” Sukuna chuckled, taking a seat. Unlike Toji, he had no desire to exercise restraint and pulled himself out of his pants, stroking eagerly.

Toji hissed when you closed your mouth around him. So wet and warm. The visual of your lips pursed around his shaft as you sucked gently was almost dizzying to him and he found himself gritting his teeth, trying to stay level. You were so singularly focused on lapping at his cock that you jolted with surprise when Sukuna smacked your cheek suddenly.

“Spit,” he demanded, his palm outstretched before you. You blinked up at him in surprise for so long that he slapped you lightly again. “I said spit.”

When he was satisfied, he brought his hand back to his cock, using your saliva as lubrication. You were embarrassed that the realization only served to turn you on more. Toji cleared his throat, grabbing your attention again. You moved to put your mouth back on him and you were surprised when he stopped you.

“Why don’t you sit?” he gestured to his shining erection with an expectant look. He had to hold back a smile at the way your expression grew hungry and dazed at the same time. You peeled off your panties and climbed onto his lap, straddling him. He offered you no help and instead leaned back and watched with lazy eyes as you positioned him at your opening.

“You’re too big,” your eyes flashed to him with mild annoyance. Your knees spread as you tried to lower yourself onto him with little success. Toji kept up his poker face as you clenched and gripped around his engorged tip. Finally after some desperate bucking of your hips, he popped into you, stretching you almost painfully around his girth. “Fuuck,” you whined, lips pursed as your eyes squeezed shut.

“My god she’s fucking tight,” Toji remarked to Sukuna through gritted teeth.

“Good thing you went first then, huh?” Sukuna taunted.

Toji’s lip twitched in response, but he didn’t say anything because you were doing your best to take more of him.

“Oh my god, Toji,” you mumbled mindlessly as you worked your way down, lips stretched taut around his shaft. At the very least, you were soaked and dripping, but his sheer size was still a challenge. You weren’t sure if Sukuna was just trying to get a rise out of Toji, but the possibility of him being even bigger made you feel faint.

“Are you struggling, kitty?” Toji teased, lips curled up into a smirk. “My cock too fat for our little whore?”

“You're big!” you gasped out, with a nod. “It doesn't, it barely fits,” you whined, but not because you wanted to stop. It was because you wanted Toji to drive up into you, punishing and hard.

Toji watched, proud at the way you struggled to split yourself open around you. You struggled and yet you persisted and he found himself admiring that.

“Shall I take over?” Toji cupped your chin and brushed his thumb across your cheek. You nodded eagerly and he flexed his hips up into you and you moaned even louder than before. The way he pushed into you was simply divine. His rhythm was slow and deep as you grew accustomed to it.

“How is it, pretty girl?” Sukuna surprised you when he came up behind you. His hands closed around your hips and he pressed you further down on Toji’s cock, drawing hisses from both of you. “Does he feel good?”

“Asshole,” Toji spat at Sukuna when he pressed against your cervix and you clamped down around him.

You couldn’t even manage an answer as Toji’s cock was stuffed into you deeper than you thought possible. Sukuna was unrelenting and held you in place as Toji’s hips jerked reflexively up into you.

“Fuck!” Toji cursed, his orgasm incoming.

“Come on,” Sukuna taunted. “You’ve been wanting to fill her up for a while now, just do it.”

“Wha-?” you struggled to comprehend Sukuna’s words, but Toji’s cock jerked strongly inside of you and you squeezed back reflexively.

Toji inhaled a few ragged breaths as he came, unloading deep inside of you with Sukuna pinning you down.

“Look at you,” Sukuna snickered cruelly, hand cupping your chin and tilting your head to face him. “Filled with Fushiguro’s cum,” he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to the tip of your nose.

You were surprised at the gesture.

“Do you let just anybody fuck you raw?” Sukuna taunted, leering at you. You narrowed your eyes at him, god he gave you whiplash.

“Do you just go around fucking anybody raw?” you bit back and Toji chuckled.

“Guess Fushiguro was too soft on you, cause this bitch ain't broken yet,” Sukuna barked out a laugh. “My turn,” his eyes glinted at you before he pulled you off of Toji’s lap.

Sukuna forced you to your knees and smacked the heavy head of his cock against your cheek. You glared up at him defiantly.

“Can’t wait to see those eyes water as you glare at me,” he sneered, hooking his thumb into your mouth and yanking it open. You let out a noise of surprise, but it was quickly muffled by his cock being shoved unceremoniously between your lips.

“God that’s a sinful little mouth,” Sukuna groaned when your lips closed around him, enveloping him in your wet warmth. “Shut this mouthy little slut right up,” he snickered as you sucked.

Toji settled in behind you and snaked his arms around you. One looped around your waist and the other reached between your thighs. Your lips squeezed around Sukuna’s head when Toji’s palm landed a slap squarely against your cunt, like a hammer against your clit. Sukuna’s hand shot out around the back of your neck and pulled you forward until he was lodged against the back of your throat. You moaned loudly as both men ground against you, your wet, drooly holes.

“Fuck that’s tight!” Sukuna hissed when you relaxed your throat and let him slip inside. Toji’s hand moved from your waist to cup your throat, feeling the way it bulged to accommodate Sukuna.

“Hah…I can feel him,” he whispered in your ear as his fingers dipped into your pussy, pushing his cum back inside.

You whimpered and clenched at his observation. Your whimper was muffled by Sukuna’s cock, but your clench was easily felt by Toji’s thick fingers. Toji’s lips curled up into a sadistic grin and the hand around your throat tightened and Sukuna’s knees almost buckled.

“Fucking shit!” he glared at Toji after pulling out, leaving you gasping for breath in his firm grip.

Toji’s chest rumbled with laughter, pleased to be able to get the best of Sukuna for a turn. Despite yourself, it pleased you to hear Toji laugh. Something about the both of them using you to toy with each other made you swell with pride.

“Keep playing, Fushiguro,” Sukuna spat venomously, pulling you up by a fistful of hair. He bent you forward over the table and flipped your skirt up, rubbing his cock along your dripping length. “Watch me fuck your cum out of her,” he snarked before sliding into you in one fluid motion.

