#hes such a fucking good character his emotions just feel so like. real to me. i dont know! i don't fucking know!!!!

[thunderandsage]

my comprehensive star trek fic recs

(starting note: a lot of the following works contain heavy and/or uncomfortable themes, which is my preference when reading fanfiction, so just be aware of that. a lot of them are also, uh, rated E, so yea. i have no excuse for that one.)

(contains: mostly AOS with smatterings of SNW, DS9 and TOS)

EPICS/LONGER WORKS:

Don't Stop Believing (Spirk AOS, rated E, finished at 205,901 words, a Spock-character-study slash novel-length-epic, features Spock/Pike heavily near the beginning, explores the loss and pain after y'know losing your mother and your planet, slow-burn Spirk but GOD the slow-burn is so good, not a straightforward story as characters are capable of both advancing and regressing but this complexity makes the story more delicious, includes homoerotic piano duets)

You Don’t Have To (Say Yes) (Spirk AOS, rated M, finished at 192,321 words, HEED THE WARNINGS, starts out as “let’s make Tarsus IV even worse” but evolves into love letter for friendship and chosen family, characters so good you want to start chewing on the metaphorical pages, Kirk as bright-sunshine-character-with-the-horrors-in-his-past who’s messed up but god he’s trying, passages in this fic permanently rewired my brain)

War Games (Spirk AOS, rated E, finished at 108,882 words, necessary to read You’ll Get There In The End first, very sharp and cohesive prose and plot, the romance here is pretty unconventional and “unromantic” almost but it honestly works really well, uhh main warning is that this deals with politics analogous with real-world loss of rights so it’s uncomfortably relatable but if you’re fine with that it’s a really interesting read, intrigue and action, sorta-telepath!Kirk and good Vulcan OCs)

K’diwa: A Steamy Novel of Interspecies Romance, by Jim Kirk (Spirk AOS, rated technically E but it’s more M i feel, finished at 103,984 words, accidental romance writer Jim Kirk, Kirk-was-adopted-by-Vulcans, Academy Era, far on the feel-good and indulgent side of fic if you’re into that)

The Door (Spirk AOS, rated E, finished at 77,118 words, per the description "and alternative STID thing" with one of the most distinctive and sweet/sharp love stories, smut does feature very heavily but so does literature and messy emotions, contains my favorite version of THAT scene from STID, makes you want to annotate passages and look for parallels like in fucking english lit class again)

For the Gladness of You (Spirk AOS, rated E, finished at 51,055 words, non-linear narrative, Spock and Kirk both have Issues(tm), definitely a thornier read where problems don’t have clear solutions and people are messy and don’t always make good decisions, more cynical but still so good)

EPISODIC/SMALLER STORIES:

The 1,000 Hour Sleep (Spirk SNW, rated M, finished at 27,227 words, basically Jim is a secret agent for Starfleet who's treated as expendable by Command but still gets adopted by the SNW crew, good balance of action/angst and romance/pining)

This Trailer Park Is a Shithole But Goddammit, It’s Home (Spirk AOS, rated M, finished at 23,446 words, trailer park AU, Jim Kirk’s dubious adventures in growing weed and trying to avoid the law, the crackiest adaptation of st2009 you’ll ever read)

Something Smart to Do (Spirk AOS, rated M, finished at 21,322 words, how many times will Spock and Kirk get fake-married for missions before they admit they’re in love? the answer is too damn much)

How to Inefficiently Acquire a Human Male in 98.6 Earth Days (Spirk AOS, rated T, finished at 30,391 words, Academy Era, Spock tries to ward off Jim's attempts at friendship but receives advice that does... not do that, romcom vibes, meddling Gaila)

Big Me (But It’s You I Fell Into) (Spirk AOS, rated M, finished at 38,728 words, i am entirely indifferent towards golf but this fic still slaps, feat. an oblivious jim, a low-stress but still very fun read)

knives in the water (McSpirk AOS, rated E, finished at 18,618 words, dark, mafia au, smut and violence, featuring McCoy’s sexual frustration and steadily eroding moral compass)

FEMSLASH:

encrusted gem-stuff / / of the mist (T'pura SNW, rated T, finished at 41,862 words, pon farr but it’s lesbians, beautiful psychedelic and almost surreal writing style that i want to inject into my bloodstream)

Unspoken (T’pura AOS, rated M, finished at 29,201 words, lovely AOS Uhura depiction with lots of linguistics and character depth, the path to true love is convoluted and thorny but they get there, eventually)

i cannot paint / what then i was (Kiradax DS9, rated T, finished at 15,462 words, brief Jadzia/Lenara Kahn, read if you like greek classics references, bi disaster Jadzia and gorgeous lesbian pining)

A Hermeneutics of Ass-Fucking (Christine Chapel/T’pring SNW, rated M, finished at 5,954 words, an enjoyable cocktail of Vulcan intellectualism, crack and lesbian horniness)

Matchmaker of Mars (T’pura TOS, rated T, finished at 2,749 words, T’Pring and Uhura as 1930s scifi writers with a grudge against Campbell)

“BITE-SIZED”:

there's no such thing as a bad idea (Spock & Bones AOS, rated T, finished at 5,114 words, giving "teenage girls talk about their crushes at a sleepover" except it's two emotionally constipated middle-ish-aged men who are drunk)

And Then I Let It Go (Spirk AOS, rated E, finished at 10,632 words, post-Beyond getting together including fake identities and agricultural work)

Any Way You Want It (Spirk AOS, rated T, finished at 12,031 words, Spock gets offered a promotion and Jim wants to be supportive, misunderstanding ensue, slightly cracky)

Watershed Moments (Kirk & Mcoy AOS, rated N/A, finished at 9,455 words, based on that Parks and Rec episode with snake juice but it’s Chekov’s tribble juice here, everyone’s super wasted here and it’s glorious, crack)

Big Damn Heroes (Chekov/Sulu AOS, rated E, finished at 6,821 words, Chekov character study in a "live fast, die young" type of Starfleet life, honestly just read anything by waldorph ever, swashbuckling vibes)

what is love? (no really) (Aromantic Spirk AOS, finished at 7,534 words, read if you like disaster!Kirk and/or have a grudge against Valentine's Day, cracky)

Hallmark Moment (Here in the Morning Remix) (Joanna McCoy AOS, rated G, finished at 3,312 words, bittersweet character study, read if you want to feel a little sad and contemplative)

the five-year mission (Kirk & McCoy AOS, rated M, finished at 11,106 words, dark post-STID that sees what with Starfleet's militarization and colonialist undertones... y'know that's not far from the mirrorverse...)

A Monument to All Your Sins (Spirk AOS, rated T, finished at 9,629 words, post-STID where Kirk is ordered to retake the Kobayashi Maru, soft established relationships and musings about the nature of sacrifice/duty)

UNFINISHED:

K’oh-nar (Spirk TOS, rated T, unfinished at 320,000 words currently, PLEASE heed the "mental breakdown" tag as it centers around severe psychically-inflicted trauma, featuring Spock’s TOS canonical self-loathing, it’s tagged hurt/comfort but the plot’s still on the “hurt,”read if you want to be stabbed by a hundred knives)

Unbody Me and Take Me Home (Spirk AOS, rated N/A, unfinished at 27,416 words but updating, domestic fluff but there's a ghost, slowburn for both the romance and the horror)

[goldiipond]

actually hey do you ever get fucked up over the fact that the main two instances of don laughing in the anime happen after he's been told the worst news he'll ever hear in his life. he laughs in episode 4 because he thinks it's a joke and he laughs in episode 6 because he is suddenly hit with a wave of the most intense emotions he's ever felt in his life and he's a child and he literally cannot process any of it let alone try to figure out how to react to it. do you guys ever think about that. because i do

[cosmik-homo]

Lying in bed crying about Alfred's fucked up identity situation

[hecksupremechips]

The way akishinji and ashbella both have dramatic coma scenes and dramatic shot through the heart scenes like we’ve gotta stop meeting like this 😩

[lesbiansaaviik]

Can I be beautifully honest with you guys? I hate 91 Whiskey and So Says the Sword

[strawb3rrystar]

Hazbin Hotel characters longing for you.

Pairing: Charlie Morningstar, Vaggie, Angel Dust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Alastor, Lucifer Morningstar, Adam, Vox, Valentino, Velvette x GN! Reader

Warnings: Implied breakup, Stalking, Just all around angst

Word count: 600

✰Masterlist

Charlie will hangout with her friends to get your mind off you. This strategy works for a little while, until she starts to notice small bits of your personality in them. All the little things pile up and it brings down her mood, causing her stay away from her friends as to not get reminded.

"Sorry guys, can't hangout today, not feeling the greatest."

Vaggie will bottle up all her emotions and avoid everyone. But, being all alone causes her to start thinking about you more. All the happy memories you created together. Laughs and smiles shared. Vulnerable venting sessions that ended in cuddles. She won't be able to scrape you from her mind and end up crying angry tears.

"Why... after everything we've been through! Why.. why did you leave me..?"

Angel Dust will probably be too distracted with work to think about you. But of course he misses you and wishes to have you back. If he ever does get time to just sit and think about you, his insecurities will get the best of him and he'll think your better off without him.

"Maybe.. they're better off. More happier without me.."

Husk will drown himself in alcohol like he always does. Silently doing his job. It wasn't much of a change to most of the others. Sometimes, out of the corner of his eye, he'll see your figure. He shivers every time he realizes you're not actually there.

"Must be the alcohol makin' me see shit..."

Sir Pentious will lay awake at night thinking about you. It doesn't help that his eggs will keep bringing stuff up about you. He doesn't want to think about you, but he just can't get you out of his head. He wishes to see you one last time before he lets you go.

"I haven't asked for much. Please, just let me see them again."

Alastor will convince himself that he was perfectly able to go on with his afterlife before he met you, so he can definitely do it after you left. Although, that's a lie, because he misses your presence everyday. Even if he doesn't want to admit it, he goes over your daily schedule before you left in his head and goes to the places you used to frequent.

"I am perfectly capable all on my own."

Lucifer will dream about you every night after you leave. He'll dream about all the good times you had together. Your smile and your laugh. His dreams are so realistic that when he wakes up it takes him a minute to remember you left.

"Right.. they left.. but, my dream was so.. real.."

Adam will kinda stalk you, justifying it as protection. Whenever he sees you hanging out with another angel, though, envy will fill his veins. Even if he knows it's one of your friends, he'll still get jealous.

"You were supposed to hangout with me, not this fucking nobody."

Vox will also very much stalk you with his cameras. Nervously searching his screens whenever you leave your house. He just wants to know where you are, and that you're safe.

"My sweet would never have to worry about their safety again."

Valentino will check your past messages 50 times a day. He's just itching to text you, but if he does you might block him, and then he'll lose your conversations forever. He might throw his phone in frustration.

"God fucking damn it!"

Velvette will regularly check your social media for any updates from you. If you do post something new, expect her to be one of the first to like it.

"@Velvvette liked your post."

Star's notes -> I've binged Hazbin Hotel like 3 times now OMG

(Requests are open!)

Taglist -> Join the taglist

[patronsaintofelsewhere]

Thoughts on Angel Crowley & Healing from Trauma

(Minor Good Omens S2 Spoilers)

As someone who’s endured my own Trauma and dealt with the resulting PTSD, watching Crowley’s journey from a joyful, silly, and entirely innocent angel to a withdrawn, lonely, hyper-vigilant demon as a result of the Fall both shattered my heart and confronted me with the fact of myself, and I’d like to talk about it. 

When you* experience Trauma, you experience an existential disorientation and a profound sense of grief over the world you thought you knew–one where you were safe and nothing bad had ever happened to you. “Innocence died screaming,” and all that.

You're also therefore mourning the loss of who you were, and struggling to make sense of who you are now. Which is why this conversation is so gut-wrenching:

“I know you.” “You do not know me.” “I knew the angel you were.” “The angel you knew is not me.” 

This dialogue admittedly still makes my eyes swim. It’s reminiscent of the many conversations I’ve had with people close to me who knew me Before and After. Not only are you grieving the loss of your own innocence, so are those around you, and it feels like you’re wearing their loved one’s face like a mask.

And then underneath the grief, there’s a river of–what you’ll later discover is misplaced–guilt. They want you to be who you were. Fuck, you also want to be who you were -- to not have experienced what you did -- but you can’t.

And when they catch a glimpse of something that reminds them of Before-You -- because it's not like that you has just up and vanished, you've just changed -- they say things like, “I feel like I have you back!” Like the After-You is a consolation prize, something to be tolerated while they wait for the Before-You to return.

It’s not malicious. They love you. They want you to be happy. But it just serves as a reminder of your loss and suddenly you’re acutely aware of how alone you are with the Thing that hurt you.

