#FEM reader

[2cupids]

gojo can't get enough of the cute cow hybrid!reader farm hand at suguru’s ranch.

contains. f!reader, chubby!reader, lactation kink, hybrid!reader, fingering, reader’s kinda dumb. mdni (17+).

satoru told himself he was only visiting suguru’s farm to see what the hell a half-human half-cow girl looked like. it was supposed to be one visit, maybe two max, but he finds himself there every week now.

the first time he stepped into the barn and his eyes landed on you, you were far from what he imagined you to look like. you had cute floppy ears and an even cuter face to match, a perfect balance of the two species. his eyes subtly flicked down to your body and he forgot how to breathe for a moment. an itty bitty bikini top barely covered your heavy tits and high waisted denim shorts covered your cute little stomach pudge. your thick thighs were nicely out on display as you worked in the sweltering heat, swinging your tail slightly to keep a pesky fly away.

yeah. he was a goner from that moment.

it started as genuine curiosity the first couple of times. he asked questions you had heard more times than you could count, but they were asked in a respectful manner that you weren’t used to. he teased you, but he always kept it lighthearted and never crossed any lines.

and you didn’t mind his company either. yes, he was charismatic, a little too talkative for your liking, and a bit cocky, but he was kind. maybe even too kind. you pushed that thought out of your head though because aside from your boss, satoru was one of the few people that treated you like you weren’t an oddity and you couldn’t be more thankful. especially during times when problems arise that are out of your control.

your breasts often leaked milk on accident—something about your hormones were off balance and the doctors couldn’t fix it. usually it only happens a couple times a week, yet for some unknown reason, the problem has started becoming more prevalent around gojo. it’s to the point where they leak almost every day.

it happens unexpectedly in the middle of your conversations, you can feel your body temperature rise as you apologize profusely. satoru’s always extremely understanding every time it occurs, grabbing a towel or some tissue and giving you some time alone. he never seems to mind it, always reassuring you that it’s okay and to take all the time you need. and that’s the truth, because in all honesty he loves it. the way you get flustered and stumble over your words, how you rush to cover your nipples as the liquid wets your top. maybe it’s wrong, seeing how much distress it causes you, but he gets hard during each occurrence.

one night while laying in bed, he can’t stop thinking how it’s such a shame that so much milk goes to waste. that’s when the thought first comes to him—he wonders how your milk tastes.

it was outlandish to think about, even more so to ask you, but he still did it anyways. the question was masked with innocent curiosity to hide his true intentions for asking. “hey, you know i’ve been wondering something.” he starts, his tone more casual than usual and he avoids eye contact. “since you’re a hybrid and all, would your, uh… milk taste different from regular cow’s milk?”

satoru wouldn’t have been surprised if you became weirded out or reluctant, but to his surprise you simply tilt your head and a thoughtful expression crosses your features. “hm. i’m not sure. but… would you like to taste some?” you smile sweetly.

he kept his excitement contained the best he could as he replied, only agreeing to it if you were sure you’re okay with it. but internally? his mind is racing and his dick is already stirring to life as he follows you towards a large bale of hay in the corner of the barn.

the man wasted no time sinking to his knees as you lifted your shirt and let one of your tits free, his lips immediately latching on to your soft nipple and sucking.

it was supposed to be a one time thing, but you’re so naive for really believing that his reasoning for wanting your tit in his mouth was innocent and now, you’re letting him suck the sweet milk from your swollen nips every time he visits.

over time he gets more comfortable and eventually starts groping your breasts as he feeds. something about all this feels off, like you should ask him to take his hands off you—to stop.

but you don’t.

you like the way it turns you on, how your thong grows slick each time without fail.

one hand gently squeezes your breast, causing more milk to come out while his free hand moves to massage the other tit. you like the sight of a man on his knees in front of you, his long, pretty lashes fluttering shut as he sucks. you love the way he softly caresses your tummy too, like it’s the most precious thing on earth.

meanwhile gojo thinks it’s adorable how you always try to keep quiet but you never can, letting a mixture of half-human half-cow sounds slip from your mouth.

now, he’s got your back pressed against his chest, lazily dragging two slim fingers against the walls of your messy pussy. somehow he’s talked you into letting him finger you. silly girl.

warm breath hits your skin each time he opens his mouth to whisper something dirty in your ear, or to tell you how disappointed suguru would be. you want to tell him to knock it off, that his words strike a sensitive nerve, but instead all you do is clench around his fingers every time.

you’re such an easy little thing. at this rate, he’ll have his dick inside you in no time.

cleo’s note. i’d really like to hear your thoughts on this, like did i do hybrids justice with this or no? also ntm on me if my description is kinda off, i don’t go here.

[bunnis-monsters]

The harpy farm work keeps you busy most days.

Every harpy male has his own schedule and day he needs to be preened, so you’re always seen covered in feathers and love bites.

Your job is to give each harpy male attention and keep them from becoming depressed. Every day you clean their pins, take time cuddling them, and let them fondle you a bit if its mating season.

Because they all view you as their mate, you’re the only human woman allowed inside the farm.

There are three different types of harpies. While any type can resemble a variety of birds, their bodies are different and can be more dangerous.

The first are the least dangerous. They have wings and talons, but possess a mostly human body with working limbs. They are the most docile and act like any normal human would. These harpies are incredibly affectionate with most human females, but become attached to one and view them as a mate.

The second type have wings for arms and scaly bird feet from their lower thigh and downwards. Though they can speak, they are usually more quiet and tend to resemble birds a bit more. They dislike being around any other creature besides their chosen mate, and will attempt to flee if approached by something with an unfamiliar scent. Because of this, they have tracking bracelets on their ankles.

The third are the most dangerously. From the waist down, they have the body of a dragon and bird, like a chimera. These harpies are incapable of speech, and kill any creatures besides their preferred mate on sight. They are usually the size of a small car, but can grow as large as a bus depending on the type of bird they descend from.

Though your primary task is keeping the harpies calm and happy, you have a secret secondary task.

You are to mate with the harpies and attempt to conceive the first new harpy of the century. The species is dying out, and you are the only person any of the males have responded to.

Send asks about this story if you’d like to learn more! I’m still thinking about specific characters rn, so feel free to send ideas for ocs ^^

[chososcutie]

MAKE THAT PULL-OUT GAME WEAK!

synopsis❤︎: jjk men when they 'accidentally' cum inside..

featuring❤︎: gojo, toji, nanami, & choso

tags❤︎: fem!reader, unprotected sex, reverse cowgirl, premature ejaculations, breeding kink, praise, petnames, office sex, voyeurism, needy!men, submissiveness, slight dubcon

SATORU GOJO

“h-hah baby.. fuck!” satoru throws his head back, hips arching upward as you bounce on his cock reverse cowgirl style.

he looved this position for a variety of reasons, mostly because of the way your ass would move, reaching out to squeeze a handful of the soft, supple globes and watching as your pussy greedily swallowed every inch, slamming up and down on him repeatedly, echoing smacks! of skin on skin filling the room.

you had been going for quite some time now, your hips never faltering as satoru feels his taut stomach grow even achingly knottier, each heaving breath an effort as his eyes fall half-lidded.

“s-slow down.. mmph!” he moans as you pause, only to roll and gyrate your hips, cock molding your gummy insides perfectly as his thickened tip hits deep into your cervix, dragging swelteringly hot strokes back n’ forth as the sensitive veins lining his dick thump thump!

“such a biiig stretch..” you toss him a look over your shoulder, eyelashes lowered and fluttering, and your cheeks flushed. “feels s’good ‘toru..”

he closes his eyes briefly, the coil in his stomach tightening as your sticky thighs and dripping cunt hover over him and raise yourself up and down, riding him into oblivion with a mischievous little smile.

you knew what you were doing.

his hands come to your hips, helping you to bounce faster, feeling your pussy clamp tight before spasming, a slutty little moan drifting out of your mouth as you cream all over his cock, drenching him in honeyed slick. “mmph.. cumming, cumming..!”

and as your cunt tightens and clenches hard around him, until every ridge and vein of his is contoured to your warm, plush walls, it’s all too much.

“baby..! get off! get off!”

satoru tries to warn you desperately of his furiously fast-approaching orgasm, his cock throbbing deep into you, as he tries to hold off and lift you off him, but you’re too far gone, coming down from your own climax with euphoria.

he screws his eyes shut tightly, trying to last but then you wriggle your hips, wedging him deeper, pussy squeezing like a vice and it’s over.

endless spurts of ribbons n’ ribbons of creamy white pulse into you as steadily, satoru’s grip on your hips pins you down on top of him while he fills you up, a milky white ring forming around his base as he sucks in gasping heaves of breath.

you shudder, your voice coming out in a whine. “s’toru are you.. cumming?”

his cock is still drooling stringy wads as his answer comes strained and breathless. “fuck.. m’sorry baby. i couldn’t.. pull out.”

TOJI FUSHIGURO

“please doll.. need you s’bad.” rough palms slide up your stomach to cup your breasts, toji’s veiny, thickened tip bumping your entrance as he leans over you, jagged scar on his lip coming to brush your cheek gruffly as he pleads with you.

“b-but we don’t have an.. ah.. condom!” you manage to breathe, your body betraying you as it squirms and tries to align itself with toji’s round, pulsing cock head, smearing the sloshing slick of your cunt back n’ forth with a hoarse grunt.

“i can pull out.. heh.” his already sweaty forehead is pressed to yours, head drooping downward as he sucks in feverish breath after feverish breath, hips slightly grinding against the plush softness of your tummy for relief.

your legs part slightly, revealing the beads of shimmery sheen dripping from between your thighs, your need palpable from the way your puffy clit twitches and throbs. “o-okay.. just please.”

he chuckles lowly at the sight, voice catching in a slight growl as he slots himself between, heavy jumping cock resting against you.

he splays a big hand across your stomach, just above your belly button, and you feel him start to push in, chubbed inch by inch. “gonna feel me all the way here..” he pushes down slightly on the growing bulge steadily sheathing itself deep inside you.

you moan out something caught between a whimper and a plead, and with one sharp thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, bludgeony tip prodding into your cervix and heavy balls smacking against your ass.

and he’s already moving, one hand coming to your throat, holding you down as he ravages you, shamelessly throwing his head back and grunting.

you had never felt him raw before, and your glassy eyes rolled back at how every delicious vein, curve, and ridge of his cock was plummeting inside you, shaping your insides to fit him perfectly.

“ohh.. so mm’ fucking tight..” he growls softly, slamming his hips roughly into you, grip bruising as he hits your cushy, sweet spot repeatedly, watching your face contort in drunken pleasure, lascivious drool pouring out of your slacken jaw. “feels even better without a.. hah.. piece of rubber in the way.”

thick digits wander down to your puffy bud, rubbing slow circles as you squirm, whining how close you are, before all of a sudden, you’re cumming hard, absolutely drenching toji’s muscular lower abdominals in your squirt, his nasty hips reeling back before suddenly pausing.

“did you jus’..” he shudders, hips twitching frantically as he begins to pull out, but he’s too slow as his sudden orgasm washes over him all at once, hot, sweltering gushes of seed that fill you to the very brim of your overstuffed cunt, so much pouring out in creamy sheens, it has your stomach bulging and sloshing with it all.

“toooji..” you whine, peering at how gooey wads of white dribble down your thighs messily, clearly not having pulled out.

and still cumming, he looks up at you sheepishly with glossy eyes.

"wan' be a pretty mama, doll? 'cause you just might be after this.."

KENTO NANAMI

nanami was a practical man, he worked hard at his office, he was sweet to you even during intimacy, his hands were always gentle and composed, and he definitely didn’t forget protection.

but that all went out the window the second you, his pretty wife came to visit him at his office, bringing along a special lunch you had cooked just for him, knowing how stressed and overworked your poor husband was.

and a few minutes later, with his sloppy hips pistoning in and out of you, and your tits pressed harshly against his desk with your cheek squished against his neatly stacked paperwork, it turned out he was hungry for something else..

“got all dolled up jus’ f’me?” he coos softly, slamming his reddened cock, blushing and beading pearly precum at the tip in n’ out roughly, your skirt and panties bunched up at your waist carelessly, visible to anyone who walks by kento’s office.

but he doesn’t seem to care, usually neatly trimmed blonde hair sticking to his forehead sweatily, plunging himself so deep into you, you swear you can feel him all the way in your throat, a dumb little fucked-out expression on your face as you cling onto the rattling desk for dear life, back arched so sluttily as his hands grasp tightly onto your hips, rolling you back n' forth onto his cock, you're surprised no one else hears the filthily wet noises echoing throughout the office.

“darling, i might have to pull out..” he sucks in gasping heaves of breath, brows knitting together almost painfully as he tries to hold off his oncoming orgasm, placing his hands on your hips gently to slide himself out of your gummy warmth, much to your dismay.

“w-wait, m’so closeee!” you whine, backing up steadily into him to suck in more of his fat cock. “just a lil’ longer, c’mon..”

and oh, who was nanami to say no to his darling wife?

with a winding tightness in his stomach, he fucks into you harder, hips slapping against you with every thrust, until you’re whining, messy tears spilling from your eyes as your scorching hot walls clamp so tight around him, he couldn’t pull out if he tried.

and then you’re cumming, your pussy drooling your saturated shimmery essence, and fluttering around nanami’s sensitive, twitching dick.

“honey.. ngh!”

and that’s all he can say, before he’s absolutely dumping loads n’ loads of sticky white seed into your clamping pussy, euphoria overtaking his senses as he drills his cock deeper, forcing you to take every last drop.

"fuck sweetheart!" he curses low as his hips snap ferally into yours, unable to stop the copious amounts of hot white cum he's endlessly spurting into you, your traitorous cunt milking him for all he's worth as you squeak in surprise.

"kentooo.." you watch his milky dredges drip! drip! drip! out of your messy, sloppy pussy, folds stickily glued together, as his hand comes almost reverently to push on the little bump in your stomach, watching in awe as all of his creamy ropes instantly gush out of you generously.

"sorry honey.." his voice is raspy, strained, but his eyes are heavy-lidded and filled with desire. "but this makes me think.. wan' have a baby?"

CHOSO KAMO

your plushy thighs sprawl apart under the frantically panting man above you, practically ripping your panties off as he nuzzles his cock between your thighs, humping softly with needy little tears pricking at his dark, fluttering lashes.

“i knooow i didn’t bring a condom..” he whines, thick leaky member pulsating steadily in between you, thickened mushroomy head ever so slightly bumping the entrance of your pussy as he pleads.

"buut i'll be good, swear! m'gonna.. hah.. pull out! please just let me.."

his dick nestles itself in between your sappy sticky folds, choso's hips rutting animalistically back n' forth between them, barely restraining himself from just plunging into your hot, gooey walls right then and there.

"s'okay cho.." you whisper, stroking through his messy black space buns and tugging slightly, causing a whine to leave his throat. "just fuck me."

instantly his hands are fumbling to wrap around your waist, as he sloowly pushes himself in, groaning at your tight clamping muscles of resistance as you squeeze around him tightly.

you had always used protection, so the feeling of him going in raw was completely unlike anything you'd ever felt before.

every throbbing vein, pulsing ridge, and his hot bulbous tip pressed directly into your cervix is magnified, making the room hot n' humid, choso's feverish forehead dropping onto yours with a pathetic little moan.

experimentally, he pulls out until only the tip is inside you before slamming himself back in harshly, the wet sound of skin on skin echoing as he quickly finds a pace, fucking you roughly, with your legs intertwined behind his back.

you moan softly as his hefty balls slap into your ass with every thrust, tits pressed against his sweaty bare chest only heightening your sensations until you're so close to cumming, you can taste it, your vision starting to blacken at the corners.

choso is close too, obviously not able to last very long with the feeling of your bare pussy wrapped around him like a vice, his grunts turning breathier and needier as he feels his stomach go taut.

and just as he's about to regretfully pull out of your warm, welcoming cunt, you squeal, legs tightening around his back and effectively trapping him as you gush all over his poor, sensitive cock, stringy drools of your slick running down all along your thighs messily.

"uungh..! baby! baby open your legs!" he tries to get out, but he's barely able to finish the last word before he's absolutely spurting heaps of buttery seed, unable to stop as he shudders, hips stuttering and bucking into you sloppily.

you have a cute little flushed look on your face as you come down from your high, staring at where you two are connected, and watching choso's hot, slithery ropes seep out of you steadily with a little giggle.

you shift, widening your legs as you press a kiss to his nose. "s'okay cho, i'm on the pill."

he lets out a shameless whimper, throwing his head back as his hips press further into you. "that's good 'cause m'still cumming.."

© 2025 CHOSOSCUTIE. please don't copy or translate any of my works. all rights reserved.

LIKES AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!!

