jojikawa

[jojikawa]

I did not expect this to get any attention, ima be real. I guess I’ll work on a nice story line.

The Elven Heart Remembers.

【 Prologue: The Shattered Princess 】

Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End | Frieren x Fem! Elven Reader x Himmel

Summary: An ancient elven princess, freed from the Demon King’s dungeon after centuries of torment, becomes the unexpected spark between Frieren, the immortal mage, and Himmel, the heroic leader. But as her shattered soul begins to heal, her presence stirs emotions that could change their lives forever.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of trauma recovery, PTSD, anxiety, dissociation, and references to past emotional abuse and captivity. Specific scenes may include panic attacks, nightmares, and themes of survivor’s guilt. Reader discretion is advised.

👑 The chains weren’t the only thing that'd been broken. It was her mind too.

Himmel and his party didn’t expect to find the beautiful lost elven princess locked away in the depths of Demon King’s dungeons. Once lustrous hair that had been brushed every day now cascaded in tangles down your skeletal frame. Dulled with dirt, matted with your bangs sticking to your skin like old cobwebs. Your skin paled, dry and thin like parchment over your delicate bones. Even your veins were visible. None of them recognized you, imprisoned so long that human recordings erased you. But, Frieren remembered you. Thousands of years ago, the Demon King promised to go spare humanity in his tirade if the elven princess agreed to marry him. You refused and so he readied his troops. Your castle was toppled over by demons and after thirteen long days of non-stop fighting, you were captured.

Upon seeing your fragile state, her eyes widened. It wasn’t often she’d seen an elf, especially one with such a suffocating aura of mana that it had smothered her own, making the air thick. Your eyes were rimmed with a faint gold hue that only elves with divine blood have. You had picked yourself up with your staff when you heard them coming. Fingers once deft at casting spells now trembled ceaselessly from casting the same spells for centuries.

“Eisen! Help me free her!”

Himmel is the first to act. He’s always better at that sort of thing. The two brutes break the enchanted bars with ease now that the demons who casted spells on them have been vanquished. The chamber is reeked with decay and dark magic. Frieren entered with caution although not showing it in her outward expression. She held her hand out to you, which you took, and she helped you walk. Throughout the duration of your rescue, you didn’t speak. There was nothing to say. All Frieren could do was stare at your ancient beauty, broken but still elegant like the faintest echo of a sweet melody.

It wasn’t until on the way home that you began to open up.Frieren asked “Excuse me, but I can’t help but wonder…are you the lost Princess (y/n)?” Her luminous blue eyes met your dim, unseeing ones. “Princess?” Heiter repeats.

The lot of you are sitting in a warm inn meant for travelers. It’s a time to be filled with joy and happiness. You had been saved. The enchanted firelight danced from the fireplace, its glow pooling onto the faces of tired humans and wooden tables. The warmth left gentle kisses on whatever part of you faced it. The smell of roasted meat boiled in expensive herbs invaded your senses. The taste of fresh baked bread would sensations through your mouth, to your cheeks and almost making you smile. Almost. It was hard to hear your voice over the sound of clinking tankards and the pretty female bard that sang hushed lullaby.

“I am. I am the elven princess, (y/n).”

The handsome Himmel that sat next to you shot you a gentle smile. “Wow, so you’re a princess? I’m really glad that we came across you when we did. I’m so happy that you’re alive.”

“Hold on, wait a minute!” The nearly drunken priest slurred in your direction. “I’ve never heard of an elven princess.  At least, not one that looks like her!” Frieren placed her mug on the table, swallowing slowly before promptly explaining. “Long ago, before the Demon King, lived a family of royal elves. They were rumored to have divine powers that rivaled that of gods…” she turns her head towards you, expression empty and unreadable. “...is this true?”

You nod, sinking into the layered cloak that Himmel had gifted to you since the thin gown was too tattered to last on the road back. “Judging by your speech, I can only imagine it’s been such a long time. Your human priest companion never even learned about me.” A dry laugh escaped your mouth. “Heh, so much for a legacy…” You muttered but Frieren caught it.

“The only way you could’ve killed the Demon King through my protection spell is if I have gotten considerably weaker…” You clenched the piece of bread lightly before taking another bite. Finally, some nourishment.

The dwarf warrior, Eisen, nodded in your direction. “Well, you are indeed very strong for holding on for this long. Scriptures I read of you presumed you to be dead.”

Scriptures? Has it really been that long? You wanted to ask what year it was but it was better that you didn’t. You can already understand how long it’s been from the architecture.

“If it means saving you, I’d kill the wretched demon all over again!” Himmel cheers. “You’re just saying that because you want the favor of a princess.” Frieren kicks him under the table, earning a yelp from the blue-haired human. You smiled at their antics and it left Frieren’s mouth agape. Your first smile. It happened so naturally that you couldn’t suppress it. It happens quietly, as some miracles do. Frieren notices from the corner of her eye. She doesn’t forget this day. Like every spell from a new grimoire, she remembers and Himmel takes your smile to his grave. Before the death of Himmel and Heiter, there were a lot of moments that you spent together with this group. One of your favorites being the nights where when you’d have nightmares, Himmel or Frieren would sleep with you. Either in the same bedsack or sharing the same bed.

Frieren let you be the little spoon, the two of you curled up in a thick wool-woven blanket. Warm bodies next to the fire’s glow, her chest pressed up against your with the rhythm of her breathing and heartbeat giving you reassurance. Her arms are draped around your waist, occasionally squeezing you as if she’s hugging you in your dreams. Your legs are intertwined, every movement reminding you of how close you are to her.

Himmel is different but not in a bad way. When you’re having nightmares and he’s close to you, he whispers ever so quietly, perhaps, it's his human attempt to influence your thoughts. “(y/n),” he mumbles, thumb brushing tears that stream down your cheeks.. “You’re safe.” He pulls you into his arms, strength unmatched. Tired eyes examine your face as he cradles you before shifting to put you on his strong chest. He embraces you with a final “I’ve got you.” Before he doses off again, leaving you to wake up, confused about how you got there.

Upon reaching the land of a new, human king, the party would disband. They all agreed to finally settle down after their ten year journey leaving you unable to grapple with the new changes. Frieren wanted to continue traveling, she invited you to come with her while Himmel chose to stay, inviting you to live with him. Why couldn’t they be with you together? Ultimately, you chose Frieren. You couldn’t bear to look at how humanity had forgotten you and your legacy. It gave you new emotions that you couldn’t deal with. You felt it better to travel but you promised to visit Himmel, Heiter and Eisen on your breaks. 

It was time to learn something new.