After trauma, you’re lonely and you're afraid. But those emotions make you feel quite naked, because both of those things would require you to depend on other people to feel better and, at this point, the thought of doing that is far too scary, so to the world, you’re angry. Thus begins the cyclical self-fulfilling prophecy.

And that cycle goes a bit like this: People see the mistrust and the bitterness and the volatility (the shield that keeps people at an arm's length and helps you feel safe). They don't see the profound sustained fear underneath, the desperate need to feel seen and accepted. And so people pull away.

And that real or perceived abandonment feeds the monster that’s taken up permanent residence in your ribcage and screams at all hours that you’re not worthy of love, that you’re irreparably broken, and you’ll always be alone. And you pull away from the people that love you. And the cycle repeats. And you start to believe all of the bad things about yourself that the monster tells you.

Being confronted with a character who you adore and who you also relate to closely is bittersweet in that it’s both immensely painful, but also offers you an opportunity to interrupt that cycle, to explore a different -- perhaps more forgiving -- lens through which to view yourself. To practice self-compassion by proxy, if you will. After all, we tend to extend far greater empathy and forgiveness to others than we do to ourselves.

Angel Crowley, "who squeaked and squealed when he was happy; who flailed his arms around and made explosion noises with his mouth to explain nebulas; who preened when told his stars were pretty,” (joycrispy) reminded me a lot of “Angel T,” or rather myself before Trauma.

And Crowley's story is tragic. I was heartbroken and angry for him; I felt the depth of the betrayal he experienced at the hands of someone he loved who he'd believed loved him; I found myself wanting to protect him, to comfort him. Crowley did not deserve what happened to him.

And, over a decade later, I realized that I’d finally accepted that I’d been an innocent, just like Crowley had, and I didn't deserve what happened to me, either.

And -- if you find yourself relating to this post -- neither did you.

Once we can tell ourselves that and actually believe it, we can start to lower the shield. We can allow people closer, including ourselves. We can bring the parts of ourselves we may have hidden away back to the surface. We can soften again. We can truly start to heal.

Crowley, at his core, remains the same. He is still kind, deeply loving, playful, silly, and – against all odds – hopeful. But his trauma has changed him; his innocence is gone.

He struggles to trust others; fears abandonment; engages in unhealthy coping mechanisms; finds it easier to prioritize and tend to Aziraphale's needs and desires than his own; and has difficulty expressing his emotions.

But he also gained an abundance of empathy, a deep love for humanity, and a strong sense of justice.

We adore Crowley exactly as he is now; we don't wish for him to be who he was before the Fall. And neither does Aziraphale.

In kind, we won’t be who we were — nor should we try to be — but we can be something new, a different version of ourselves that is equally good, equally worthy, and equally deserving of love. 

After over a decade, I think my Trauma wound has mostly healed, as much as Trauma wounds can, anyway; it’s a dull ache rather than an acute pain. Yet Crowley's story assuaged that remaining hurt like a salve I hadn’t realized I needed.

So thank you to @neil-gaiman for giving us such a beautiful story, and to David Tennant, Michael Sheen, and the rest of the cast and crew who bring the characters we love to life on screen.

Good Omens truly is a gift. May it continue to inspire us to offer kindness and love to ourselves and one another. 🖤

* I am aware that I say “you” when I should use the singular first-person “I,” but I still struggle with this when talking about my own trauma. So I’m using “you” and you, reader, will deal with it x

[bakugoushotwife]

no, please don’t kill me mr. ghostface, i wanna be in the sequel!

>>> you didn’t think you were making it out of kinktober without a visit from ghostface, did you? all cute and sweet pieces, blegh. it's time to play...happy halloween—don’t hang up on me you bitch!

>>> cw: PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION. NO MINORS. dark content ahead. inspired by scream 1996. murder, blood, gore, stalking, yandere!characters, ghostface!characters, manipulation, major character death, alternate no curses!reality, physical harm to reader, manhandling, knifeplay, costumed sex, prone bone, dub con, non con just in case tbh, biting, choking spanking, face-slap, degradation (whore, slut, bitch, etc), praise, breeding, doggy, blood consumption, mating press, throat fucking, edging, double penetration, fingering/knife-fucking (?) (f!receiving) anal. threesome mfm/mmf, breeding. let me know if i missed anything. >>> wc: 15.8k >>> event masterlist: >>> playlist

you were starting to get majorly freaked out. the past year or so had been the worst of your life. your college professor was murdered last fall—sending the small town into a frenzy. some people were mortified. how could someone so brutal be lurking in the shadows of this cheery town? they stopped walking to school and carpooled instead, kids no longer played in the yards, and women rarely went out unaccompanied. some people thought it was funny—something interesting to talk about after years of mundane crimes barely making the news.

you were feeling something much more complex than just fear or interest; you were battling grief. grief that no one else even knew about, adding to the complexity of your feelings. toji was just your business professor—one that you paid frequent visits to on and off campus. you did a good job of covering your tracks, coming up with lie after lie to keep your friends well distracted from your taboo hook-ups with the community’s favorite teacher. they would bully you to tears if they knew you gave your virginity to dr. fushiguro—and between satoru and suguru’s relentless teasing, you would never know peace again. 

plus, it’s nearly been a year, and you were nothing more than the other woman, a young girl that caught his attention over the monotony of marriage. it wasn’t going anywhere, and you knew that. in a way, the emotions you grappled with weren’t grief at all—but guilt. toji had young children—what you did was wrong. you felt that way when he was alive and you were actively doing it—but something about him pulled you in. maybe it was your own naivety that was to blame for believing him when he promised you he would leave his wife for you–all just to get you to put out again and put off your friends. maybe it was the subconscious belief that he was the best you would get, the best you deserved. your parents were hardly winning any awards for their methods, and the only other men in your life have been around you since high school, the aforementioned relentless teasers: satoru gojo and suguru geto. 

you like to think that you put it all behind you, but you can’t stop this creeping feeling that toji fushiguro was murdered because of you. 

and that wasn’t the end of the weird happenings. your lab partner—kento nanami unceremoniously dropped out this month, so the rumors around campus say, but you have a bad feeling about it. you’ve been calling him for days with no response, he has no after school work presence, and his best friend looks like he’s seen a ghost anytime you’re around. it was all the school was talking about, especially approaching the anniversary of dr. fushiguro’s death. 

“i say he was murdered, just like the professor. we have a real serial killer on our hands, ladies and gents!” ieiri shoko—a haphazard extension of your friend group—wiggles her brows, reclined back on her hands to survey the rest of you as she puffs her cigarette. 

gojo rolls his eyes, giving the speaker an unimpressed look. “i think they gotta tick a few more boxes before it’s a serial killer, no? only two murders, and so far apart?” he shakes his head to discount the theory. he makes a good point, perhaps it was just a creepy coincidence after all. there’s no reason to freak yourself out over nothing.  

“yeah? well i think it’s connected too.” iori says from her spot on the ground, her head laying in your lap as you braid and unbraid her hair, just keeping your brain occupied on something other than the death that seems to follow you. 

“yeah? and that’s why you don’t get paid for thinkin’.” gojo snickers, utahime’s annoyed attempt to swat at him blocked by suguru’s body, the two of them sitting behind you at the picnic tables out in the open sun. it made you feel a little safer, surrounded by friends and in a place where you could keep an eye out. you trust gojo and geto to watch your back.

satoru continues to giggle on about it until shoko interrupts, taking her cigarette out of her mouth and pointing gojo down with it. “what if they just pick one of us every year–some kind of halloween sacrifice?” she posits, and your eyes widen. the boys exchange a look, and suguru’s voice of reason cuts in. 

“let’s leave the detective work to the police, yeah? i’m sure sheriff zen’in wants to solve his nephews murder.” he leans back against the table while gojo balances his weight with his elbows on his knees. 

“yeah right. the sheriff couldn’t give a damn. ” you scoff, biting your tongue at the fact you spoke on the subject at all, but especially something so vague—implying you know more about toji than the normal student, and your cautious friends are also perceptive, you fear. 

“what’s that s’pposed to mean? our loyal piggy doesn’t wanna protect the community?” gojo leans forward on his knees, bringing his face closer to yours. he’s studying you—every nervous shift of your eyes, the seconds you let pass before you answer, everything, and you know it. 

“of…course he does. i only meant—” 

“pshhh, everyone knows those zen’in families are weird.” utahime swings in to save you—feeling the way your body tenses under your best friends interrogating stare “why d’you think his last name is fushiguro instead, hm? probably left the family to be a better person—how dreamy of him.” she sighs wistfully, having been another one of the many girls that would have killed to be in your place. “and that old bastard probably doesn’t care. he probably did it himself, knowing how corrupt–”

“smoking on campus, are we, students?” headmaster yaga walks up to send the conversation to a screeching halt. shoko quickly snuffs out her butt on her boot, crumpling the evidence in her hand as the man comes closer. suguru’s never quite cared about the opinions of his elders, and he won’t start now. he keeps slowly dragging his—making eye contact with the headmaster as he comes to a stop before your group in the grass. “geto. you mind?”

he arches his brow in annoyance, sticking out his tongue to burn the ash on. gojo giggles. “what an anarchist!” he cheers jovially, nudging his friend with his elbow. “we didn’t see any no smoking signs sir, swear.” 

suguru cracks a lazy grin at the defense, looking at yaga patiently. “i’m sure you’ve heard the news about your fellow classmate.” he starts, and utahime sits up properly to question him more specifically. 

“that he dropped out? yeah–we heard that days ago.” she confronts with furrowed brows. you can tell by the clench of yaga’s jaw that there’s more news. your heart sinks to your stomach, that bad feeling you had making an ugly return with the shifting of yaga’s stance. 

“what–did they find him?!” you push yourself up to stand, heart pounding in your ears. if kento was dead, was it your fault too somehow? 

yaga turns to you with a sad and curt nod. “they did. he was…strung up outside of his house–brutally murdered. his parents found him. all we know so far is that he was on the phone when he died. his mother heard him.”

you cover your mouth with shaky hands. how awful, to hear your own son gargle his last breaths? what a horrible way to go, you can’t believe your stoic and stern lab partner was no more, meeting a fate so horrible you wouldn’t wish it on your worst enemies. 

“how awful…his poor family.” iori shakes her head, too stunned to speak further. shoko replaces her cigarette with a fresh lollipop, lost in her own head; no doubt contemplating the morbid horror film most closely resembling the current situation—she has a fixation with death.

“there will be a memorial fundraiser to help his family with the funeral costs.” yaga nods, arms folded over his chest. he was clearly at a loss for words, though what could one even really say? he settled for, “be wary, kids. the sheriff’s department will be issuing a curfew. please be safe.” 

iori nods as the headmaster walks away—turning back to look at everyone. you hug yourself, feeling a chill in the air that only reminds you of what time of year it is—halloween. you’re still lost in thought, wondering what toji and nanami could have possibly had in common outside of knowing you and being at this school. what motive could be, who was next. 

satoru and suguru exchange a look. they can see how wound up you are, noting that you seemed to know that something had happened to nanami before you were told. shoko breaks the silence first.

“this is just like scream, you know? spooky phone calls and brutal killings—says here that he was gutted and suspended from a tree.”  she shakes her head, reading the pixelated news article from her nokia screen—grossed out and intrigued at the same time. 

iori gasps, “that’s awful—don’t compare his death to a movie, ieiri!” she scolds, noticing you off in la la land. “earth to y/n…hellooooo? i hope this isn’t a scary movie because you are so dying first.” she snarks, and gojo arches his brows and grins mischievously at the sentiment. he gets to his feet, creeping up behind you–jerking you by the shoulders and gasping just to scare you. 

you scream and jump back—punching him in the chest. “you jerk!’ you huff as he covers his stomach with laughter, stumbling back into his bench seat. suguru gives you an apologetic smile, standing and offering you his hand. 

“c’mon, let me walk you home.” he tilts his head towards the path you take. gojo jumps up too. 

“i’ll come with! make up for my prank?” he pouts, resting his chin on your shoulder. his icy blue gaze stays trained on you until you finally give in and look at him, making a bright grin spread across his face. 

shoko huffs, “you’re an insensitive asshat—i’m sure you’re not taking this seriously because you always picked on kento. i wonder if the piggies know that!” 

“he was a nerd—that’s all!” he scoffs with an eye roll, “oh yeah, so now i killed the guy, huh?” he furrows his brows, insulted by shoko’s insinuation that he could stoop so low. 

“no one said that, satoru.” suguru claps his free hand down on the other’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “let’s all relax. i know this is scary, so make sure we walk in partners, at least.” 

utahime gags and rolls her eyes at the dramatics, stretching out before getting to her feet. you look to her, thinking you should make sure your fellow woman makes it to her dorm, but suguru’s voice cuts through your thoughts again.