[cloudedcreams]

[nsfw] thinking about a yandere! ex who is sooo desperate for you.

you had always been bad for him. in all honestly, you treated him like shit, lying and manipulating him for your own pleasure. he loved it.

he missed the feeling you gave him. the tears that used to roll down his cheeks, the way his voice would crack when he spoke to you sometimes. the shakes and whimpers you’d force out of him and the way you’d humiliate him by making him bark.

he begs for you to do it again. for you to milk his cock and let him be your doggy, all whilst his palms are sweaty and quivering as he lays on his back waiting for you. he can barely speak, drunk off the thought.

and when you do fuck? he’s shamelessly letting out moans, his eyes rolling back before he forces himself into reality for a moment. he’s spilling out praise like a madman, grabbing onto your hips and trying to convince you that it’s you, that you missed him.

and he wants you to tell him you love him.

even if he knows it’s a lie. you’ve always been good at lying, surely telling him this one thing won’t hurt you? you love being a liar, and he wants to hear pretty little fibs spilling from your lips as you stare down at him like he’s worthless.

all he wants is to be used by you. it’s been years since the two of you broke up and yet he threw away his shame to be used by you like this, to feel you bouncing on his cock as he thrusts into you.

he’s screaming out about how much he loves you. he knows he’s fucked up for the thought but he tells you he’ll love you forever, he tells you about just how much he missed you.

you fucked his whole life up and ruined him. you left him walking home in the dead of night, cold with cum stains still around his thighs but he loves you. he can never stop fantasising about just how much you ruined his life.

[calypsocolada]

how they are when they're jealous... ft. giyu, mitsuri, obanai, sanemi, rengoku, tengen, & hotaru

authors note: hello. with this new season of demon slayer i felt inspired. lemme know if you guys want more. i sort of went a little crazy with tengen's and hotaru's little stories. ENJOY!

cw: lots of death talk in hotaru's part, maybe slightly suggestive, not proofread

wc: 5k

click here for my masterlist

Giyu hides his jealousy way too well. You two had worked together for a very long time. The first few months of knowing him you didn’t even know if he knew your name let alone that you existed to him. He was not very open so you left him alone the best you could. That was until one day you were eating peacefully and he came and sat next to you. You were stunned, your chewing paused as you slowly looked over at him. He was sitting cross legged beside you, quietly opening his wrapped food. When he noticed you looking he paused and met your eyes.

“Hm?” He hummed, as though he sat next to you all the time. As though you two had said more than three words to each other in months. You didn’t want to scare him off so you just gently shook your head. 

“Nothing.” You answered, looking back down at your food, swallowing nervously. Giyu returned his look to his food and out of the corner of your eyes you saw him pause. 

“Are you… friendly with Sanemi?” He asked. You furrowed your brow, chancing a glance at him. He met your eyes with a curious stare. 

“Sanemi?” You repeated. He nodded his head once. You purse your lips. You were friendly with all the hashira’s except him but you didn’t think that was exactly what he was asking. Well to be honest you weren’t really sure what he was asking so you decided to play it safe.

“Hmm… yes. He’s a friend.” You answer. His face doesn’t reveal anything as he nods his head again, looking back at his food. You wonder if you answered correctly as he suddenly pulls out a little white sweets box. The very same sweets that you would buy as a treat for yourself after missions. 

“Just a friend?” He asks as you nod your head, blushing slightly. Giyu looks relieved and hands the sweets over to you without a word. 

“Oh… for me?” You ask and he nods his head. When you reach to take it your hands brush and you swear his cheeks pinken.

-

You didn’t think Mitsuri ever got jealous until a few years into your relationship. You two often had missions together which meant you also had time off at the same time. Hiking to the swordsmith village to relax. After settling in you two hit the kitchen. The only thing that could rival your love for each other was your love for food. There were a few other hashira’s around and when you couldn’t pop a jar open you handed it over, sighing, to the closest person, which wasn’t your girlfriend. Shinobu popped it open for you and you continued to help prep the food. That’s when you noticed Mitsuri pouting and when you met her eyes she blushed and looked away embarrassed, returning to helping prepare food. You didn’t think much about it but at dinner she was quiet. You wanted to ask if something was wrong but you didn’t want to embarrass her in front of the other hashira’s so you waited until you two were headed back to your shared cabin. Once out of ear shot you reached and tucked her hair behind her ear so you were able to see her face. 

“Is something wrong?” You asked, still blushing she shrugged it off, shaking her head.

“No… nothing’s wrong, dear.” She answered quickly. It was an obvious lie.

“Did someone say something to you? To make you upset?”

“No… it’s… nothing important.” She said with a soft shake of her head, like she was trying to trick herself into forgetting about it. You laced your fingers with hers. 

“If you're upset then it’s important. Come on, just tell me.” You prodded gently. She gave a little sigh and you could tell she was a little embarrassed but still she opened up to you.

“I’m strong… you know,” She starts, wearily looking over at you.

“I know that.” 

“I can open things. Lift things…. You know, you don’t need anyone else to do that kind of stuff.” Slowly you nodded your head, trying to understand what she was saying. “I just wanted you to know that.” You gave her hand a gentle squeeze and that’s when it hit you. You absentmindedly let someone open a jar for you. It really was a small thing but you knew Mitsuri liked to be strong for you. You turned to hide your smile, you pulled her hand to your lips and kissed her knuckles. “That… reminds me, honey, I’m exhausted…” “You want me to carry you?” She asks excitedly as you softly laughed, nodding your head. MItsuri sweeps you off your feet with ease and you can tell she’s forgotten all about being upset.

-

Obanai doesn’t necessarily get jealous, it's more of a territorial thing. You thought for sure he hated you, little did you know he worshiped you from the start. Sometimes you’d have missions with him and he'd speak about three words to you and sometimes when you were lucky he’d speak full sentences. You didn’t know until later on it was because he was so damn nervous around you. On this particular mission, after slaying the demon, you two went out for drinks. It was wholly awkward so you excused yourself from the table and found your way to the bar. The bartender thanked you for helping with the demon and it felt nice to talk with someone. This whole thing played out for maybe two minutes before the bartender froze, eyes fearful as he glanced behind you. You furrowed your brows and turned as Obanai approached. 

“We received another mission, we should get going.” He says as you sigh, nodding your head, he placed some money on the counter for your drinks.

“T-the drinks are on the house.” The bartender offered but Obanai just slid the money over, his eyes sharpening. You watched the whole thing, sort of speechless. When you followed him out he held the door open for you and gave one more heated glance at the bartender. The village you two were currently stationed at was quiet and peaceful. 

“Where are we headed next?” You asked as you fell into step with him.

“A few towns over.” He answered and you nodded your head, knowing that was just about as much talking you're probably getting out of him tonight. “Unless you wanted to stay.” 

“Stay here?” You asked, he was walking a few steps ahead of you. He didn’t answer. “I wouldn’t have minded having a few more drinks.” You joked.

“With that bartender?” He added and you didn’t miss the bitterness in his voice. You paused, deciding whatever you said next you had to tread lightly. You could tease him or you could clear things up. 

“At least he talks to me.” You said. He stopped, turning to face you.

“Anything enlightening?” 

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You said and he raised his head just slightly.

“I would.”

“I’m joking, he was just thanking us for taking care of that demon.” You said truthfully as Obanai nodded his head, turning away from you as you walked. You didn’t want the conversation to end. Even though you two never talked much before you found yourself wanting to hear more of his voice, wanting more of his attention. Unwittingly you had all of his attention most of the time. You couldn’t think of anything to say.

“You make me nervous,” Obanai says over his shoulder. “That’s why I don’t talk much.”

“Oh,” You were stunned. He turned to face you again and you gave him a soft smile, you wanted him to feel comfortable with you. “Is it because I talk too much?” You ask. Obanai instantly shakes his head ‘no’. 

“Don’t stop. I like the sound of your voice.” It almost sounded like a plea.

-

Sanemi lets it be known he’s jealous, he doesn’t care to hide it. Someone’s talking with you, smiling and laughing a bit too much with you? There’s Sanemi saddling up beside you, hand sliding around you to rest on your hip as he pulls you a bit closer to him. He’s shameless. When he first met you, you were in training to be a hashira under Tengen and Sanemi would watch your workouts sometimes. He’d always watch with this sort of intense expression and sometimes it caught you off guard and distracted you. In those moments Tengen would take you to the floor, huffing. 

“I’m going to ban him from our training sessions if you can’t focus.” Tengen said, he straddled you, pressing you into the dirt as you cleared your throat.

“I’m so sorry sir, it won’t happen again.” And at least for the rest of practice that day you kept your eyes on your teacher. But after Tengen was finished with you he ruffled your hair.

“You’re a force to be reckoned with if you keep your eyes off the wind hashira.” He said and you turned bright red, unable to chirp back at him so he laughs heartily and waves as he leaves. You sigh, turning as Sanemi grabs a practice sword. You watch as he swings it around before pointing it towards you. 

“Tengen’s a handsy guy. Already has three wives but watch out and you’ll be his fourth.” Sanemi stated dryly. You were exhausted from training and the way Sanemi moved closer to you you wondered if he was wanting to train you a bit himself. Sanemi circles you like a predator. You feel his eyes on every part of your body as you swallow dryly. When he walked back around the front he tossed you the sword and you caught it with ease. He grabbed a sword himself. 

“I… am exhausted, Sanemi.” You huffed and he gave you a heated look. 

“One round.” He points the tip at you. You swallowed down a sigh and pointed your sword right back at him. You weren’t bad by any means but you weren’t even close to the level of a hashira. Sanemi worked around your blade with practiced ease and you realized right there and then that Tengen was certainly going easy on you because Sanemi had backed you up in seconds and took you to the ground. He pressed himself against you, his sword against your neck. Your eyes glared up at him.

“Alright you won, can I go rest now?”

“Has that lousy sound hashira taught you anything?” Sanemi questions. He was obsessed with this. He saw the look on your face. “Ditch him, I’ll teach you from now on.”

“I’m not doing that. Tengen is a good teacher.” You defended. Sanemi pulled the sword away from your neck and with swiftness pulled you to your feet. He doesn’t let go of your hand though and the closeness to him has your heart beating wildly in your chest. 

“I’m better.” He says as though it's a well known fact. You wondered what his motives were and what his grudge was against Tengen. 

“What’s this about?” You ask and watch his eyes leave yours as he shamelessly looks at your lips, scanning what he wanted to before meeting your eyes again. This simple act wreaked havoc on your systems. 

“I think it’s pretty clear, I want to teach you myself.”

“Why though?”

“Tengen doesn’t deserve to. That’s why.” He pulls you to him suddenly. “Do you understand?” His voice was low and soft, eyes searching. He was trying to tell you something with his eyes. He sighed, you guessed he needed to be more clear with his intentions so he gave a small shake of the head and dipped his head to meet your lips with his. You sucked in a breath as he kissed you hard enough to prove his point. You understood now, albeit a little late.

-

Rengoku’s jealousy is healthy. He trusts you fully but doesn’t trust anyone who would come up and flirt with you when he’s right there. A lot of people come up and talk with you and you're completely oblivious to their flirting so Rengoku will intervene to save you. On your very first date the waiter at the noodle place you two were at flirted with you practically the entire time. Rengoku didn’t get angry, in fact it made him smile that no matter how much flirting was being done you’d still be leaving this restaurant with him. But the moment the waiter stepped over the line and made you clearly uncomfortable Rengoku cleared his throat. He didn’t yell or make a scene, he just simply gave the waiter a fiery glare. The waiter was gone within seconds. You looked at your date, giving him a knowing and thankful smile. 

The only time jealousy fully got under his skin was when he came back from a long mission and caught sight of you eating lunch in the courtyard with Giyu. He felt his cheeks burn at the sight. One thing Rengoku loved just slightly less than you was food. And what he loved more about it was eating it next to you. But here you were, eating it next to someone else. Sure it was childish but logic never really came into play when jealousy took over. When you walked back to your shared room and caught sight of his red hair your face completely morphed into light as you sprinted across the room and slammed against him in a bone crushing hug. He’d been gone for at least two months and it was almost unbearable.Rengoku, despite pouting slightly, wrapped you in a hug with the same vigor, breathing in your scent. You two stayed like that for a long moment. 

“I missed you. When did you get back?” You asked, muffled against his chest.

“About an hour ago.” You pulled back at that, looking up at him. He wanted to mope but the moment your eyes met his smile so wide fitted to his lips. 

“An hour?” You asked. “Why didn’t you come find me?”

“I saw you eating with Giyu, just didn’t want to bother you.” He says and knows he was being silly earlier. But being apart from you for two months had made him weary and heartsick for you. 

“You could never bother me. Never.” You doubled down, pulling his face to yours, proving your point with a kiss. He mumbled an apology against your lips before you smiled into the kiss. When you pulled back you slightly smirked up at him. “Was that jealousy?” You asked as his entire face went beet red and you knew you were right. You tilted your head to the side. “Kyojuro…”

“I’m sorry,” He says, tightening his hold around you. “We’ve been apart far too long.”

-

Tengen also hides his jealousy pretty well but hides it behind jokes. You could not stand him when you first met. You were nothing like him. Liked the quiet, liked the dark, liked your solitude. Tengen on the hand liked you. He liked how quiet you were and wanted to diminish the dark for you and snatch away your solitude. You liked your personal space and he also liked your personal space. 

You grew up an only child with cold parents in a depressing town so when you met Tengen and he was flashy and warm, naturally you sulked away from him. He tried everything. He bought you your favorite sweets and relished when you’d give him the smallest of smiles that looked more like a grimace but he’d take what he can get. He’d find you books to read and insist that you read it to him in return and when you begrudgingly agreed he’d melt into a puddle and sit as close as humanly possible. And when he’d pretend to fall asleep on your shoulder he really felt as though he could combust. 

He’d never chased after someone so hard. 

You were so elusive, just out of reach. When you met his wives they all adored you in the same way he did. It scared him though, you weren’t one to put yourself out there. You didn’t like many people and being with Tengen meant you’d be with four people at all times. Though the times that you were around and happened to run into him and his wives you didn’t seem overwhelmed. In fact the first time he saw you actually smile, like eyes crinkling cheeks blushing smile was when Hinatsuru pulled you into a hug and told you how pretty you looked. The only jealousy he felt then and there was not being able to have that smile directed at him. But after seeing that smile he finally realized it was possible to make you smile so let the teasing begin. Suddenly Tengen was around all the time. You didn’t notice it at first but suddenly he was everywhere. Teasing you, overtly flirting with you, towering over you and trying so damn hard to make you blush and smile the way his wife did. 

It was exhausting for you. All this attention. What was even more exhausting is pretending that you didn’t want Tengen. There was a war within you. Wanting to be alone and wishing to never be alone again. Tengen and his life was the polar opposite of yours. Everything you couldn’t stand but found wanting to tolerate, wanting that shine in your darkness. Things all came to a head when you were at a fork in the road. Tagging along Tengen’s mission versus Giyu’s. To you it was an obvious choice. Tagging along with Giyu meant not really having to talk the entire time. And when you told Tengen things spiraled.

“So you got a thing for the quiet ones? Should’ve known.” He teased with this sort of practiced ease. He looked wholly unaffected by your decision.

“I don’t have a thing for anyone.” You corrected, you had been cleaning your katana when he found his way into your room somehow without your objections. Maybe it was all the time that you were spending with him things were just slowly becoming comfortable? 

“You’re breaking my heart, sunshine.” If looks could kill Tengen would be long long dead. It wasn’t the first time he called you that nickname and it certainly would not be the last. Unfortunately.

“I’m very busy, you know.”

“Busy thinking of your mission with the stoic Giyu?” He teased and you breathed in and let out a huff of air.

“You are relentless. Is there something you want to say?” You ask over your shoulder. He’s uncharacteristically quiet behind you so you turn just slightly. Tengen is looking at you in the same way he’d been looking at you when he thought you weren’t paying attention. Tengen looked at you as though the light only shined on earth because you held the sun in place. You looked away and begrudgingly ignored that flip in your chest.

“You like him better than me.” And… he’s back to teasing. Well two can play that game.

“Yes I do.” You answered bluntly.

“Now you’re really killing me, Sun-”

“Nope. No nicknames. I’m not a pet.” He laughed at that, a warm laugh that you didn’t know how badly you wanted to hear again. 

“I bet he isn’t able to get under your skin like I do.”

“You’re right.” You said and heard Tengen stand from where he was sitting. You go slightly rigid as you feel him walk closer to where you’re standing. He barely brushes against you as he looks over your shoulder. You try to continue to work like this was unaffecting you but your walls were slowly crumbling around you. There was only so long you could pretend you didn’t want a good thing. And Tengen was sure as hell a good thing. 

“Giyu’s quiet. You won’t have an ounce of fun on his mission.” 

“Killing demon’s isn’t supposed to be fun.” You throw back and you can practically hear the smirk in his voice as he responds.

“It is with me.” You roll your eyes and turn to tell him to get lost but when you turn and look up your faces are millimeters apart. Maybe even less. Your words falter and for a moment all you can think of is if you moved just barely forwards your lips would meet his. “Cat got your tongue?” He said huskily just loud enough for you to hear. It turns your insides out, burning you up from head to toe. You wanted to ask what he really wanted but it would ultimately be a stupid question. Tengen had never hidden his intentions from the start. Only you had. He pointedly moved his eyes to your lips but didn’t move any closer. You knew then and there he was practically handing over the reigns. If you wanted him you’d have to make the next move. You had a penchant for letting things pass you by. It was like you were begrudgingly obsessed with not letting yourself have anything. Love never seemed like something attainable. Friendship seemed like a lot of work and family never felt like family. “I’ll wait forever, if that’s what you want.” He whispered, interrupting your thoughts. Your heart hurts at that. You weren’t being fair. Making him wait forever was a selfish thing to do and even with all those things he still looked one hundred percent serious when he said it. He wouldn’t get tired of you. He could be the one to stick around for good. He could be the good. 

“I”m still going with Giyu. I already promised.” You said.