“Ohh~!” you cried as you stretched around Sukuna. You weren’t sure if he was actually bigger or you were just sensitive, but the feeling had you clawing at the tabletop like a feral cat.

“How’s that feel, baby?” he grunted as he pounded into you harshly. Your hips clipped against the edge of the table painfully with each thrust and his balls slapped wetly against you.

“G-good,” you cried.

“Better than Fushiguro?” he goaded and Toji’s eyebrows furrowed.

“I-,” you hiccuped, “I don’t know,” you answered honestly, tears welling up in your eyes as an orgasm approached. “Su-kuna,” you cried, back arching.

“Answer me, pretty girl,” Sukuna asked again, pupils dilating with satisfaction as he worked a creamy ring of Toji’s cum and your arousal around the base of his shaft. “Who do you prefer?”

“I don’t know, I don’t know! Both!” you cried as your body tensed and you came, thinking of the different ways in which they both used and ravaged your body.

“Did I say you could come?” Sukuna gripped you by the chin and pulled you up against him. He tipped your head back so that you could meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry,” you realized your error quickly, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” your eyebrows pinched with worry at what fresh hell he would unleash on you for this.

He surprised you by trailing his wet tongue across your cheek before licking into your open mouth. You clenched as he nipped your lips and then sucked your tongue into his mouth. Toji had already claimed your pussy by filling it with his cum and you understood this as Sukuna’s way of claiming your mouth for his own. You squirmed when he pulled back slightly and held your mouth open for him. His teeth ran across his tongue before he spit into your mouth. You shivered as you accepted his saliva eagerly. It was intimate, filthy, and wanton all at the same time.

“Fushiguro,” Sukuna’s eyes flicked to Toji’s as he picked you up, holding your back against his chest with surprising ease. “Get over here.”

Toji’s eyebrows furrowed as he tried to understand Sukuna’s meeting.

“She said she wants both,” Sukuna chuckled, “Let’s see if she can take both.”

Your eyes widened at his words. You were already tired and sore, but something about these two gave you something to prove. You knew Sukuna didn’t expect you to be able to, which triggered something defiant and stubborn inside of you and you knew you wouldn’t back down.

“I can,” you insisted as Sukuna set you down on the small couch that was tucked against the wall of the room. He laughed at your show of confidence. You’d have to see.

“You gonna let me fuck that pretty ass, baby?” Toji’s voice was raspy from behind. “You so cock hungry that you need both of those holes filled?”

Perversion curled through you and your eyes flashed when you look at him and nodded. Toji was taken aback for a moment. It was true he’d had his eye on you for some time, but he had sorely underestimated you. He shifted behind you while you straddled Sukuna and his cock was screaming to be inside of you. You had dripped so much that he easily coated himself in your fluids. His eyes were transfixed as he pressed the dark head of his cock against your puckered sphincter. You let out a series of warm pants as Sukuna gripped your hips tightly.

“Wait,” you placed your hand on Toji’s abdomen, “Give me a sec?” you breathed hard as you tried to relax. You’d had difficulty accommodating Toji in your pussy, so anal was going to be an even bigger challenge, but you were determined.

“Take your time, pretty,” Toji pressed a kiss to the top of your head. He held still as you pressed your hips back against him, stretching a little more each time around him. Watching the way you stretched yourself around him, from hesitant to eager, was dizzying to Toji in a way that he had not expected.

Sukuna reached up to stroke your face affectionately as you adjusted. He cooed praise up at you, telling you how good you were being for them, how sexy you looked taking both their cocks. Behind you, Toji egged you on with words of his own. How good your pretty hole looked stretched around him, how much more he had left to give you.

Your breaths were ragged as you pushed back, dragging him deeper and deeper into you.

“Almost there,” he encouraged, “To the hilt, baby, show me,” he watched proudly until you had taken him completely.

“Fuck,” you let out a sigh, eyes flickering between the two men. It surprised you to see satisfied smiles on both of their faces. This was short lived because before long, they both thrusting up into you alternately and all coherent thought left your mind.

The room was filled with grunts, pants, and the wet sounds of sex as they both pistoned their cocks into you. You were so full and so sore, but it was the most delicious pain that you had ever experienced.

“Close,” you murmured when you felt the coil in your belly constricting. “May I?” you asked.

“What a fast learner,” Sukuna clicked his tongue, pressing a kiss against your neck. “You’re doing so well…whenever you wish,” he nodded and Toji couldn’t agree more.

They fucked you and kept fucking you through two more orgasms. You briefly wondered if you might pass out, but their climax came mercifully and with heavy twitches and muttered curses, they emptied themselves into you. Their muscles unwound and relaxed post orgasm and you found yourself sandwiched pleasantly between their large bodies. You knew they were both notorious for sleeping around, but you wondered if they’d be up for a repeat. You needed more experience before you could declare a favorite, after all.

#toji smut #sukuna smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #toji fushiguro #ryomen sukuna #toji fushiguro smut #ryomen sukuna smut #serrated writing

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ruskaroma · 2 years ago

Text

ordinary, corrupt human love. | chapter 1: written in blood.

Warnings: this series will include highly disturbing/dark topics such as stalking, unhealthy obsession, graphic descriptions of violence, blood and gore, manipulation, gaslighting, large age gap, emotional/psychological abuse, dom/sub undertones, bad BDSM etiquette, etc.

this is a dark fic, written in john's pov and a glimpse of how his mind works. if you still continue to read and get triggered, that is not my responsibility.

Summary: John finds himself a new obsession.

Author's note: this is my first ever fanfic for this fandom and i am beyond excited to share this with you guys! though i must say before you begin, english is not my first language and there might be a few errors in my writing here and there, so i apologize in advance.

but either way, i still hope you enjoy this piece, and i can assure you that once i finish writing this series there will be more to come! i really enjoy writing john wick be a merciless bastard who kills everything that breathes, and i hope you enjoy it too as much as i did.

please, please, PLEASE tell me what you think in the comment and reblogs and likes would be so appreciated. it motivates me to write even more :)

(also this is not edited so all mistakes are on me and i apologize)

Word count: 8.1k

also read on ao3.