“we just want to make sure you get home safely with all of this going on, you look…worried.” suguru comments, stretching his palm out to remind you that his hand was extended for you. your heart warms at his kindness. he’s always been a gentle giant–especially compared to satoru; who has his own charms to him like his sense of humor and his striking good looks. he takes care of you in his own ways—but suguru’s always been more traditional. you place your hand in his, smiling thankfully. he turns to the other girls, but yu haibara is already escorting them the other way, careful to avoid you entirely. your shoulders slump at the idea that he blames you for nanami’s death. 

gojo slings an arm around your shoulders and they steer you towards your off campus rental. it’s a little two bedroom one bath—no satoru mansion, but it does the trick. you’re rarely there anyways, bouncing between your friends’ residences for the “dates” you all go on—though ieiri and iori aren’t typically included. 

“so this stuff’s really got you messed up in the noodle, huh?” satoru asks, exchanging careful glances with his opposite. you hum so he knows you heard him, settling into the rhythm they were walking for you. you don’t know if it’s the question or the crisp autumn air that makes you shiver—maybe it’s the way they both watch you so intensely, though the longer you think about it the more you realize they’ve kinda always been like that, letting their eyes stay on you too long, analyzing your features to decipher how you really feel. you can’t hide a thing from them. you can only buy yourself time. 

“yeah. i guess so.” you settle on, tucking your cheek into your shoulder. you knew they would ask for more specifics, all in the due process of taking care of you. 

“were you even close to that nanami guy?” suguru follows up, brows raised in curiosity. you know this trap. it was a miracle you’ve ever been able to keep toji a secret. they’ve always taken a special interest in your love life—they’re protective over you, and wanted to vet any potential match for you. but the boys you met in high school were easily scared off by the strong and intimidating friends of yours, so you figured college wouldn’t be much different. hence why you didn’t try—taking toji’s affection like a gift that fell into your lap. 

“he was my lab partner, so we’ve done a few projects together. he seemed like a nice guy, never crossed any lines. responsible. the sort.” you shrug again, not wanting to seem too invested. “i guess it’s just…weird. he was here one day and now he’s not, and killed so brutally…it doesn’t feel real.” you explain, and suguru seems to reflect on the words. 

“people die all the time, sugar. maybe he got caught up in something he shouldn’t’ve, maybe wrong place wrong time, or maybe he was eyeing something that didn’t belong to him. who knows. no use troubling yourself over it.” gojo shrugs, sliding his hand up to pat the back of your head. 

“that’s easy for you men to say! if some serial killer came after you, you could fight ‘em off. i have no chance if he was…to pick me next.” you retort, trying to make them see why you were so amped up about it. 

“what makes you think that he would pick you next?” suguru furrows his brows, but gojo just tilts his head side to side to mull it over. 

“nanami was a man, right? i wonder why he died.” he thinks aloud, shrugging. you snap your head towards him to chastise him for such a statement, but suguru clears his throat. 

“you have nothing to worry about, right? like satoru said earlier. these are isolated incidents, and they’ve only gone after men so far. chin up, angel.” he insists as you three walk up the steps to your house. 

you take a deep but shaky breath, nodding. suguru was right. the only victims have been men. toji’s death and subsequently nanami’s had nothing to do with each other. it was just your guilt gnawing at you. if you didn’t get yourself together, your perceptive bodyguards would pick up on the fact that you were hiding something from them. “thank you. i…needed to hear that.” you nod in satisfaction. 

“i’ll call you later, just to make sure you’re still..doing alright.” he assures, patting your hand before he drops it. gojo squeezes you into him, ruffling your hair. 

“don’t worry, cutie. we’ll see you tomorrow!! dream of me!” he calls out as their figures retreat.

once the door shuts behind you, you sigh out a breath of relief. 

you get some homework and laundry done in the few hours you have before bed. it’s a regular routine, but that’s why you found peace in it. you make yourself some dinner and cozy up on the couch, flipping through the channels to find something to make some noise outside of your loud brain. nanami’s picture makes you pause on the news, the reporter droning on about the case. according to phone records from that night, someone called his house six times, calls various in length from where kento was allegedly hanging up and trying to ignore the killer. 

“it seems the young man was stalked from outside his home for the entire night—making a valiant effort to run according to forensics before he eventually succumbed to his injuries. the case is ongoing, and due to the nature of the crime, sheriff zen’in has ordered a curfew of 8pm, beginning friday.” 

you’re reeling at the report, stunned beyond belief. it’s hard for you to even envision something so horrible. he must have been so scared. when your home phone rings—you’re jumping out of your skin–scambling up the couch with a scream. you stare at the receiver on the little side table next to you, fear nipping up your spine. that reporter said that nanami had been called repeatedly the night of his death—but suguru also promised to call. you decide to take the chance, satoru lives close enough that you could call him for help if it was this mysterious serial killer instead of one of your best friends on the other line—plus, nanami’s slaughter showed that ignoring the call wouldn’t help a thing. 

you reach out a shaky hand, feeling your throat go dry and tight as your sweaty palm grabs the receiver. like it makes a difference, you quickly put it up to your ear, looking around frantically. you never realized how many windows your house has, and now it feels like you’re naked for the world to see. “hello?”

“hey, angel.” suguru’s luxurious voice calms your nerves instantly, like throwing water on a fire. you relax back into the cushions, sighing audibly. 

“h-hey.” you card your fingers through your hair in attempt to rid yourself of any lingering anxiety. 

“i take it you aren’t feeling better about the whole ordeal then?” he sighs with you, gnawing on his bottom lip a little. you were troublesome for his own nerves. 

you play with the spiral cord connecting the receiver to the landline. “i was, i swear! then i saw the news and they were warning about phones like yaga did earlier and then–”

“your phone rang. sorry about my timing then, sweetheart. did you eat?” he interrupts, but his concern makes you tingle with warmth. they may be overbearing at times, but it’s so clear how much they care about you. 

“mhm. i have some leftovers though, if you’re still hungry. i could…use some company?” you weakly excuse, slightly embarrassed to basically beg for his protection; but the truth was that you knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight unless you had some comfort. 

he chuckles softly and smiles into the phone when he agrees. “of course. i’ll be right over. give me ten minutes—i’ll bring slushies.” he hums enticingly, and you give him a choked up chuckle of relief. he would protect you through the night–and make sure that you had a good time, too.

“kk, sounds good. i want the cherry one!” you tell him like he doesn’t already know everything about your preferences. 

“i know you want the cherry—i’m not a psychopath.” he chuckles with you, his car’s engine humming to life in the background. “i’ll see you soon angel. hang tight.” the line goes dead, but you’re no longer filled with a sense of dread, even if you were still nervous about the murderer on the loose. 

while you wait on suguru, you do some more channel surfing. you wonder what satoru’s up to tonight and if he’ll be peeved that he wasn’t invited to hang out. who are you kidding, of course he’ll be jealous. you reach over for the phone to call him—even with suguru’s headstart he would probably still beat him here if you got to him now. the high pitched ringing of the phone sounds off again just as your hand wraps around it, making you jump just slightly—it caught you off guard, is all. it’s probably suguru calling to tell you that 7/11 is out of cherry—they’re always out of cherry. annoyed, you put the receiver to your ear. 

“ugh, don’t tell me—”

“hello y/n.” the slightly garbled deep voice says. you don’t recognize it–and your heart drops to your stomach. this, this is who’s been murdering people, this is him. this is who they warned you about—why suguru is sneaking out to come see you through the night–suguru. you have to buy enough time for him to get here, if nothing else. 

“who are you?” you ask, trying to give your voice some bravado. you start searching the windows again, the eerie sensation that you aren’t alone was making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. goddamn you need to invest in a dog. 

“blegh–boring question. i want to know who you are, precious y/n.” the voice states, male in nature, but you can’t distinguish anything past that. your heart races at the avoidance. 

“you know my name, and my phone number. seems to me you know who i am.” you clench your jaw together to keep your teeth from chattering, willing yourself to be intimidating. the voice on the other end cackles in amusement. 

“you’re funny y/n. i mean the real you, silly girl! let’s play a game. for every question you get right, the longer i’ll let you live. every question you get wrong…one of your friends… dies!” he seems very entertained with himself over the threats, making the fear bubble up over your heart. 

“m-my boyfriend is on the way! he’s really big and he’ll beat your ass–” 

“and he’ll be the first one dead! question numero uno, and we’re starting easy!! oh, don’t cry now! you can do it, c’mon, iori and ieiri need you right? those are your girlfriends–and that’s not the first question!” he titters again, but his name drops make your rapidly beating heart still in your chest. “how far away is your little boyfriend?”

your chest heaves, the stranger’s wish for you not to cry was wasted. he knows everything–all your friends names—maybe the fact you hadn’t called satoru tonight was the only thing keeping him safe. you wonder how long this stalker must have been following you, listening to you. you wonder if he killed toji too—and why. 

“l-like…six minutes, or so. I-i don’t know!” you cry out, clutching the receiver. you think about the consequences of hanging up—maybe that is what angered him into killing nanami. you better stay on the line. 

“good girl. see? not that hard! just keep using that noggin’ of yours!” he encourages, breathing heavily into his side of the phone. 

you nod, sure he can see you anyway. you shrink into the couch as if it will swallow you whole and keep you safe, but the feeling of comfort is short-lived. 

“why was toji fushiguro murdered??” 

you blanche. he is responsible. this is…all your fault after all. your worst fears are coming true right in front of you, and suguru cannot get here fast enough to stop it. 

“i…i don’t know! i didn’t do it!” you put your hand over your other ear, trying to ball up and make this all go away. 

“wrong answerrrr. you’ll find out soon that i’m not bluffing, sugar. let’s try again. why was toji fushiguro butchered?”

how does he know? toji must have told people. that’s the only logical explanation—you know that you haven’t spoken of it to a soul. this man knew, and killed him for it? was he related to toji’s wife, here for revenge? where did kento fit into this—is it really all about you?

you can hardly hear yourself respond over your heartbeat echoing in your ears, pumping your blood in a rush. “i..i dunno!! because i slept with him!?” 

“ding ding ding! i knew you were a smart girl. but you do know that makes you a little slut, right? do you know that means you killed him, sugar!” he hisses the last part, as if personally hurt by the notion. 

“i..it was wrong–yes–but i..i–” you try to explain, but realize the stranger has no reason to allow it. he’s here to punish you, and you have to either accept this lying down, or try to put up some kind of fight. 

“is that two wrong answers? you’ll sentence your best friends to death over your pride, slut? how disappointing.” 

“no, no–i am!” you clench your eyes shut, finding it easy to beg for their lives. if this caller was to be believed, then you already knew he wasn’t bluffing. 

“you’re what? hmmm y/n?” his voice gets louder, like he’s closer to the device. 

“i’m a…slut!” your cheeks burn, you shift uncomfortably on the couch as you wait for the stranger to reply. “please sir.” 

“last question–speed round. what door am i at? your front door…or your porch?” 

thoughts stop and instinct takes over, causing you to drop the phone and run to your porch–a sliding glass door with flimsy locks. you turn on all the lights, hoping to ward off whatever evil lurked in the night hunting you. you click all the locks in place, sprinting now towards your front door, which stood open already. 

“no..” you say aloud, voice a broken whisper of realization. he was already in your house. maybe he had been the whole time, you don’t know anything anymore. all you can think about was suguru’s arrival—hoping you could last for a few minutes longer. you spin around, deciding to venture back the way you came. it was already cleared, he couldn’t have slipped behind—a gloved hand covers your mouth—leather thick enough to smother, and you throw your elbow back as hard as you can, stunning the captor into letting your face go. with a hurried gasp, you’re sprinting for your life. you run to your porch door, grappling with the lock that you just secured. you keep looking over your shoulder, waiting for the figure to reemerge, shaking the lock with all your might. you hear the footsteps, looking over your shoulder to see a tall monstrosity—cloaked in ghostface’s attire. you scream out and throw the door open. shutting it on him before he had the chance to grab you again. 

your heart is racing and you aren’t sure where to go next, attempting to clear your fence to get to the main yard of your house, maybe you could get to suguru first. the killer is faster though, both in mind and in body. he grabs your ankle before you can get all the way over, yanking you back to his domain. you scream for help, but there’s no one around to hear you. 