“Break the promise, Sunshine, I’m practically begging.” As his face slightly dropped you leaned forwards and closed that gap that you had gotten far too comfortable with. Lips sliding against lips.

-

Hotaru was downright scary when he was jealous. Holy shit you were scared out of your mind. Your destroyed blade laid in pieces in front of you. Your heart was in your throat. You felt a hand on your shoulder as Rengoku gave you a reassuring squeeze. 

“Tough break, kid.” He said with a shake of his head. “I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“The last time I broke my blade he yelled and ranted for three hours and passed out from lightheadedness.” You said, remembering the whole ordeal with a shiver. Rengoku shook his head.

“Your blade broke for a noble cause, make sure to tell him that.” He said, giving you one last squeeze before turning to leave. You bent over and grabbed the shattered remains. You were dead. Dead dead dead. You had so much life to live. You had sweets in the fridge that Mitsuri made for you. You had finally learned a few new cool tricks to use in fighting. You were visiting home next month. You sighed, gathering up the broken pieces in a cloth. 

“I will pay you double… no triple the usual amount, please I beg you.” You had your hands clasped together in front of you as though silent praying. The night before last you had an idea. There was more than just Hotaru that could make you a blade in the village so if you enlisted someone else to make you a sword just this one time Hotaru wouldn’t lob your head off your shoulders.

“Mr. Haganezuka  would kill  me, bring me back to life then kill me again if I made a sword for you.” The villager trembled at the mere thought. He was clearly just as afraid of Hotaru as you were. You swallowed dryly.

“He would never know, please I beg you.I’ll give you any amount.” You begged but the villager just shook his head.

“He would know because it’s you. Any other client I might do it but you… absolutely not. You’re his favorite!” He said, looking over your shoulder as though Hotaru would enter his shop at any second.

“What does that mean! The only people that would know would be me and you! Please I will literally do anything!”

“And me.” A voice behind you says. Your blood goes cold. Slowly you turn around and sure enough there’s Hotaru. You’re caught like a deer in headlights. The villager actually screams and scrambles away, startling you. Hotaru’s expressions are hidden behind his mask so you’re not sure whether or not he’s angry quite yet. You’d seen his face once a few years ago when this peaceful village was attacked. You were surprised in the moment that someone so intense could look so beautiful. That didn’t dull that fact he was scary though. 

“Mr. Haganezuka! W-what a surprise!” You choke out, cheeks going fuchsia. “Lovely weather we’re having today isn’t it?” You squeak out. Hotaru slightly moves his head and you force yourself not to bolt out the door screaming like the villager. You’re a hashira for god sakes! But to be completely truthful, Hotaru was scarier than any demon you’d ever faced. 

“Very lovely. What brings to our village?” He asks, his voice scarily calm. You force yourself to give a terse smile.

“I- I came to relax of course!”

“Relax at my competitor's shop?” He asks and there is a sharp edge to his voice. 

“Competitor? Wha? I didn’t-- I did not know you two were competing!” You nervously laughed it off, running a quick hand through your hair. “We-- we go way back. I was just visiting for a second before hitting the hot springs!” You say and start to walk towards the door but Hotaru’s hand juts out, blocking you from leaving. You freeze, you’re so close to him, he towers over you and when he turns to look down at you you feel weak in the knees. Slowly he brings his hand up, untying the back of his mask as it falls into his waiting hand and you’re met face to face with Hotaru once again. The years had passed but he still looked as beautiful as ever. You definitely make a sound, a strangled gasp, though if it was from fear or surprise no one would ever know. 

“You… two… go way back?” He grits out. God… you’d done it now. You should’ve just went to him in the first place, accepted his scolding and went about your week. But here you were, ten feet under and you weren’t even sure after this debacle if he’d fix your sword for any amount of money. You cleared your throat.

“Uhm… y-yes?” 

“Yes?” He repeated and the look on his face was as sharp as the sharpest katana. You were so dead. Goodbye family. Goodbye sweet treats. 

“How… far back?” He asks. You stare at him. How far back? He caught you in the lie and you wished instead of twenty questions he’d just yell at you. 

“Just like… a year.” You lied, Hotaru’s eyes narrowed on yours. The intense eye contact was insane. You almost forgot to breathe. 

“You’ve known me longer than.” He articulates sharply. Your lips part, you're stumped for a moment. 

“Uh… y-yes, sir, I have.” You stumble. 

“Yet instead of coming to me, who you’ve known far longer, you go to my competitor to fix the sword that I made you.” Ah fuck. The color absolutely drained from your face. 

“What?” You shook your head. “N-nuh uh! I-- I was just visiting like I said.” At the end of your sentence he holds up the cloth that had the broken pieces of your sword. You patted your bag and gasped. How the hell did he get that! “It-- that-- It’s not what it looks like, Mr. Hagenzuka! I-- well you see it broke… honorably of course… and I was coming to you-” Hotaru raised his hand to silence you and you instantly stopped talking. This was it. This was the end. Killed by your swordsmith. If you were quick you could probably wrestle back a piece of your katana and end your life before he could. 

“If you ever break your sword again,” Hotaru practically growled.”And go to my competitor, I will-”

“Kill me?” You filled in.

“Kill him.” He fumed and then he reached for you. God he was gonna choke you out! His hand slid against your cheek and when he leaned in you sent out a final goodbye. 

His lips met yours. His lips. Pressed against your lips. He was kissing you. Kissing? You? Your eyes were wide open. You had watched the whole thing in slow motion. Sure enough the moment heated as he stepped a bit closer to you, hand sliding around your hip to yank you a step closer to him. The most startling thing? The heat that suddenly ignited in your gut at the press of his mouth on yours. You made a startled sound in the back of your throat at the strange realization. What the hell was happening? When he pulled back your eyes were still open. Looking up at him as though he’d just smacked you right across the face. 

“You… just kissed me.” You say. He doesn’t answer you with words, just nods his head, still looking pissed. “On the lips.”

“Yes.” He says sharply. 

“Like lips on my lips.” “I’m aware of what I did.” Hotaru groans, looking down at you.

“Am I dead?” You asked, patting yourself for any life threatening wounds, Hotaru watches you, looking unamused. 

“No. You are not dead.” “I… was dead sure you… were going to murder me. Like… bloody murder.”

“Why in the world would I murder you?” Hotaru asks, crossing his arms.

“B-because you… because I broke my sword and schemed to fix it behind your back with your competitor.” You say slowly as though he doesn’t remember the last ten minutes. But he just looks down at you like you’re saying something incredibly apparent.

“Yes. I know.” He growls but his anger doesn’t necessarily seem directed at you as he sighs heavily. 

“I am… very… confused.” You force out. Your brain felt melted in your head. Hotaru looks down at you and for a moment so quick you could’ve missed it his eyes look… soft? No… that had to be a trick of the lights.

“You’re my client. No one else’s. Got it?” He punctuates seriously. You nod your head quickly. What the hell just happened?

[xjulixred45x]

Okay so you know how the three good fairies in Sleeping Beauty bless baby Aurora?

Would the fairies in Diasomnia do the same when Yuu's baby is born?

Awww totally! Malleus, Lilia and Sebek gather near baby Sheila (when Yuu is well enough to have visits over, Silver and Sebek lends a hand with the mantainment of Ramshackle with the other First Years) and they all are SO soften up by her, she is so tiny and cute and have those little hands that only cover a finger and the liltte hair and SHE IS SO CUTE---

Prolly is Malleus who offers the idea of the blessings in the first place, but obvs he talked with Lilia and Sebek before hand to know which one of them would give the baby each blessing. Aaaand avoid giving a blessing that would be "too much" in Lilia's own words (Sebek initial blessing was that Sheila could destroy her enemies with only one hit. Malleus at first wanted to give her the gift of FLYING. Needless to say, Lilia encourge them to choose another, less dangerous gift).

SO, the Blessing time ends up being like this:

Malleus Blessing for Sheila is being inmune of any harm (emotional or physical), to overcome what is put in her way with happiness, that she would grow up to be a very cheerfull and loved person by anyone who meets her, and she would live a long, fullfing life. By far the most emotional about his gift/blessing (mainly because he was so scared of messing up this for Sheila and causing her the same kind of damage that the counsuls did to him with their gifts) he fears that his gift ends up being the same curse that he carried for so many years--

But when he saw how the baby just giggles at the sparkles of the magic of his blessing (he was probably holding her for the belssing to be done), extending her little arms towards him, sorry, he cant avoid but feel smothered with pure platonic love for this creature. He WILL make sure she is well-loved.

Sebek's Blessing is way more straight to the point but not less meaningfull. He bless Sheila with great inteligence, a great, open, and curious mind, that will learn and accept anything and anyone around her. Again, this is something that Sebek wished to have learned wayyyy early in his life, so he decides to give this as his gift to Sheila in order for her to not make his mistakes, to be a better person.

He is unnusually quiet at the moment of the blessing too, he dosent use his strident, almost screaming voice. He almost is whispering (because the baby is half a sleep, and he feels SO guilty each time he awakes her when he cames to Ramshackle) and when he is done, Sheila just, STARES at his soul, and Sebek just stares back for pure reflexion, to everyone amusement.

Finally, Lilia's Blessing. A part of me thinks he would give the most savage blessing of the Three (bc is Lilia who are we talking about) but if he has to choose only ONE (not dangerous) blessing to give to Sheila, would be the Blessing of song, of having a voice and singing that would be equally melodius and charming (like in the original tale lol).

He acts so unserious in comparation of Malleus and Sebek, but the true sentimentalism of the old bat is when he sees Yuu holding Sheila as she falls asleep when the blessing ceremony is over, she looks so familiar, yet so different from...someone... in a nice way, a really, really nice way.

---------

(ESPAÑOL)

¡AWWWW, claro! Malleus, Lilia y Sebek se reúnen cerca de la bebé Sheila (cuando Yuu se recupera lo suficiente como para recibir visitas, Silver y Sebek ayudan con el mantenimiento de Ramshackle junto con los demás de Primer Año) y todos se enternecen con ella. Es tan pequeña y adorable, tiene esas manitas que solo cubren un dedo y ese pelito, ¡y ES TAN LINDA!

Probablemente Malleus fue quien propuso la idea de las bendiciones, pero obviamente habló con Lilia y Sebek antes para saber cuál de ellos le daría cada bendición a la bebé. Y evitar dar una bendición que, según Lilia, sería "demasiado", según sus propias palabras (la bendición inicial de Sebek era que Sheila podía destruir a sus enemigos de un solo golpe. Malleus al principio quería darle el don de VOLAR. Ni que decir tiene que Lilia los animó a elegir otro don menos peligroso).

Así que, el momento de la Bendición termina siendo así:

La Bendición de Malleus para Sheila es ser inmune a cualquier daño (emocional o físico), superar cualquier obstáculo con felicidad, que crezca para ser una persona alegre y querida por cualquiera que la conozca, y que viva una vida larga y plena. Sin duda, lo más emotivo de su regalo/bendición (principalmente porque tenía mucho miedo de arruinarle esto a Sheila y causarle el mismo daño que los cónsules le hicieron con sus regalos) es que teme que su regalo termine siendo la misma maldición que cargó durante tantos años.

Pero cuando vio cómo la bebé se reía nerviosamente ante los destellos de la magia de su bendición (probablemente la estaba sosteniendo mientras la bendecía), extendiendo sus bracitos hacia él, lo siento, no puede evitar sentirse abrumado por un amor puro y platónico por esta criatura. Él se asegurará de que sea bien amada.

La Bendición de Sebek es mucho más directa, pero no por ello menos significativa. Bendice a Sheila con una gran inteligencia, una mente abierta y curiosa, dispuesta a aprender y aceptar todo y a todos a su alrededor. De nuevo, esto es algo que Sebek deseó haber aprendido desde muy joven, así que decide dárselo como regalo a Sheila para que no cometa sus errores y sea mejor persona.

También está inusualmente callado en el momento de la bendición; no usa su voz estridente, casi chillona. Casi susurra (porque la bebé está medio dormida y se siente muy culpable cada vez que la despierta al llegar a Ramshackle). Al terminar, Sheila simplemente mira fijamente su alma, y ​​Sebek le devuelve la mirada, para pura reflexión, para diversión de todos.

Finalmente, la Bendición de Lilia. Una parte de mí piensa que daría la bendición más salvaje de las tres (porque hablamos de Lilia), pero si tuviera que elegir solo UNA bendición (no peligrosa) para Sheila, sería la Bendición de la Canción, de tener una voz y un canto igual de melodiosos y encantadores (como en el cuento original, jaja).

Actúa de forma tan poco seria en comparación con Malleus y Sebek, pero el verdadero sentimentalismo del viejo murciélago surge cuando ve a Yuu sosteniendo a Sheila mientras se duerme al terminar la ceremonia de bendición. Me parece tan familiar, pero a la vez tan diferente de… alguien… de una forma agradable, de una forma muy, muy agradable.

Shares, reblogs and comments are very welcome!

[baepsays]

PICTURE THIS ⸻ .✦ 呪術廻戦 ★ JJK

description ───〃★ what kind of pictures of you do they like to keep around for emotional support, and other purposes.

pairings ───〃★ (Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Toji, Kashimo Hajime, Kamo Choso, Higuruma Hiromi, Ryomen Sukuna, Gojo Satoru) x reader cw ───〃★ NSFW, MDNI, non canon compliant, established relationship, groping, oral sex (f! receiving), no pronouns, mostly gender neutral reader, fem anatomy in some cases, m! masturbation, slight exhibitionism, spit stuff, cum stuff, just freaky overall.

a/n: came to me in my nap.

☆ ─── GETO SUGURU ───☆

Geto Suguru has a thing for shoving his, pretty and long, fingers down your throat. It is at times not even sexual. It's this weird thing he does to make you develop an oral fixation. He just wants your throat to contract at the sight of them, until you remember every bump, ridge, and vein running on his hands.

If he is not able to put his fingers in your mouth in public, he is giving you a lollipop, or a toothpick. Just about anything to keep your mouth occupied and needing more of his fingers. Because he knows they cannot be replaced by candy or anything.

But while training your mouth, he developed another perverted obsession on top of one.

He just loves taking pictures of you with his fingers in your mouth. You will find hundreds and thousands of pictures of yourself, in this specific, and very safe, folder on his phone—for which he also has a backup, because you just never know you cannot lose something that precious.

It's just you, and your tongue lying flat on your lips, while his fingers are completely submerged inside the abyss of your mouth. Pressing down on your tongue, and drool dripping down from the side of your mouth.

Sometimes he shoves them in so deep, that they almost reach your throat, and tickle your uvula. Knuckles press themselves into the textured and hard roof of your mouth, while your eyes roll back so hard that the color of your pupils can be hardly seen in the whites of your eyeballs. Sometimes both of your hands would be grabbing onto his wrists, other times one of his unoccupied hands would be on your throat, squeezing on it from time to time.

And Suguru believes he's not far from his goal where one day you start to salivate and get aroused just at the thought of his fingers.

☆ ─── NANAMI KENTO ───☆

Your husband is a busy man. Who has not much to look forward to in his daily life during business hours. He wakes up looking forward to your sleepy eyes, and he comes home looking forward to hugging you.

So, as a great spouse, you always remember to pack him a homemade lunch box. And sometimes a little surprise. Which makes him look forward to lunch, and motivates him to work harder so he can get home to you as early as possible.

These little surprises include sticky notes on top of his lunch box, that say things like, 'Enjoy eating your lunch like you enjoyed eating me out this morning <3'

And they never fail to make him chuckle as he puts them away in this box in his drawer. But this box contains more than dirty, flirty messages. They include these pictures you like to include in his lunch set from time to time, when he's particularly upset with work.

The pictures often show you, in flimsy and erotic lingerie, in a variety of colors each time. Bras that don't leave anything to the imagination, and just enhance your assets. Panties at times may have pretty flowers or laces, other times it's barely there, and sometimes they have his initials either at the back or at the front. Right on top of the mound in between your legs, or above the curve of your ass.

Sometimes you would click a Polaroid, where you are on your knees, legs open, and fingers barely covering up what lies between your thighs, made and exposed. The flash perfectly captures the wetness that accumulates there, and how your hand barely covers anything, for him to almost lose his mind at work.

So Kento looks forward to work, only to grow his collection that lies deep into the drawers of his desk.

☆ ─── FUSHIGURO TOJI ───☆

Toji is not the most tech savvy guy out there. He quite detested the little gadgets and devices you kept on buying. But of all of them, he didn't scoff at the film camera that you got him for his last birthday day.

He used that thing to his heart's content. One could say he might even qualify for a professional photographer if he ventured into it. The pictures he takes of the most mundane things in his day to day life, to vacation pictures—all too gorgeous to not be framed.

But if you asked him what is his favorite subject to capture, he would simply smile and shrug.

Because it's none of anyone else's business, the pictures that he holds the dearest to his heart. Pictures of you lying in bed, after he is done roughing you up. Where your limbs are scattered in every direction, just a flimsy comforter covering your ass, riding up enough to show his load leaking out of you.

How your tits pressed against the mattress, and spilled out from the side. Your hair looked tangled, probably from how much he pulled on them. Red and purple, indents of his teeth, marked your skin, as you slept soundly.

Those are his favorite. The grain, and the lighting complimented how worn out you looked in those pictures. Sometimes barely conscious other times not. And he'd die before anyone else gets to see them.