It’s one of those days again.

The sound of his watch ticking is the only thing keeping his car from being too quiet. His eyes watch every single movement of his target, never leaving his sight. It won’t be too long for John to finally strike, he just doesn’t want too many civilians seeing the horror that’s about to happen right before their very eyes.

His mind is thinking of many things he could do with this target in particular. A lowlife thug that got himself involved with a very dangerous Italian mob, but then again that’s not the reason why John’s murderous intent is at its peak at the moment.

He’s angry at something, he just doesn’t know what. And this target of his isn’t helping his situation at all. Reading his criminal record made John think this could be a chance to cure his boredom. This man is not only a sex trafficker, but also a pedophile who has a history of targeting teenagers to rape and sell to the black market that’s as fucked up as him.

He doesn’t normally take his time thinking of ways to kill his targets. He points, shoots, leaves. This one in particular though, got him facing a side of him that John himself doesn’t want to face.

He would start by breaking every single one of the man’s fingers. And if that doesn’t do any justice, he’ll cut them off.

One by one, let the man savor the feeling, let John relish the nightmare.

He could slit the man’s throat, watch as life drains away from his body, watch as the man clings to his legs for mercy. John could even pull out the man’s dick, step on it, fucking cut it off and shove it so far down his own throat that he couldn’t scream for help if he tried.

It’s John’s version of Colombian Necktie. A classic, only ever tried it out four times, hopefully this would be the fifth.

John is never the one to take pleasure in killing people, but these past few months have proved him otherwise.

Maybe it’s because of Helen’s death, and the way he was basically forced to sculpt the demons he buried back into himself. His only remaining bit of humanity was taken from him, and he’s coping in the most unhealthy way possible. Perhaps Winston was right about dipping his pinky a little too much into the pond, but it was inevitable.

John has gone back to his old ways. Taking contracts here and there to distract himself from the void in his heart. He remembers how burying a knife into someone’s throat for the first time in many years has ignited something in him he didn’t even know he had.

That’s why he’s here, exiting his car in a swift move, following his target as quietly as possible into a narrow alleyway that stinks of garbage in piss. This would be a nice place to kill a guy like him – right where he belongs.

John’s movements are so discreet the man couldn’t even sense him until John wrapped his right arm around his neck and his other hand went to cover the man’s mouth. He walks them both to the back of a building as the man struggles, where John’s sure no more people are present, and he kicks him on the jaw to stop the man from making any more noises.

John can make this quick. Pull out his gun and blow his brains out. But there’s that sinister glint in his mind that’s telling him to do something unimaginable – grotesque even – a death a man like him deserves.

The man tries to swing his arm at John but misses pathetically. The poor guy’s already shaking and John hasn’t even begun.

John doesn’t respond to the pitiful attempts of questioning who he is and who sent him here, he simply pulls his knife from his pocket and wastes no time slashing it against the man’s throat, the blood spraying all over his face. The man tries to stop it by shakily covering the deep cut with his hand, but it’s useless.

He’s gargling, choking on his own blood, and John’s watching it all unravel with a familiar glint in his eyes.

John is contemplating if he should follow the plan he made in his head or just leave it like this. Somehow, the sight looks rather incomplete to him. He knows what he’s done is not enough, but that could be just the rage talking. The man’s already dead, and surely cutting off his dick and shoving it so far down his throat it comes out of the wound would leave an ugly reputation on his name.

Would that be a good thing? John is already feared enough, would it be a good thing to make people fear him even more? But then again, this won’t be the first time he’s done it. Doing it again one more time wouldn’t make any difference.

He glances down at the dead body on his feet before he kneels down to do the unforgivable.

Slicing off a man’s cock is easy. Too easy. John’s knife is perfectly sharpened and stoned, he merely uses any strength to cut it off. The sight is so fucking ugly, too much blood, but nothing he can’t handle.

Once that’s done, John uses his other hand to force the dead man’s jaw open, immediately greeted by the foul stench of blood as he shoves the unpleasant dick into the man’s open mouth. The genitalia is definitely not long enough to reach the throat, but that won’t be any problem for John.

He grits his teeth as he forces his hand in there, not bothering to care even if the jaw breaks and the hole becomes even wider, his goal is the only thing in his mind.

The blood continues to drip and he has never been so grateful for wearing an all black uniform for this occasion. Soon enough, after a few minutes of such a brutal wrongdoing, John sees the tip of the cock reaching the deep wound on the man’s throat as it continues to peak its way out.

A sick, small smile spreads across John’s face. The smile is barely there, but he’s fucking enjoying this more than he’d like to admit. He can only imagine how the news would spread across the assassin underworld like a wildfire.

The Boogeyman’s back in business and he’s scarier than ever.

Perhaps this might be the way to lay his point across. This is a way to show them that it was not a good idea pissing him off, killing what’s his, and bringing him back in business. They’d regret it, but it would be already too late for that.

John uses his other hand to pull the cock right out of the man’s throat but not completely. Half of it is hanging out and John thinks he could even consider this as a masterpiece. There’d be flies and maggots that would make the scenery better, but the cleaning service is there for a reason. He can’t just not use it.

John stands up from his position, pocketing his knife back into his pocket before retrieving his phone with the other. He dials a number, waits for them to pick up, all while admiring his work on the ground.

His previous contracts these past few months all ended in such an unimaginable, ugly way. He figured that by showing them that he’s capable of such brutality, it would increase the numbers of people calling him in for more jobs, because this is exactly what they wanted. They wanted Baba Yaga, the ruthless killer of the underworld who stops at nothing to finish his job, and he’s simply giving it to them.

Someone picks up the call and he straightens his posture, checking the time on his watch before speaking.

“This is Wick. John Wick, yes. I would like to make a dinner reservation for one.”

The news spread faster than anticipated.