“my boyfriend—he’s scary, please mister!” you fight, kicking and thrashing to get all the openings to escape that you could. “let me go!” you throw your legs, connecting with his stomach. he reflexively clutched it in pain, giving you a window to scramble back to your feet and back into your house through the porch door you escaped from. locking it would be a waste, you just start throwing down whatever you could get your hands on to make an obstacle course for the masked man. you assume the cheap costume doesn’t have the best visibility, and you hope to use that to your advantage. 

you sprint for the front door, hearing the grunting and frustrated groans of the man chasing you. you blink through your panicked tears, grasping at straws for what to do next. it’s then that you hear the gravel of your driveway crunch under what could only be tires—and who could only be suguru. you shove your couch in between you and the killer, flailing yourself down your front steps and into the yard, sobbing and out of breath, scrapes and scratches showing the evidence of the chase. 

suguru is out of his car in an instant, by your side even quicker. he seems to put two and two together at the sight of you, running into the house just in time to see the ghostface impersonator sneak out of your living room window, fading into the distance. you can’t let suguru go very far, terrified beyond measure as you glue to his side and cry into his shirt once he assures you the scary man is gone. 

he holds your face, trying to soothe you the best way he knows how. “shh, shh, let’s call the sheriff, alright? this has to be reported.” he insists, holding you to his chest as he picks up your phone to call the police to your home, your kitchen and living room a mess of the night that would undoubtedly scar you for life. you nod, burying your face in his comforting scent. “just tell them what happened, and make sure you tell them everything.” he encourages, petting your hair as you wait for them to arrive.

your heart sinks at the prospect of revealing your secrets to the police. surely they don’t need to know every word exchanged on the phone. you can communicate the gist. you rehearse in your head what to say—but nothing prepared you for sheriff zen’in putting suguru in cuffs and shoving him in the back of a squad car. 

you protest, proclaiming his innocence–but the sheriff says if he’s truly done nothing wrong, then he can answer a few of their questions down at the station. you ride in a car too, like a passenger instead of a prisoner, to report what happened in detail that night. you can hardly get through an account of it—too nervous about suguru’s interview. he didn’t even wait for a lawyer, and had already used his phone call. deputy choso finally lets you go once it’s apparent you’re too shaken up to give them anymore than your scrambled memory, about being home and talking to suguru and then a very…summarized version of your call with the killer—and of course your run from him. 

you’re relieved when a just-rolled-out-of-bed satoru throws the station doors open, face stern as he scans for you. his features soften when they land on yours, and he’s pulling you into his arms before you’ve even really processed that he’s here. suguru must have used his call on him, to make sure you were taken care of in the event they want to hold him overnight—you’re touched. 

“y/n, what happened?! suguru said—a ghostface broke into your house?? are you alright, are you hurt—what are they talking to him for?” he asks, cradling your head on his chest after gawking at your bandaged ankle. you shake your head on him, just wrapping your arms around his waist. 

“i dunno, the guy chased me, satoru—i thought i was going to die!! suguru got there just in time, he saved me, and they’re treating him like he’s a criminal! get him out of there—call your dad or something this is bullshit!” you heave, panicky breaths shaking out over his shirt. 

he rubs your back, finding suguru’s eyes through the blinds over sheriff zen’in’s window. he takes a steadying breath, clearly trying to set an example for you to follow. “it’s gonna be okay, c’mon, you believe in your ole pal satoru, right?” he leans back, hands on your shoulders to give you a reassuring look. his nod gives you the faith to do the same, leaning back into his chest for that feeling of safety that seems so fleeting these days. 

satoru goes back and forth with the deputy about holding suguru overnight, threatening the mayor’s intervention. but deputy choso calls his bluff, rolling his eyes in clear aggravation. 

“even the mayor’s asleep right now, kid. unless daddy’ll come running at three a.m, geto’s spending the night.” 

“we have classes tomorrow you dipshit. y/n was literally expecting him—what can you even be holding him on?” satoru bucks, arching his brow. it’s rare that he gets serious, but when he does he comes correctly. 

“reasonable suspicion.” choso shrugs, leaning back in his desk chair. “doesn’t suguru know how to clone phone numbers? i seem to remember some trouble the two of you got in for prank calling.” 

“in eighth grade?” gojo scoffs, grabbing your hand roughly. you know it’s just because he’s wound up about the situation at hand. first your attack, then they cage suguru up like an animal, and now he’s dealing with dumbass deputy dewey. “prank calling to psycho murderer, huh? i suppose that is the only logical fuckin step!” he shakes his head in disbelief, dragging you from the station. “let’s go, sugar. time to get you back to bed—”

ice floods your veins. “what did you just call me?” you pull back out of his grip, looking at him with wide eyes. satoru’s face falters as he searches over yours, paused mid-speech. 

“what, sugar? i’ve called you that for years, y/n!” he rolls his eyes, sighing. “so paranoid, goodness. c’mon.” he pats your lower back, urging you into a steady stride alongside him. “let’s go to my place. wouldn’t want there to be a second strike or anything.” 

you still stare at him with that quiet unease, brain racing through your conversation with ghostface. “h-he called me that, too.” you mutter, stumbling over your own feet every few steps. satoru slips his arm around your waist to keep you close and to keep you from falling. 

“well, i didn’t exactly coin the nickname, i must admit.” he forcibly chuckled. “babe, please.” he rolls his eyes at your steady disbelief. “if i wanted to kill ya, do you not think i could pretty easily? i mean, my dad’s the mayor and you have no family. clearly, i only have your best interest at heart, y/n.” he raises his brow, and as blunt as his statement may be, it is effective. satoru’s strong enough to crush you in one hand, if he wanted to. plus they’d be the only ones that missed you if you were gone.  “i’ll…try not to call you that anymore.” he adds on the end, squeezing your hip in an effort to give you some peace of mind. 

you nod softly, processing. he’s always been sort of crude and a little brutal in his manner of speaking, always followed up by triumphant giggles at his own jokes. it’s his way of protecting you, of playing good cop and bad cop all at once, and over time you’ve gotten used to his bluntness. he was right anyhow, you shouldn’t doubt the only protection you have in times like these. plus, his offer of safety was too good to pass up. 

so you let gojo bring you to his huge estate, not affiliated with the mayor’s property downtown, no, this was just for satoru alone. it was expansive but still held onto that homestyle feeling. his bedroom was cozy, warm and safe like his arms around you, protecting you through the last few hours of the night.

news of your attack had spread like a forest fire around campus by the following morning. of course everyone’s in your face, all swarming around you in hopes they could get any bits of information—did the ghostface mention nanami? how did you escape? why was suguru still at the station if he rescued you? 

luckily satoru is there to serve as the buffer between you and the crowd, your other friends close in quickly as well, shoving and cussing until the path cleared and the rules to leave you be were instilled. you weren’t even sure how you were up and walking right now. you were exhausted between the chase and your collective two hours of sleep. your worry was weighing you down, the haunting anxiety of being attacked again, of causing more of your friends to be killed due to your wrong answers, of getting suguru into serious trouble just because this town wanted someone to blame for this. you felt like you’ve had too many iced coffees, body wired and fidgeting as you try to avoid all the lingering stares by making your way to the bathroom to hide for a bit—just long enough to let everyone settle into classes, so you can peacefully get to yours. 

you hear a couple of girls chit-chatting between the stalls, a voice you recognize saying your name followed by a near audible eye-roll. you quickly tuck yourself into a stall so they don’t see you when they come out, heart racing now that you seem to be the topic of conversation. 

“i bet she’s making it all up. i mean—a ghostface costume? really? that movie came out thirteen years ago! i mean if we’re getting in the halloween spirit, why not jigsaw?” she snickers, the metal door to the stall clanging open to signify that they’ve left—the water running at the sinks. 

“mei mei! that’s awful, why do you hate her so much?” the other girl teases, grabbing some paper towels. you bite your lip in wait, insulted beyond belief that she could think you were that big of an attention whore. 

“because gojo and geto follow that girl around like she has some kind of…spell on them! i wouldn’t be surprised if she killed dr. fushiguro. she was in his class last year—and he seemed to pick on her a lot. maybe he was some…witchy sacrifice to make the two hottest guys at this school fall in love with her! nanami was this years!” she reveals as if she’s solved the crimes herself, simply from being so self-aware. 

“that’s the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever said, skank!” her friend dismisses with laughter, their voices fading as the bathroom door squeals shut, telling you they’ve left for good. you lean against the door of your stall for a moment, raking your hands over your face to cope with the cold sweat coating your skin and the disbelief gripping your heart. you fidget with the lock, stumbling out to the sinks for something to bring you back to life. you turn the faucet on, thinking some cold water would do the trick. it helps you perk up a bit even when it just hits your hands. before you can cup any and splash your face, a chill creeps up your spine—you’re being watched. 

you bend over, looking under the doors of each stall to make sure there weren’t any feet lurking behind the doors waiting to attack you. you don’t see anything, puffing out your cheeks as you exhale and right your posture. you make eye contact with yourself in the mirror. you have to snap out of this, you tell yourself, raking your hands over your face, tugging at your eyes and rubbing your cheeks in an effort to remind yourself of reality. 

“y/nnnn.” the distorted voice echoes in your mind, making you gasp and spin around to look at the stalls, look all over the bathroom, nearly flattening your chest to the floor to look under the stalls again. again, nothing. your brain is playing tricks on you. you’ve officially lost it. what was the likelihood of being attacked in your campus bathroom anyway—especially since he started at your house? you take a deep breath and gather your backpack up, hearing the clanking metal sound of one of the stall locks. “don’t ignore me, y/n.” 

you squat down, there had to be someone there this time. you knew paranoia could only go so far, that voice sending your heart into a fearful spiral. 

boots descend from the toilet, planting firmly on the ground. you start to breathe heavily, a jagged black cloak lowered to tell you that you were indeed being targeted by a ghostface impersonator, and you scream. he lunges out of the stall—a huge hunting knife clasped in both hands over his head as you duck, limboing under his attack and making for the door. 

“help me!!” you scream frantically, voice so shrill it hurts your throat. you feel the heat of his body against your back, so you fling your head backwards into his chest—surprising him enough to falter. you fling the door open, making that connect too, scrambling for any extra time and space you could get. your vision is blurred by the nervous tears that spring automatically, searching for an exit or someone to help. you see a few guys standing together at the end of the hall—one of which has stark white hair that you could recognize from worlds away. “satoru!! he’s here, help!!” 

the frantic desperation in your voice grabs all of their attention, satoru and naoya zen’in—grandson of the sheriff–sprint closer to figure out what’s going on. they see the masked man stalking after you, but you can only keep running for your life. your legs nearly give out as you make it to satoru, collapsing in his arms. his eyes are wide as he pushes you back behind him, turning to deal with the intruder—but the zen’in beats him to it. he tackles the figure, managing to wrestle the knife away even before the ghostface rolled them to win the struggle, punching naoya hard enough that his head bounced off the floor. you gasp–shoving satoru forward. 

“help him!!” you panic, not able to stomach the thought of someone else dying over you. satoru barrels forward and roughly pulls the ghostface off, turning to naoya to ensure he was still alive while the masked figure tumbles to the ground with a grunt. you’re paralyzed with terror as one of the other boys, a freshman named ijichi, checks on you, grabbing your attention with his shaky voice.

“y/n, are you alright? goodness.” he pats your shoulder, and you nod–turning back to the commotion. you catch the sight of the cloak slipping down the stairs, screaming out for gojo to warn him. he quickly moves to follow—but finds no trace of the man. he turns back to you with a shake of his head. he was gone. 

satoru moves to pull you to your feet, holding you securely to his chest as yaga and a host of other teachers bustle through the hallways looking frantic. 

“he came to this school. that is it!” yaga shakes his head, surveying your crying and terrified form. “classes are canceled until further notice!” he declares, instructing for the cops to be called immediately–and to bring a paramedic for the student injured in your defense. you feel so guilty when you look over at the zen’in boy holding his eye, wincing. he had no business with you and didn’t have to get involved at all, but he likely saved your life!

you sniffle, gently pushing yourself off of gojo with a weak smile. you give him a grateful look, nodding to him in a way that communicated your need to accomplish something. “i’m okay.” 

he nods a little, letting his hand fall off of your elbow. he watches you slouch over to naoya as he shoves himself into a seated position. you crouch to his level, giving him a gentle but still anxious smile. 

“hey..does it hurt pretty bad?” you ask, sympathetically frowning at the shiner. he scoffs a little at your question. you sure are lucky you’re stunning–and that he has a reputation to uphold. 

“yeah? it’s a massive bruise. i’ll live though.” he shrugs, brushing his hair out of the way. 

“well…thank you. for doing that, you could have been hurt worse.” you nod, standing. you reach your hand out to help him to his feet. he smiles, and takes your hold despite his usual pride, he’s able to capitalize on some arrogance. 

“i had it under control, don’t worry about it. what kind of man would i be if i didn’t step in?” he smirks, and the little look makes you blush. maybe you had a soft spot for the zen’in families good looks. 