[jojikawa]

Going to college for writing has only shown me that I can’t fucking write like wtf this shit is hard

[jojikawa]

I really like that indie game called The Midnight Shift. It’s clearly takes inspiration from Night of the Consumers and That’s Not My Neighbor. It kinda gives a glimpse at how ppl in other forms of work may deal with doppelgängers! :o

[jojikawa]

Alright, now it’s til to revisit Killing Stalking. I’m going to write what I’ve written so far bc I feel like the narrative is pretty weak.

Or maybe it’s not the narrative that’s the problem, but I find it hard to work bc I have no idea where I want the story to go. But I *do* know that I want the story to somewhat follow canon Killing Stalking narrative with some elements changed bc of the MCs presence. I also had the fic advertised as a “killer!” reader but I’ve yet to make her kill anyone apart from her attempting to kill Oh Sangwoo. I’d like her to be more violent and better embody feminine rage or something idk.

[jojikawa]

I feel like making a HSR fanfic of Mr Reca and his muse and it’s like the most toxic shit you’ve ever seen. Idk I’m horny ignore me.

[jojikawa]

Beauty and the Beast

Mark of the Beast

Dividers by @uzmacchiato | Post

Song theme: Zettai Zetsumei • Co shu Nie

⚠️: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT ♥ This chapter contains graphic sexual content, dubious consent, violence, blood, body horror, possessive/obsessive behavior, Omegaverse dynamics, threats, manipulation, and psychological distress. Reader discretion is strongly advised. I write for free, but if you wanna further support me > Ko-Fi 🎀

Is this what it was like…to be married?

The question pops into your mind as you stand in the raw meat section of your local grocery store. You do your best to try to differentiate what’s good or not by how you’ve seen your family shop in the past.. To be honest, they all looked the same. Perhaps, you should ask an expert. A lady like you shouldn’t have to dirty her hands by picking out cold, gross meat so that your monstrous lover could eat something without killing the innocents around you. Well, almost innocent. The situation from before was still lingering in your mind..

Franz claimed that there was already a man hiding in your apartment when he got there, and so he killed him. You couldn’t recognize his remains to be anyone you know or even saw in your day-to-day life, nor did they live in the apartment complex. Was Franz lying just to make you fearful so that you could need him? You shake your head at the thought as you attempt to forget about it.

You didn’t think the type of meat really matters, so you eyeball it before placing it into your cart and moving on. The idea made you frown, just a little. Your chest hollows as you realize what exactly you’re doing. You can be killed for this. 

Protecting a doppelgänger.

You stop in a few more isles to get a few essentials such as things you enjoy to cook and eat before finishing your grocery run by going into the cleaning supplies aisle. You put every cleanser solution in your cart, not really understanding what would work. Ignoring the stares and whispers of shoppers who recognize you are the woman who was assaulted by a doppelgänger, you’re check out and you walk home.

The walk back is mostly silent, save for the passing cars and distant police sirens. But, you can’t shake the feeling of being watched. You check over your shoulder often. No hazmat suits. No pale yellow vans. Just you. Maybe a passing mail carrier. Or someone else deciding to have a walk.

When you arrive home, your house is dark. You distinctly remember opening the curtains to let the light in, but now they’re closed. 

“Franz?” You call out.

Nothing.

Perhaps he's still sleeping? But, that doesn’t explain why he’d get up to close the curtains of rooms he won’t be in. The metallic smell of blood is still strong in the air. So, you make your way to the kitchen where… it… was. Your kitchen went from a place of comfort, to a place where you were afraid to set foot. Your refrigerator is still stained with crimson, but you pay it no mind as you set your groceries on the kitchen counter.

You can’t ignore it forever. 

You sigh, grabbing the various cleaning solutions and setting them out before you. You have no idea how to clean blood. Asking around would only make you look like a psycho. But, you begin by grabbing the rag from under your sink and some dish soap. You sheepish make your way to the target, your heels clicking against the tile floors, echoing in the silence. You try to cope. You tell yourself that you’re just a woman, cleaning her kitchen after her husband made a mess. Not someone who just saw a body, ravaged beyond recognition, in a place where her milk once lived. One swipe through the congealed blood on the floor and it smears to a sickly pink. Your stomach churns, but you power through and are able to get most of it up. Your gaze shifts to the fridge. Upon taking a deep breath, you open it.

You expect to see the body.

But you see nothing.

Well, not nothing, nothing, but the body is gone. 

“Where’ve you been?”

A deep, warm voice soaked in something rotten purred in your ear. His tone is perfect, too perfect. Like it was manufactured. His breath hits your ear with warmth that kisses the skin. It’s Franz. Dressed in his fake milkman uniform that you can’t tell if he stole or it a part of his shapeshifting power. His eyes are dark, shaded by the low light that fills your apartment. Their coldness makes you shudder.

“The… grocery store.” You whisper. “I can’t risk you going out and killing someone. So, I went to get you some raw meat.”

He leans away and your personal space is yours once more.

“Cute.” He says.

You glance at him, and then the fridge. “What did you do with… the body…?”

“I got rid of it.” His tone makes it seem like it’s nothing.

“O-Okay, but… where? And who was that?”

His eyes narrow. “It’s just some sack of meat,” his eyes search your face for… something. “Does it matter who it was? I protected you.”

His expression is unreadable and so is yours. 

 But, there’s a feeling you get that you can see, behind his eyes. It’s terrifying.

“Are you sure?”

“You think I’d lie to you?” His voice is quiet. Flat.

No? Maybe?

“I-I don’t know what you’d do,” You begin. “You lied when we first met… or whenever we met. You pretended to be Francis. I don’t know who or what you are.”

His silhouette is massive and dwarves you.

“I became him because I’d see how you’d look at him,” His eyes meet yours, a wolfish grin showing off his canines. “And it worked."

“You forced your way in. You looked off from the beginning.” You stand against him, completely forgetting your current task.

“I couldn’t resist. Not anymore. The way you looked at me when you thought I was him… it was everything.”

You blink. That reminds you of something else you meant to ask about.

“Franz, you said that we interacted before? Who were you?”

“You wouldn’t remember.”

You place the bloodstained soap rag on your counter. “And before that?”

His expression drops. “Don’t ask me that.”

“Why? I want to know,” you say softly. “Like, what you are. Not what you look like.”

“I’m yours.”

“Franz…”

Before you can continue, he moves. Quick, inhuman, and you barely blink before you feel his large arms around your waist. Part of you wants to be afraid, but you can’t.

But that doesn’t matter. Now, you have confirmation that the real Francis is into you. If this is going to work, you can’t be with Franz. Memories of Franz’s violence come to mind. What were you doing? This thing can kill you at any moment.