☆ ─── KASHIMO HAJIME ───☆

You do not understand your boyfriend. Some might think Hajime is quite an eccentric man, you just think he has habits that cannot be understood.

Among many of these habits, the one you do not understand at all—is when he randomly comes up to you, squeezes your face, and takes a picture of you like that. You look absolutely dumb, cheeks puffed up in his hands, lips puckering, and a frown on your face.

At first you thought he was teasing you, trying to collect blackmail material on you or something. Then the frequency of this habit, and the frequency of you catching him staring at those pictures with a smitten smile, makes you think maybe he just likes to look at you like that. So you shrug it off whenever he does this.

You might be sitting on the couch, cooking, eating even, trying to do your skin care—that one he gets a lot of scolding for touching your face when you just did your routine—trying to sleep. It does not matter when or what, he is holding your face hostage in his hands.

And the reason why is kind of simpler than the theories you've come up with.

He likes to jerk off to them.

He likes to hold his cock over his phone, with your picture open on it, as he slides through the folder, where your face is squished up in his hands. All different angles almost, in some of them you are looking up at him, then you're looking down.

Some of them are taken when you are sleeping, soundly on your pillow, nuzzling into his hands. And the ones in which you are awake, you're frowning, smiling, giving him stink eyes. All of it, just turns him on without any explanation.

Maybe it's just the grip he has on you, quite literally, as well as metaphorically.

How you'd sometimes complain, or wouldn't understand this fetish of his, but simply comply without knowing the nasty things he does with them. How you do not even bother to know, just how good it feels for him to move his hand up and down on his own cock, with precum and spit mixing up and making it all so slippery.

How much he twitches and comes, all over his screen, on top of a picture of your cheeks smothered by his hands.

Maybe next time the new addition to his collection will be when you give him head.

☆ ─── KAMO CHOSO ───☆

Your boyfriend planned great dates. Honestly it is hard to rival the meticulous details he remembers about you, and what you say in passing, to plan the most perfect dates.

Sometimes they are as elaborate as a fancy dinner at a Michelin star restaurant, and other times they are as simple as watching old movies in a makeshift pillow fort in your living room.

Other times, it's amusement parks. And after terrifying rides, fried food, and sweet treats—the best way to rest and get some money's worth of memories is in a photobooth tucked away from most people's eyes.

Somehow the silly faces and poses turn into you sitting on his lap and kissing his face. Which turns into a full on make out session. The small little room gets stuffy with how his tongue prods itself inside of your mouth, and finds your tongue.

*click*

And the camera clicked away, how his hands inch up and up on your thighs, until they disappear under your skirt. How his nimble fingers pull down the zipper on your dress. The flash reflected on your back, and obscured what was going on.

How you moved to fully straddle him, each leg on his either side. And his hands remained under your skirt, hidden, making circles on your clit through your underwear. If the camera could record a video best believe it'd have been an obscene sex tape, with your whimpers and his groans slipping out mindlessly.

"You guys are going to come out or what?"

If it were not for the people outside, maybe you two would've ended up fully fucking in that cramped space. I mean the beep signifying that your time was up, couldn't stop you, so what else could've if it weren't for human interruption.

At least now both of you have these sets of pictures to keep safe as a souvenir for another great day.

☆ ─── HIGURUMA HIROMI ───☆

If someone took one look at your husband, they wouldn't be able to tell the filthy things he gets up to in your bedroom. Most of it is courtesy of you, but you might be the one to rile things up but he is the one who sees things through.

But feelings are very much mutual, if you are putting forward a card on the table, he won't be the one to back down. He is a lawyer by profession, and it does shine through in his personality through these little endearing things.

So when you ask him to take little pictures here and there during sex, he takes it more seriously than necessary.

You really meant it like placing the camera somewhere on the table or in a corner on the bed, set a timer and take a few pictures then forget about it. But for Hiromi, it is serious. His hands may be quivering, his hips may be stuttering, as you clamp down on his cock as you come all over him—yet still he is taking pictures of his cock bulging in your abdomen.

His own eyes are rolling back, and you might be on the verge of passing out, but he is not letting go of the phone in his hand, while his other hand steads you with a grip on your hips.

This unlocked a new sort of obsession for him.

Soon enough a locked folder appeared on his phone and his pc, filled with pictures of his Cock, trying to bulge out of your stomach. He may not be the lengthiest guy out there, but the girth really speaks for itself each time he stretches you beyond consciousness when he puts it in. No amount of preparation can really prepare you for that cock.

He has learned to take these pictures from various angles, in various positions. From underneath you, above you, holding you up, pushing you down, standing up, even sitting down.

It's something he has come to cherish. Because they work much better to aid a headache after a particularly hard case, better than a bath, better than aspirin.

☆ ─── RYOMEN SUKUNA ───☆

Sukuna does not care for technology or sentimental items.

There is barely anything to be found in his phone gallery. Except for pictures of important documents, and lots of cats, because he likes to send you a text whenever he sees a cat.

He would send something like, 'Look at this dumbass.' Along with a picture of a cat flopped over on its back. Which would be soon after followed by a video of him giving that said cat belly rubs.

So you can say he only uses that device for very essential things.

Like pictures of you sleeping, you looking somewhere unaware of him taking sneaky pictures of you. Or pictures of you lying on your back, him in between your legs, and his cum dripping down your hole.

Sukuna has to say these are very important pictures. Even if his phone somehow ever runs out of space, the pictures he takes of you, are never getting deleted. Especially the ones where he has rendered you to nothing but a drooling mess, barely aware of your surroundings, barely any feelings down your waist, and nothing but his dumb huge cock on your mind.

He has never been one to take pictures or videos of such things, he frowned upon the concept of sex tapes and porn. It just all seems very convoluted and dumb to him. Why opt for digital images that you cannot touch, when he has you in the palm of his hands?

It's just he likes how you look after probably the first two rounds, which usually are followed by many more—it is just that after those first two rounds you are at this sweet spot where your eyes are still open wide, but fully glazed, and even if you are seeing everything, you are got cognizant of it. Just a twitching mess, bites and marks all over you, and white creamy substance dripping down on the bed, or down your legs. The sight is too perfect for him to not capture.

Safe to say, his phone may be very empty, but it is not accessible for anyone else but him.

☆ ─── GOJO SATORU ───☆

Gojo Satoru is a nasty, nasty man.

When he is around you, he might get called out for being a pervert. Or if you ask him, he'll simply say, "You know how obsessed I am with you, sweets." In a very humorous tone. Which makes you think oh he is joking with you again.

But in reality, he may be a silly man, but his obsession with you is far too deep to be chalked out as some joke.

The man worships you, it is hard to keep him off of you when you are in the same room, or even under the same roof. It is futile to ask him to focus on his job instead of texting you, and calling you every few hours.

And if somehow miraculously he actually does not bother you, he is simply then staring at your pictures. The ones he takes on his phone, the ones backed up on his flash drive, or his favorite picture of you, that he carries in his wallet.

To be more accurate, there are two pictures of you that exist in his wallet, the one everyone can visibly see when he opens his wallet. Just a picture of you smiling, and looking up, clearly at him, given from the white hair peeking from the corner. It was taken when you guys officially went on your first date together after years of tension filled friendship, and delusional pining. So it was rather special.

The other one, sits under the first picture, hidden away from the gaze of anyone who is not Satoru himself.

It actually has more of him in this picture than you. Because it's a picture of him eating you out, and looking up at the camera, with his big blues dilated, and transfixed on the taste on his tongue.

He remembers exactly when, where, and how the picture was taken. It was a simple summer night, and he bought you a new Polaroid camera to replace your old broken one. And what other better way to inaugurate it than making you take pictures of him—face deep in your cunt, hands gripping your thighs to the point the knuckles on his hand became white. And he looked simply pussy drunk.

The picture was slightly hazy. It was the only one you took properly enough to make out what was happening behind the scenes. Everything else was fully blurred, blacked out, or a picture of furniture. So he had to keep it safe with him. And that is how it ended up in his wallet.

Helping him out whenever he missed you, alongside the picture of you smiling. If he ever lost his wallet, fuck the black cards, id, and everything else. He'd die if something happened to those precious pictures of you.

FIND MORE OF MY WORKS HERE

a/n: dividers by @/enchanthings-a. header from Meshitaki Onna ni Yakuza no Ai wa Omosugiru (that manga is lowkey so out of pocket)

hi hi i am a little busy this month and also just very tired and not feeling great overall. so take this for now, i am working on some stuff but no promises when they'll be out. i hope you understand <3 feel free to drop by the inbox if you want tho ^^

tag list: @cheralith @madamechrissy @gojosperms @teddytoru @cuntphoric @cuntyji @cuntphoric @aishi-toru @rriwyu @exquisink @lover-lyn @buckysm @wwwritererm @soupicidesquad @indiewritesxoxo @gojosconsort @shouiow @user25384959574 @dxmnsaera @kazupop @slayzzz @undercvrfan444 @miizuzu @getoistic @infinitatis-ink @theorphicangel @ricecake-mochi @emochosoluvr

[ambriolett02]

When reader thinks she’s gonna work her usual magic~✨

Blue always tops, it doesn’t matter hehe

Inspired by one of the requests I have by the sweet @thecreatorpenguin but I feel like it didn’t meet the request requirements so this one is a treat ;)

This idea isn’t original, it’s based on Nomifae’s work on instagram for their mediastaticbelle works^^ If you enjoy Hazbin ships check them out!

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

Hear me out, HEAR ME OUT:

Ok so imagine Mer!Au right, what if Mer!Reader gets injured by some intruder and manages to scurry away and hide, but in the process of escaping leaves behind a cloud of blood and scales,,,how would mer!141 react to what could be interpreted as their untimely demise?

(Also, just wanna say, love your work its wonderful and keeps the serotonin pumping <<<3)

took liberties :)

73 / remora reader and shark!141

...

You dart into the reef to hide, tail flashing silver behind you. You're not taking chances again yet.

Soap pivots and locks his gaze on your hiding spot instinctively. Before he can chase after you, Ghost speaks up.

"Quit terrorizing the cleaner fish."

Soap snorts. His body relaxes, but two beats of his long tail carry him down to the reef anyway. He's never been able to resist his overactive prey drive. "Wasn't me." He circles, fingers brushing multicolor spines and blooms as if testing for weaknesses. "Thought we agreed no games before breakfast."

"I'm not playing," you mumble.

Soap finds your hiding spot. He braces his forearms against the reef above your head. His shadow engulfs you completely, cool and safe. "Aye? Your wee tail's still twitchin' like bait."

Embarrassment prickles across your skin. You look away from him and smoothe your palms down your tail, cleaning your scales nervously. "Never mind."

Soap tilts his head. He winds his arm around the sharp edges of broken fan coral to skim the curve of your tail with his knuckle. You settle his larger hand in yours and pick at the grit under his claws in silence. Soap's turns his hand palm-up so you can fuss with it properly. His knuckles are split from sparring with Ghost, and his forearm bears faint bite marks from that same rogue barracuda mer who picked a fight. "C'mon. Out you pop. I won't tell Price you're still jumpin' at shadows if you clean my teeth."

You startle. Price? "Is he mad?"

Soap smirks and flexes his fingers in your stilled hands. "Nah. Just grumpin' that some arsepiece’s scarin' off his favorite wee perch." His teeth flash in the dappled light. "Unless you'd rather he hear how you've been hidin' scraps from him again."

"I have not!"

Soap leans in. His broad shoulders completely block the light filtering through the coral. The faint scar on his cheek creases with his smirk. " Then why's there two cuttlebones and a clamshell picked clean under that brain coral?"

An irate twitch prickles down your spine and makes your dorsal fins stand up. He knows for a fact that you never ever steal food. You just like to collect the trinkets sometimes. You're saving those bones for something specific.

"That's what I thought. Come, come, out ye get."

You let him use your grip on his hand to pull you out of your hiding spot. He could never wedge his way inside, thanks to the sharp stone and broken coral around it. Your much smaller body glides through easily. The coral ghosts past your scales but leaves red nicks on his bicep. He doesn't seem to notice.

You curl into his chest and cling there as he settles onto the sand beside Ghost.

Ghost doesn’t lift his head from where it’s pillowed on his scarred forearms, but you feel his eyes. Sunlight catches the jagged edge of his fin, freshly torn from the same skirmish. His tail flicks once as you settle against Soap’s chest. “Quit dragging her out into the open. You'll just make her more skittish.”

Soap’s chest vibrates with a laugh that curls your fins. “Nah, she likes havin’ someone bigger to cling on. You’re just jealous it’s not you.”

Ghost glares at Soap. Then the weight of his gaze drops squarely onto you. The more you pretend to busy yourself with cleaning Soap's scratched arm, the longer it leaves Ghost to stare in silence at the puckered red lines down your back and remember how they billowed with fresh blood.

He's been quick to anger since that fight. You're sure he blames you for inciting the whole thing.

"Just as well the bastard took a chunk out of you," he mutters. "If that's how you learn to keep away from threats you can't suck up to."

You tense. Soap’s fingers tighten around your waist. "Leave off." He tilts his wrist to brush one of your knuckles with his thumb. It's a patient gesture from a beast like Soap toward a nervous bottom feeder like you. "Don't know how you've still got so much sand in your gills. It's been days since that fight. The rest of us might as well have forgotten it already."

Ghost doesn't answer. His gaze drags again over the half-healed claw marks striping almost to your shoulders. His stare lingers too long on the deepest one—the one that nearly snagged your spine when he'd been too slow to intercept the barracuda's strike. You've not cleaned them as well as you should. He has half a mind to yank you sideways from Soap’s grip and make you take care of yourself better. Stupid little good-for-nothing.

You wait in the crook of Soap's arm until he and Ghost settle into silence again. Then you shift yourself up to Soap's shoulder and begin busying yourself with cleaning his teeth. You keep your gaze trained down on your work.

Soap tips his head back and slackens his jaw to give you better access. His incisors glint in the filtered sunlight. The metallic tang of old blood clings to his molars. You work methodically, plucking shreds of kelp and bone fragments from between his teeth with your smaller fingers and ignoring the way his throat bobs when your thumb grazes the corner of his lips. You feel him begin to shift in playful arousal under you.

Ghost’s tail flicks again. Closer this time. “Fuck’s sake.”

Soap’s throat rumbles with a laugh before you can react. “Bet she’d fix you up just as nice if you stopped glowerin’ long enough to ask. I swear you’re just sore ‘cause nobody’s offered to clean your fangs or your cock since the last time Gaz and I—”

“Finish that sentence,” he growls, “and I’ll tear out your spine for a toothpick.”

"Clean him next, then," Soap tells you mildly. "Teeth and everything else. Good n' proper." He shoots Ghost a cheeky look. "She’ll fix ye up right if ye just ask, see? Then again, maybe ye’ve forgotten how to ask for anythin’ that isn’t a knife to the ribs.”

You nick your knuckle on Soap’s tooth. A bead of blood wells up, swirling crimson in the water between you. Soap’s nostrils flare—a shark catching scent. He laps the cut with a rough swipe of his tongue before you can pull away.

Ghost’s tail slams into the sand. The force of it sends a shockwave through the water that scatters a nearby school of damselfish. He’s between you and Soap before you can blink. One rough hand grabs your tail to pull you backward off Soap’s chest. His grip is mean, but the way he angles his body between you and Soap’s nipping teeth is protective. He clamps his other hand around Soap’s throat and shoves him flat against the sand. “Don’t play with her like food.” Then he turns on you. “You’re a liability.”

You nod and lower your gaze.

It only seems to piss him off more. “Stop flinching. You’re acting like bleeding chum in open water. Do you want another mer to take a bite out of you?”

Soap shoves Ghost away. "Pick on someone higher up the food chain, ya fuckin’ weapon.”

“No.” Ghost’s gaze snaps back to you. The predatory stillness in him is worse than Soap’s chaos. “She’ll keep being jumpy until she fixes herself up.”

Soap’s grin sharpens like he’s enjoying toying with Ghost—distracting him on your behalf. "Aye, there's his old soft spot. Makes a right pretty nurse, eh?”

Soap grins when Ghost lunges at him—but you scrambling to get clear of their tussle is what actually stops both short. Ghost freezes, watching you retreat toward the reef again with a tension in his shoulders that wasn’t there before.

Soap blinks. Then groans. “Christ, Simon. You’ll never get her to trust you if you keep snapping like a—”

Ghost silences him with a rough shove before swimming off toward the deeper trenches.

...