“i see, well. thank you anyway.” you hum, turning back to satoru. “i guess we’re free to go home, huh? classes are canceled…” you scratch at the back of your neck anxiously, hoping satoru would let you attach like a little lost puppy in order to stay within the realms of safety. 

he rubs at your shoulders, wiggling his brows a little. “mhm, way to go, princess. you got us outta school!” he cheers, throwing his arm around your shoulders. “i say, party at my house!! everyone’s invited!” he yells out into the emptying hallway, the announcement of canceled classes causing the majority of your peers to spill into the schoolyard, escaping before the headmaster changes his mind. 

the idea of a party right now made you nauseous. anyone of these people could be the ghostface poser or his next victim. you wish you could just hole up in your house,  but being alone was hardly an option for you right now. satoru keeps a hand on your back to guide you out of the civics hall, assuring you that a party is exactly what you need to get your mind off of things. 

“there’s no way i’d leave your side anyway! plus the girls are gonna be there, and—look who the cat dragged in!” his long finger turns your head in the direction he was looking, and your eyes widen at the sight of suguru waiting against the group’s usual tree. relief floods your system. at least suguru was free, clearly they couldn’t pin this on him like they wanted. 

he strolls over to fall in line on your other side, giving you a sly smile. “hey angel. shoko told me what went down, and i am now on your side. that sheriff doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing.” he sighs out as he loops his arm around your shoulders. you give him a proper hug, letting him pick you up slightly to keep walking to satrou’s place. it was a normal happenstance, the two of them loved passing you between them like a toy football they tossed back and forth, this time it was suguru who lifts you from the ground. you wrap your legs around his thighs with a giggle—feeling a bit of lighthearted fun spring to your heart. 

“oh don’t tell me you didn’t get the honeymoon suite.” satoru mocks, reaching for your upper half to pull you into his hold, to which you and suguru insist in passing you over. it’s all part of the games they like to play with you. 

you roll your eyes. “we tried to get you out, well—sato did. that deputy was a big ole meanie about it.” you huff, being carried like a baby in gojo’s arms. he nods, pouting down at you. 

“totally. was gonna get dad on it and everything! but hey—this party will be epic, the girls are getting some snacks, we’re on beer duty!” he cheers happily, gently tossing you up into the air. you freely giggle, falling back into his protective hold. he passes you to suguru, who slings you over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. you playfully kick and giggle and that sweet sound prompts satoru into comment. “she’s always so happy with us, huh sugu?” 

he pats above your back, nodding. “of course. you’re our girl, right?” he hums, giving satoru a knowing smirk. you squeal a little and nod. 

“mhm, i just feel so…safe with you two!” you sigh, relaxing across his shoulder. he finally lowers you to your own two feet once it’s time to walk into the general store with that one boozy cashier that would let geto have whatever he wanted from that store—including his weight in beer probably two times the legal purchase amount. you stroll around the aisles with them, satoru urging you to pick your own snacks over whatever gross shit iori and ieiri brought over. 

for once, all seems to be well. you settle into a couch at satoru’s place, letting the boys fight over where they sat, deciding they’d just let you lay across them both. so your new couch becomes satoru and suguru, but they’re just as comfortable. shoko and utahime laugh at the sight when they come in, a few more stragglers that heard satoru’s invite making their way in for the free booze. 

shoko of course came with her bag stuffed with horror classic dvds, starting with the obvious scream given her recent comments, and you roll your eyes and groan at the selection. suguru pets your hair back at your reaction, chuckling down at you. 

“what, not a horror fan?” he raises a brow, the idea making gojo titter. 

“probably not enough lady killers for our princess’ liking.” he elbows geto playfully, squeezing your thigh with his other hand. “or too many bimbos. which is it?” he asks expectantly, blowing some hair out his eyes. 

you shrug. “what does sidney say, something about how insulting it is that all the girls are so dumb? always running upstairs when they should be going out a door on ground level. it’s annoying. and yeah—more girl killers!” you giggle back, finally settling into a decent spirit now that you knew you were safe with your friends. 

“totally!! carrie’s like all we have!” utahime complains from the floor. 

“well—all the victims have been dudes so far. maybe we have a lady ghostface out there.” satoru raises his beer to clink it with utahime’s. she’s already tipsy enough to toast gojo, so you know this night will be eventful, though you can’t help your unease at his statement. you felt like it was important to only pass around the proper information in regards to something like this, even though satoru’s only joking innocently. 

“it’s not a woman. he’s too tall.” you mumble, reminding your friends in the room that you’ve suffered at the hands of this killer not once, but twice. your friends shift around awkwardly at the realization that they’ve gone a little too far. 

satoru pats your thigh. “hey, y/n—” you assume he was going to apologize, but he’s cut off by the phone. your heart plunges. no, this can’t be happening. not here, not in the safety of satoru’s home–with all of your friends gathered around. your gasp makes a few heads turn to you, and satoru’s face falls at your jumpiness. “hey, it’s alright. probably just my folks. don’t worry. shoko—answer it?” 

she nods, though you can tell she’s a little nervous too. she puts the phone to her ear and hums–seemingly recognizing the voice on the other end. the room all takes a collective breath of relief, but that doesn’t last very long. shoko clamps her hand over her mouth as she gasps, turning to you all to repeat what she was just told. 

“it’s the sheriff’s grandson—naoya. they found him strung up the flagpole—gutted like nanami!” she whisper yells, sparking the intrigue of most of the mildly intoxicated young adults in the room. she nods a few more times with whoever’s on the other line, shaking her head at the grotesque crime until they hang up. 

“well—what are we waiting for, let’s go check it out before they pull him down!” some freshman suggests, getting whoops and hollers from the other nameless faces as the pile out of the room, shoko leading the charge. you’re gripped with fear. this is the last straw. there’s no room to deny it anymore. the only common thread is you. when would this man get gojo? get geto? get ieiri and iori—you? would you have to watch all your friends die in front of you before he finally got you? naoya was not a nice guy, he had wronged plenty of people and was toji’s cousin—but he had saved you that day. and been punished for it.

“i need to go lie down.” you declare, sitting up on the only two men you could trust these days—which only made you fear for their safety that much more. suguru looks up at you wistfully, seeming to understand. gojo pouts, but nods his head towards his room. 

“we’ll know where to find ya, sweet cheeks.” he assured, helping you slide off of their laps. you smile and nod at him gratefully, breaking out in that nervous cold sweat you were prone to as you creep up the steps towards satoru’s room. your heart thunders in your chest, so loud in your own ears you think it may be audible to everyone else. suguru ‘awwws’ as you walk off and utahime blows you a kiss, stretched out in the recliner. she’s invested in the movie—totally into billy loomis, naturally. 

you wish you could be so naive to spend your night crushing on the killer in an old horror film, but your mind is too preoccupied with the one you’re living. some comfort soothes at your heart as you enter satoru’s large personal space. it smells of his soothing sweet scent, and you melt right into his bed, looking up at the rotations of the ceiling fan. you aren’t sure how long you stare up at it, wondering what entertainment your classmates were getting out of seeing naoya’s dead body. it makes you shudder to think about it, you wish that this was some sort of nightmare. at least those weren’t real. but that can’t be, because you feel yourself fall into some kind of satoru’s scent-induced slumber. 

“you know, it is pretty spooky how similar these past few deaths have been to the movie.” utahime scrunches her nose as she looks around the remaining friends. gojo nods, lips turned down in a pondering frown. 

“yeah–like the disembowelment? totally creepy. awww i’m all out of beer. utahimeeeee?” he coos, shaking his bottle at her. she jiggles hers and rolls her eyes at the emptiness. she shoves out of her comfy spot on the recliner. 

“you’re lucky mine’s empty, you bastard.” she chuckles, shaking her head and making her way out to the garage. 

“let suguru beer-sit for me when you get back, i’m gonna go check on the princess!” he yells after her, using his own thighs to propel himself into a stand. he turns to suguru, brows raised. “she’s been so skittish lately. i’ll be right back.” 

suguru takes a swallow of his room-temp beer, making a face at the taste. he finds himself alone with the movie, no choice but to watch the corny film that the current killings seem styled after—at least in costuming. he sighs. 

some time must have passed by the time you blink awake. you think it’s the trees rustling in the october wind that rips you out of your brief reprieve, or maybe it’s the uncomfortable silence and stillness to gojo’s house. either way, you’re yawning—stretching out on your stomach as you remember what caused you to isolate yourself from the rest of the party in the first place. you close your eyes as if that will stop the thoughts in their tracks, but it’s no use. 

the scraping up the trellis outside of satoru’s room does plenty to wipe your mind, followed by what could only be the sound of the window being opened from the outside. you push yourself up, ready to flee the bed, but his voice stops you as if he had puppeteer strings controlling your limbs. the distortion is familiar, just like it was on the phone that day. 

“don’t move you little bitch, i’ll slice you to ribbons!” he cheers, boots scuffing against the floor. you’re holding your breath, still laying on your stomach, head faced away from the killer. 

“wh–what do you want from me?” you gulp, clenching your jaw as his weight sinks into the bed. your hands grip satoru’s pillow as the ghostface touches your back, hand resting in between your shoulder blades. he trails one finger along your spine, stopping at the curve of your ass. 

“ya mean you haven’t figured it out?” he slides his hand under your skirt, curling his finger in the waistline of your panties, pulling them out and letting them snap back against your skin. “i want that pretty pussy in exchange for another day on this spinning rock!” 

you shiver, fear creeping up your veins. you feel something sharper than a finger against your back—unmistakably the point of his hunting knife. your body straightens and you gasp, his gloved hand palming at your ass. while the blade keeps you in place. 

“p-please, mr. ghostface, i–i dunno what this is all about!” you breathe heavily, feeling a tingling warmth bubble in your abdomen at his touch—fear had to be crossing the wires in your brain. he uses one hand to shove up your skirt, slapping the skin, the leather covering his hand only intensifying the feeling. you squeeze your eyes shut at the pleasurable sensation–shaking your head in surprise with yourself. 

“i just told ya, sugar. open up those ears and those legs. you’re gonna let me fuck you dumb if you ever wanna see outside this room again, be the good little slut i know you can be.” he pops your ass again, causing you to make a strangled sound of enjoyment. your cheeks burn, you can’t be enjoying this, the stranger that’s been terrorizing your life for the past few months—even possibly the man that killed your lover a year ago—should be the last person on the planet that causes your pussy to clamp around nothing. 

you obey, spreading your legs wide enough for him to shift between. he repositions himself there on his knees, hooking his arm around to press the long blade across your delicate neck as he pulls your hips up slightly. you gasp at the sharp weapon pressed to your jugular, careful not to move or you’d slit your own throat. he giggles, using his free hand to leave the outline of his hand on your ass. your heart thrashes, blood pumping in your ears as a disgusting need burns viciously in your gut. 

“that’s a good start, see. you can do it.” he kneads your ass approvingly, big hands gripping the skin so tenderly you whine out, biting your lip immediately after. his laugh is taunting, and makes the anticipation shoot up like sparklers. you’re ashamed. this is a dangerous and scary murderer, and he’s in here fucking you, you can’t deny that it makes you feel a little special—as he’s only targeting males. “ohhh you’re an even bigger skank than i thought, wow. you like it!” he licks his teeth audibly, hooking a finger around the crotch of your panties, yanking off the soiled fabric. he delights in damp juices covering his fingers as he tucks the soiled undies in the back pocket of his jeans beneath the robe. “you’ll fuck anyone won’t ya?” 

you move to shake your head, feeling blade bite into the flesh beneath. you open your mouth in your defense, silenced by the feeling of his bare fingers playing around in the mess holding you at knifepoint has created. “no! that’s not true!” 

he slaps your ass, sighing. “yeah? why’d you give this pretty little cunt to your married professor then? eager? desperate? did he make ya feel special?” he inquires, making your pussy grip again. the possessive lengths this murderer went through clearly spoke to your pussy if not your heart or your brain. you feel the man move around, freeing his cock if you had to guess. you ask yourself why you did fuck toji, and you decide to tell the truth. with the way things were going, he’d know if you were lying anyway. 

“because i was horny and he was hot and there—and i…i guess i did feel special, he picked me.” you reply, earning a growl in return. the smack on your ass has you screaming this time, the force of it causing you to brush up against the knife a little, feeling the first layer of skin give way. 

“wrong answer.” he gruffs, not as jovial sounding as before. you know what comes next. you briefly wonder what he’ll feel like, how curved or thick he’d be, and if he’d actually let you live after he’s done. he answers most of your questions rather quickly, feeling like lightning had struck you and split you open—you realize he’s shoved himself all the way in while you’re still laying on your stomach. you sputter out gargled sounds from suddenly being so full, balling up your fists in satoru’s pillow. maybe it was his scent wafting in your nose that made you horny instead of the masked man plowing your insides, holding your ass cheek apart with one hand in order to reach top speed. “little slut likes getting ruined by a psycho, huh? maybe i will keep you around after all, gripping my cock like you love it.” he giggles, laying all his body weight into the thrusts. 

you’re mewling, gripping satoru’s pillow like it was the only thing tethering you to this earth. the ghostface was hitting every spot so rapidly and with so much force that you’re seeing stars. it takes everything in you not to slump forward—only the threat of imminent death keeping you awake enough. 