“Franz! St-Stop!” You cry.

You try to wiggle free, but muscles are like steel around your waist, nor did he seem deterred by your flailing. “I said stop!”

Your hand comes down like a whip. Fast, sharp, and most definitely earned. His cheek caught the full fury of your helpless frustration, fear, and days of being treated like a walking biohazard. Smack! 

The sound is awful. Such a quick action causes everything to slow down. Silence fills the air and you slowly feel your feet touch the ground. Franz didn’t react. He didn’t flinch. Your eyes meet and he’s just standing there—watching you. He never staggered, only straightened. He doesn’t look angry, but his eyes flicker with something unfamiliar to you. Your pulse hammers in your ears, behind your ribs, between your legs. Your hands tremble at your sides. Suddenly, you regret what you just did. 

This isn’t a man. This is a creature.

A creature that wears the skin of humans to get into safe spaces. A creature that eats the flesh of others to survive.

“That’s… not nice.”

You remain silent, more focused on his reddening skin and lack of reaction to you hitting him despite putting all of your might into it. His eyes scan your face as his arms loosen from around you.

“You know,” he begins, arm raising, “this could be a lot easier if you’d let me break you… just a little. Like most women do.”

His palm rests at the base of your neck, fingertips pressing into your throat. Not hard. Just there. Threatening you. 

“You’re not strong,” he says, not like an insult, but like he’s trying to convince himself. “I know you’re just scared.”

His grip tightens. “But you keep testing me. Like you want to see what I’ll do.” His head tilts in a way that isn’t out of curiosity. It’s just another reminder that it is just wearing a mask to appease you. You’re already clawing at his wrist when he decides what to do with you.

“You think I’m angry because you hit me? No.” His voice drops. “I’ve eaten far worse. I’m angry because you just can’t accept that you’re mine.”

He brings you closer to him and he leans down so that your faces are centimeters apart. “You think that I don’t know what you do when you leave here? I bet you think I just sit here and wait for you to get back.”

He carries you until your back hits the wall.

His free hand hovers over your breast. You keep your mouth shut and your eyes too. Your top is torn, but only enough so that your collarbone is exposed. His breath hits the crook of your neck and you cringe at the warm, wet muscle of his serpent-like tongue brush over your skin. The trail of saliva chills your skin and goosebumps rise. You feel his breath on your skin and the sharp bones of his teeth tickle. You don’t need to see them to know they aren’t a human’s teeth.

“Wait,” you choke out, “...d-don’t kill me.” 

“Kill you?” He chuckled darkly, “I’d never.”

Your eyes shoot open as an unfamiliar white hot pain seers through the soft flesh of your neck and it sends you into a panic. Like an animal, he breathes hard as your sweet blood hits his tongue. His hand finds the curve of your hip and now you are completely trapped, whether you like it or not. The pain is great and you fight him, clawing at his wrist, at his back, tearing open his shirt.

But it’s no good. He doesn’t care. If anything, he likes it. You stifle screams while he exudes closed mouth moans until he feels like he’s done. It feels like he’s sucking the life out of you. The strength to fight disappears and you resort to simply bracing for the pain. Then, it begins to ease… just a little. He removes his mouth, licking and kissing the wound before letting you go.

Tears spill from your eyes. The bite stings and hurts more than anything you’ve ever felt before. You raise your hand to your shoulder, debating if you should touch it or not. You want to, but it’s clearly a bad idea. 

“Why are you crying? Does it hurt that bad?” 

You don’t answer. You can’t form words anyway. Slowly, you slump down to the floor. You feel dizzy. Even with his “aftercare”, blood still leaks from your wound, staining what’s left of your shirt and it runs down your arm until it reaches the floor. 

Your vision is blurry, maybe from tires of exhaustion, but you see the blood on his lips, dripping down his chin like pomegranate juice. 

Knock, knock, knock.

Franz perks up and in a second, he’s a perfect version of you. Cute, small, and it’s as if nothing happened. 

“Shit,” he says in a voice mimicking your own, “You’re very popular, it seems.”

From where you are, you can’t see who it is at the door, but you can hear them. The familiar muffled voice that you’ve heard countless times already. It’s the D.D.D. 

“Oh, hello. What brings you here?”

Franz nails your voice perfectly.

“We would’ve called you, Ms. (y/n), but I think you’d want to receive this news in person.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ll be looking this over right away.”

News? You climb to your feet, anxiety waging war inside of you. You thought your encounters with them were over. Or at least, you didn’t think you would see them again so soon.

“Give us a call afterwards.”

“I will. Have a great day.”

The door closes. Franz enters, this time as himself.

“For you.” Is all he says, setting a folder onto the kitchen counter, next to the bloody rag from before.

“Why did you do that?” You ask, “Why’d you bite me?”

“So that other guy you fucked can see it before I kill him,” he says, “It’ll stop hurting soon. Stop crying.”

“You’re not k-killing Francis!”

Franz rolls his eyes, annoyance washing over his handsome features… then it’s replaced by amusement. His eyes flicker between your expression and your bloody wound, the substance still sweet on his tongue. Now, he’s claimed you in more ways than one and the effect will snowball until he’s consumed every part of your being.

And for what? Well, of course, you had no clue. To you, he’s just some monster pretending to be a large, pretty man, but to him, you were—are everything. 

You stumble over to the countertop where the folder lies. The words “D.D.D.: CONFIDENTIAL” is written on it, very clear and legible.

The papers inside had a lot of legal jargon that you can’t understand. You’d have to ask someone to look it over. But there is a part you do understand. Probably written this way on purpose as your eyes are drawn to it. 

“CONGRATULATIONS! YOU HAVE BEEN HIRED BY THE DEPARTMENT OF DOPPELGÄNGER DETECTION…”

Your eyebrows furrow. This is new? But you quit…

“Following internal review, your credentials have been re-evaluated for immediate reinstatement into provisional service under the Department of Doppelgänger Detection. Based on your prior exposure and response profile, you have been designated physiologically and psychologically compatible with specialized containment-adjacent work.

Please note:

Your familiarity with Class-B Entities has been recorded as a key asset.

An orientation packet and updated field manual will be dispatched to your residence within 72 hours.

Non-compliance may result in administrative escalation under Protocol V-9.

We appreciate your continued contribution to national stability.

Warm regards,

R. Welles

Human Resources

D.D.D. - District 8 Division”

It takes a minute, but you get through the text.

“What does it say?’ Franz asks despite clearly seeing the paper in front of you.

“You… can’t read?” You question back, finally applying pressure to your wound with your hand. His eyebrows knit together softly, then he avoids your gaze.

“No.” He says.

