CW: Enemies (they are trying to kill each other). Blood. Smut. P in V sex. 🔞MDNI🔞
Starfruit Masterlist
Repost from my old account (Applecaviar)
The air in the abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the N109 zone feels thick with tension.
You've been on high alert for several minutes now, until you hear it, a soft sound behind you, like the whisper of fabric on fabric. You turn around, already knowing who’s there: Lumiere, the bane of your existence.
His eyes, as piercing and cold as you remember, are fixed on you and there's a cruel, almost sadistic glint in his eyes.
He takes a step towards you, then another, his movements slow and deliberate. He's really enjoying this, the hunt, the anticipation of finally ending your life. You know he won't hesitate, not after all this time. You've seen the way he looks at you, the hatred and disgust in his eyes.
You take a step back, not because you're afraid of him, no, you're afraid of what he's capable of, the destruction he can cause.
He takes another step closer and this time a grin spreads across his face.
"You look nervous" he says, his voice a mocking drawl. "Don't tell me you're scared, after all this time of chasing each other, you're finally going to give up?"
He's close now, close enough that you can see the slight twitch in his jaw, the way his hand clenches into a fist at his side.
When he suddenly vanishes from your sigh you blink, disoriented. The sudden absence of his presence leaves you feeling vulnerable as you quickly scan the warehouse, eyes darting from shadow to shadow, searching for any sign of movement. The silence is deafening, broken only by the distant drip of water and the ever present hum of the city outside.
He's still there, watching you from the darkness. He's not the type to run away, not when he has the upper hand.
You tighten your grip on your dagger, the cool metal a comforting weight in your hand. You won't let your guard down, you've trained for this and you won't let him catch you off guard.
Suddenly, you hear a crash behind you, the sound of something heavy and metal hitting the ground. You spin around, dagger out in front of you, just in time to see a large, rusty pipe come tumbling down from the rafters above.
You dive out of the way, rolling to the side as the pipe crashes to the ground where you were standing just a moment before. You come up in a crouch, dagger still out in front of you, heart racing in your chest.
That's when you see him again, his figure darting between the shadows, moving with a speed and agility that defies belief. He's coming at you with a long sword in his hand.
He won't give up, and neither will you. And only one of you will walk away from this warehouse alive.
As he charges at you, you let out a fierce battle cry, ready to meet him head on. He's fast, too fast, and he also anticipates your moves, leaning back to avoid the blade. In that moment you see your chance. You drop to the ground, rolling beneath his outstretched arm, and come up behind him, dagger pressing against the small of his back.
"Don't move," you hiss, "or I swear I'll run this blade through you."
He freezes, his body tense as he drops the sword. You can feel the slight tremble of rage and frustration that runs through his body. He's not used to being caught off guard, not used to having the upper hand taken away from him so suddenly.
"You think you're clever, but you don't have the guts to do it. You don't have what it takes to take a life, not even mine."
You press the blade harder against his back, until you can feel it digging into his flesh, until you can see the first blood stain.
"Don't test me," you warn him "I've been fighting for my life for months, been running from you, been looking over my shoulder every moment of every day. You really think I'm going to hesitate?"
His muscles tense and you can sense the way his mind is racing, trying to find a way out of this situation. But there is no way out, not this time. This time, one of you will die, and sure as hell it won't be you.
You hold your breath and stare at the growing blood stain with a sense of satisfaction. But your moment of triumph is short lived, shattered by his mocking words.
"You think you got me at a disadvantage?" His voice sounds even more dangerous in the dark, sending a chill down your spine before he disappears again.
Before you can react, before you can track his movement, you feel the cool silver of your own dagger pressed against the delicate skin of your throat. The edge bites into you, not hard enough to break skin, but hard enough to make your heart race with fear.
But you can also feel the firm press of his body against your back. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him, holding you in a grip that makes it impossible to struggle. He's so close, too close, his body a furnace of heat that seeps into your skin, making your blood run hot and fast.
His breath feels warm against your jaw, lips brushing against your ear as he leans in close, pressing the tip of your own dagger along your jugular "You know, you've been a thorn in my side for far too long. Always chasing you across the city, always just out of reach, always slipping through my fingers like smoke"
You swallow hard, your mouth suddenly dry, your heart pounding so loudly that you're sure he must be able to hear it. But even in this moment of fear and vulnerability, you refuse to give in, refuse to let him see the terror that grips your heart. You turn your head carefully, eyes flashing with defiance as you meet his gaze.
"You talk big for a man in your position," you retort "I know you won't do it. You can't do it. Killing me here, like this? not your style."
A sudden sharp pain makes you hiss as the dagger's tip breaks through your skin, a single red droplet sliding down your collarbone. Your heart pounds furiously in your chest and the cold steel moves lower, the tip pressing softly yet firmly against your racing heart.
"Oh, I'm going to kill you, and I'm going to enjoy it. I've dreamed of this moment for months, and now I have you right where I want you."