The notorious man John Wick, the hot topic of the criminal underworld at the moment, even gained the attention of The High Table, and it all happened in the span of one day. That’s how quick the news spread amongst his fellow assassins, though that’s exactly what he was going for.

John expected it so he isn’t surprised when he receives a call from Charon saying Winston wants to meet him.

He inserts a coin in the door and the small window opened briefly. The guy on the other side immediately recognized him, not wasting a single moment to open the door and let the man of the hour in. All eyes are on him the moment he steps into the club, but no one dared to murmur anything to anybody – not when the man himself is here.

They know better.

John spots Winston at his usual spot drinking his usual order, signaling John to sit beside him where a glass of bourbon is already present.

“Jonathan,” Winston greets, raising his glass. “We have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”

“I figured,” John replies, though not interested. He slides himself to the booth and takes a sip of his own drink. “I don’t understand why though.”

“Are we really playing this game, Jonathan?” The manager raises a brow.

“I was just doing my job.”

“In a way you don’t normally do,” Winston then adds. “Or should I say, in a way you don’t even do.”

John gives him a look, but he could tell Winston doesn’t know how to interpret it. His face remains emotionless, not letting the mask slip and grant Winston the privilege to take a peak. John will continue to play this game until he’s satisfied, until he feels something again. Surely he’ll find what he’s looking for while doing the only thing he’s ever good at – slaughtering.

“Let’s just say I was trying out a new technique,” John says, voice deep and almost sinister. Winston’s scared, though he doesn’t show it, John knows.

“I have known you ever since you started, Jonathan. Not once did it cross my mind you would do something so.. horrifying as this. You discarded the body like he was some sort of pig, so believe me when I say I couldn’t believe it at first.”

John has no idea why Winston’s whining about him being horrifying, when that’s all they’ve been saying about him ever since he joined. He didn’t gain this reputation for no reason, now he’s just simply showing them what more he’s capable of.

“You should’ve seen his record.” His tone is menacing, swirling the drink in his hand as he stares deeply at Winston’s eyes. “He’s worse than a pig.”

The drop of the curse word takes Winston by surprise. “So is that what it is, then? You killed him that way because you think he deserved it?”

“Not really,” John simply sighs, leaning back on the leather seat as he takes another sip of his bourbon. He really isn’t planning on staying longer, but Winston seems to be taking his sweet time asking him a bunch of stupid questions. “I couldn’t care less of what he’s done. I was simply… bored. Saying that I did that because I think he deserved it gives people a reason to think that what I did was justifiable.”

The look on Winston’s face says enough. He’s afraid of John, afraid of what he has become. Hearing John say he did such an unforgiving thing just because he was bored is beyond frightening. No man has ever inflicted so much fear on him before – at least not until John.

“I think we’re done for tonight,” Winston finally says, not wanting to hear any more disturbing thoughts of John, but he remains polite and calm for the sake of their friendship. “You have a good night, Jonathan.”

John gives him a nod, standing up from his seat and downing his drink in one go. “Goodnight, Winston.”

He exits the club with an eerie aura following behind him, not caring about the way people are looking at him like he’s got Death himself walking beside him.

It makes him wonder that maybe death doesn’t follow him after all.

Maybe it is him.

Someone offered him five million to fuck up a man who allegedly stole a fuck ton of kilograms of cocaine from their warehouse, and really, who is John to decline the offer?

Hunting the man is easy. It didn’t even take a day to locate where the man lives, and John’s already breaking into his apartment to shoot the guy and leave. There’s no point in rummaging the place for the cocaine, all of it is already up the man’s system by the looks of it, and killing him is John’s job.

John wants to finish this one fast, he’s got other business to attend to. As he backs up the frightened, pathetic excuse for a man against the wall, he takes his gun out of his holster and aims directly at the head, right between the eyes, and he watches in great pleasure as the residue of his brains splatter against the walls and the floor.

This man didn’t even put up a fight. John thinks this is a waste of time.

He exits the apartment with disappointment heavy on his shoulders, slamming the door shut. Although the gun he used has a silencer, the rooms are too close to each other. He’s sure there might be other people who heard the shot of his firearm.

The apartment building is located at the filthy side of New York, where most known drug dealers and junkies do their nasty deals. It’s no surprise that as soon as John steps a foot out of the worn out building, all eyes are on him, but mainly on the clothes he’s wearing. They’re planning on mugging him out, and John would like to see them try.

Just as he’s about to walk to his car, his phone rings abruptly in his chest pocket. He retrieves it in one swift motion, not noticing that a gold coin fell out as he does so, and he continues walking to not waste any more time.

“Sir! Excuse me, sir, you dropped something!” John hears from behind. He doesn’t bother looking.

The call isn’t nearly as important as the business he needs to attend to, so he hangs up the call and pushes his phone back into his pocket. As soon as he does that, he feels a small hand touching his shoulder.

John’s hand immediately flies to wrap his large hand around the person’s wrist, turning around to see a young woman with a bewildered expression on her pretty face, little fingers holding his golden coin that looks far too big on her hand.

She looks scared, terrified, and oh how fucking awful that makes John feel. Like he’s been punched right in the fucking gut. He’s enthralled.

“I wasn’t–you dropped it and I’m just giving it to you, I promise!”

She’s looking at John with big, doe eyes. She also looks freshly showered, wrapped in a black puffy jacket that makes her even smaller than she already is. John lets his eyes linger on her lips, so plump and glossy. Her voice sounds sweet, soft, something John isn’t used to hearing.

John can’t help but to stare.

“Are you–are you gonna let me go, mister?”

The way she stutters triggers a hot feeling in John’s guts, and can’t help but to rub his thumb on the girl’s dainty wrist before slowly letting her go.

So delicate, he could snap them in half.

“Sorry,” John apologizes, taking the coin from her hold, and his fingers itch at the way her skin feels so soft against his rough hands. “Force of habit.”

“It’s okay,” she smiles a little, and there goes that hot curl in John’s stomach once again. “That thing looks expensive so be careful next time.”