“The D.D.D. gave me my job back. B-But, I never asked for it back. And Henry is still operating checks in the lobby. Did he get fired?” 

Franz smirks. “Probably. I’ve never seen someone fail at something so spectacularly. I barely even pass as you and he lets me in every time.”

Your eyebrows raise. “As… me?”

“It made for good practice–”

“Don’t do that! Stop turning into me and interacting with other people!”

That shuts him up, but a smug smirk remains on his face. This is becoming too much. The mess in the kitchen is abandoned while you perform first aid on yourself in the bathroom. The bite… it looks so… alien. The skin around it has blackened, not with bruising. It’s almost vein-like, faint tendrils spreading everywhere like in water. The teeth marks look precist. Not jagged like an animal’s, but not like a human’s either.

“It’s a promise.” he says behind you. You see his reflection in the mirror. He’s taller than any door frame, sending an eerie chill down your spine. 

“A promise? For what?”

“A promise that I’ll have you.”

You turn to him. “But why…? How does a monster become… this?” You gesture towards him.

“One day, you will understand.” 

“Why don’t you just tell me?!” You snap, the wound aching makes you irritable, “Why did you do this to me?!” All of a sudden, your fear of him dissolves. “...I should… call the D.D.D.”

“Why?” he asks, voice even and deceptively calm. It makes you flinch. 

“You bit me,” You say, raising your voice. “You attacked me… you killed the people who tried to save me. You won’t leave–”

“I marked you,” he corrects. “You fed me. You cried, but you didn’t scream. You fought me, but you didn’t run. Why didn’t you?”

“B-Because I was scared, Franz! I’m scared of you!”

His head tilts once again. Slowly. Unnatural.

“You think fear makes you innocent?” he murmurs. “You think they’ll care?”

You falter. Anger dissipating… anxiety taking its place.

“They’ll see what I see. That you kept me. That you let me touch you. That you let me put my scent on you.”

You shake your head. “I didn’t ask for this. I just wanted a good husband…”

“No, you didn’t,” he sighs. “You just didn’t stop it.”

He ducks to enter the bathroom and you’re suddenly reminded just how small everything is compared to him. Including yourself.

“Call them, then. Tell them you got scared. Tell them that I bit you. See how fast they come.”

He holds his hand out to you. “And I’ll pretend to be heartbroken when they take you away, just to cut you into pieces and put your parts in glass jars.”

You… don’t call the D.D.D.

Not yet. Not until you understand this. Understand Franz.

You don’t forgive him, nor does he make you feel safe. It’s for Francis too. You don’t know what Franz will do to him if you reject him this way. Can you even protect him like this?

You wrap your arms around yours, pressing the gauze to your neck. The pain remains, now dulled. Throbbing. Radiating heat. 

“I hate you.”

Your words don’t make him flinch. He just kneels at your feet, like a dog begging for its owner's attention.

“I know,” he mutters. “But you smell so much like me.”

He takes your hand and places it on his chest. “You’re stressed. Let me help you relax.”

The air between the two of you hums with something rotten and raw, like the ozone before a storm. His eyes fixate on the curve of your throat as he runs your hand down his chest, down to his trousers where you feel him. He’s rock solid. 

You pull your hand away, but he catches it. You expect him to taunt you. To smirk. To say something that makes you want to punch him in the face.

But he doesn’t. 

He just looks at you like he’s waiting.

Waiting to be punished.

Yearning for your touch.

Waiting for something you don’t want to say.

“Franz, don’t,” You whisper.

His eyes meet yours. There’s no sign of mischief in them. No mockery. Just a strange, unnatural hunger that makes you feel like a rabbit in the eyes of a wolf.

“Then make me stop,” he says.

And…

You don’t.

You don’t actually know what you want right now.

Franz. Francis.

His hand finds your ankle, gentle and warm, trailing upward in a delicate fashion. He doesn’t rush. Not this time. And that’s what makes it terrifying. He knows you’ll break. He knows you’re already his, marked or not.

His palm finds the curve of your upper thigh. The breath catches in your lungs.

“I’ve studied you for so long. You think I can’t tell what you’re feeling by now? I know you better than you know yourself.”

You swallow hard. Your body betrays you. Heat blooms beneath the parts of your skin that he touches. Shame, fear, lust, and something darker wrap together like thorny vines around your heart.

“It doesn’t have to be… love.” His lips ghost your jaw, opposite side of your wound. “It just has to be need.”

You feel his lips brush the skin of your jawline, then the shell of your ear, the side of your neck, and your lips. Hands greedy, but precise. You shudder when stands to press your body against his, your hand and the gauze falling as you hold onto him for support. You’re trapped. Again.

He doesn’t ask for permission.

He never does.

He just looms over you, drinking you in with every kiss he steals. You can move. Not because he’s holding you, but because you wouldn’t know where to run when he’d come after you.

He pulls away. “Do you know what this mark means? It means that you’re mine.”

His thumb ghosts over the mark. “I can’t let you carry the scent of another. I must fill you until every fiber of your being reeks of me. Only me.” His hand slides beneath your ruined top, large hands cupping your breast, kneading it until your nipples harden. You hate how your body reacts, how easily it melts at his touch.

“Good girl,” he grins, “You don’t have to say it. I’ll make your body speak for you.” 

Franz removes you from the bathroom, taking you to a much better place. Your bed.

An odd feel arises inside of your body. Your skin grows hot and it becomes unbearable. It sprouted from your wound and now it’s all over. Only his hands tooth the fiery feeling.

The kissing resumes. He sticks his slithery tongue in your mouth as he rips apart what’s left of your shirt, exposing your breasts completely.

“I don’t care if you hate me,” he mumbles in between breaths, “As long as you remember who you belong to.”

Your legs bracket his and you can feel his dick brushing up against your inner thigh. The heat between your legs grows and you can’t remember why you were upset at him.

You hate how natural this feels. How your body stops resisting before your mind does. 

“You’re not him. You aren’t supposed to touch me like this.” But each time, you kiss him back. You lean back onto the bed when he presses his body into yours. You make room for him as he inhales your scent like a drug he can’t live without, dragging his nose along your skin, and me mortising every chemical shift in your body.

He spreads you open with reverence, barely using his strength to force your legs open. One hand on your thigh while the other rubs generously between your folds, testing your slickness with feather-like touches.

“I’ve barely touched you and you’re already such a messy.” He laughs to himself. “You might try to resist after being with that scum, but you came back to me, after all.”

You turn your face away, completely humiliated… but he won’t have that. He throws your leg over his shoulder and grabs the size of your face with one hand. He makes you look at him, squeezing your cheeks with his fingers so that your lips pucker. Then he kisses you again, his tongue violating yours for a few moments before he pulls away, a string of saliva connecting your mouths.