"I would have thought you'd at least try to torture me for information." you say, holding his stare
A cruel smile curls his lips "This isn't about knowledge, I already have all the information I need," he exhales. "It's all just hate."
Your fingers slowly creep towards your pocket, moving carefully, trying to keep your actions hidden from him. The cool metal of a dagger's hilt grazes your fingertips just as he begins to speak again.
"Don't think I haven't noticed your little attempt to grab that hidden dagger" he chuckles "I know everything about you. I've been watching you for months, learning your every move, your every habit...."
"Fuck you!” you cut him off.
"Watch your tongue" he snarls, the dagger digging a bit deeper into your flesh as the result of your outburst. The pain is blinding, white hot and searing, drawing a gasping cry from your throat.
But you're already moving, adrenaline surging through your veins. Your left hand comes up in a swift, desperate punch, fist connecting with the side of his jaw with a sickening crunch.
He grunts in pain, his head snapping to the side from the force of your blow. For a moment, his grip on you loosens, the dagger's edge slips from your skin, leaving a thin line of blood welling up in its wake.
His angry snarl cuts off abruptly as your fist swings towards his face once more. He barely manages to jerk his head to the side, avoiding the blow. In the same motion, he slams you back against a rough brick wall, knocking the air from your lungs with a painful grunt.
His right hand drops the dagger and shoots out to grab your wrists before you can strike again, his fingers digging into your skin as he wrenches your arms above your head, pinning you more firmly to the wall with his body. You jerk and struggle against him, trying desperately to break free. Angry, vicious curses pour from both your mouths, your voices rising to a feverish pitch as you scream and snarl at each other.
The distance between you shrinks, your faces just inches apart, breaths mingling, eyes locked in a furious, hate filled gaze. And then, without warning, his lips are on yours.
In a kiss filled with all the anger and frustration that has been building between you for months. Suddenly, he lets go of your wrists and your arms fall over his shoulders.
His lips move roughly over yours, demanding, brutal, punishing. He nips at your bottom lip, hard enough to draw blood, the coppery taste of it mingling with the taste of him.
The pain only serves to ignite something dark and desperate within you, so you bite back, teeth sinking into his lower lip.
He hisses into the kiss and your nails dig into his shoulder. His hand fists in your hair, gripping the strands tightly, using them like a rein to control your head as he devours your mouth. You feel the sting of hair being ripped from your scalp, but it only adds to the sensations overwhelming your senses.
You bite him again and in retaliation he forces his knee between your thighs, roughly pushing your legs apart, the hard muscle pressing insistently against your core making you both moan into the kiss.
Your body moves on its own, instinct taking over as you roll your hips forward, grinding down his thigh.
His hand slides down your shoulder, nipples hardening into tight, sensitive peaks as his thumb grazes over the swell of your breast.
But before you can process it, his teeth are on you again, sinking into the soft flesh of your top lip. You cry out, pain mixing with pleasure as his teeth pull and nibble at your lips.
Your hand moves on its own, trailing down the muscles of his chest until your fingers find the leather of his belt, wrapping around it tightly, desperately, pulling at the buckle as if your life depended on it
His lips leave yours, trailing a path of hot, open mouthed kisses down the side of your face, your jaw, your throat. You can feel his breath, ragged and hot against your skin, tongue snaking out to taste you, to trace the contours of your jaw before he bites and sinks his teeth into the tender flesh, marking you.
A moan catches in your throat as your head falls back against the wall, giving him better access
At last, your fingers succeed in unfastening his belt buckle, the leather gliding through the loops of his pants with a gentle, pleasing noise. Meanwhile, his hands shift and firmly grab the fabric of your skirt. He yanks it up, the fabric sliding over your thighs, the chilly air brushing against your warm skin as he gathers the skirt around your waist.
You don't stop him. You can't stop him. Instead, you press yourself harder against his leg, seeking more of that delicious friction, that pressure, that promise of relief from the ache that consumes you.
Suddenly he shifts his leg away and his fingers reach the apex of your thighs, pussy clenching, empty and aching, desperate to be filled.
A broken moan escapes your lips as he traces your slit and without warning he's pushing your panties to the side to push two fingers deep inside you.
Your head falls onto his shoulder as you struggle to gasp for breath. He thrusts his fingers in and out of you, and the wet sounds of your arousal fill the air. His thumb finds your clit, the sensitive bundle of nerves already throbbing and swollen, begging for his touch.
His lips find yours again, silencing your moans as he pulls his fingers from your cunt. His hand shifts to his pants, swiftly unfastening the button and zipper with urgent movements.
You catch the sound of him growling, muffled against your lips as he holds your hips, his fingers pressing into your skin firmly enough to leave marks. Then, with a hard thrust, he's inside you.
Your head falls back again with a sound tearing from your lips that is somewhere between a moan and a scream. Every inch of his cock stretching you in a way that borders on pain, the sensation so intense, so overwhelming, that tears spring to your eyes.