[part 1] / part 2 / part 3

more mer au / more Soap / more Ghost / masterlist

[nanamisgirly]

feed back and reblogs are always appreciated my girliees <333

part.2 part.3

virgin!nerdjo who pulled a total certified baddie in college by being…himself.

awkward, dorky, too tall for his own good, always pushing up those stupid glasses with ink-stained fingers— it was him. somehow, you wanted him. he doesn't understand how he got so lucky, but he's not about to question it. 

virgin!nerdjo got one mission : being good to you. especially in bed. because when you kissed him for the first time, straddling his lap, grinding that perfect little body against him, he nearly came in his pants. he gripped your waist a little too tight to keep you from moving too much. it's humiliating how quickly he was about to fold, how his cock throbs desperately just from the heat of you.

virgin!nerdjo isn't completely clueless—he's read about sex, heard about it, he's not that innocent. but knowing and doing are two completely different things. and he realized it the second you grinded on him. he damn near whimpered. bit down hard on his lip to swallow it back.

virgin!nerdjo needs to learn. he thinks porn might help—big mistake. it's all so…aggressive. male-centered. nothing about it feels right. he watches a few clips, cringing the entire time, then slams his laptop shut and scrubs a hand down his face. he should have listened when geto used to go on and on about his exploits. should have paid attention instead of rolling his eyes and tuning him out.

so he does what he does best. he researches. virgin!nerdjo orders a book called ‘The Art of Female Pleasure.’ and the moment it arrives, he's on it. glasses slipping down his nose, hunched over the pages, absorbing every word like it's the most important text he's ever studied. he dedicates days to this. nights. rereads passages, highlights sections. he doesn't just want to be good. he wants to be perfect. because you're a baddie—a pro— and he's so fucking lucky. what if you jump on him any time soon and he's still not ready? that idea terrifies him.

virgin!nerdjo gets so into it that he even starts to scroll through forums. he reads firsthand experiences, studying anatomy diagrams until his face is burning and his cock is achingly hard beneath the sheets. because it's not just learning, it's imagining.

virgin!nerdjo who imagines you underneath him, pretty lips parted in gasps, legs spread as he slides his fingers over you just like the book describes. he imagines how wet you'd get if he did everything right. if he took his time, kissed his way down your body, licked into you like he's read—slow, deep, deliberate. he wonders if you'd tug on his hair, if you'd cry out his name, if you'd shake when you come, thighs squeezing around his head—

fuck. horny thoughts took over him as he bucks up into nothing. he wants it. so bad. 

and the next time you're kissing, you instantly notice how his hands get bolder, slipping under your shirt, trailing fire down your spine. how he suddenly knows excatly where to touch, where to squeeze, when to roll his hips just right—letting you feel the size of him, the hard, thick heat pressing up against you. you break the kiss, breathless. “since when do you do all that?”

virgin!nerdjo swallows thickly, ears burning red. “…i've been studying.”

૮꒰⸝⸝> - <⸝⸝꒱ა☆⋆。

for @miscellaneous-misty

[stareiiez]

you and mark grayson being both virgins is something angels sing about in their heavenly chorus.

he's learned things from pornhub and twitter porn links that wildly over exageratte how to make your girl squirt for the first time. magic mike has taught mark how painful it feels to smack your dick on hardwood flooring just to try and grind on some sexy beat. he gets made fun of by Rex for even asking what correct hole does his dick get put into, and if it'll snap off if you bounce too hard on him when you want to ride.

he's pulled out all the stops, rather shitty mind you. Debbie and Nolan are on a date in Italy, and he's got exactly thirty minutes to make you wet enough so it doesn't hurt when he slips in for the first time.

unfortunately for him, he doesn't get far enough to get you naked before he's cumming in his boxers.

he blames friction and how a victoria secret thong can really emphasize a plump mound and camel toe when its covered in your slick. rose petals are bleeding on your skin that he's sprinkled upon his duvet earlier. the bed springs creaking way too annoyingly loud when he attempts to press boxer covered cockhead in between your clothed pussy lips. you two have been dry grinding and humping eachother for the last ten minutes.

something about you almost naked, sweaty breasts rolling up and down in rolling waves; and sticky clear strings of cum stringing his softened dick and your quivering cunt together . it really puts worms into his brain and lets him settle on your panties trapping your clit down and making you twitch under his body. your head pressed against his pillows while you two watch his bulge grow back to life when you whine for more.

mark's a virgin, but he says its by choice, and not because he's scared about hurting you for the first time.

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Xavi didn’t enjoy being an incubus, especially when he was the last one of his kind.

Feeding was a pain, and now he had no one to guide him or gather food for him.

Before becoming an adult, young incubi would eat human food, but now that Xavi had reached maturity, the only thing that would sustain him was having sex with a human.

“How embarrassing…” he murmured, peering into your window. “She’s the only one asleep right now…”

During the day, Xavi disguised himself as a human. He had seen you a few times at the local college he attended with you.

You enticed him with your sweet scent and soft figure. He had never felt so hungry before, was this what being an adult incubus felt like?

Xavi watched you for a few weeks, feeding routinely on your naughty dreams. It was just enough to keep him from starving, but he craved being even closer to you.

His hand moved down your soft tummy. Usually, he tried his best to stay away from humans. After all, he didn’t want to grow attached

However, you were so soft and kind, always helping out your fellow classmates and volunteering to bring homework to people who were sick.

You even smiled at him when he walked to his seat every day. No one ever paid him much attention. Xavi tried his best to be as uninteresting as possible, to blend into the background.

Being an incubus meant his blood was the most valuable aphrodisiac in the world, and having a pair of the incubus horns meant you’d be able to have any woman or man you wanted.

That’s why his entire race had been slaughtered, for their bodies. It hurt to think about, and to keep himself safe, Xavi took up very little space.

Something about you enticed him, however. Maybe it was the smell of your perfume, or the way your hips swayed as you walked.

You were alluring, and that’s why his hand was moving up your shirt while you-

“Xavi?”

He jumped back, his wings extending as he got ready to retreat. You sat up, rubbing your sleepy eyes and yawning. “Xavi… what are you doing in my… room?”

His cheeks turned red as he tried to explain. “W-well you see, I was just-“

“And… you have horns… a tail… are those wings?”

This was it, he’d completely exposed himself to a human. You were going to call the local church and he’d be cut apart!

“Are you okay..?”

Your words stilled his racing heart. “… no, if I’m being honest I’m not okay at all.”

You sat up, stretching a little before patting your bed. Xavi could still see that your eyes were clouded with sleep. “Mmph, tell me all about it.”

For some reason, you felt like a safe person. Xavi spent his entire life keeping his guard up, which meant making friends was forbidden.

So why did he want to tell you all of his secrets, every little thing that was currently bothering him?

Xavi looked down at your soft form, his eyes on the way your nightgown barely covered your breasts. Your bare thighs were a problem too, he could already feel his body beginning to shake with desire.

“(Name)… I need your help.”

You looked up, your eyes still foggy from sleep. “Help..? If it’s about the homework, I’m behind-“

“I’m in your room in the middle of the night, this isn’t about homework.”

He placed a timid hand on your thigh, his entire body tensing when he felt your warmth soaking into his skin.

“Oh… then… what do you need?” you asked, shyly crossing your bare legs. Xavi noticed this, and pulled his hand away.

“Sexual intercourse.”

He said it with a straight face, but Xavi’s heart was pounding and his cheeks were beginning to heat up. You stared at him in shock, your mouth agape as you processed that the quiet guy you waved to every morning was asking to have sex with you.

“Ehem.” he cleared his throat, trying to disguise the fact his face was red and voice was shaky. “As you can tell, I am not human. I am a demon, specifically an incubus. We feed off of life energy, specifically the energy humans exert when having sex.”

“S-so you’ve done this before?” you asked, causing him to sputter.

“N-n-not exactly, no, but…”

Xavi sighed, stretching out his wings and fluttering them. “I’ve done my research. I know the human body better than most.”

In a blink of an eye he was hovering over you, his tail flicking before placing itself between your legs.

“W-what are you-“

He lowered his head, whispering into your ear. “I’ve tasted your dreams, and they’re full of pent up sexual frustration.”

His tail rubbed against your clothed cunt, the end of it pressing against your twitching clit. “You want this just as much as I need it.”

Xavi kissed down your neck, his fangs brushing against your pulse point. “I can relieve all of your tension, and all I need in return is some of your life energy.”

The incubus bit down, his aphrodisiac venom coursing through your veins. “There we go, this will loosen your body up,” he murmured, pulling your now soaked panties off.

Your body felt so hot, your mind hazy as he prepped you with his fingers. Xavi looked at your pussy with a mixture of curiosity and lust, taking a tentative sniff before his pupils dilated.

He buried his face between your thighs, latching onto your clit for a bit while his fingers continued to loosen you up.

The man had never fathomed that his body would react instinctively to a female's pheromones, but he was already doing everything as if he had done it a thousand times before.

“There you go, that’s it…”

Your pussy drooled when he pulled back, and he stared up at you with pussy-drunk eyes. If he could, he would have stayed between your legs the entire night.

“This is what you want, isn’t it?”

His cock rested on your thigh, erect and throbbing. Xavi barely ever touched himself, and now he was just inches away from being buried inside of a woman.

For years, you had wanted to lose your virginity. Thankfully, you weren’t desperate enough to go with any guy, but lately it has been hard to satisfy your needs. Perhaps that’s why you didn’t react much to Xavi’s explanation, and why you were so lax about everything.

He was right, you wanted this so bad it almost hurt.

“P-please…”

Xavi was not one to make a lady wait.

He held onto your thighs, his tail flicking your clit skillfully as his cock sunk into you.

You had played with toys before, trying to prepare for this very moment, but nothing could have prepared you for the sheer size and girth. Xavi wasn’t huge, but he could change his shape and length by will.

“Is that a good size for you?” he murmured, testing your endurance with a few light thrusts. “Maybe a bit bigger, hmm?”

His mouth latched onto one of your nipples while his tail continued to play with your clit. Xavi was overstimulating you, bringing you to an orgasm within a few minutes.

Through the next few hours, his cock expanded and shrank, getting longer or shorter to meet your needs at that moment. Despite being a virgin, he was amazing at pleasing a woman.

Being an incubus meant it came natural to him. Sex was how he fed…

Xavi pulled out after a while, his cheeks flushed as he watched his cum pool out of you. Being the smart man he was, he knew that having too many sexual partners may blow his cover.

‘It was nothing to do with liking her,’ he thought, staring at your flustered face. ‘Not… at all.’

He carefully cleaned you up before tucking you back into bed.

“We can do this twice a week… how about Saturday and Wednesday?” he asked, carefully caressing your cheek.

So you formed a contract with a demon… one that would keep you satisfied and happy.

Though… would he want to stop at just having sex with you? Incubi could be rather possessive…

Part 2?

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi @flamefoxx @sandramalikstyles-blog @breathingstarlight

[cloudedcreams]

thinking of your very own yandere! best friend!

you don’t know he’s a yandere of course. he’d never let you see that twisted part of you, and some days there’s such an intensity about him that you’re fearful to ask. he’s a nice guy, clingy perhaps but generally speaking he’s polite, but there’s always something so unsettling about him.

you found him crying one day, leant up against the walls of a corridor with his hands around his head. sobs were pouring from his lips and snot dribbled down his nose and your heart filled with pity. you curled up besides him, offering him a half empty bottle filled with water and patting his shoulder.

it was an act of basic kindness but one he held to his heart greatly. he latched onto you like a leach, and you soon came to find out that he was quite pleasant company. he surprised you with gifts made of origami and doodled your name with pretty letters.

some lunchtimes you’d spend holed up in a classroom. he told you he had a sister, and he’d plait braids into your hair. he didn’t enjoy eating lunch but he’d bring some anyways and hand it to you as he sat you down in the chair to work his magic.

you didn’t know he lied about having a sister. nor did you know about the hours he spent tugging at his hair to practice playing with yours. he wanted to be your ideal, to be so perfect you could hardly believe, and to whisk you into your arms with a promise to run away together.

[peachesvault]

Workplace Harrasment

Annoying Katsuki on the clock 👅 Yapper x listener duo my beloved

A/n: very quickly thrown together Bcs I need dopamine notifs to get thru tmrw pls

Guess he does have purple underwear huh?

© 2025 @Peachesvault - All rights reserved. Do not plagiarise/copy/post on other platforms. || Masterlist

[cherry-lala]

Some things Don't End, They Echo

Part 1, Part 2

Pairing: Female! Reader x Remmick  

Genre: Southern Gothic, Supernatural Thriller, Dark Romance, Psychological Horror. Word Count:11.4k+

Summary: The dance continues in a world unraveling at the seams, where ghosts wear familiar faces and every silence hides a price. As Y/N moves through shadows thick with hunger and half-truths, she must decide what kind of freedom is worth the ache—and whether redemption can bloom in soil soaked with sorrow.

Content Warning: Emotional and physical abuse, manipulation, supernatural themes, implied and explicit violence, betrayal, transformation lore, body horror elements, graphic depictions of blood, intense psychological and emotional distress, explicit sexual content (including bloodplay, coercion, and power imbalance), references to domestic conflict, mind control, and religious imagery involving damnation and corrupted salvation. Let me know if I missed any!

A/N: Here it is—Part 2 (and the final chapter) to The Devil Waits Where Wildflowers Grow, the one so many of y’all asked for. I enjoyed watching this, even with exams beating me around. Writing it was a comfort, a catharsis—and your support on Part 1 meant the world. Thank you for every comment, like, and reblog. You kept me going. As always, I hope it haunts you just right. Again, Likes, reblogs, and Comments are always appreciated.

Taglist: @alastorhazbin, @jakecockley, @dezibou

The room smelled like lavender and starch, thick with the stillness only Sunday mornings knew.

Mama hummed a hymn under her breath, the notes trembling like moth wings in the golden light.

I stood still in front of the mirror, hands folded over the folds of my white cotton dress.

White gloves. White socks with the little lace trim.

The picture of innocence, shaped by hands that still believed innocence could be preserved if tied tight enough.

Mama’s fingers, careful and calloused, smoothed my sleeves. She tucked a wild curl behind my ear and smiled at me through the mirror — a tired, proud smile she saved only for mornings like these.

“Pretty as a picture,” she said, her voice carrying all the love and all the fear a mother could fit into a few words.

I blinked.

And the world shifted.

I turned in her arms, meaning to reach up and hug her.

But somehow, suddenly — I was taller.

And she was older.

Her hands trembled on my shoulders, confusion flashing across her lined face.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Mama asked. Her voice cracked at the edges. “Why are you cryin’?”

I hadn’t even realized I was.

A tear slid hot and slow down my cheek, dripping onto the lace.

Before I could form words, Mama gasped — a raw, wounded sound — and stumbled back, the white ribbon slipping from her fingers to the floor like a dying bird.

I spun toward the mirror.

And saw it.

Saw me — but not the girl I was.

Not even the woman I thought I’d grow into.

No.

The thing in the glass wore my face, but wrong.

Eyes black as cinders, ringed in a seeping red that ran down my cheeks like melting wax.

My mouth hung open — a silent scream caught behind broken lips.

The white dress, once so carefully pressed, now bloomed with stains the color of old blood.

Mama pressed a trembling hand to her mouth.

Her voice came out in a whisper too full of knowing to be anything but truth.

“The devil has visited you… and left a raven’s feather at your door.

And you — you accepted it.”

I spun toward her, arms reaching — pleading —

“Mama, no—!”

But the floor cracked open first.

A black mist poured out like smoke from a curse long buried.

It wrapped around her ankles, her knees, her throat.

Her body jerked once — then dissolved into ash, crumbling through the air like burned prayer paper.

And through the mist, a mouth formed.

That mouth.

That smile I had trusted.

The one that once whispered safety under the stars, now pulled wide in a predator’s grin.

The world tilted.

Blurring.

Fading.

I came back to myself with a ragged breath, choking on the thick air of a dark, unfamiliar room on the floor, cold sweat clinging to my back, the faint flicker of an oil lamp casting long shadows across the walls. The room dim and silent, except for the slow creak of wood… and the quiet hum of breath that wasn’t mine.

Sitting across the room, watching me carefully — was Stack.

At first, my heart leapt — a familiar face in a world gone cold.

I almost ran to him — almost — until I caught the gleam in his eyes.

Not brown.

Not human.

But white.

Blazing and empty as a snowfield under a full moon.

His smile stretched just a little too wide.

Predatory.

Slouched in the chair across the room, arms folded, watching me with a patience that felt wrong.

“What…” I rasped, backing toward the dresser, “what happened to you?”

My voice trembled. “What are you?”

The mirror above the dresser caught me just as I turned.

I saw my own eyes — or what used to be mine.

Pitch black. Red glowing like coals flickering deep in the hearth.

A fire that didn’t warm — just warned.

I stumbled back, mouth opening with a soundless gasp.

Stack chuckled, low and lazy like the devil warming up a sermon.

“I’m like you now,” he said, tilting his head as if showing off the whites of his eyes. “Well… kinda. He gifted us freedom. From all that heartbreak, all that heaviness. Gave you freedom the way you thought was best.”

Desperation gripped me.

I lunged for the window, tearing the heavy curtains aside.

Sunlight poured in.

It hit my skin—

and the world fractured.

It wasn’t fire.

It wasn’t pain.

It was terror.

Ripping through my mind like a pack of wolves.

The golden light twisted into knives, slicing into every hidden corner of me — dredging up every buried fear, every secret shame, every broken promise.

The sun I used to love—

the warmth that once kissed my skin—

now roared inside my skull like a nightmare I couldn’t wake from.

I collapsed, a hoarse, broken scream tearing from my chest.

Clawing at the floor, at the walls, trying to escape what was already inside me.

Stack watched.

Silent.

Almost sad.

He reached out with a casual hand, pulling the curtains closed again.

The light vanished.

I lay there, a trembling wreck, sobbing into the dusty boards.

Stack crouched low beside me, voice dropping soft and cold as winter mud:

“She’ll learn,” he said.

“This life’s better for her.

True freedom.”

His boots scraped the floor as he stood again, leaving me crumpled there.

The door clicked shut behind Stack, and for a moment, the room was quiet again — too quiet.

Then came the sound.

Soft boots on old wood.

He was here.

Remmick.