“You’ll take me,” his voice is now raspy, “Even if it splits you in half. A thick finger sinks in. And then before you’re ready, another enters. And another. “Even if you scream. I was made for you. Made to fill you just like how you were made to be filled by me.” 

He watches you unravel, finger fucking you like his life depends on it. It probably does, but we won’t talk about that. Yet.

Your juices leak all over his hands and your bedding, they practically pour out of you, and he scrambles to lap it up, quickly getting on his knees to stick his alien tongue inside. The muscle explores every crevice of your walls like it has a mind of its own.

Your mind races.

‘God… why do I feel like this?’

‘This is wrong. This is so, so wrong!”

“After I’m done with you, I’ll get rid of that lesser copy and that moron at the desk… ogling at you like you don’t belong to me.” He breathes lowly, positioning himself to fit his impossible size in you.

“Franz, stop. You’re not going to do anything to Francis or Henry. I’m giving you what you want, isn’t that enough?” You squirm under him, but he keeps you in place with a hand around your throat.

“Enough is knowing no one else will have you. Go ahead. Call me Francis.” Little by little, his voice sounds more and more like Francis Mosses.

“You’re not him. You’re just a creature, Franz–Ah!” You stifle a yelp by biting your lip and squeezing your eyes shut to bear the pain of him pushing his cock into you, filling you beyond capacity and leaving a print visible on your belly. He grins so wide that it’s terrifying.

“You say that while wrapped around me like we belong together. I don’t even need to try and I just fit!” He slams into you with one large thrust that forces a moan out of you. “All it takes is for you to accept it”

You try to retaliate, but he continues to silence you with slow, hard, strokes that echo through the empty rooms. “I see how he looks at you. I study every miserable detail about him. Hate. Hate. Hate.”

“F-Franz…” You throw your head back. “Not… so… hard…”

“He doesn’t want you. Not like I do. I want you. All of you. The fighting! The fire! The fear!”

You brace against him, focusing on the pleasure rather than his taunting and sick ramblings. His tip feels like it’s bruising your gspot.

“Y-You’d like that… wouldn’t you? Being feared? Hated?” You reply.

“Anything if it’s from you.” He then kisses you. It's messy. Heated. Not for affection. It's to shut you up.

When he breaks away, you slap him, but still, it doesn’t do a thing. He catches your wrist. “Do it again.” he commands. “Keep fighting. Keep clawing and biting. It makes breaking you so much more satisfying!”

He picks up his pace, one hand still around your throat while the other returns to your hip, his thumb rubbing reassurance circles as he notices the tears of pleasure spilling from your eyes.

“I don’t care if you hate me when I make you mine. It will pass. I know it will.” His eyes follow the movements of your bouncing breasts. For once, he releases your neck and lowers himself to give your nipples generous amounts of pleasure, sucking on either one like he’s trying to taste milk. His hands wander, but his gaze never leaves yours. Watching. Drinking in your moans of pleasure like it’s holy.

And that’s it. Whatever it is that's holding you back. Whatever walls you had… they crack and shatter.

“I cant–It’s too much, Franz!”

His cock is sliding in and out with no resistance. Your body starts to tense up and you feel the heat over your body peak. You release and your core tightens to the max. Unable to hold back, you scream and hold onto Franz who holds you back. Your legs wrap around his waist, bringing him closer. His head moves to the crook of your neck where it stays. His already torn shirt was now in half as you clawed at his back, drawing blood that he doesn't seem to care about. He kisses your jaw, the flesh of your neck and the corner of the wound, careful not to irritate it.

His pace remains consistent for a few moments, then he thrusts inward and stays there. He groans, pressing you into his body. A warm, familiar liquid fills you. It overflows your womb, getting all over your lips and dripping onto your sheets.

The apartment is silent.

No screaming, moaning, or fighting. Just the quiet huffing that leaves your mouth as Franz pulls out. Your hole feels oddly lonely when he does that. You sit up, immediately feeling a soreness in your abdomen. No matter how much Franz tries to convince you that you two are made for each other, the pain says otherwise.

You stand, but as soon as you do, a tingling sensation takes over your legs and you fall to the ground, earning a chuckle from Franz.

“Stop running away.” He remarks, ridding himself of his shirt that you destroyed.

“I’m not running. I need to wash myself.”

The tingling sensation doesn’t subside, rendering your legs useless for the time being. Franz catches on, making himself useful by lifting you from the ground. He always holds you as if it’s nothing. Maybe because you are. He is some… creature, after all.

“You don’t have to wash me off so soon. You smell so much like me.” He’s docile and more than usual. His touches are gentle and he even nuzzles into you, smelling the exposed parts of your skin with an earnest smile. The scent of him clings to your skin like an alcoholic  perfume. Sharp. Sweet. Strong.

And instead of taking you to the bathroom, he takes you to a nearby arm chair that you’d only really sit in to read your romance novels. He places you in his lap and holds your naked body against his bare chest. You try not to focus on the pain, you steady your breathing, hardly aware of the fact that he’s rocking you back and forth… like you’re something fragile he didn’t mean to break. But he meant every moment of it and wouldn’t take it back.

His lips brush your temple. “They’ll know not to touch you.”

Your stomach tightens at the implications. Who? Francis? The D.D.D.?

For a moment, you feel as though you are the rabbit that is finally caught by the wolf.

It doesn’t matter that you’re still naked or full of his seed. Modesty doesn’t suit you anyway. Not after what’s been going on between you two. Not when you’re his.

And like that, you remain in his arms that are coiled around you like a dragon atop stolen treasure.

“Sleep,” he says. “You’ll be sore. You need rest.”

But, you don’t sleep.

Not for a while.

But you stay there. Your will to run isn’t there. Not now.

And you somehow feel safer in his arms than you would outside.

@crybabies-hearts @z3r0art @chilifrylizard2 @blooket-scares-me

[jojikawa]

The Elven Heart Remembers.

【 Prologue: The Shattered Princess 】

Frieren: Beyond Journey’s End | Frieren x Fem! Elven Reader x Himmel

Summary: An ancient elven princess, freed from the Demon King’s dungeon after centuries of torment, becomes the unexpected spark between Frieren, the immortal mage, and Himmel, the heroic leader. But as her shattered soul begins to heal, her presence stirs emotions that could change their lives forever.

Content Warning: This story contains depictions of trauma recovery, PTSD, anxiety, dissociation, and references to past emotional abuse and captivity. Specific scenes may include panic attacks, nightmares, and themes of survivor’s guilt. Reader discretion is advised.