“you keep grippin it, lil slut. dont wanna let me go?” he chuckles at the way you keep lifting up to escape the blade. “cute slut though!! and a good one. gonna give you my load for being so obedient—i guess you didn’t have much choice though!” he laughs and pulls the knife from your neck, sickening slaps of his hips into your ass sound out across the room, growing slower in pace until he stills altogether, seed flooding your insides–his tip pressing it directly to your womb. his breaths are slightly ragged as he presses your ass back together, trapping his cum tight as he pulls out of you, humming at the sight of his slimy seed sliding out of your hole and pearling up on your pretty thighs. you heard his zipper at the same time you heard a knock at the door, a voice you recognize all too well kicking the panic up again. 

“y/n? i heard screaming, are you okay?” suguru asks, jiggling the handle. “everyone’s gone and i just want to make sure you’re alright. i’m coming in.” 

you shake your head, turning to scream out a warning, but the ghostface clamps a hand over your mouth. suguru pushes the door open— furrowing his brows at the sight, immediately rushing forward to intervene. he grunts his displeasure, snatching your hand to yank you away from the figure. 

“run y/n!” he commands, trying to shove the man away from you. you slide off the bed frantically, trying to get geto to run away with you as he and the ghostface struggle for dominance over the knife. he turns his head to look at you still standing in the room. “go, now!” he calls out, the sound of the blade making contact with his skin making the color drain from your face. his eyes widen as he looks down at the knife in his chest—while the masked murderer cackles wildly before he grabs the wooden handle. geto looks back up at you, eyes growing more and more lidded.

“yet another friend you’ve killed, little skank!” he cheers, yanking the knife out with a harrowing schlick before embedding it in him again for good measure—his form falling to the ground. the sound of geto’s body collapsing was enough to send you scrambling down the stairs in search of the only other person who could help you get away. your legs move faster than you’ve ever seen them go before, taking two steps at a time as you bound for the door. 

you hear the stomps of ghostface’s boots coming after you. you shudder out your cries of anguish, trying to figure out a way to put some space between you and him—not wanting to put any merit in his promise to keep you alive. you jump over the couch, slinging the tv down and once again throwing any and all obstacles in your path. it seemed to work well enough the first time you tried it, and based off of his hiss and a subsequent thump, you know you tripped him up a little bit. you sprint towards the garage, flipping on the light and pressing the switch to raise the door—screaming in horror at what the lights reveal. 

iori utahime was nearly unrecognizable, her head smashed in the refrigerator with a broken beer bottle sticking out of her chest. hot tears spring out of your eyes instantly—muttering your apologies as you dip under the opening the garage door gives you, full sprinting like your life depends on it. you’ve made it to an open field—somewhere you once felt safe now making you feel like a deer waiting to be pounced on. you keep your head on a swivel, trying to locate the black mass in the night—but it was virtually impossible. 

when he comes out of your peripheral—running at you from your right side, you see him in enough time to slide under his attempt to bear hug you, turning an about face towards the house. maybe you could make it back there, make it back to geto’s body—if you could just lock the doors and windows, you should be home free. satoru was still around–luckily you didn’t find his body. you struggle to get oxygen into your system through the chilly night air—feeling it squeeze at your lungs as you desperately fight to get back to some idea of safety, running in bursts and patterns to keep the masked man guessing and confused through the tiny holes in the mask. tears still sting at your eyes as you throw yourself up the steps, making it to the door which you deadbolt instantly. you sweep the house, making sure the other doors were locked before coming back to the front—hearing the beating of the ghostface rap against the door. 

“don’t lock me out sugar! we had such a good time!” he appeals, using the weighty knife handle to beat on the door some more. you grip the sides of your hair, out of breath and full blown panicking. if satoru wasn’t in the house, then you’ve locked him out, and who knows if suguru was clinging to life upstairs. noise behind you makes you wheel around to confront it—terrified that the ghostface snuck in through a window like he had earlier. 

instead, a heavily injured and bloody suguru limps out of gojo’s room, gasping out your name as he tumbles down the stairs, falling all the way to your feet. you cry out and crouch to him, face contorted up with concern and horror. he motions to stand, asking you to help him do so. 

“suguru! he’s outside–oh my god, are we going to die? where’s satoru? i need him to be safe too! we have to call the police—” you prattle on, doing your best to help lift his weight. he groans in pain, helping you to the best of his ability as you get him propped up against the wall. he keeps you from pulling away, holding your hand in both of his. 

“we’re going to be alright, angel. i’ll call the cops.” he assured, stumbling forward—toward the door. he nods to help you calm down, a bloody hand cupping your face to have you look him in his gentle eyes. “i’m going to get us out of here.” 

“don’t!! he’s gonna break it down or something—stand back, suguru! i’m scared!” you warn him as he looks out the peephole, shaking your head frantically. 

“you should be.” he says, leaning against the front door, giving you a cunning smile. gentle brown eyes shift into something much more sinister—though the lust that always swims in them remains. his words rock you off kilter—you’re sure you must be so paranoid that you’re making things up now. 

“wh-what?” you shake your head, furrowing your brows a bit as he lifts a bloody finger to his mouth, sucking the red digit clean with repeated swirls of his thick tongue—and making you step backward as the shock wears off. he was involved. you don’t understand how or why—but your best friend suguru geto was involved. 

“shame you don’t like horror movies, y/n. maybe if you had seen scream, you’d have known what to expect. high fructose corn syrup—just like in carrie.” he hums, trailing his tongue along his hand. you shake your head, steadily backing away from him. he wasn’t hurt at all—just theatrics to get you right where he wanted you. which means satoru—

“n-no…this is impossible. you…you came to my house!” you argue, trying to find a way for it to not be true. you back straight into another hard chest—and the figure dangles your panties over your face. your veins are frozen as you turn slowly—faced with the missing satoru. he’s beaming, wiggling the fabric in his hands. 

“surprise! look what we did for you, princess!” he cheers, stepping forward to make you back up—pushing you back into suguru with every calculated step. you blink rapidly, processing all that’s before your eyes. satoru and suguru? they were working as a team this whole time? a murderous, manipulative team?

“for me? what on earth are you talking about??” you shake your head incredulously, wondering how they’ve cloaked their insanity this whole time. “i–i never wanted this!” you begin to sniffle, the tears of realization starting the burn your eyes. 

“no? you know how we feel about boys around our princess.” satoru hummed, shaking his head. 

“after all of our years of devotion to you,” suguru shakes his head, stepping in front of you as well, leaning down to capture your vision. you avoid his eyes, too busy dealing with your racing thoughts. “you reward us by giving your virginity to a married man. what were we supposed to do about that angel?” 

“how–how did you find out–”

“you’re so loud in his office, pretty girl. we know what you sound like all too well—and you had been missing a lot that semester…we put two and two and two together!” he says shrilly, devoid of the costume though the large hunting knife was still in hand. 

“i…i didn’t ever get any attention from boys!!” you start to cry, the full weight of their words taking hold on you. everything was your fault after all, those haunting feelings were all true—and your best friends were the ones behind the whole scheme. 

“why would you need any other attention?? are we not more than enough?” he snarls, deeply wounded that you gave your body away after he’s spent so much of his time catering to it. 

you sniffle, recoiling away at his tone. geto was always so gentle and calm, but it seems like he’s finally snapped. you never thought they had any romantic intent with all their safe-guards, assuming they viewed you more like a tiny kitten that needed their protection. but it all makes sense now, their abnormal need to spend their time with you, the cuddling, the touching, even the carrying game—you were sure now that it was all about their feelings for you. geto grabs your face in one broad hand, jerking your chin up to look at him. 

“you’ll look at me when i’m speaking to you. answer. are we not enough?” he demands, clenching his jaw so tight that you can see the muscles twitch. 

“yes! you’re enough—i just didn’t think it was like that, boys–i didn’t think you both liked me, i–i just thought you were being nice–” 

“well. there’s no more of that, slut. if we didn’t kill the other two, who knows what you would have let them do.” he snarls, squeezing your cheeks together to keep you from speaking further. satoru claps his hands, tugging you to the couch. 

“it’s time we make you our final girl, sugar. aren’t you so lucky? who else would love you like us?!” he asks you, pushing you into the cushions. he holds the knife to your shoulder, pouting. “don’t make me use this on you, pretty girl. just listen to us and we’ll go from a scary movie to a happily ever after.” he hums, sitting at your side so he could keep the blade steady. 

you’re reeling, brain light and heavy all at once. they did this…for you? all to show you their love and devotion? it’s too much. his words are sweet but his actions have been anything but. you shake your head. “utahime…what did she do to deserve that?” you snap, tears slipping down your cheeks, you feel bolstered with the confidence that they won’t hurt you. this elaborate scheme has all been to make you theirs, after all. 

geto laughs, shaking his head as he comes over to the couch, the boner in his pants so obvious your pussy clenches involuntarily. you’re lucky your skirt has you covered enough that neither of them saw it, for you’d never hear the end of it. geto strokes himself over his pants, giving satoru some kind of direction with the nod of his head. gojo shifts you to your knees, forcing your head forward to stare at suguru as he unbuttons his pants. 

“utahime was in the way.” suguru shrugs, letting his endowment slap up against his red corn syrup stained shirt. he peels that off next. 

gojo scoffs. “you don’t need friends anyway, you got us!” he cheered, repositioning his digits on the back of your neck. suguru pushes some hair over his shoulder, gesturing to his cock with a simple look down. 

you shake your head no, trying to fight against satoru’s hold, but he points the knife under your jaw, following the line of the bone. suguru chuckles darkly. 

“this whore will fuck anything on two legs, but when it comes time to fuck the men that earned it, you wanna be shy?” he shakes his head with disappointment, “you even slutted yourself out for someone you didn’t know. what’s the problem? if he holds the knife against your neck will it make you drip again?” 

the statement makes you gasp softly, the pang in your core causing you to whine in disbelief. why was this turning you on? there’s no way you should be giving in to such a crazy stunt. they’ve ruined your life, killed anyone close to or interested in you—and now they’re here to claim their due reward. and your pussy is absolutely leaking over it despite the alarms ringing in your head. the way that geto grabs a fistful of your hair to guide your face to his drooling slit has you opening your mouth to welcome him inside without any more protests, causing gojo to giggle at the sight.

“told ya she’d give in. we know her better than anyone, yeah?” he dances the knife along the side of your neck as your throat bulges with suguru’s thickness. your eyes roll back at the feeling of his fat tip hitting your uvula, keeping you from speaking anyway. 

“there we go. you’re pretty when you listen, y/n.” he hums, cock jumping in your mouth. you felt better than he could’ve  imagined—and nothing could recreate the mix of fear and taboo lust that you look at him with, tears dotting the corner of your vision as he guides your head in bobbing along his thick shaft. gojo just keeps your hair from falling in your face–eager to see all of you as you arch up on your knees, wiggling your pretty ass in the air. “nasty little thing. you’re just as bad as us, you know. you made us kill all these poor people—if only you listened to us and left boys alone.” suguru grunts, watching as satoru pushes your skirt up, trailing the tip of the knife over your ass cheek, careful not to slice as he peppers slaps to your other side. you whine at the feeling, pussy tightening at his teasing even though suguru filled your mouth to the brim. suguru slaps you—medium intensity, but coupled with satoru’s spanks and his dick forcing your throat apart—it had your vision darkening. you never stop sucking his cock though, and that’s what he was testing for. 

“let her ride it.” he rewards you with his approval, and satoru snickers happily. suguru’s hand falls to grip your neck, loving the sounds you make when struggling to breathe. the pain is so delicious, you can feel the morale in you dying the longer they toy with you—your need to be touched outweighing your fear–transcending it into trust. you know that they love you, in their own fucked up way, so they won’t kill you. your drowsy eyes shoot open when you feel the cool wooden handle of the hunting knife nudge against your clit. gojo holds it carefully by the blade—too skilled to let it cut him even with your uncalculated movements. suguru chuckles at your reactions, letting your hair go to see how you swallow him up on your own accord. you don’t falter, not even when the handle slides around your hole, teasing you into steady rolls of your hips to find it. gojo loved this—watching you grow so needy you’d settle for fucking yourself on the weapon that slayed your professor, your lab partner, your white knight, and your best friend. 

“look who’s a needy whore now. you wouldn’t ever be satisfied without us, angel.” suguru insists, watching the pleasure on your face as satoru finally lets you sink down on the handle. it’s wide, stretching you open with a slight burn—but it’s delicious friction strokes against your insides, and you were eager for anything to relieve the ache in your stomach, the way they used you but loved you mercilessly has you clamping, wetness sliding down the weapon. the guilt pushing back against the pleasure was slowly fading—losing. “oh, no, no. don’t let her cum.” suguru tsks, sliding his cock free of your mouth. you whine at the loss, rubbing at your sore jaw, feeling gojo’s hands find your waist again. he pulls you to lay in his lap, his own excitement pressing against the tight seam of his zipper. you’re careful to lay your head on his thigh, looking up at him and feeling a sense of relief—even as he pressed the blade to your neck. 