The air changed with him, thickened until it tasted like copper on my tongue.

He crouched beside me, slow and easy, like he was soothing a frightened animal.

His hand brushed against my hair — a pet, a comfort, a mockery.

“You’re all better now,” he crooned, voice low and soft enough to make my teeth ache. “Sometimes… the first taste of freedom’s too sweet for a belly that’s been filled with bitterness too long.”

I jerked away from his touch, scrambling back until my spine hit the cold dresser behind me.

The mirror rattled above it, showing me both of us:

Me — trembling, broken.

Him — smiling, patient.

Like a god admiring a sculpture he’d half-finished.

He didn’t follow.

Just stayed crouched there, red eyes gleaming like coals, eyebrows lifted in that innocent, boyish way that used to warm me from the inside out.

Now it just made my heart twist the wrong way.

Not because I hated him.

Because I still loved him.

And love like that…

It’s worse than hate.

It’s the knife you twist in yourself.

I choked on a sob, the words clawing free without thought.

“Why did you turn me into this monster?” I whispered. “This ain’t freedom… it ain’t even enslavement. It’s worse.”

Remmick’s mouth pulled into something almost pitying. Almost.

He stood slow, dust shifting off his shirt.

“I only did what you asked of me,” he said, voice syrupy sweet. “Don’t talk like I didn’t give you a choice. You wanted this, darlin’. You begged for a way out. I just made the decision easier.”

His words spun the air — circles with no end, no beginning.

“But it’s alright,” he drawled, stepping back, giving me room to breathe and suffocate at once. “Once I find lil’ ole Sammie… this lick of freedom will be just a taste of what’s to come.”

At Sammie’s name, my heart leapt.

He was alive.

Maybe others were, too.

I clutched at that hope with trembling fingers, already piecing together desperate plans. Run. Warn him. Stop Remmick.

But Remmick chuckled low in his throat, like he could taste my thoughts.

He dropped into the chair Stack had occupied moments before, sprawling like he owned the whole damned world.

“Oh, darlin’,” he said, voice dripping pity. “Don’t be so eager. Sammie won’t trust you no more than he trusts me. Thinks you’re the devil’s pawn now—”

“Fuck you!” I snapped, the venom lashing out before I could leash it.

He didn’t flinch.

Just smiled wider.

A crescent moon smile. Hungry.

“Aw, no need to get upset,” he cooed. “I’m doing this for the best, you see. For me. For you. For all those poor souls that ache for a world without chains.”

His eyes shone when he spoke. Like he believed it. Like he tasted salvation and didn’t even know it was poison.

“You don’t know what’s best for me,” I hissed, fists curling tight enough to split new claws into my palms. “You never did. You preyed on my need for compassion. For hope. Fed me lies, called it love.

You’re no savior.

You’re just a lost soul that drunk the wine of lies and deceived yourself.”

For the first time, Remmick’s smile faltered.

Just a flicker.

He dropped his gaze to his hands, turning them over slow, as if even he didn’t recognize what he’d become.

When he looked back up, his face was empty.

“Never said I was a savior,” he murmured. “Only came to set the captives free. To bring peace to a broken world. And…”

His lips twitched up again.

“Well, I guess I did come to save after all.

Look at you, darlin’. Finally usin’ that pretty head.”

He turned, heading for the open door with lazy grace.

“I’m going to warn them,” I spat after him, my voice shaking with fury and terror. “I’ll find Sammie. Even if it kills me.”

He paused in the doorway, looking over his shoulder.

A shadow stretched long behind him, darker than night itself.

“So stubborn,” he mused. “No vision.”

He tapped his lips, mock-thoughtful.

“But that’s why I didn’t turn you fully.

You fight too much.

You keep me… entertained.”

His smile sharpened.

“But don’t think I came unprepared, darlin’,” he said, voice sinking low. “When I changed you, I made sure you couldn’t end it easy.

Didn’t want you throwin’ yourself into the sun like some tragic heroine.”

He shook his head, tsking.

“I left you more living than dead. Call it mercy,” he said. 

His voice thickened, dragging the room down with it.

“And now?

The sun don’t kill you.

It holds you.

Burns your mind.

Plays every mistake, every grief, every lie you ever swallowed — on a loop.

That’s your true punishment, sweetheart.”

He stepped into the hall.

Paused just long enough to drive the last nail into me.

“Now you’ll finally see just how close you’ve always been to the devil.”

The door closed with a whisper of finality.

The door closed with a whisper—quiet as sin, soft as silk over a blade.

And I shattered.

My fists struck the dresser like thunder begging to be heard, splinters flying like a cry unsaid.

The mirror spiderwebbed outward, each crack a fault line in my chest.

The lamp flickered—once, twice—then danced wild shadows across the wreckage of the room.

Shadows that didn’t move like they used to.

I dropped, sobbing.

Raw.

Broken open like fruit too ripe for this world.

Tears carved tracks down my cheeks, hot as blood.

And in the fractured glass, she stared back.

Me.

But not.

Black-eyed.

Twisted.

Monstrous.

I had become the thing I swore I never would.

The thing I once pitied.

The thing I feared.

I had tasted freedom… and drank too deep.

And now?

The devil wore my face.

That quiet little sound—just a door closing—rattled through me like a funeral bell.

It echoed too loud.

Too final.

Like the world had whispered its last breath and left me behind to rot in the stillness.

I didn’t move.

Didn’t breathe.

Not really.

The silence pressed in—soft at first, then tight, cruel.

Like fingers around my throat, wrapping around my ribs, filling the hollows of me where hope used to live.

Squeezing.

I backed away from the door on legs that no longer felt like mine.

My fingers shook—not from fear.

From truth.

Because I understood now.

Not just what I was—

But what I’d lost.

No freedom.

No peace.

No promise.

Just a hollow thing with something vile curling inside her chest.

A mistake dressed in skin.

I staggered.

My knees buckled, and the floor met me hard.

My chest heaved like it remembered how to cry for help, but the air wouldn’t come.

All I could feel was him.

Remmick.

Still here. Still everywhere.

His voice smeared across the walls like oil.

Like blood.

“You’re always closest to the devil.”

And that smile.

God.

That fucking smile.

My hands clawed at my chest, trying to hold on to something warm, something human—

but all I touched was the burn.

It pulsed.

Grief.

Rage.

The taste of love soured and rusted on the back of my tongue.

I choked on it.

Choked on the truth.

Choked on the ache of still loving the thing that broke me.

Because that’s what he did.

He cracked me open and called it mercy.

Called it freedom.

And I let him.

I followed him down, thinking his voice meant salvation.

And now?

Now I didn’t know what I was.

A woman?

A monster?

A memory?

Just a shell shaped like me.

I dragged myself to the mirror, arm trembling.

Bones screamed under skin that didn’t bruise like it used to.

And when I looked up—

She looked back.

Not me.

Not anymore.

Eyes like polished obsidian.

A red glow flickering deep inside like the devil left a candle burning just beneath the surface.

Like coals waiting for breath.

I touched the glass.

It was cold.

And it didn’t feel like mine.

And for the first time—honest and low—I whispered it.

“I’m not strong enough.”

Not for this.

Not for what’s coming.

Not to stop Remmick.

Not to bear this hunger in my blood, this weight in my bones.

Not when part of me…

still wanted him.

Still ached for the sound of his voice.

Still dreamed of his hands.

Still missed the lie of being chosen.

The tears came quiet now.

Not hot like before.

Just steady.

As if I was already halfway gone.

The room swayed, broken, tilting on some axis I couldn’t fix.

I curled up.

Surrounded by shattered glass

and the dust

of a woman I used to be.

Because now I saw it clear:

Remmick didn’t destroy me.

He rewrote me.

And I didn’t know if there was a way back.

Not anymore.

———

Sunlight. Soft, dappled through the canopy overhead like God’s own fingers pressed gentle against the earth.

I was little again.

Knees diggin’ into warm dirt out behind Mama’s house, the kind that clung to skin and crept under fingernails. The hem of my baby blue dress puddled around me, streaked with grass stains and the green breath of summer. My breath came light. Easy. Like I’d never known sorrow.

In my small, shaking palms, a bird fluttered. A little thing — brown wings tremblin’ like paper caught in a storm. It looked up at me with one eye, scared but still trustin’. Caught between dyin’ and hopin’ I might keep it.

“I’m gon’ fix you,” I whispered, voice soft as a prayer. “Mama says you gotta press gentle on the hurt. Let the hurt feel heard.”

I wrapped its crooked wing with Mama’s rag — one that still held the warmth of a stovetop — and moved careful, clumsy. My hands were filled with the shaky pride of a child who still believed love could mend what life broke.

“There,” I said, satisfaction curling around the word. “That’s better, huh?”

It didn’t answer, but it blinked at me. And that blink — Lord, that blink was enough. I set it down like I was settin’ down a blessing.

It stumbled. Hopped.

And then—by some mercy—it flew.

That’s how I remember it.

That’s the memory I held like gospel.

But memory lies.

Because when I blinked—

The world shifted.

The ground grew darker. Wet with somethin’ more than earth. The rag I’d tied ’round that little wing was soaked through — red and seeping.

The bird wasn’t flutterin’.

Wasn’t breathin’.

The rock sat beside it. Just there. Like it’d always been. Heavy. Stained.

And my hands — my baby hands — were red.

I gasped, staggered back like the sky’d tilted.

“No,” I whispered. “I didn’t—I didn’t—”

The screen door behind me slammed open.

Mama stood there, her eyes wide and wild, brimmin’ with fury and shame.

“You killed it,” she hissed, voice like the strike of a switch. “Lord have mercy… what did you do?”

“I tried to help—”

Her finger pointed, shakin’ so hard I thought it might break right off. “You ain’t no healer. You’re a curse.”

The words hit me like stones. Like God Himself had turned His back.

“No,” I breathed. “No, I loved it. I loved it—”

But her face blurred. The edges of her eyes twistin’, meltin’.

The memory broke apart like ash.

And when she spoke again, it wasn’t her voice.

It was his.

Remmick’s voice. That slow, slick honey-coat of a man born of sweet lies and sharpened teeth.

“You’ve always been a killer,” he said.

“You just needed someone to show you how to be honest about it.”

———

I woke with a jolt, lungs burnin’. Another nightmare. Another slice of hell carved from the corners of my mind. I sat up in that dusty bed, heart jackhammerin’. Couldn’t rightly remember how I got there — just flashes of me, scribblin’ out a plan on scrap paper, mind runnin’ circles ’round Sammie.

It had happened twice now. Slippin’ like that. Losin’ whole hours to black. Like my brain weren’t mine no more.

Remmick hadn’t shown his face since. Just leavin’ me to rot in that room, watchin’ from shadows, waitin’ for me to break in two.

And maybe I already had.

Maybe that was the plan all along.

I pressed my hand to my chest. Couldn’t even trust my own thoughts. They felt borrowed. Bent.

Before I could blink again, the house filled with sound.

A choir.

No, not a choir.

Voices — too many, too close. Low and strange.I rose, legs stiff, bones screamin’. Walked slow to the curtain, peeled it back.

Moonlight sliced into the room.

Out there, just past the tree line, shapes moved. Dancin’.

No.

Spinnin’.

Hypnotic. Like they was caught in some kind of trance.

I opened the window without meanin’ to. The music crawled in. Sank under my skin.

It sounded like sorrow strung with sugar.

Before I knew it, the house was behind me. I was out there — feet crunchin’ twigs, heart poundin’. Every step felt like I was bein’ pulled by strings I couldn’t see.

They danced in a circle. Counter-clockwise. Backward. Like time rewound and never stopped. 

It almost felt like how it was back at the juke joint, something spiritual. Like a copy to some degree. But somethin was missin. Like eating a lemon but the taste is sweet than sour.

And in the center — Him.

Remmick.

He was smilin’. Eyes like burnin’ paper under moonlight.

He beckoned me forward, just like always. And I obeyed.

He grabbed my arm, pulled me in close — too close. The others danced on, hummin’ Merle in voices that didn’t sound like they came from mouths no more.

“You feel it don’ ya?” he said, his breath warm on my cheek. “You feel this energy, this magic, but you also feel how somethin’s missin.”

I couldn’t speak.

Couldn’t blink.

“That somethin’ missin is Sammie and his gift,” he said, low and smooth. “And the longer we wait, the more time is wasted on not bein’ truly one family.”

“And we don’ want that, now do we y/n?” Mary’s voice cut in like a blade, and there she stood — eyes white, smile gone bitter cold. “We just want to be one big happy free family.”

Tears welled up, but they wouldn’t fall. My body — my soul — refused to spill for them no more.

Then the pressure cracked.

My voice came back, and Lord, it came sharp.

“You say Sammie is that somethin’ missin, or is it really because you can never invoke the ancestors — past, present, and future — like Sammie can? You can never truly have that, because the people you turned will never have that connection that drawn you to the juke joi—”

He snatched my face in one hand. Squeezed ’til my cheeks burned.

His eyes flared, teeth grit.

“You just love to run that mouth of yours,” he said, too calm. “Should’ve just taken over your whole mind instead of half.”

That grin — it weren’t playful no more. It was mean.

“Don’t forget who at the end of the day can break this pretty mind of yours. Did it once. Don’t make me do it again. It’ll be worse than what hell the memories the sun can burn in that head.”

He shoved me hard.

My body moved without askin’. Stepped right back into the dance. Circle never broke.

And all I could do was watch through the window like eyes of mine.

Watch the world spin the wrong way.

Watch myself disappear.

———

The moment I came back to myself, it was like the dark got peeled off my eyes. Breath caught sharp in my chest. I shot up off from the same dusty bed, fast but quiet, hands movin’ like they already knew the truth was waitin’ where I left it. Dropped to my knees and lifted the warped floorboard — the one with that stubborn edge I had to dig at with the crook of my nail.

There it was.

Paper, curled and brittle with dust, still hidin’ where I’d stashed it. I pressed it flat on the little nightstand near the closet, fingers shakin’ as I picked up the stub of that pencil. Lead near gone, wood splintered at the tip — but I didn’t care.

I had to finish.

Didn’t matter if it took blood instead of graphite.

I wrote fast, every word scratchin’ against the paper like a cry from my chest. A warning. 

Then came footsteps.

My whole body froze.

Heavy. Sure. Drawin’ closer like the tickin’ of judgment.

Quick as I could, I folded that letter, shoved it back in its hidey hole, laid the board back down — just as the door creaked open.

Stack stood there, leanin’ in the doorway like he owned the place. That grin on his face made my stomach turn damn near inside out. Like he was proud of somethin’ that oughta haunt a man.

“Remmick wanna see you,” he said. “Don’ want no trouble. Just talk. His words, not mine.”

I stood slow, my limbs feelin’ older than they had any right to. Didn’t speak. Just followed behind him through them crooked halls, each step echoing like the house itself was watchin’.

He led me to another room — one I ain’t never been in before.

No bed.

Just two chairs.

And a chess table.

Door shut behind me with a hollow click that made my heart skip. Then I saw it — and God help me, I wished I hadn’t.

Remmick was sittin’ there, leanin’ back easy like a man on a front porch. Blood streaked from his mouth down to his bare chest, open shirt hangin’ loose like he ain’t had a care in the world. At his feet, slumped and still, was a man. Facedown. Dead lookin. Neck at the wrong angle. Gone cold.

I staggered.

My breath caught hard.

“Oh, no need to be worried, darlin’,” Remmick said smooth, like we was talkin’ over sweet tea. “He just got too close to where he wasn’t s’posed to be. Guess he wanted to join the family.”

His teeth shone through the blood. Sharp. Too many.

I opened my mouth — wanted to scream, cuss, beg, anything.

But I couldn’t.

Somethin’ else stole my focus.

“Aw, darlin’,” he drawled, that voice low and syrupy. “You droolin’.”

I blinked — felt warmth on my chin, lifted my hand to find it slick.

Thick.

warm.

“No,” I whispered. But it was true.

“You just hungry is all,” he said. “Come here. I can share.”

And I did.

Or rather, my body did.

Dropped to my knees, crawled across that splintered floor like a dog he’d called home. Every movement wasn’t mine but felt like mine all the same. Like my soul was screamin’ and my limbs just smiled.

He reached down, fingers under my chin, tiltin’ my face to his.

“No matter how much you resist it,” he murmured, “it’ll push back ten times harder.”

Then he kissed me.

Deep.

Long.

Blood warm on my lips on my tongue , seepin’ into the cracks like it belonged there. I moaned — not from pleasure, but from the horror of likin’ it for a split second. My hands climbed his thighs, desperate and trembling, until they found his arms and held on like I could keep myself from drownin’.

When he pulled back, he tapped my cheek real sweet, like a man might to a wife who made his supper just right.

“You look so much better with a lil’ blood on ya.”

My chest clenched.

Hard.

But I didn’t let it show.

“Remmick,” I croaked, voice cracked open down the middle, “why you so hellbent on makin’ me more of a monster than I already am? Can’t you let me fake it — just a lil’, for my own sake?”

He leaned in close, voice soft but cuttin’.

“You ain’t no monster, darlin’,” he said, brushin’ hair from my face. “You just a step forward to bein’ a goddess — my goodness. And if you’d just help me finish the plan, well… the world could be ours.”

His hand cupped my cheek like I was sacred.

But his words?

They tasted like honey poured over rot.

And still — I let it coat my tongue.

Even though I could already feel the cavities settin’ in.