👑 The chains weren’t the only thing that'd been broken. It was her mind too.

Himmel and his party didn’t expect to find the beautiful lost elven princess locked away in the depths of Demon King’s dungeons. Once lustrous hair that had been brushed every day now cascaded in tangles down your skeletal frame. Dulled with dirt, matted with your bangs sticking to your skin like old cobwebs. Your skin paled, dry and thin like parchment over your delicate bones. Even your veins were visible. None of them recognized you, imprisoned so long that human recordings erased you. But, Frieren remembered you. Thousands of years ago, the Demon King promised to go spare humanity in his tirade if the elven princess agreed to marry him. You refused and so he readied his troops. Your castle was toppled over by demons and after thirteen long days of non-stop fighting, you were captured.

Upon seeing your fragile state, her eyes widened. It wasn’t often she’d seen an elf, especially one with such a suffocating aura of mana that it had smothered her own, making the air thick. Your eyes were rimmed with a faint gold hue that only elves with divine blood have. You had picked yourself up with your staff when you heard them coming. Fingers once deft at casting spells now trembled ceaselessly from casting the same spells for centuries.

“Eisen! Help me free her!”

Himmel is the first to act. He’s always better at that sort of thing. The two brutes break the enchanted bars with ease now that the demons who casted spells on them have been vanquished. The chamber is reeked with decay and dark magic. Frieren entered with caution although not showing it in her outward expression. She held her hand out to you, which you took, and she helped you walk. Throughout the duration of your rescue, you didn’t speak. There was nothing to say. All Frieren could do was stare at your ancient beauty, broken but still elegant like the faintest echo of a sweet melody.

It wasn’t until on the way home that you began to open up.Frieren asked “Excuse me, but I can’t help but wonder…are you the lost Princess (y/n)?” Her luminous blue eyes met your dim, unseeing ones. “Princess?” Heiter repeats.

The lot of you are sitting in a warm inn meant for travelers. It’s a time to be filled with joy and happiness. You had been saved. The enchanted firelight danced from the fireplace, its glow pooling onto the faces of tired humans and wooden tables. The warmth left gentle kisses on whatever part of you faced it. The smell of roasted meat boiled in expensive herbs invaded your senses. The taste of fresh baked bread would sensations through your mouth, to your cheeks and almost making you smile. Almost. It was hard to hear your voice over the sound of clinking tankards and the pretty female bard that sang hushed lullaby.

“I am. I am the elven princess, (y/n).”

The handsome Himmel that sat next to you shot you a gentle smile. “Wow, so you’re a princess? I’m really glad that we came across you when we did. I’m so happy that you’re alive.”

“Hold on, wait a minute!” The nearly drunken priest slurred in your direction. “I’ve never heard of an elven princess.  At least, not one that looks like her!” Frieren placed her mug on the table, swallowing slowly before promptly explaining. “Long ago, before the Demon King, lived a family of royal elves. They were rumored to have divine powers that rivaled that of gods…” she turns her head towards you, expression empty and unreadable. “...is this true?”

You nod, sinking into the layered cloak that Himmel had gifted to you since the thin gown was too tattered to last on the road back. “Judging by your speech, I can only imagine it’s been such a long time. Your human priest companion never even learned about me.” A dry laugh escaped your mouth. “Heh, so much for a legacy…” You muttered but Frieren caught it.

“The only way you could’ve killed the Demon King through my protection spell is if I have gotten considerably weaker…” You clenched the piece of bread lightly before taking another bite. Finally, some nourishment.

The dwarf warrior, Eisen, nodded in your direction. “Well, you are indeed very strong for holding on for this long. Scriptures I read of you presumed you to be dead.”

Scriptures? Has it really been that long? You wanted to ask what year it was but it was better that you didn’t. You can already understand how long it’s been from the architecture.

“If it means saving you, I’d kill the wretched demon all over again!” Himmel cheers. “You’re just saying that because you want the favor of a princess.” Frieren kicks him under the table, earning a yelp from the blue-haired human. You smiled at their antics and it left Frieren’s mouth agape. Your first smile. It happened so naturally that you couldn’t suppress it. It happens quietly, as some miracles do. Frieren notices from the corner of her eye. She doesn’t forget this day. Like every spell from a new grimoire, she remembers and Himmel takes your smile to his grave. Before the death of Himmel and Heiter, there were a lot of moments that you spent together with this group. One of your favorites being the nights where when you’d have nightmares, Himmel or Frieren would sleep with you. Either in the same bedsack or sharing the same bed.

Frieren let you be the little spoon, the two of you curled up in a thick wool-woven blanket. Warm bodies next to the fire’s glow, her chest pressed up against your with the rhythm of her breathing and heartbeat giving you reassurance. Her arms are draped around your waist, occasionally squeezing you as if she’s hugging you in your dreams. Your legs are intertwined, every movement reminding you of how close you are to her.

Himmel is different but not in a bad way. When you’re having nightmares and he’s close to you, he whispers ever so quietly, perhaps, it's his human attempt to influence your thoughts. “(y/n),” he mumbles, thumb brushing tears that stream down your cheeks.. “You’re safe.” He pulls you into his arms, strength unmatched. Tired eyes examine your face as he cradles you before shifting to put you on his strong chest. He embraces you with a final “I’ve got you.” Before he doses off again, leaving you to wake up, confused about how you got there.

Upon reaching the land of a new, human king, the party would disband. They all agreed to finally settle down after their ten year journey leaving you unable to grapple with the new changes. Frieren wanted to continue traveling, she invited you to come with her while Himmel chose to stay, inviting you to live with him. Why couldn’t they be with you together? Ultimately, you chose Frieren. You couldn’t bear to look at how humanity had forgotten you and your legacy. It gave you new emotions that you couldn’t deal with. You felt it better to travel but you promised to visit Himmel, Heiter and Eisen on your breaks. 

It was time to learn something new.

[jojikawa]

Hey, I've read a lot of your stories and i really liked your writting style, and if you don't mind, may i request you for a series where Dio Brando (phantom blood) falls in love with Jonathan's Little sister (reader) when he first moves into the Joestar mansion. And reader is very oblivious and kind, innocent, etc. (there could be Stories from when they were young and adults).

I'd love to make a series like this! being jonathan's little sis was what my mc of the bride of dio was supposed to be before i decided she'd be a friend of erina. I also miss writing Jojo stuff :)

[jojikawa]

I wish I could turn Beauty and the Beast into a horror/romance visual novel. I’d would be such a fun project. I’ve thought of turning my stories into something playable before, but I feel strongly about it more than ever. I feel like I’d need permission from the That’s Not My Neighbor developer before I can commit to that. I’m sure they’ll say it’s fine, but it’s always better to ask.