“you liked this earlier, right? that’s because you’re just as fucking nasty as we are, cutie.” he snickered a little, cupping your clothed tit. suguru saddles between your legs this time, pushing your knees to your chest without pause, absolutely nothing but a feral need to claim you flashing in his eyes. he pushes your shirt up just to see all of you, “i’ve waited far too long to see these tits, angel.” he grumbles, palming at them in between squeezes from satoru’s large hands. you moan at their touches—so intense yet different and identifiable. satoru hums at the little noise, tweaking your nipple as geto parts your pussy lips. he doesn’t warn you before he sheaths himself, making you take his length all at once. your eyes widen at the feeling—so wide you don’t understand how your throat accommodated him. your back arches off the couch at the sensation, you think you can feel every vein and ridge along his length as he lets you get used to it. gojo’s enamored by the face you make, brows pinched and mouth dropped open—wide eyes flickering between them. he’s dreamed of this for so long—they would do all of this as many times as it took to have you like this now, but luckily you’re obedient. satoru cups your face with his free hand, trailing his fingers along your cheekbone in a touch reminiscent of his ghostface earlier. he’s gentler than suguru despite the blade he wields. suguru’s grip on the back of your thighs will bruise, it hurts even now—but in the type of way you want to feel forever. he’s not gentle with your pussy either, pulling his full length out, tapping your clit with his head to make you mewl. the force he uses to plow back in causes satoru to move the knife from your neck, drawing circles over your bouncing fat tits instead. 

“she’s so tight, huh? think she’ll stay like that between the two of us?” gojo giggles, looking up at the pretty faces suguru himself was making. his eyes are lazily lidded, but still serpentine and focused on the sight before him. you squeeze down on his cock, and he loves that he can’t tell if it’s from fear or your returned affection. 

“so tight, despite giving it up so freely. isn’t that right–our little slut?.” suguru mutters, watching the glint of the blade as satoru swirls it around your delicate skin. your eyes widen at his question, face burning at the fact that they knew. blaming them wouldn’t get you anywhere—it seems you had to own your mistake and hope that groveling can return you to your former glory, despite how you clench around him calling you a slut. 

you nod, “i’m sorry! i didn’t know that you two love me, i’m sorry, suguru!” you lean up a bit to appeal to him, causing satoru to knick your skin with the blade. you moan at the slight burn, beads of blood bubbling to the small cut. satoru curses at himself, though the noise you make has his eyes narrowing at yours in intrigue. you liked it, just like you liked fucking at knifepoint earlier

“you’re a dirty little bitch.” satoru chuckles, looking up at an intoxicated suguru. his eyes were nearly blacked, pupils fully dilated. he leans over, running his fat tongue along the shallow wound, humming at the few drops of your blood that he got to taste. satoru arches a brow, fascinated by the reaction. it makes him want a taste for himself—but suguru’s still hungry for more. his thick hand steadies your jaw, his tongue licking a thick stripe up the side of your neck. you shiver at the feeling—all the feelings. the warmth threatening to spill over at the cock splitting you in half, the slight dizziness that came from the cut—how lewd and chill-inducing suguru’s tongue felt, the intense desire behind satoru’s groping. it was all consuming, and you were losing sight of yourself relatively easily—after all, you felt your safest with them. they’d never hurt their final girl. 

“let’s see just how dirty, satoru…” he hums, never faltering with his hips as he moves his lips to your neck, licking and sucking spots into your skin almost romantically. you’re so undone that you even move your hips, circling to try to get closer to suguru, teetering on the line. 

“oh–it feels so good, suguru..” you mumble, and satoru giggles at your blissed out face, dick throbbing in his jeans. 

“i’m sure it does, pretty slut.” satoru sings to you, his normal taunting voice was layered with the sick affection he holds you in. he watches your cut pearl up with blood again, the sight so pretty to him. he’s seen plenty of blood eradicating all the threats to your happiness, but yours seemed so much better. like you were more pure than those that he’d eliminated on your behalf. he wanted to see some more—and suguru does too. satoru makes a matching cut below the accidental one, swiping his thumb over it to collect the hot crimson. you watch him, lengthening your neck to tilt your head back—eagerly following how his tongue wrapped around the slender digit to suck the tangy taste off. 

the opening you give suguru is so delicious he can’t repress his chuckle as he picks the perfect spot between your neck and shoulder. he bites down and you can feel his canines pierce the skin deep, screaming out at the painful bliss. your red blood covers their white teeth, leaking out of their pink lips. suguru looks like a vampire instead of a masked murderer with his chin dyed burgundy, satoru’s tongue darting out to collect the remnants on his own mouth before he leaned up–grabbing suguru’s jaw so he could lap up the stain, letting your blood mingle together on each other’s tongues as they wrestle together. gojo holds the knife carefully away from suguru’s head as he puts his other hand on his face, the two clearly just as into each other as they were you—a fact that was terrifying and insanely hot at the same time. you shudder—feeling your heartbeat echo through the cuts and your bite, pussy throbbing around suguru. he breaks away from satoru—yanking him back by a fistful of his white hair. 

“our little bitch thinks it’s time for her to cum.” suguru sighs, and satoru grins down at you with a mix of blood and saliva dribbling from the corner of his mouth. satoru shakes his head. 

“but i haven’t even touched her!” he protests, pouting down at you. it makes you feel a pang of guilt in your stomach—but not because you were fucking two serial killers, no–because you hadn’t given one of them enough attention. 

“you did take her earlier—without permission.” suguru growled a bit and looks over your slightly bloodied chest and fucked out face. he knows exactly what will perk you back up and get satoru back in line. he releases his hold on his hair and slips out of your sopping folds, moving to slip the knife from satoru’s grasp while taking your chin in his other hand. he nods satoru to you. “prep her ass—i wonder if she ever let the professor in there. wait no…i’m sure he only fucked your ass.” he gently pulls on you, prompting you to get back to your hands and knees, facing him. he strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, tilting your chin up with the blade to look at him. 

the intense knowing in his eyes makes a shudder trill down your spine—and your pussy clench. how did he know that? knowing about the affair—hearing it—was one thing. but how did they know the intimate details outside of…being there. the puzzle pieces click into place and suguru can see it in the way your eyes widen. he chuckles, nodding to confirm your fears while satoru jiggles your fat ass cheeks in his hands. he’s admiring the recoil, the leaking pussy he had to spread your ass to see—it was all such a wonderful and worthy reward for him. 

“you think we’d miss a show like that? tsk tsk.” he pouts, keeping you engaged so satoru could warm you up on the other end. “professor fushiguro didn’t want any more children? how sad.” he teases slightly, running the knife over your plush lips, watching the way your skin gives in to the metal, bouncing back up as he moves it to a new spot. satoru gathers the arousal pooling down your thighs, adding his spit to the nasty mix on his fingers. you gasp softly, feeling his digits prod around your puckered entrance. “could have made a pretty little thing like you his baby mama? hm. maybe if he’d been smarter about it, his existing son wouldn’t be fatherless. though that’s on you too—”

you whimper, shaking your head. “n–no, don’t say that!” you protest, feeling the humanity in you lash out at the statement. 

“why? hard truth? don’t worry princess—we’ll give you plenty of kids. you won’t be left wanting, poor thing.” satoru pouts with you, giving you the first finger down to the knuckle. you squeeze around it, any combativeness dying right back down as the brain fog returns. he’s slowly thrusting it, letting you rock your hips back for more, the unrelenting need in your gut yet to be satisfied under geto’s punishments. 

“and your kids will have two fathers just to keep you extra safe. can’t you see? we’re the only ones who can protect you and make you happy.” geto implores, stroking your cheeks and watching your reaction to satoru’s second finger, tucking his lip between his teeth. 

“oh she already knows that, sugu. c’mon sugar. tell him.” he encourages, defending you in his own way. he scissors his fingers in your ass, giggling at the wet squelch that accompanies his movements. “you’ll be so happy–just tell him, princess.” he appeals, your brain mushy with the feeling of their hands on you and their promises swimming around your brain. they have protected you from so much over the years, between your average bullies and boys that truly crossed the line back in high school—you know that in their own deluded way, they’re right. 

“you guys are the only ones that make me happy!! i feel so safe here–i know you won’t hurt me.” you whine, nodding. it appeals to both of their hearts–the sultry call of your voice had them eager to fill all your holes. 

“oh we’ll hurt you, slutty princess.” satoru hums, sliding his fingers out of your choking ass. he repositions you, hands fitting into the handles of your waist to right you in his lap, angling his proud length at your hole. “see, this will hurt a bunch! but you’ll love it.” he assures, pulling you down on him a few inches at a time. you scream out, looking up at geto for rescue. he only steps in front of you–fisting his own cock in the angle he needs it. your eyes widen when you realize that they plan to fuck you at the same time—and they don’t have the decency to let you get accustomed to one before giving you the other. 

gojo hisses, your ass was still so tight despite all his hard work, though the amounts of spit and your own slick he slathered around were making it easy to sink into you. as soon as you hit the hilt of his dick—absolutely shaking from the pressure in your ass, suguru’s nudging your pussy lips apart to bully you some more. 

“you can take us both—you’re a slut, remember? you can do it for us.” suguru reminds you tenderly, holding your face as they get used to the feeling of you and each other through the thin wall of tissue that keeps them apart. you sputter, grabbing onto suguru’s shoulders in an effort to not fall over. satoru uses his hold on your waist to propel you to move, making geto’s work minimal. the pace he sets is brutal, picking you up and slamming you back down while suguru just rocks his hips to add to the sensation of two cocks fucking you open. 

if you thought either of them were big and splitting earlier, then this was what you got in return. white hot pain and pleasure courses through your veins, replacing the fear and unease that has been haunting you for days. they were taking care of you, and if you didn’t have to fear their wrath—why wouldn’t you squeeze their cocks, scream for them, and make them feel just as loved?

this is what they deserve, what their hard work has earned them: your silken walls being beaten into the shapes of their dicks and nothing else—your tits and ass bouncing with the impact of their brutal thrusts sending you back and forth like a tug of war. 

“it’s too much!” you cry out, feeling the heat in your stomach burn as bright as a star–you felt like you were on fire. pleasure tingled up your veins, the gummy spots of your cunt being abused perfectly by suguru’s thick cock—your insides being rearranged by gojo’s unrelenting brutality, despite his sweeter speech. 

“d’awh, no it’s not. look at you—you’re doing it.” he encourages, putting his lips to your neck. “you’re takin’ it so good.” 

“squeezing us even. stop lying–you want even more.” suguru huffs, grabbing your throat. you sputter a little, erotic moans turning higher in pitch. he chuckles at his prediction—cock twitching in your walls. 

“toomuchtoomuch—need to cum, please, please boys—wanna cum all over you!” you plead for yourself, though it’s not exactly a performance. they were fucking you mindless, and at this point you would do whatever it took to have them—even lying to the police about what happened here tonight. 

“aw sugu, listen to her. i wanna see it, let her cum.” satoru adds on your behalf, balancing his chin on your shoulder. he bats those crystal blues at suguru, knowing he surely can’t deny you both—and he won’t. 

“tell us you love us, angel. tell us who fucks you so good, then you can cum.” he grunts, laying his hands over satoru’s to feel you move your hips on them both, fucking into geto just to throw your ass back on satoru—it’s so fucking good. 

his demand isn’t even a challenge—you’ve succumbed to their desires for you some time ago, accepting their brutal form of love as the one that you’re deserving of—men who would kill for you. what more could you ever want? 

“i love you, fuck—i love you both so much! i always have–i always have, you’re my boys!” you pant, your voice begging plead. “you fuck me so good–let me cum to show you, please–suguru!! satoru!!” you cry their names so sweetly that satoru can’t hold himself back anymore—hot cum fills your ass before you even finish saying it. he’s shuddering, nodding to give you his permission, though you wait for suguru too. 

he leans forward—jerking your chin up into a proper kiss with him, gnashing on your lips and giving you a taste of his tongue. he holds your face still as he pulls away, nodding. “cum, angel. you’ve been so fucking good.” he drawls in your ear, giving satoru a rewarding kiss too as your hips spasm under his command. it strokes his ego, the way you scream and jerk as your orgasm overtakes you—the ones he’s denied you factoring into the toe-curling sensation of this one. he follows after you—his hot seed spurting out in bursts, so so much cum. it’s clear suguru and satoru have planned this for some time—and now that delights you instead of invoking the fear it should, if you were normal. 

satoru rubs at your shoulders, pulling away from suguru’s lips with a loud smack. you can feel your heart pounding—hearing it in your ears as they turn to you—cocks still plugging you full. “now princess…” he hums as suguru picks you up off of him. he looks so pretty, you think, his skin slightly red from excitement—blue eyes wild with adrenaline. “we’re gonna get you cleaned up—and then it’s your turn to attack.” he giggles, making you snap your tired head up to suguru who holds you like a baby. 