Just like that, John doesn’t get the chance to reply back. She makes her leave and patters away from him, and he watches. He watches until she’s out of the view, taking a turn to a corner, leaving John with something he can’t quite figure out yet, but he soon will be.

For the first time in a while, he feels something new.

Suddenly, everything is too good to be true.

John will find himself staring at his hands for too long, still feeling the ghost of her soft skin on his fingers, fantasizing about her pretty face and soft, plump lips.

It’s scary for him to feel something again because that only means destruction. John likes to believe he has a gift of ruining everything he touches, especially the pure ones – like her. It’s a proven statement. Just look at Helen and Daisy.

This little one won’t be any different, he’s sure of it. John’s whole body is heating up everytime he thinks about her. The look on her face when she saw John’s chilling expression, her wide eyes, so glossy and innocent.

John wants to see her again.

His fingers itch, yearning to touch her again.

Why he’s suddenly interested in a young woman he just met a few days ago, he has no idea. John’s a bit confusing – fucked up, even. He long accepted the fact that his mind is nowhere near healthy years ago. He tried to push those thoughts away when he met Helen, but now he’s out of his shell and back in business, there’s no need to.

He’s always been one of the wolves, and now that he’s laid his eyes on his next meal, he will make sure there’s not a single thing that will get in his way to hunt her down.

He had a crisis for two days before doing the unexpected. It didn’t take long for John to find her.

Now, John has been following her around for a week, and he noticed a certain pattern his little one likes to follow as she goes on her day.

The very place where they met is where she lives, surrounded by a bunch of goons who have no idea what to do with their lives. John begins to wonder why she’s living in a place like that. He could take her, put her somewhere safe, under his care and protection. Make sure no one will dare to lay a finger on her.

John knows where she works. At a veterinary clinic not too far from her apartment, which is why she walks to work every three in the afternoon, but not without stopping by in her favorite deli and getting a large order of her favorite sandwich. She’s a part-timer. She’d be at school from seven to twelve, and at work from three to eight.

John finds the little things she does amusing. He’d be seated in a cafe right across from her work, watching how she moves around her office through a big window, petting and cooing at the animals who come and go.

She’s so perfect, so pure, so naive. She has no idea that a monster is lurking ten feet away from her, watching her every move like a hawk, thinking about the ways he could destroy her, make her his.

John is not delusional. He’s fully aware of what he’s doing and he’s aware of what people might call him.

Stalker.

Creep.

They don’t know him though. They don’t know why he acts this way. They’d do the same if they were him, that’s for sure. He’s not the bad guy here, he’s simply just protecting her little one, even from afar. John went as far as destroying a whole Russian Bratva for a mere puppy and a car, he’d do even worse if she’s somehow taken away from him.

John sees her exiting the building and his first thought is to follow her. He stands up from his seat, the cup of coffee long forgotten as he makes his way out of the café and keeps a safe distance between the two of them. It’s risky, especially in the broad daylight, but John knows she’s too oblivious to notice.

She’s with her friends this time, and it doesn’t go unnoticed by John how she clings at the shirt of her co-worker as they cross the street, small hands fisting at the fabric. He thinks about how he won’t ever let go of her hand once she’s his. He’s not big on physical affection, having to grow up with no parents and a rather strict orphanage, but maybe he could be gentle. Engulf her hand in his, stroke it with his thumb, tuck her hair behind her ears, show everyone that she’s already owned.

They wouldn’t dare to lay their hands on her again.

John walks in the middle of the sidewalk, not bothering to move away despite seeing people approaching. He doesn’t need to, the look in his face is enough for people to give him the way. It’s interrupted however, when someone does try to get in his way, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him back a little.

John clenches his jaw, pissed. He takes his eyes from his little one and on the person who so rudely interrupted what he’s doing – it’s Marcus.

“John? I was just looking for you at the Continental.” Marcus has a small smile on his face, clearly not aware of John’s expression.

His eyes dart behind Marcus, where his little one is supposed to be, but she’s gone. John feels something curl in his stomach, his fingers itching again, eyes rapidly searching for her in the sea of people.

He looks at Marcus again, deciding he’ll just find her later, but he worries that something might happen to her now that John’s attention isn’t on her.

“Why?” he almost snaps, voice deep and laced with no emotion.

“Why? Because it’s been quite some time, John. I haven’t heard from you since the Iosef situation, but I did hear you’re back in business,” Marcus replies, but when he sees how distracted John looks, his voice falters. “You working?”

“Yeah.” The lie comes off smoothly. “I’ll see you around.”

John taps Marcus’ shoulder, trying to sound as polite as possible even though he badly wants to break a couple of his teeth for taking his attention away from her. He knows Marcus is probably noticing something, but John’s never the one to care.

Marcus drops the subject. “Alright, John. I’ll see you around.”

With that, John disappears in the crowd with no looking back.

It’s been awhile since John last took a job.

He can’t seem to take his eyes away from his little one. He can’t stop fucking stalking her from morning to night time.

John’s afraid that once he takes his attention from her even for a second, something bad might happen to her. It’s engraved in his mind that she can’t protect herself and he’s solely there to be the protector.

No one would understand. He’s doing this for her own good.

John’s absence at the Continental doesn’t go unnoticed by Winston and Charon. They’re his favorite, after all. Watch his every move carefully ever since that ugly murder John did. Perhaps he could make his next kill even uglier. To them, it’s vile and grotesque. For John, it’s special and unique.

This time, it took a good self-beating before John decided to take a contract. Three million to hunt down a rival crime lord, nothing he can’t handle, but somehow it brings an unusual feeling on his shoulder he isn’t fond of. Perhaps because John’s leaving his little one for a while and he isn’t quite sure what to feel. Worried and pissed – but mostly worried.

That is why he hired someone to trail his little one on his behalf. Everyone in business would do anything for a coin despite how fucked up disturbing it is. John offered a generous amount of coins to keep the assassin’s mouth shut, but he also held him at gunpoint and gave him a good talk before he sent the dog out in the field.