Also, progress on the next chapter is being made. Here’s a preview:

Of course, this visual novel won’t be a super expensive thing where you guys gotta wait a long time. It’s just a thought at the moment since I’m currently in school of or creative writing and video game development! (Which is why I have been inactive 😭💔)

Anyways, whether I do it or not, thanks for the support and your patience.

[jojikawa]

Okay, I’ve actually begun writing again. Creative writing for my classes really drains me mentally, but I think I’ve found a decent workflow

I’m currently making the next parts of my Franz/Francis TNMN story and I’m doing a soft revamp of my Oh Sangwoo fanfiction. The reason why I want to remake it is bc I’ve improved so much from my classes and want to add more dark romance.

Also, it’s my birthday! I am 23!

[jojikawa]

heyy girlyy how ya been?? hope all has been well💕and sorry in advance i hope im not being annoying asking this rn but girllll what happenedd im still waiting on my sangwoo fic(s)😫😩😩. i hope its still on going🥲anyway love youu and hope you’re doing great🫶

Hello! I actually haven’t been working on them for a while (going college work and my debut novel) but I was actually about to revisit the series bc I still think about it. I wanna write as much as I can to improve my skills for my own sake and make quality fanfiction for anyone who cares to read it! I finished my work for the week so I can essentially begin working on this! ☺️

Warning, my writing has changed a bit. It’s better than it was before but still giving a heads up!

[jojikawa]

“_______ liked your post: Beauty and the Beast”

FREE ME FROM THIS CAGE !!!!

[jojikawa]

Do Not Disturb (Seriously)

Mista needs a hand late at night and tries to ask Abbacchio for help, only to realize that he’s interrupted something spicy after seeing Abbacchio sweaty and covered in glossy lip stains!

NSFW (intercourse p in v, choking, perverted drunk-ish confession, groping), oc-turned y/n, AFAB, petite feminine y/n, possessive Abba.

Same y/n from In Other Words, I love you.

Mista doesn’t think much of going to see Abbacchio in the middle of the night. Most of the time, he’s awake, drinking and listening to music. Tonight, Mista needs him to use Moody Blues to replay the last moments of a fight where his target got away. Some jackass has been lurking by the docks and Bruno asked Mista to confront him. He did and then…yeah. Anyways, he’d rather ask Abbacchio for help than be chewed out by Bruno in the morning.

When Mista approaches his door, he can hear jazz music playing faintly through the door to his room. Great. He’s awake! 

Now he doesn’t have to worry about him bitching about being woken up in the middle of the night. He pounds the door. “Hey! Abbacchio! Bucciarati needs us! There’s some creepy-ass stand user around the docks. You in there?!”

The music lowers just a bit, becoming even more faint than before. “Abbacchio—?” Before Mista can shout again, the door slowly cracks open just enough for his head to poke out. “I’m not interested. Figure it out yourself.” He slurs, indicating that he may be a bit tipsy. He tries to shut the door but Mista wedges his foot in. “Hold on, wait a minute! Since when have you been one to say no to Bruno?” He hopes that Bruno’s name is enough to save his ass and get some help…but it doesn’t seem to be working.

Then he notices that Abbacchio is a bit off. And it has more to do with him just drinking a bit too much wine. His appearance is somewhat disheveled, hair messy, glossy smudges on his lips and jawline…Abbacchio doesn’t wear lip gloss, does he? The longer he looks, the worse it gets. His skin glistens with sweat and red blotches like tiny bruises are scattered around his collarbone. “You okay? You look kinda crazy right now.” Mista raises an eyebrow.

Abbacchio’s murderous stare is enough to burn holes in Mista like the sun. No. 5, as curious as could be, tries to take a peek inside but is met with Moody Blues flicking his forehead. “Get outta here Mista.”

“Ow…” Mista lifts his hat a bit to rub his forehead.

“Mm…Leoooone…”  A soft, sleepy voice cuts through the tension. “Who’s at the door? What’s taking so long?” Abbacchio flinches at your voice. Mista watches as a pair of arms wraps around Abbacchio’s waist from behind, pressing your cheek against his toned back. Abbacchio’s entire body locks up at your feather-like touch…every muscle locking like he’s bracing himself for a stand attack, grip on the door frame making his knuckles white. He’s no longer able to keep eye contact with Mista, looking down out of embarrassment. His body heats and his pale skin exposes his reddening ears.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You peek around Abbacchio’s large body, revealing that you are dressed in nothing but Abbacchio’s jacket, equally disheveled with messy hair, tired eyes and glossy lips. “I’m beginning to miss y—-Mista?!”  You part from Abbacchio closing the fabric around your exposed breasts. The two of you are flushed. No one knows that the two of you had anything going on!

Mista’s gaze flickers between you and Abbacchio. “YOU TWO ARE—-?! WAIT, IS THAT WHY YOU WERE—?!”

Abbacchio pushes you behind him, shielding your naked body from his view. “Go. Now.” His face burns crimson at the drama unfolding. Mista sweats, an awkward smile forming on his face. “Uh, ya know what, just forget I came here!” He gives his best performance so that Abbacchio and Moody Blues don’t rip him to shreds. Mista and his sextuple of bullets speed off into the night. 

Once he knows Mista has vanished, Abbacchio slams the door shut so hard that it startles you. As he whirls around, her large hand enclosed around your neck, his face a beautiful masterpiece of flustered fury! 

“I told you to stay in bed, woman,” he hisses, squeezing the sides of your throat with every word. “Now look at what you’ve done! They’ll never let me hear the end of this!”

Your delicate hands are placed on his wrist. You’re not nearly strong enough to stop him. You both know that. A smile graces your lips, eyes filled with soft-sleep lust. “Who knows. Maybe he would’ve kept quiet if you offered him something in return.”

His eyes narrow at you. “What? You tryna ruin me, woman?” His large thumb presses into your plump, kiss-chapped lips. His grip tightens even more. Not enough to hurt but enough to send a silent warning.

“Kiss me, Leone.” You stroke his strong arm and like a spell his grip loosens. He curses and crashes his lips into yours, hand still firmly around your throat. The air forming around the two of you is electric. His free hand finds your lower waist, pulling you closer against his body before settling at the curve of your ass cheek. He squeezes so hard that the fat spreads between his fingers.

“You…could’ve invited him in, ya know.” You mutter in between kisses. It causes him to pull away. “What’d you say?” He pushes you against the wall. 

“As a way to keep him quiet. He could’ve been a part of the action.” You lick your lips and you can see his eye twitch. “Why? You got a thing for Mista or some shit? You must really want me to lock you in this damn room.”