——

Remmick takes my silence as support. I don’t say a word when he comes back with newly turned people or when he’s off on the manhunt for Sammie. I don’t say a word when he seeks me out after another failed attempt of finding Sammie. I don’t say a word when he comes back blistered and burned from the setting sun, cursing that them Natives found him again killing Annie and Mary -though the weight in my chest lifted a bit at that, knowing they were finally free now, along with a few others he so-called new family, saying that we had to leave by sunrise or they will kill us all.

 So we fled my note left at the front door. A woman taking clothes off the clothing line from a full day's dry in the sun is who his next victim was. He easily overpowered her and changed her and when she stood back up knocking on her door her husband opened it and invited her in with no hesitation she then turned him. The house was free to roam now. The day passed with no signs of the natives in the area and as soon as night fell again, Remmick was out again hunting down Sammie like a man starved. 

He has become restless but so did I. After he left I waited a few before changing out of the bloody dress I’ve been wearing since that night at the juke joint to whatever dress was in the closet in the first room I went in. I threw on a dainty brown hat before walking out of the house to town. I squeezed my hands into fists hoping that Grace didn’t close up her shop too early.

Once I reached town, the moon was high up and most of the businesses were already closed. Some folks were still out, bringing shipments into the shops before locking up. I made my way to Grace's shop, the light inside was still on but the door was locked. I quickly but quietly knocked on the glass and waited. The hushed background noise of conversation outside filled the empty space. 

As I was about to knock again I see her silhouette come from the back making her way to the front. She unlocks the door about to make a comment about how the shop is closed but when she locked eyes with me she ate her words. She quickly invited me in before locking the door behind her.

“I got your letter, them natives dropped it off to me earlier in the day.” She said getting straight to the point. “You said very little in the letter but I know it’s more you couldn’t share on paper.”

I nodded with a heavy sigh before hugging her, a sob breaking from my lips.

“Things are so fucked right now, Grace, everyone I knew is gone.”

She comforts me, patting my back, “news broke fast at what happened down at the juke joint, people say it was the klan but didn’t find any body’s. I’m just glad you’re alright,”

“That’s the thing Grace, I’m not alright. Something changed in me and I can’t even trust myself but I know I can trust you.” I gave her another folded piece of paper that I quickly wrote in before leaving earlier and handed it to her. “I know you and Bo know where Sammie and Smoke are laying low at but I don’t want you to tell me just pass this note to him please.” She nodded as she took it from my hand, a determined look on her face.

“I have to go now but please be safe out there, there’s more monsters lurking out there than the klan.”

After our exchange, I quickly headed back to the house. When I reached it there was no one in sight letting me know Remmick was still out on his crazed hunt. I opened the door; I entered the home easily as it didn’t know whether to let me in or keep me out. The clothing I wore tore the veil and I slipped in like I never left.

I tossed down the hat on the table in the kitchen, making my way to the room to change back into my old garbs before Remmick gets here. I opened the door as I began to unbutton the front of the dress.

“Went dancing without me, darlin’?” I jumped in my skin at the sudden voice and turned slowly before making eye contact with the culprit.

Remmick sat in the darkest corner in the room, tapping his long fingers on the armrest of the wooden chair. 

“I-I” the lie was caught in my throat as he stood reaching my shocked form. His sharp nails digging into my side and I wince a bit in pain. “No need to lie darlin, I’ve caught you with your hand in the sweets jar.”

I pushed his hands off me as I created space between us, sitting on the small bed in the room. “You knew I wasn’t going to sit here and let you continue your manhunt for Sammie and do nothing about.”

“Who did you meet with?” He ignores my previous words, and I scoff a bit. “No one that concerns you or your heinous plans.” I spit. A choked noise came from my throat as he wrapped his hands around it squeezing it; I gripped his wrist to try to pull it off me but he only squeezed it harder.

“I just keep on letting you get over on me because I care for you and all you want to do is destroy this plan of mines. Don’t you get it? I’m trying to make heaven on earth. Didn’t you want that? “ he lets go of me before taking a step back looking away from my choked form. “I didn’t want that, all I wanted was for you to save me from my life with Frank, from his hands. But now I see it, that you’re no better than him. I guess the devil does come in many forms.”

He sighs before kneeling in front of me, leaning his cheek on my thighs as he caresses them, “I’m sorry, darlin’ I got ahead of myself.” His voice soft now, his emotions giving me whiplash, “it’s just I lost them all today, them Natives never left from checking the premises and they killed them all,” he sounded defeated and I felt elated with this information, he’s at his lowest right now and I can now carve his mind the way I need to.

 “Oh wow, I-I’m sorry.” I say sadly, playing the part as I run my hands through his hair in a comforting way. “Maybe we should lay low for a while so they can get off our backs. The more we rush this, the more we lose.” He groaned at my words like he disagrees or doesn’t want to accept it. “I can’t stop; I’ve gone too far.

 This is the time I’ve been waiting for centuries and now that I have the opportunity in my grasp I won’t let it slip from me so easily, especially when it’s right in front of me.” I sigh in my head at his words knowin’ it wouldn’t be that easy to persuade him but at least I tried on to the next plan. “Well let me help you find Sammie.” He lifted up from my lap quickly a suspicious glint in his red eyes. “And why would you want to do that?” I can see his walls begin to build itself up again so I quickly respond “because now I see how you truly care to give people freedom from their pain and chains in this world and the longer I sit back and watch the more I wish to make a change even if it has to be by this way.” I say like I was reluctant to the idea but understand him.

He looks at me with those pouty eyebrows like something softened in him from my words, “Darlin’ you don’t know how much I needed those words.” He reaches his hand out caressing my cheek; we kept eye contact before he broke it looking at my lips before locking eyes with me again. Remmick stared up at me like I was the sin he’d spent centuries chasing.

The room reeked of blood and tension, the kind that coils tight and doesn’t let go until someone breaks.

His lips brushed mine—brief, testing—before I grabbed the collar of his shirt and pulled him down hard, our mouths colliding like a war. It was messy, greedy, all tongue and breath and teeth. He tasted like heat and iron and the kind of ache that never goes away.

Clothes didn’t come off—they were ripped. Thread popped. Buttons scattered. Neither of us cared.

He shoved me down onto the bed, hands already between my thighs, spreading me open with a growl low in his chest.

“You’ve been starvin’ for this,” he hissed, fingers pressing where I needed them most.

“So have you,” I gasped, grinding down on his hand. “I can smell it on you.”

He chuckled darkly and dropped to his knees, dragging me to the edge of the bed. His mouth was on me in seconds—no hesitation. He licked like a man denied heaven, tongue greedy and practiced, lips curling into a smirk every time I gasped or bucked or cursed his name.

His fingers dug into my thighs, pinning me open. I came fast, hard, writhing under his mouth—but he didn’t stop. Didn’t let me go. Just kept going like my climax was just an appetizer.

“You gonna beg for me now?” he murmured against me, voice wrecked and low.

I pulled him up by the hair and kissed him hard, tasting myself on his tongue.

“Fuck me,” I snarled.

And he did.

He bent me over, hand in my hair, other gripping my hip like he owned it. When he pushed inside me, it wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t romantic. It was claiming.

Every thrust was deep, brutal, intentional—meant to remind me of what I was, what he made me. My hands fisted the sheets, the wall, his arms—whatever I could reach.

“Look at you takin’ me,” he growled in my ear. “Body’s been beggin’ for me every night.”

I didn’t deny it.

Couldn’t.

All I could do was moan—low and guttural—my mind white-hot with the sensation of him hitting just right, over and over.

We flipped again—me on top, straddling him, clawing at his chest as I rode him rough and fast. His hands roamed everywhere, nails scraping, teeth biting, drawing blood that only made us crazier.

I leaned down, lips brushing his throat, and bit deep.

He gasped—head snapping back, hips bucking up hard into me.

His blood filled my mouth, hot and electric, and I moaned into the wound.

He grabbed the back of my neck and bit me too—shoulder, collarbone, throat. Marking me. Claiming me. Drinking me. His blood mixed with mine, thick and sacred.

“We were made for this,” he groaned. “You feel it too. Say it.”

I didn’t.

But I screamed when I came again, body clenching around him like it never wanted to let go.

He followed, snarling into my skin, coming deep and hard and endless.

⸻

We collapsed together, breath ragged, bodies slick with sweat and blood.

He tangled his fingers in my hair, lips pressed to my shoulder.

But I didn’t close my eyes.

I just laid there, heart still pounding, blood still thrumming, the taste of him thick in my mouth.

Because this wasn’t love.

This was warfare.

And I’d just given the enemy every inch of me.Again.

——

Two Days Later – Nightfall

The house exhaled behind me as I slipped out the front door, closing it with the kind of care that makes no sound—like I was sneaking out of someone else’s life. The sky was dark as velvet—the kind of night that clung close, hushed and watchful. Still. Heavy. No wind, no whisper, just the faint hush of pine trees breathing in the distance.

Remmick was upstairs, lying low like he said. Said the Natives were still lurking, waiting to strike again. Said we needed to be cautious. Said he needed me to go check the edges of the woods, see how close the threat was.

He said it like it was nothing.

Like he trusted me.

So I nodded and played the part.

But I turned toward town instead, boots moving quick beneath my hem, the cold dirt road swallowing each step. The air was damp, alive with the kind of silence that feels like it’s listening.

No one stopped me. No one looked twice. Just another shadow among shadows, passing quiet under the unlit porch lamps and shuttered windows. I walked with my head tucked low, hat pulled firm against my brow. I’d learned how to walk invisible.

By the time I reached Grace’s shop, the quiet felt louder. And I knew before I even stepped close—something was wrong.

The lights were out.

The door locked.

Stillness pressed against the windows like a held breath. No smell of boiling herbs. No faint silhouette behind lace. Just absence.

I knocked once. Gentle.

No answer.

I waited, blood rising loud in my ears.

I was about to knock again when I heard it behind me.

“Evenin’. Lookin’ for Grace?”

My hand fell, slow. I turned just enough to see the man across the street. Older. Thick coat. His store sign swung gently above him—dry goods. He was locking up, half in, half out the door.

I offered a nod. Nothing more.

He chuckled. Not mean, just tired. “She’s alright. Her and Bo both. Took sick, maybe. Word is she’s been out for two days. Bo’s been back and forth quiet-like. He’s home now. Taking care of her, I’d guess.”

His voice was casual, but it didn’t land right. My stomach pulled tight.

“Thanks,” I said soft, barely above the hush of the wind. Just enough to pass.

He tipped his hat and disappeared into the warmth of his store, door shutting behind him like punctuation.

I stood there a beat longer, just watching the door. The silence around the shop didn’t hum with illness. It hummed with absence.

Still—I crouched low and slipped the folded letter under her door. Just like before. Quick. Clean.

Didn’t knock.

Didn’t wait.

Just turned and made my way back to the house, faster now. The shadows felt thicker. The road shorter. Like something was following me home.

———

The house looked just the same as when I left it—tilted quiet, half-forgotten, the way places get when they’ve seen too much. The porch creaked beneath my feet, but only once. I pushed the door open slow, stepping into the stale hush that lived between these walls.

Inside smelled like wood smoke and old iron. The kind of scent that clings to grief.

Remmick was in the parlor, long legs stretched out, one boot propped on the table. He was toying with a deck of cards, shuffling with one hand while the other cradled a glass of something dark. His eyes stayed on the cards.

“Well?” he asked, voice lazy.

“Didn’t see no one,” I said, brushing my sleeves off. “Nothing but trees and dirt. Think they’re gone now.”

He nodded slow, like he already knew. “Good. Gettin’ real tired of lookin’ over my shoulder.”

I walked past him and sank down on the couch, letting my breath out slower than I should’ve. The fabric under me still held the shape of his weight from earlier. He’d been there not long ago, waiting for something.

His eyes flicked up to me once—just a glance—and then back to the cards.

“You did good,” he said. Smooth. Steady. “Ain’t nobody better I’d trust to check.”

I hummed, not bothering to answer.

He didn’t press.

Didn’t notice the way I dug my thumbnail into my palm just to stay here, in this moment, in this lie I had to wear like skin.

Didn’t notice how I was listening—for movement, for footsteps upstairs, for the scrape of someone else in the dark.

I leaned my head back against the cushion, eyes drifting toward the ceiling, where the wood grain twisted into patterns I used to trace in dreams. Now I couldn’t stop seeing them shift like they were trying to spell out a warning.

“You tired?” he asked after a while.

I shrugged.

Remmick cut the deck again. “You been quiet lately.”

“Just thinkin’.”

“Dangerous thing to do in this house,” he muttered with a smirk.

He tossed a card on the table face-up.

The devil.

I stared at it. Couldn’t look away.

He watched me then. Not just glanced. Watched.

I felt it.

“Somethin’ botherin’ you, darlin’?”

I turned my face slow, gave him a smile I didn’t feel. “No. Just tired. Like you said.”

He smiled back, like that answer pleased him.

But I could tell he was listening harder now.

I shifted on the couch and let my eyes close. Just for a moment. Just long enough to make him think I was at ease.

But I wasn’t.

Grace was missing.

Bo too.

Remmick hadn’t suspected a thing. Not yet.

But this plan I’d been shaping in shadows? It was slipping through my fingers like water, and I didn’t know how many more nights I had left before he caught me trying to hold it.

——

The street felt longer this time.

Quieter, too.

I walked with my head down, arms wrapped around myself like that could keep the ache in my ribs from spreading. Remmick was out again, gathering what scraps he could—new bodies, new followers, anyone who could fill the void of the ones he’d lost. And I was left to sit in the hollow of his house, mind chewing itself raw.

Grace hadn’t reached out.

Not a whisper. Not a sign.

Something twisted in me the longer I waited, and by the time I pulled my shawl over my shoulders and stepped into the night, I already knew I wouldn’t come back whole.

Her house came into view at the edge of the lane—familiar and wrong all at once. The blinds were drawn. The porch light was off. Stillness pressed up against the walls like something holding its breath.

I climbed the steps slow.

Knocked once.

Waited.

Another knock.

My pulse started up in my throat, heavy and loud, until—

The door opened.

And there she was.

Grace.

Same face, same eyes, but not the same woman who once whispered promises in the back of her shop.

She didn’t look sick. Didn’t look surprised.

Just tired.

Like she’d already made up her mind before I even got there.

“Grace,” I breathed, relief and confusion tangling in my voice. “I’ve been waitin’ for word—what happened? Are you alright?”

She looked at me for a long moment before she spoke. No hug. No warmth.

Just cool, clipped words.

“I can’t help you no more, Y/N.”

My breath caught.

“What?”

She crossed her arms. “Whatever it is you’re stirrin’ up, it’s followin’ you. You done brought danger to my door, and I can’t let it near Bo , Lisa or me again. Not now.”

I blinked, heat rushing to my face.

“But you said—Grace, you said if I ever needed—”

“That was before,” she said, voice hardening. “Before I realized what you’d turned into. What’s waitin’ in the woods behind you.”

She looked past me then.

Not at the trees.

At what she thought I’d become.

I shook my head, mouth parting, searching for words that might save whatever this was. “I’m still me—Grace, please—”

“I need you to go.”

And with that, she closed the door.

Didn’t slam it. Just shut it soft.

Final.

I stood there, staring at the wood, like maybe it’d open back up and undo what just happened.

But it didn’t.

The porch creaked as I sank down onto the top step, arms limp at my sides. The air had that thick weight to it again, the kind that made your bones ache like they remembered something awful.

My last string to Sammie was cut.

I didn’t even know if he’d gotten my note.

Didn’t know if he was alive. Or hiding. Or already lost to Remmick’s hunger.

I didn’t cry.

Didn’t have anything left in me for that.

I just sat there, for what felt like hours, until the wind shifted and I knew I had to move.

———

The house felt colder when I returned.

Not in temperature—just in presence.

Like it knew something had changed.

I pushed through the door, not bothering to close it quiet this time. The shadows felt heavier. My skin prickled like the walls were watching.

I drifted through the parlor, my steps slow, heavy. Sank into the couch, my eyes fixed on nothing. Time blurred. I could still feel the echo of Grace’s voice, the chill behind her words.

I stayed there until I heard the latch click.

The front door creaked open.

Bootsteps.

Remmick.

He stepped in with his usual ease, closing the door behind him. His shirt was wrinkled. Dust clung to his cuffs. His eyes locked onto me, curious at first.

But I didn’t give him time to ask.

I stood.

Crossed the space in three sharp steps.

And kissed him.

Hard.

His mouth met mine with that familiar pressure, warm and dangerous, and for once I didn’t flinch from it. My hands curled into his shirt, fingers pulling him down into me, my breath caught somewhere between fury and grief.

He staggered back a step with me in his arms, mouth moving against mine with a growl of surprise, then heat. His hands found my waist—firm, possessive.

I kissed him like I needed to forget.

And maybe I did.

Forget Grace.

Forget the weight of a name nobody said anymore.

Forget that I’d lost the only person left who believed I was worth saving.

He didn’t ask what I was running from.

Didn’t need to.

Because Remmick knew what it looked like when something broke in you.

And he knew how to kiss like it was the cure.

Even if it was just another poison I drank too willingly.

Even if I was the one reaching for the bottle Again.

———

I waited until the moon sat high and clean above the trees before slipping out again, coat pulled tight over my frame, the last chill of daylight still clinging to the edges of the wind. Remmick was still hunting what he’d lost — what he thought he could recreate with blood and sweet talk. He didn’t ask where I was going tonight. Just told me, quiet and easy, “Be back before it’s too late.”