His only job is to keep an eye on her, report everything he’ll see to John, and maybe even take pictures for safety purposes.

John has been overseas in the last three days, and everything that’s been sent to him has been his only form of entertainment. There’s videos of her giggling with her friends, videos and photos of her in the library, outside her school, her work, and even in her apartment. There’s also information sent to him about the background of her friends – every single one of them, because John didn’t pay so much for nothing.

There’s one particular friend that ticks off John in all the worst way possible. He’s young, around her age, and the way he hugs and touches her just fucking sets him off. John wants to break his fingers in half. He reminds himself that once he’s home, he’ll make sure to take care of that boy himself.

“What else have you got?” John questions through the phone, and it doesn’t take long for his precious dog to respond.

“Oh, he is one creepy motherfucker. I’m starting to understand why you’re so riled up with this guy, boss. The urge to strangle him every time he gets in the picture gets stronger and stronger everyday.” He hears a laugh at the other end. The guy that’s working for him – Alex, if he remembers correctly – is young, new in business, knows not to fuck with John so he keeps his job adequate. If Alex ever notice how fucked up John is for making him follow a young woman to keep his life in order, he doesn’t say anything about it. “Just tell me when I can shoot this guy and I’ll do it in a heartbeat.”

“Leave him. Keep an eye on him, but don’t kill him,” John advises, his tone leaving no room for discussion. “I’ll handle him myself when I get back. For the meantime, focus on Y/N and keep any troubles out of her way. Fail that task and I’d serve your head hot on a platter.”

“You got it, boss.”

John is playing nicely.

He’s not going to force his way into her life. He’s gonna be welcomed, with open arms, desired.

There are times he’d thought about giving in to his desperation and act with his dick instead of his head. There are times he’d thought about following her to a dark street, where no one’s around, he’s on the prowl and ready to pounce. He’d put a fabric against her mouth and nose, laced with enough chemicals to make her pass out and for him to carry her in his car with no problems whatsoever. John thinks about how he’d make it look like he’s just picking up his very drunk and passed out girlfriend and no one would know a goddamn thing.

John would keep her in his house where she won’t need anything but him.

But of course, he’s not that cruel.

They’re only thoughts. Thoughts that he tries hard to keep away, but at the end of the day he reminds himself that he’s better than that.

John is not going to force his way into her life.

He’ll make sure to get her addicted enough to come crawling at his feet herself. She’ll be dependent on him, won’t be able to live without him. John will make sure his plan will go out smoothly or otherwise he’ll be the one bringing Hell with him on this land and seek as much havoc as he possibly can.

The death emissary himself will strike tonight.

A Friday night out with her friends has John on high alert. That’ll only mean she’s constantly surrounded with people, god knows what could happen if John even takes his eyes off her for a second. He lurks on the side, blending himself with the crowd as much as he can all while keeping his gaze on her.

He doesn’t need any drugs to keep his mind insane, because the sight of a specific man getting very close to what’s his is enough to make him visualize all the ugly and twisted ways to kill a man.

She’s wearing a thin silky dress that’s low on her cleavage and shows her perky breasts. She’s currently the flame in a room full of moths, John included. Everyone’s eyes are on her, observing the way she sways her hips and sings along to the loud music – John’s fingers itch.

The itch to kill is back again, driving into his veins, his hands twitch on the table. John wants to pull out his gun and shoot everyone in this fucking room. He wants to stab them in the eyes one by one and make them feed it to themselves. He wants to grab this guy on the neck and slam his head against the wall repeatedly until his brain scatter all over the fucking place and there’s nothing left for him to ruin.

This guy is getting on his fucking nerves.

John watches as the man smoothly brings his arm on her shoulder, whispering something in her ear that doesn’t make her look so impressed. In fact, she looks disturbed, uncomfortable, tense. Despite the guy being her friend, John could tell she doesn’t feel comfortable with the way he’s showing her affection.

It’s hard to see her like this, but he knows he can’t just jump in between the two of them and beat the shit out of the guy until he chokes on his own blood. He’ll have to wait, maybe after this party, he’ll strike and discard the body in a way that’ll make even Winston spook in his sleep. It’s not a major offense to kill a man that’s not in the game anyway – or at least that’s what John tells himself.

This guy wouldn’t be able to be three feet near his little one once John’s done with him. He’ll be six feet under.

John sees her swiftly moving away from his touch, trying to make her rejection look as polite as possible, which receives a not-so-amused reaction from her little friend.

This guy doesn’t deserve her at all. No one does. Except maybe John, but that’s because he knows he’s capable of actually taking care of her and keeping her safe. Nobody would understand what he feels, what he yearns, what he wants.

Good girl, John thinks. Walk away.

His gaze follow her as she makes her way to the backdoor and out to the cold air of the city. John follows in a hurry, keeping a safe distance between the two of them, then opens the door as quietly as possible so he wouldn’t let his presence known.

There are a few people on the street, either having a smoke break or making out against the piss stained wall, but she stays just beside the busy road as she wraps her arms around herself.

His gaze burn daggers on her exposed back, the urge to cover her up with his jacket and take her home. A drunk man comes stumbling out of the club, accidentally tripping over his steps and he pushes her hard enough to make her yelp as her heels lose balance and almost making herself get run over by a passing truck.

Almost.

Everything happens so fast. One moment John is standing five feet from her, the next is he’s grasping her wrists in his hand and pulling her back to her feet and dragging her back to the curb. He was already on the act once he saw the man exiting the club, he knew exactly this would happen.

The scene looks strangely familiar, one John could never forget. The same position, same hand placement, same rough fingers around her wrist and dark eyes boring into hers – their very first meeting.

“You!” she gasps, not caring about the fact that she almost just got hit by a fucking truck. “I know you! You’re the guy outside my apartment that day! What are you doing here?”

John stares. Predictable. Of course she’s talking to him like they’ve known each other for years. She’s too friendly.

“Hello to you too,” John replies, though his tone is blank as well as his face. “You remember me.”