“I wouldn’t say that…it’s just…he is kinda cute…big, hands and—“ Abbacchio silences you with a squeeze of your neck so tight that it blocks your airway. “Repeat that for me. Go ahead.”

“L-Leone.” You feel a wetness between your legs. It’s hard to keep your sultry composure when he’s doing such a better job at being this hot. “I don’t share.”

You’re unable to fight against Abbacchio once he’s pushing you against the closed door, ready to punish the both of you for your lack of self control. Your bodies are so close that you can feel him getting hard again. No—he’s been hard all this time. He’s rock hard, basking in the softness of your skin against his, kissing and sucking on the exposed parts of your skin. “You’re mine, you hear?” But it doesn’t sound like you have a choice anyways. 

“Show me then.” You challenge him yet you’re completely at his mercy. His love rains down on you like an unrelenting storm, kissing you until your lips swell, kneading your ass cheeks until you’re practically dripping from the contact. He can tell by how wet his fingers get when he hasn’t even touched you yet.

His long, white hair tickles the inside of your thick thighs as he settles himself between them, parting them to get a look at the soaked lace panties. He rips them with his hands. “Leone.” You reach down to stop him before you’re restrained by Moody Blues. “Stai zitta, donna.”  His swirling tongue in your cunt sends you to heaven. Never have you had someone kiss and suck it the way he does, acting like it’s the best thing he’s ever tasted.

“We…used your…last condom, mio caro.” You tell him, breathless but he doesn’t seem to care as he’s readying himself at your watering cunt. “L-Leone?” You tremble when you feel his leaking tip press against you, threatening to penetrate you at any second. You’re already sore from a few hours ago.

“You know, I kinda like the idea of someone seeing us.”  He mutters, tone still slurred and sleepy. Shaft getting wet from his precum and your sweet juices. He’s always been private. This is a bit unlike him…but it’s welcome.

“Oh yeah?” You egg him on, rolling your hips to match him. He grunts. “Yeah.” And pulls you closer. “Remember that time when I was a cop, I arrested you n’ you kept rubbing your ass on me…”

Of course you remember something like that. A cute, doe-eyed police officer Leone Abbacchio trying to do all he can’t for Naples. It feels like so long ago but it’s only been three, although you didn't find him again until recently. You never expected him to join the mafia but this version of him is cute too. “It was a happy accident.” You say. It was not.

“It wasn’t a damn accident.” He hisses, slowly pushing his big hard sick inside. You hiss too, feeling your insides split as it forces its way in. “But when I told you to stop, I didn’t really mean it. I liked that shit.” His strokes start really slow but deliberate. “I came so fucking hard that night.” 

You hum. “You’ve been wanting me for that long, huh?” You bite your lip. “Not surprised. You did let me go.” 

He smirks at you. “Yeah because if I stuck your ass in a cell then I wouldn’t be able to do this.” He starts to pick up the pace, earning pretty moans that originated deep within your chest. You squeeze your eyes shut and you feel him crawl on top of you. His piercing irises star deep into your soul, fucking you deeper and deeper into his mattress, the creaking of the headboard becoming much louder than the music he chose to play. “You feel so damn good.” He mumbles, drunk on the feeling of you. “…so tight.”

“Leone!” You try to scream but it’s caught in your throat like a whisper. Your walls are squeezing his dick so hard all he can do is bury his face in the crook of your neck, still thrusting until you throw your head back. “Baby, I’m gonna cum!!”

“Then cum, bambina.”

The next morning, Abbacchio wakes to the distant smell of breakfast being made. He tries to get up but he’s weighed down by your leg hooked around his hip. Numb arm trapped beneath you. Sigh. “Come on, get up.” He nudges you but you protest by nuzzling into his neck. “Come on,” He says again but places a kiss on your forehead. He’s pretty sober now.

His body stiffens when you stir and then your eyes flutter open. “L…Leone?” Like a gentleman, he helps you sit up. Your body is still sore from last night. “Bucciarati scheduled a meeting today, so I gotta be there.” He tells you. “I need my…jacket.” Once he realizes why you’re wearing it, he turns red and avoids your eyes. 

“Oh.” You shrug it off. “Sorry.” You laugh. “Are you sure that you wanna go after last night?” You raise an eyebrow. He chokes. “What happened last night?”

“Mista–”

“Mista?! That wasn’t a dream?”

[jojikawa]

(this was not proof read.)

"I’m only doing this because I’m cold." Abbacchio whispers to you while breathing deeply. A moment of silence goes by as Abbacchio's embrace tightens and you feel his chest heave in and out with his heavy breathing. Your body relaxes as you wrap your arms around his back and sigh gently into the crook of his neck. You can feel his strong heartbeat as his body temperature continues to rise due to the closeness of your bodies. You rest your chin on top of his head and rub small circles against his shoulder blades.

"It’s okay," you mumble in response. Your voice rumbles softly against his ear, making him shiver. "You don't have to pretend." Abbacchio stiffens at your words but doesn't say anything else.

He pulls away just enough so he can look into your eyes with an annoyed expression plastered across his face. His brows knit together as he looks down at you with narrowed yellow eyes. The way his heart flutters differs from his annoyed expression. "What do you mean I don’t have to pretend?" He asks gruffly, trying to sound intimidating, though his face remains flushed with embarrassment.

"I’ve been holding you like this for the past ten minutes, and you’re still cold." You smirk, looking up at him. "Don’t give me that face, y/n." He grumbles, letting his hands fall to your waist before gripping it tightly. Abbacchio takes another deep breath and closes his eyes, leaning his forehead down onto yours.

"Just stop talking. Just... be quiet for now." He mutters quietly and presses his lips firmly against yours. It’s as if the world seems to disappear for the two of you. Your fingers clutch his coat tighter as Abbacchio’s mouth works against yours hungrily. His arm wraps behind your back, grabbing your lower waist with his other hand and pulling you flush against him.

This kiss feels like nothing less than heaven. The way he holds you makes everything seem more real than it already is. In that moment, it feels to him like time itself has stopped, if only for a few seconds. He feels a new emotion rush through his body and mind, and you begin to slowly feel the same thing. Your hearts beat in sync, and your breathing patterns are similar.

At this moment, it seems the two of you are one.

[jojikawa]

Writing some Mista fanfiction. Can’t contain this random attraction that’s resurfacing….

[jojikawa]

did u ever do part 2 of beauty and the beast?😭 like that Francis doppelgänger has more to him

Yes! I did. I always forget to link next parts on the original big sorry!

Part 2

[jojikawa]

the suffering never ends