He is big, unbelievably big, bigger than any man has a right to be. It stretches you to the limit, your walls squeeze around it, desperately trying to accommodate its girth.
His teeth sink into the flesh of your neck as he pounds into you so hard it that borders on violence. His hips slam against yours, the force of his thrusts shaking you to your core.
Your fingers grip his hair desperately, clinging to him, nails raking over his scalp.
He hitches your leg up, his arm sliding beneath your knee, lifting it up and out, opening you so he can fuck you deeper. You moan as he hilts inside you with each thrust, your back slams against the wall and you're sure it will be bruised by morning.
He kisses you again, this time deeper, his tongue invading your mouth, dominating it. It's a filthy, wet kiss, all teeth and tongue and desperation, and you feel yourself growing dizzy, your head swimming with the intensity of it all.
You wrench your mouth away, gasping for air, before you attack his neck with your own lips, your teeth sinking into the skin. You bite and suck, your own desperate need to mark him, rising up to match his own lust.
You had never known a passion so overflowing, a hunger so fierce. It wasn't about gentle lovemaking, nor tenderly exploring each other's bodies. It was a battle, a war, the clash of two souls consumed by lust and rage.
Each hard thrust gives you a jolt of pain and pleasure, a feeling that leaves you wanting more. You are drenched, your arousal dripping down your thighs, coating his balls and cock. Your body betrays you, welcoming his touch, craving his brutal possession.
And yet, even through the haze of pain and pleasure, you feel a twisted sense of rightness, of inevitability. With him, in this moment, the old rules no longer apply. Boundaries crumble, leaving you raw and hungry for his touch like you've never been before.
You want to hurt him, to mark him, to make him feel a fraction of the agony and ecstasy that currently consumes you. Your nails and teeth dig into his skin and still you crave more because you fucking hate him. Hate him with every fiber of your being, with every ragged breath, every needy movement of your body.
You arch your back against the wall, pushing your hips forward to meet his every thrust, desperate for more, for everything he can give you. Your fingers claw at his collar, the fabric twisting and tightening around his throat, probably hurting him and choking him but you couldn't care less.
His movements grow harder and faster, his need as desperate as your own. You can feel him swelling inside you, the coil of tension in your belly winding tighter and tighter until you think you might shatter from the force of it all.
Your eyes roll back, vision blurring, your world narrowing down to the feel of him, the scent of him, the heat of his skin against yours. And then, his fingers are in your hair, gripping it tightly, painfully pulling your head back, exposing your throat to his lips.
You come undone with a scream, your mouth opening in a cry of pleasure as he bites down hard on your neck. Your body convulses, shaking and shuddering, waves of pleasure drowning you, leaving you gasping.
His hips twitch and jerk against yours, the aftershocks of his release coursing through him, his grip on your hair loosening as he struggles to catch his breath. Your head falls forward, forehead resting against his shoulder.
Your legs feel like jelly, the muscles having turned to liquid, unable to support your weight. It's a good thing he's holding you up, pinning you to the wall with his body, or else you would have collapsed to the floor in a boneless heap.
When the fog of lust begins to lift, as your racing heart starts to slow, a sense of icy horror starts to seep through your veins. Your mind, once hazy and clouded, starts to clear, the pieces of the puzzle clicking into place.
Oh god. Oh fuck. What have I done?
The realization hits you like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from your lungs, leaving you frozen and stiff in his arms. You just fucked Lumiere.
A wave of revulsion crashes over you, the urge to push him away, to scream, to run, nearly overwhelming. But you're trapped, pinned, held in place by the grip of his arms, the weight of his body, the sickening realization of what you've done.
His body goes rigid against yours as the horrifying reality of what just transpired sinks in, his muscles tensing like a coiled spring. His head, which had been resting against your shoulder, jerks back slightly, the side of his head no longer leaning against yours.
How the fuck did this happen?!
Before he can say anything, you push him away. Your aching, trembling limbs suddenly find strength, a surge of adrenaline propelling you forward, forcing him back.
He staggers, his softening cock slipping from your slick, swollen pussy with an obscene sound that makes your stomach turn. But he doesn't reach out to stop you, doesn't try to pull you back into his arms. He stands there, rooted to the spot, his eyes wide and horrified, as you yank your skirt down over your thighs.
You walk away, your arms shaking, legs unsteady. But as you put one foot in front of the other, as you force yourself to leave, you can't escape the echoes of his moans, the deep groans that still ring in your ears. The sound he made when he came inside you.
Each step feels heavier than the last, your panties growing wetter and stickier with his release. You can feel his gaze burning into your back, the weight of his self loathing a physical pressure that urges you faster, desperate to escape. And then, just as suddenly as it began, it's over.
He is gone. Lumiere disappears as suddenly as he appeared. But you know he'll be back. He'll return to torment you, to haunt you, to remind you of the terrible thing you've done.
Because deep down, you know this isn't over. No, this was just the beginning. The first step down a dark path from which there may be no turning back