“‘Course I do,” she giggles, a little tipsy, pupils dilated and licking her lips nervously. “You’re pretty hard to forget. I remember asking my neighbors around the area if you’re new there, turns out you were just visiting.”

John furrows his brows, hand still not letting go of her wrist. What does she mean by she’s asked around the area about him?

His face must’ve looked confused, he sees her grinning childishly. “It’s a coincidence that I see you again!”

Not a coincidence, but fate.

John doesn’t believe in a lot of things, but he believes in fate. Fate brought him Helen, and now fate is bringing him another angel. If she really went as far as asking the neighborhood about his existence, then it must be fate.

“I’m Y/N. I figured if we keep bumping into each other then you should at least know my name,” she says, completely oblivious that John already knows everything that has to be known about her. From her little mannerisms to the last name of her fucking grandmother. “May I know yours or are you just gonna stare at me all night?”

“It’s John,” he gulps, not wanting to look like a loser in front of her, not after everything he went through for her. “It’s really nice to see you again.”

He sucks at this. He fucking sucks at this.

“You haven’t answered my question, by the way. What brings you here?”

It hangs in the air, John lets go of her wrist. Luckily, he thinks fast enough and says the first thing that comes to his mind. “Work.”

“Ah, work,” she nods. “You work here? In the club? What are you, a bouncer or something?”

“I don’t. Someone I work with is in the club.” A lie, but it’s not like she would know. “We had a talk.”

“Not really a man of words, eh?” she raises an eyebrow teasingly.

“This is the most words I’ve said in the past few days,” John says. “I’d say you’re special.”

The look on her face is enough to make his entire night even better. Blushing, lips opening and closing, not knowing what to say. John wants to graze his thumb on her lips, thinking about how good it would feel stretching over his cock.

He blinks. Where did that come from?

“For someone who doesn’t talk much, you sure make it sound smooth when you do. Are you always this slick, John?” she giggles again, music to his ear. “That’s actually better than what I heard from my friend earlier, so thank you.”

“That’s good to know.”

Before she could say anything back, the door of the club opens once again and her friends appear, waving a hand at her and beckoning her to get inside. She looks at John, gives him a sympathetic look, as if apologizing that their talk gets cut off too soon.

“I’m really sorry but my friends want me back in there. Hopefully we can continue this again, yeah?” she smiles cheekily, tucking her hair behind her ear. “If you want, you could give me your number so we can talk someplace else? You know… with no one bothering us and all that.”

There it is. John didn’t think it would be this easy to sink the hook in. All he needs to do is pull and take what’s meant to be his.

“Sure.” He enters his number swiftly, feeling that familiar burn in his guts once again when he sees the wallpaper being her pretty face. “Feel free to message me whenever you want. I’ll make time for you.”

She looks at her phone and smiles before starting to walk away from him, waving a hand goodbye, but it doesn’t feel like a goodbye. John knows it isn’t. She’s already his the moment she started talking to him again.

“Of course! Get home safe, John! I’ll see you soon!”

“You too.”

She doesn’t know John won’t be heading home any time soon until he knows she’s safe and sound in her apartment.

Jay Lopez.

The name burns on his tongue. Bitter and resentful. He stares at the photos his precious dog sent to him and he has to stop the impulse to burn every single one of them.

Jay Lopez is the guy that’s been leeching on his girl since the dawn of time, and thankfully John is here to put an end to it.

He’s hideous. It’s interesting how John stooped this low that he’d be willing to kill a college student for being too near his little bambi, but alas, he’s never the one to care for such things. Morals and righteousness have never been in his book, not now, nor ever.

It’s only a matter of time until he gets rid of this pest. He’s fucking creepy, follows around not only Y/N but a bunch of other women.

John doesn’t want his death to be quick and simple. He wants to do it in an ugly way, make sure his body will never be found, make sure he’ll never get to lay his hands and eyes on what’s his. The way Jay stares at her in these pictures ignites something evil within John’s veins. It’s been awhile since he felt something like this.

“Alex.” he looks at his pet standing by the door, waiting for the next command. “Bring him to me alive.”

“Can I at least rough him up a bit?”

John doesn’t answer at first, looks back at the photos on his table. “Do what you want, just make sure he’s still breathing when you bring him here.”

“On it, boss.”

Truth be told, John doesn’t need a pet to order around for this job. He has himself – a labeled attack dog of the Tarasovs for years, their hellhound, chained and muzzled unless they need him to kill. He’s a one man army as some would say, he doesn’t need Alex running around doing tasks for him, but it sure does make the job a lot faster.

It’s not a way to downgrade his reputation nor skills to hunt, he really just needs this Jay guy gone as fast as possible.

On the same day, Alex manages to haul a very brutally violated Jay to the floor of his basement. He stinks, pants wet from piss and a face John is having a hard time recognizing.

“You said rough him up a bit, not make him look unrecognizable.”

“Same thing.”

Jay is sobbing his eyes out, his cries of pleas falls to deaf ears and John just wants to fucking bash his skull with his own foot. “W-who are you guys?! What the f-fuck did I do?! Get me out of here or I’ll tell the fucking police–”

John kicks him on the chin hard to stop the goon from rambling. “You’re not telling anybody any shit, tough guy.”

“So, what are you planning to do to him? Can I watch?”

“Can you handle it?”

Alex shrugs. He’s in the presence of the most dangerous assassin in the underworld, wouldn’t hurt to learn anything from his skills and techniques, doesn’t matter how fucked up it is.

John nods towards the chainsaw sitting at the corner of the room, and Alex turns to face him with wide eyes. “Jesus Christ, man. You serious? Last time I heard you’re a hitman, not a serial killer.”

“Same qualifications. Same thing.” John grabs the man by the arm then drags him to a chair. He takes a rope from the table and swiftly ties him up securely. “We start with the head, then arms and legs. It would be hard to put his entire body in a drum full of acid, so we need to cut him off one by one.”

Alex looks like he’s about to run off somewhere safe from what he’s witnessing. “You’re talking like you’ve done this before, holy fuck.”