Too late for who, I didn’t ask.

The road to town stretched long, silent. My boots crunched softly over gravel, a sound that felt too loud for the kind of thoughts I was carrying. I counted the minutes with each step, mind racing faster than my feet. I needed clarity. Grace’s face hadn’t left my mind since she shut that door in it. Something was wrong, and I couldn’t let it go.

I turned onto Main, the familiar wooden storefronts all shadowed in lamplight and memory. I spotted the dry goods store across from Grace’s shop — the one where that older man had spoken to me before. I approached slow, cautious. The windows glowed from within.

I stopped at the edge of the porch and knocked gently against the doorframe. Not too loud. Not too soft. Just enough to say: I don’t mean no harm.

The man inside looked up from behind the counter. Recognition lit up his face, though he squinted just the same, like he wasn’t quite sure if I was real or not.

“Evenin’,” I said, voice calm but low. “Can I come in?”

He hesitated for a second, then gave a small nod.

“Come in, sure,” he said, walking over to unlock the door. “Don’t often get visitors this late, but it’s your kind of hour, I suppose.”

I stepped inside, the warmth of the store meeting me like a familiar hush. It smelled like cedarwood, dust, and old paper — like things that kept secrets.

He moved behind the counter again, leaning slightly against it as he regarded me. “You lookin’ better than last time I saw you. Seemed a little… restless then.”

I gave a small smile, not enough to reach my eyes. “Still restless.”

“Ah.” He nodded. “Ain’t we all.”

I didn’t waste time. “You remember what you said about Grace being sick?”

He blinked. “Sure.”

“Well, I saw her. She ain’t sick. And she wasn’t surprised to see me. She just… shut me out. Like I was poison.”

His frown deepened. He scratched his head, gaze drifting toward the window like the answer might be hiding outside. “I don’t know what’s what no more. She and Bo kept to themselves the past couple days. Didn’t even open the shop since you came by. But I do recall…” His fingers tapped rhythm on the wood. “Something strange.”

He snapped his fingers suddenly, his expression lighting up. “Damn near forgot!”

He ducked behind the counter, rummaging through drawers and stacked papers until he pulled out a folded note — weathered but intact.

“Grace gave me this in a hurry a few nights back. Told me if a woman came lookin’ for her at night — to hand it over. No name, just a description. Figured it was you.”

My fingers trembled as I took it. “Thank you,” I said, voice soft.

He nodded, already turning back to wipe down a nearby shelf. “Hope it clears somethin’ up.”

I unfolded the paper with care, and Grace’s familiar script met my eyes like a balm and a blade:

Y/N—

He got it. Your letter. Sammie read every word.

I don’t have a reply from him — he didn’t risk sendin’ one.

Things got bad quick. Too many eyes. I’m layin’ low for now, maybe longer.

But listen close —

Sammie and Smoke are heading north. Five days from when you sent the letter.

He’ll wait as long as he can, but once the time comes, he has to go.

It’s not safe to stay.

I don’t know when you’ll get this, but you’ll have to move fast. Here’s where to look——

God keep you.

–G

The words rang through me like a bell toll.

Five days.

I counted backward in my head, trying not to panic. Three had already slipped through my fingers. Two remained — if I was lucky. If he was.

I closed the letter, fingers stiff, and slid it into my pocket with trembling care. I turned for the door.

“Thank you again,” I said over my shoulder, not waiting for him to reply.

Outside, the wind bit a little harder. I pulled my coat tighter and walked with purpose toward the alleyway.

No one followed.

The trash can waited like a sentinel.

I tore the note into pieces, sharp and fast, letting them fall into the dark.

Gone.

Gone like the chance I was clawing to keep hold of.

I looked once more at the glowing windows of Grace’s house in the distance. Still drawn. Still closed.

And then I walked back toward the house I shared with the devil — heart pounding like a drum, like war.

——

Remmick was still gone when I got there.

But not for long.

And the next move would have to be mine.

The plan was set. Rough around the edges, held together by frayed nerves and desperate hope—but it was all I had. Tomorrow night, it would be enacted. No more waiting. No more second-guessing.If all went well, I’d be gone.Possibly leaving Remmick behind. The thought pierced deeper than I’d anticipated. A dull ache settled in my chest, one I couldn’t quite name. 

I sat on the couch, the room dimly lit, lost in my thoughts when the door creaked open.Remmick entered, exhaling a sigh that spoke of exhaustion. He moved with a weariness that seemed to seep into the room. He settled into a dining chair behind me, the weight of the day evident in his posture.

“Things are moving slower than I’d like,” he began, his voice tinged with frustration. “People are hesitant, resistant. It’s… taxing.”

I nodded, offering a noncommittal hum.

After a pause, he asked, “Any updates on Sammie’s whereabouts?”

My heart skipped a beat. “No,” I replied quickly. “Nothing concrete. The town’s been quiet.” 

He studied me for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly. “You’re sure?” 

I forced a smile. “Positive. If I had anything, you’d be the first to know.”

He nodded slowly, seemingly satisfied.The silence stretched between us, thick and heavy. I stood, the need to bridge the distance overwhelming. I walked over to him, noting the way his shirt was discarded to the side, suspenders hanging loosely at his waist.His eyes met mine, a glint of red flickering in their depths as I settled onto his lap.

“Just wait a little longer,” I murmured, fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Who knows? Sammie might just walk to you.”

He chuckled, the sound low and rough. His hand found my waist, pulling me closer.

“Or maybe I’ll find him,” he said, voice a whisper against my skin, “because I never lost him.”

A shiver ran down my spine. I silenced him with a kiss, desperate to drown out the implications of his words. I didn’t want to hear the rest. Didn’t want to know if he was bluffin’ or boastin’.I just needed to forget.

I slid off his lap, down to my knees between his thighs. My hands moved on instinct, unfastening the button at his waist, pulling the fabric down slow. His cock was already half-hard, twitching to life under my touch.

Remmick watched me with a quiet, ravenous hunger, his eyes flickering red like they remembered old wars.

“You sure about this?” he murmured, voice dipped in syrup.

“No,” I whispered. “But I ain’t stoppin’.”

I wrapped my lips around him, taking him slow, tasting the salt and musk of him as I worked my tongue down his shaft. His head fell back, a low groan rumbling from his chest. His hand curled into my hair, not pushing—just there. Guiding. Praising.I sucked harder, deeper, letting him hit the back of my throat, letting him feel every inch of my want and denial.

He cursed, low and shaky. “Fuck, darlin’. You feel like you’re prayin’ with your mouth.”

His hips rolled, shallow thrusts meeting the rhythm of my mouth. He tasted like power. Like a promise I didn’t want to keep.My hands slid up his thighs, holding him steady as he twitched in my mouth, his moans climbing higher. Faster.

Until he bucked hard, one hand clenched in my hair, spilling into me with a growl that sounded like a broken vow.I stayed there a moment, letting him ride it out, then pulled back, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, trying to breathe through the weight in my chest.Afterward, the room was silent save for our mingled breaths. I rested against him, heart pounding, mind racing.

He brushed a strand of hair from my face, eyes searching mine.

“You won’t leave me now, would you, darlin’?”

I hesitated, then shook my head slowly.A smile touched his lips. “Good. Wouldn’t want the woman I love to leave me to forever loneliness.”

The words struck me, a mix of warmth and dread curling in my stomach. I buried my face in his neck, the weight of my decision pressing down on me.

——

The moon wore a veil of clouds tonight, like it didn’t want to bear witness to what was about to happen. Half-bright and mean-looking, it hovered above me as I crept away from the house like a thief in the dark. Remmick had already left—gone off chasing ghosts and pieces of a plan falling apart in his own hands. Said he’d be back before sunrise. I knew he would.

And I knew I wouldn’t be.

This was it. No more stalling. No more swallowing screams in that house where the walls watched me breathe. My plan—frayed at the seams and stitched with desperation—was all I had now. And if the stars were kind, it might buy me a few hours’ head start.

I followed the path Grace had described, further from town than I expected. The ground grew rockier, the trees thicker. Shadows pressed in close. My nerves were wired so tight, every rustle in the trees felt like someone whisperin’ my name. But I kept walking. I had to. The house wasn’t far now. I saw it through the branches—a small thing, hunched in the dark with a car parked in front. A flicker of breath escaped me. Relief. They hadn’t left yet. Grace’s directions had been good. I hadn’t been followed. Not yet.

My steps quickened, hope making me reckless.

And then—I froze.A rustle in the trees behind me. Not the wind.

My skin went tight. My body wanted to run, scream, fight—but I stood there locked in place like prey.Then something small burst out of the treeline.I nearly screamed. Nearly ran. But the shape straightened. A face I knew.

“Grace?” I whispered.

She stumbled toward me, her breaths ragged, tears streaking her cheeks. Her dress was torn, her hair wild.

“They got them,” she sobbed, falling into my arms. “Bo—Amy—oh God, I watched them turn ‘em right in front of me. I hid, I ran, but they—they knew, Y/N. They knew.”

I held her close, one arm locked around her trembling body as the other reached instinctively for the gun hidden in my waistband. My stomach sank with her words.

This wasn’t just a ruined plan. It was a massacre in motion.

“We have to go,” I breathed. “Now.”

The two of us ran the rest of the way to the house. My mind was already racing. I didn’t know if they’d followed Grace, if they’d followed me, if they were already here—but I wasn’t about to lose this chance.

I pounded on the door.

It opened so fast it startled me.

Smoke stood there, rifle raised—but the moment he saw our faces, his expression broke wide.

“Y/N? Grace?”

“Can we come in?,” I gasped. “Now.”

“Yea.”He stepped back fast, letting us in. He looked both ways before slamming the door shut behind us.

Inside, Sammie was in the hallway, tense and alert—eyes wide as he saw us. Then soft, just for a second. He was alive.

I rushed to him and pulled him into a hug. The weight of his arms around me almost brought me to my knees. He smelled like sweat and pine and something old and burnt.Then I saw it. A claw mark across his cheek, still scabbed and angry. I reached for it. He lowered his head like he was ashamed.

“Remmick,” he said quietly.I said nothing. Just dropped my hand.Smoke locked every window, checked every corner. We gathered in the parlor, breathing too loud, too fast.We shared what we knew—Grace telling how Bo and Amy were caught. I told them what Remmick had lied about. What he was building. What I let him build.None of us had words for what sat in the room with us. We just knew we had to go.

Smoke pulled a heavy sack from the floor. “We leave now,” he said. “They’ll trace Grace’s steps soon enough.”

I nodded, numb. My hands moved on their own, grabbing bags, helping load the car. It was muscle memory. Fight or flight. Survive.Outside, the wind stirred the trees.Grace tugged at my arm, pulling me aside as the others worked.

“I think we should stay another night,” she whispered. “Just till things calm a little. It’s too sudden. We’ll draw less attention—”

“Grace,” I said gently, but stopped.

Something was wrong.

“G…Grace,” I said again, and my voice cracked. “You’re—you’re drooling.”

She wiped her mouth. But it was too slow. Too calm.Her lips stretched into a smile that wasn’t hers.

“Guess the cat’s out the bag.”

I stumbled back.

“Smoke!” I shouted.

He turned just as Grace’s eyes went white, glowing like a lantern lit from within.

“Ah, shit,” he breathed.

Too late.From the trees, more figures emerged. Calm. Confident.

Bo. Stack. Amy.

Grinning.

Like puppets with the strings still showing.My stomach flipped. I counted bodies.

Annie. Mary. More of them. All the ones Remmick said had died.Liars. Every last one of them. Or maybe just him.

And then—there he was.

Remmick.

Stepping through the trees like he never left them.

He looked just the same. Dusty boots. Rolled sleeves. Hair damp with effort. But his eyes?

His eyes burned.

“Should I call this a family reunion?” he drawled, voice cutting through the night like a whip.

I couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t speak. I wanted to scream, to cry, to laugh from how stupid I’d been.

“You fuckin’ liar—”

He cut me off with a soft tsk. “Now, now. Don’t give me that, Y/N. You been lyin’ to me since day one. Thought it was only fair to give it back in double.”

The others fanned out, blocking the car, the trees, the road. There was nowhere left to run.

“I kept an eye on you,” Remmick said, stepping closer, every word heavy. “Even when you thought I wasn’t around. Every errand. Every letter. Every secret little knock on some poor girl’s door—I saw it. You think you were foolin’ me, baby? I let you.”

My mouth opened—but I couldn’t find a lie good enough to cover the hurt.

“You played me like a fiddle,” he said, voice suddenly sharp. “But only one of us got stuck. Only one of us saw the bigger picture . And now look what you done. Wasted time. Endangered what I built. You think I waited centuries for this just to let you get in the way?”

His voice dropped to a growl. “I could’ve made you a queen. Instead, you chose to be a warnin’.”

The pain hit like a slap.

But it wasn’t the betrayal.

It was the shame.

Because I had loved him.

Even when I shouldn’t have.

Even now.

Smoke stumbled, wounded and breathing heavy, his arm barely lifting the rifle. Sammie moved to help—but Remmick was already there.

He grabbed Sammie by the collar, mouth open, teeth sharp—

I didn’t think.

I just moved.

Grabbed the gun from the dirt, raised it, and fired.The shot cracked through the clearing.Remmick dropped Sammie, staggering back, shock and fury twisting his face.

He turned to me.Eyes burning. Hurt. Betrayed.

“You really wanna do this, darlin’?” he whispered.

I didn’t know I was crying until the tears reached my lips. “I can’t let you make anyone else suffer. You’ve done enough.”

The moon tilted in the sky, shifting just enough that I could see the edge of morning begin to rise.Sammie struggled to his feet, limping.

“I should’ve never let you play with my plan,” Remmick said, quiet now. “I guess… my love for you was my weakness.”

Sammie grabbed the stake. I saw it. Saw him raise it behind Remmick.

I dropped the gun.I stepped forward.

And kissed him.

Remmick stiffened. Shocked.His hand cupped my face. For a moment, it was just us again.

And then—

“Do it, Sammie,” I yelled.

The stake drove through his back.

And into my chest.Pain like I’d never known.

He snarled.

I gasped.

“You were never meant to be mine in this life,” I whispered, forehead pressed to his. “But maybe in the next…”His skin began to blister then burn. The sun rose.

Screams echoed around us—his followers lighting up like bonfires as they tried to run.He tried to pull away.

But I held him.Held him until the flames took us both.

And everything went black.

———

1985

Somewhere in Louisiana

The market smelled like July holdin’ its breath—hot tar, overripe peaches, and molasses gone sour under the weight of the sun. A Marvin Gaye tune played low from a radio tucked behind a fruit stall, half-swallowed by the hum of cicadas and the thump of crates bein’ moved.

I came for coffee beans. That’s it.

But fate’s got a funny way of reroutin’ simple errands.

He passed me like a ghost wearin’ skin.

Not ‘cause he was fine—though he was.

White tee soft with time, tucked into jeans worn pale at the thighs. Denim jacket slung careless over one shoulder. Boots steady on the ground. Hair a mess like he’d just woken up from somethin’ deep.

But that ain’t why I stopped.

I stopped ‘cause my body knew before my heart remembered.

Like my bones stood still for someone they used to ache for.

He paused. Turned.

Brows drawn in like he was tryin’ to place me in a dream he couldn’t quite recall.

“‘Scuse me, miss,” he said, voice smooth as aged bourbon. “Do I… know you from somewhere?”

I blinked once. Twice.

“I—maybe,” I said. My voice came out soft, like it hadn’t spoken sorrow in years.

He smiled, half-tilted, cautious. “That’s funny. I was just about to say the same.”

I nodded slow. “You ever been down to Mississippi?”

His smile dipped, then stilled. “Once. Long time ago.”

That somethin’ passed between us—

not quite tension. Not quite peace.

Just an old ache that ain’t ever learned how to die.

He stepped closer, like he didn’t mean to but couldn’t help it.

“I know this is a little forward,” he said, reachin’ in his pocket, pullin’ out a worn scrap of receipt paper and a pen, “but… would you wanna grab a drink sometime?”

My breath caught.

Not from surprise.

From remembrance.

That voice.

That tilt of the head.

That kind of question that could rearrange your whole life if you let it.

I didn’t let it show.

“Sure,” I said, smiling faint. “I’d like that.”

He scribbled down a number, handed me the paper like it held somethin’ sacred.

I took it, my fingers brushing his.

“Remmick,” he said.

“Y/N,” I answered, just as quiet.

His eyes searched mine for a second too long. Somethin’ flickered there—like déjà vu grippin’ his ribs too tight.

Then—

“Y/N!” a voice called out behind me, sharp as a church bell on Sunday morning.

“You gon’ make us miss The Movie! Move your feet, girl!”

I turned quick to see Mary, arms crossed, grin wide watching my exchange.

“Oh—sorry!” I laughed, half-startled, shakin’ my head as I gathered my bags. “I’ll call you later,” I told him, already steppin’ backward.

“Hope you do,” he said, lips curvin’ easy.

I turned toward Mary, my heart beatin’ fast for no reason I could name.

Behind me, he watched.

Eyes flickered red—

Just for a second.Gone before the blink finished.

And when I looked back one last time—

he was walkin’ away, hands in his pockets, hummin’ low to the rhythm of a song only he remembered.