John gives him a look, and Alex immediately shuts his mouth. Right. He’d done this before. This is completely normal.

“I’ve been following you for a while, Jay. You’re a creep who befriends pretty girls, then you’ll drug them and make them have sex with you,” John taunts, the sound of his heels hitting the concrete floor is enough to send shivers down his spine. “Is that what you’re also planning to do with Y/N? Be her friend and fuck her once she’s drugged up and vulnerable?”

It’s a bold statement coming from John himself since he’s no better man than Jay, but at least his intentions come from a different place.

“You-you’re fucking sick!” Jay spits.

“I’m sick? I’m not the one going around making girls uncomfortable now, am I?” he picks up the chainsaw, then watches in enjoyment as Jay widens his eyes in fear. “We’re going to have a lot of fun, Jay. You won’t be able to use your pathetic little dick of yours to any woman ever again, and most importantly –”

John fires up the chainsaw, adrenaline coursing through his veins when he sees the horrified look in the man’s face as he tries to get up and scream for help.

“I can finally sleep well at night knowing you’re not in Y/N’s life anymore.”

As John steps into the light, a roaring chainsaw in his hands, Alex could only watch in horror as the basement gets painted with blood in mere seconds.

There’s a vacant apartment just across her room, giving John the perfect view of what she’s doing while she’s alone.

Most of the time, John will pull up a seat beside the window and take pictures. The other half of the time is just him staring, observing. It seems that she’s too comfortable knowing there’s no one across the building so she doesn’t close the curtains, leaving John no choice but to keep his eyes on her.

He found this place just three days after following her. He couldn’t help it. Following her to school and work suddenly wasn’t enough for John that he had to find a way to somehow watch her even in her sleep.

He should be ashamed of himself. He should feel guilty for what he’s doing – he should stop, but he just can’t. John’s already done too much. This is like being pulled back into the underworld all over again but this time, there’s something good that’s waiting for him on the other side.

Maybe it’s the delusion that comes with it that’s not stopping John from whatever he’s doing. Lately, he’s been thinking about how life would turn out to be if his plan goes out smoothly. They’d live happily ever after, she would end up loving him just the way he planned it out to be, and John will make sure no one will ever dare to take those peace away from him again.

He’d make sure no one will ever come close to her again once she’s his. She’d be isolated but protected. Just how John likes it.

It’s been two days since John gave his number, but he knows she’s just giddy and nervous to text him. He’d seen her staring at her phone, biting her bottom lip anxiously, thinking if it would be a good idea or not. He knows she’ll give in one way or another because he sees it in her face. She’s too easy, too gullible, too naive.

She’s lonely, just like him.

John could tell she’s waiting for someone – she’s desperate, no wonder she asked for his number the second time they met. She wants someone to take care of her, to hold her, tell her that she deserves the world. That someone is John whether she likes it or not.

This isn’t just any unhealthy obsession. John finds himself too deep to get out. He knows her little mannerisms, studied her every action, has a red room full of her pictures and no one can’t say he’s not ready to give up anything for her. John has already given up his sanity ever since he mutilated a man for being too close to her.

She’s his life now, his everything.

John watches intensely as she shreds her clothes in her room, baring him the full view of herself naked, and John grips the side of his chair too hard his knuckles turn white. This is the first time he’d seen her naked, it’s so sudden and so… perfect.

His cock fattens in his pants as he observes every curve of her body. Her waist is fucking perfect and her body is thick yet delicate. John thinks about bruising her sensitive skin, leaving a mark that will show everyone that she’s owned. He would love to see her in a collar, hear it jingle when she crawls.

She’s completely fucking naked that John wonder just how naive she is to think there would be no one seeing her like this. What if John isn’t the only one watching her? What if somebody else sees her like this? His fingers itch, jaw clenching.

He’d kill them. He’d kill them in front of her, and the thought somehow made his cock hard even more. He grimaces, disturbed at the reaction of his body.

John doesn’t really understand the sexual aspects of killing, but now he’s thinking about how she would react if she sees him working. He’d kill someone in front of her and he’d see the look of disgust and betrayal in her face. He can already imagine how her eyes would well up with tears and fuck, his dick shouldn’t be this hard.

She’d fear him, and John would be turned on. How fucked up would that be? Just how fucked up can his mind get?

He resists the urge to wrap his hand around his cock because fuck no. He would not stoop this low, he is not a teenage boy. No matter how strong the thoughts get, the thoughts of wrapping his own hand around her neck, squeezing it hard and cutting off her airflow as John forces his cock in her cunt, hearing her mewl and scream and beg to just –

John sucks in air, eyes back on her in her room, wrapping a robe around herself and heading to the bathroom. This is fucked up. His cock is incredibly hard and leaking, and his mind won’t stop thinking about how good her pussy would feel around him.

He’d talk her through it. Whisper sweet nothings in her ear as she releases around her cock, praising her for being such a good girl. Then he’d fuck her again, in a different position, debauching her in different ways not even the devil himself could think of.

John would ruin her, and she will have no choice but to accept it.

He brings his hand to his face as he sighs deeply. He wonders what Helen would feel of what he’s doing. Disgusted, no doubt. This is not the same man she fell in love with years ago. He would never do something like this, but fate has its plans, and John believes everything happens for a reason.

She was brought into his life for a reason and it’s up to him whether he takes.

John doesn’t realize that he’s been staring at nothing for too long until she comes back in his view once again. Her hair is still wet, still wrapped up in a fluffy pink robe, and John’s fingers itch to grab, squeeze, possess.

He sees her picking up her phone, staring for a moment before her fingers start typing. John has been anticipating this moment for so long, the time has finally come.

In his chest pocket, his phone buzz silently, the vibration sending excitement in his whole body.

There it is.

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : hello! this is Y/N from the club the other night

13.06.15 11:46 PM UNKNOWN NUMBER : also that Y/N who returned your super expensive looking coin hehe ;) i hope you didn’t forget about me!

There it fucking is.

John’s lips curl into a small smile. His efforts are finally paying off.

All he needs to do is to get what’s his.

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