“the police. we have to be believable survivors after all. didn’t you watch any horror movie, y/n?” he shakes his head, a fond grin on his face as he takes you to the kitchen, sitting you on the counter for satoru to wipe down. gojo kneels between your legs to clean you carefully as suguru tucks the knife into your hands. 

“aim for the stomach. you’ve got our hearts already.” suguru smirks, dialing 911. 

[thebibliosphere]

Hm. I'm rereading something I wrote, and I can't decide if it's going to be infuriating for some readers, or if there will be more going "OH, same!"

Given that my readership is largely in the Autistic 🤝ADHD vampire fan club (Vlad), I'm hoping it'll be the latter, but it's still making me hesitate because it's not how people expect sex scenes to read.

Everything's usually boiled down to a laser-focused precision of sensations and evocative, heated language -- and that does eventually happen with this. You just have to get past Vlad's brain wandering around for a bit because while Nathan's doing a good job of getting his attention in the moment, he's not being consistent, and it's giving Vlad's brain time to wander. Like noticing that Nathan squints a bit when he reads. ("(Hyperopia, Vlad’s brain supplied helpfully before he could smother it.)") Or just generally having full-on conversations in his head in the downtimes between stimulation -- and by downtime, I mean the split second it takes for Nathan to grab something from the nightstand.

Another part of me worries people will think I'm playing to stereotypes or I'm hamming it up to be "quirky," but given my brain is the epitome of the "hyper 8-year-old boy who can't sit still shiny disorder" despite being a 36yo cis woman, I've pretty much resigned myself to some people calling Vlad a stereotype anyway.

A larger part of me just... kind of really wants to see this kind of thing in a sex scene. I want to see my own thought patterns and acknowledge that even when you're getting hot and heavy with someone -- arguably an act that should consume all of your attention -- you'll still find your mind wandering. You'll notice something out the corner of your eye and go, "fucking shit, laundry, do not forget, do not forget" (and then you'll forget), or you'll be about to go down on someone, and the dick joke your friend told you three months ago will pop into your head and suddenly you're snickering with no tactful way to explain it.

(This is another thing that I always think is sorely lacking in sex scenes. No one's messy. No one's laughing like an idiot because they just thumped their head into the headboard, or a joke just popped into their head. Or someone's body made a fart sound because there's lube in places and things are thrusting. Like, maybe it's me, maybe I'm weird, but I think those are the moments you can build real romance out of. Not necessarily erotica, because those things (supposedly) aren't sexy, but there's so much emotion you can show with partners who are able to laugh with each other in those moments. You can show so much love and reverence through the mundane it hurts.)

It'd just be nice, for once, to have the character be absolved of the guilt that often happens in those moments because you're supposed to be focusing on what is happening, and your idiot brain just won't shut up.

Ultimately, it doesn't matter too much. It's a short story I'm hoping to fling out at some point (as soon as my idiot brain shuts up and lets me finish it). But it feels more important than it actually is because it feels like I'm exposing a major part of my psyche. Like pinning down all the ugly parts of my brain that can't ever actually be pinned down, no matter how much I try.

idk. Words. Things. Stuff. I'm going to try and finish this and then see what I want to do with it.

[wubsie]

mildly related hut even with eds. i even think anout hanging out with him and being normal siblings makes me so emotional

[atticrissfinch]

The Shower (joel miller x reader) (+18)

Part 4 of The Rogue Who Coaxed You

pairing: boss!joel miller x fem!secretary!reader summary: when you convince joel to shower with you, he invites someone else to join warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] mean!joel, joel x reader x ofc threesome, joel fucks someone who is not reader, sexual f/f interaction at the direction of a male, slight dubcon (but is ultimately consensual), joel STILL respects you 0%, age gap, infidelity, hella power imbalance/dynamics, unprotected anal/slight painal, creampie, daddy!kink, hella degradation and humiliation kink (use of slut, whore, bitch, etc), money as incentive for sex extra disclaimer: as always for this series, blatant infidelity and humiliation kink warning. as in: reader gets off on being humiliated. please keep that in mind. word count: ~4.2K | ao3 a/n: so I know this is not for everyone. in fact, it’s probably only for a select few. but I wanted to write it, and an anon suggested it, so i did it. this is just me being bi but through my characters.

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Kofi

“Feel that, you dirty slut? Tell daddy you feel it.”

“I feel it,” You wince, gripping the sheets beneath your fingers. 

“Where is it, bitch? Where do you feel it?”

“In my ass,” You whimper, your head hanging low between your shoulders. 

“That’s right,” Joel croons, the flesh of your asscheek in his hand and a palm pressing at your lower back to keep you in place. “That’s where filthy whores take their cocks don’t they?” 

“Yeah,” You grit out as Joel pulls out of your clenching hole to the tip, and pushes back in with a grunt. The stretch of your asshole around his girth is not something you’ve gotten used to in the few times he’s done it. But Joel likes it, so Joel gets it. And when he has you in his bed like this, with Claire away on a solo trip, leaving him to his own selfish devices, you almost feel like he actually cares. 

You feel like a real mistress. The emotional in hand with the physical, instead of just a vessel for his infidelity. His insatiable sexual appetite and his ego. You’re not bruising your knees on his low-pile office carpet or denting your abdomen with the bite of his desk’s edge. You’re soft, like his Egyptian cotton sheets. Delicate, like his silk pillowcases. Luxurious, like his imported duvet cover and matching throws. 

And even though he’s tearing you apart from the inside out, forcing himself inside a part of you that primarily serves to heighten his own pleasure, you feel like he’s choosing you. And the squeaks of pain, the yelps of distress when he goes too hard, too fast, too much — they flood you with a sense of satisfaction. He’s getting what he needs from you . And he’s taking it from you on his wife’s side of the bed, with her Cartier bracelet on the nightstand atop a bookmarked paperback of Eat, Pray, Love. 

He eats her. He prays to her. He loves her. What the fuck does she need a book like that for? Is she so greedy that he’s not enough for her? 

He would be enough for me. 

“Tell me how it feels.”

You blink yourself back into your body, and Joel fucks back into you with enough momentum for his balls to smack against your clit. “Fuck, it’s good, daddy,” you gasp, raising your head to fall back between your shoulder blades to take in the view of him behind you. 

“You like taking it up the ass for daddy?” He asks, canting his hips into you with weighted thrusts. And he looks you in the eyes as he splits you open on his cock. A hand comes up to cup your jaw and hold your head back to pin your gaze to him. 

And goddamn it, he’s so heartbreakingly beautiful. His lips parted with exertion, his bare chest glistening with sweat from the blowjob you’d given him before he entered you from the back, droplets adorning his chest hair. His pushed-back hair falls into his face as his thrusts crash against your skin, and your fingers twitch with the desire to sweep the rogue strands back onto the top of his head. 

“Yes,” you pant, the words tight with the stretch of your skin over your throat at your current angle. 

“Say you’re daddy’s whore, baby. Tell me what you are.”

“I’m your whore,” you whine, feeling Joel’s hips increasing in speed. 

“Yeah? You a piece of meat for me?”

“I’m a piece of meat, daddy,” you recite, your eyes clenching shut and your mouth dropping open as his cock stretches your ass open with abandon, the hole twinging with pain as he tears through it with a smirk on his face. 

“Look at me. Look at who’s doin’ this to you.”

You whimper as your eyes pry open, seeing the hunger reflected in Joel’s eyes. You want the hunger to be for you, for your body, for what you can provide for him that his wife can’t. You’re not sure it is, but you imagine. 

His face starts to collapse as his hips buck forward and he grunts out his release, pumping you full of his thick seed. And you revel in it, knowing this is something he’d never ask of her . This is something you can provide him that she would never. 

Joel grimaces as he pulls his spent cock from the stretched ring of your ass and flops down onto his back, catching his breath. “Good girl,” he mutters wearily, tapping your thigh with his knuckle. 

You wrestle with the grin on your lips, knowing that if he sees the glow on your face due to his words he may well rescind them. So you bury your face in your arms instead, letting the joy bleed to your cheeks as you slump against the bed, a slow trickle of his come slithering down the slit of your pussy and onto his expensive duvet. 

You love tainting his bedding like this. Her bedding. It’s sick and it’s satisfying. Particularly when he’s lying naked next to you, coming back to himself after giving everything he had to you, and you’re lying sore from his cock that he vowed to her years ago. Dripping him onto her sheets. Being his good girl . 

You may never have him like she has him. 

But she will never have him like you have him. 

“I think I need to shower,” you mutter, unearthing your face from your arms to take in the rise and fall of Joel’s chest. 

“Then go shower,” he dismisses, running a hand through his damp hair, but otherwise staying put where he lies. 

You nudge him lightly. “Join me.”

Joel’s eyes trail over you lethargically. He makes a sound of disinterest, scratching an itch on his crotch and waving you off. 

“You just fucked my ass. You don’t wanna shower that off?” You ask, drifting your fingers over his shoulder. 

Another lazy look from Joel and he groans in reluctant acquiescence. You give a triumphant noise and help him off the bed, tugging him toward the en-suite. 

Joel cranks the handles on his oversized glass paneled shower, dual rainfall heads spitting to life onto the heated tile. The water heats instantly and Joel is waving you in before him. You scurry inside, heaving a sigh at the pelting of the hot water on your back and over your neck. 

Joel makes his way inside, and some small part of you hopes he’ll saunter up behind you and pull you close, but he just lets the other shower head wash over him to your right. He scrubs at his face and runs his fingers through his hair, and you find yourself mesmerized. Rivulets flow down his hairy chest, his plump ass, his gym-toned thighs. 

Your pussy throbs between your legs, reminding you just what it hasn’t had yet. You take a step toward him, reaching out, and Joel jerks his head in your direction, his hands freezing in his hair. He gives you a once-over. 

“What?”

“I didn’t come yet,” you point out, placing a hand on his hip. He glances down at it, then back at you, squinting through the water. 

“And?”

You pout, guiding him to the back wall with you, out of the spray. “I’d really like to come.”

Joel rests an arm above your head against the shower wall, looking over you as the water hits his back. “You’d like to come, huh? My dick not enough?”

“No, it is, I just didn’t…where it was…it was distracting,” you attempt to explain. You normally don’t have much of an issue getting yourself off on Joel’s cock, even with him being relatively inattentive to your own orgasms. But the discomfort of him being in your ass, as good as it feels, seems to discourage your pussy from cooperating properly. All your focus was on finding pleasure in the pain, making the fuck good for him . And it just never happened. 

“Hmm,” Joel hums, tapping his thumb against the tile as he thinks. “You really wanna come?”

You nod, looking at him with pleading eyes. 

He nods back for a moment, then pushes off the wall and back toward the door of the shower. 

Confusion imprints your features as you watch him open the door and usher in a rush of cold air. “Joel, where—”

Joel pads with wet footsteps to the opening of the en-suite and calls out, “Julia!”

Julia? His maid? What the fuck is he summoning Julia for?

“Yes, sir!” You barely hear from a distance. 

“My bedroom, please!”

You don’t hear her respond, but seconds later Julia appears in the archway of the bathroom. Upon seeing the state of the two of you, she squeaks in surprise and clamps a hand over her eyes. “I’m so sorry, sir! I didn’t know—”

“‘S alright, sweetheart,” he placates, wrapping a hand around her wrist and tugging it away from her eyes. Her eyes are squeezed shut regardless of the shield of her hand. “Hey, it’s alright. Open your eyes.”

And you can hear authority in his voice, but it’s starkly different from the tone he uses with you. It sounds more understanding. Like he’s attempting to comfort her even as he commands her. It makes your skin prickle. 

Julia blinks her eyes open, sweeping them upward quickly to skip over his crotch. 

“There we go,” he encourages, swiping a damp thumb over her cheek in a gesture that makes your stomach swoop. 

He’s touched her like this before. 

You know he’s hinted at it to you, but you thought he was just trying to make you jealous. But no, this isn’t the first time he’s had his hand on her face. Or likely the first time she’s seen him naked. You can tell that much from the way she doesn’t flinch from his touch and the way her cheeks alight. 

But why the fuck did he call her in here?

“Tell me, sweetheart, what do you think of her?” Joel asks, gesturing to you with his head. 

Julia looks nervous as she hesitates. “I-I don’t know…”

You narrow your eyes in assessment of the situation unfolding in front of you, securing a self-consoling arm around your abdomen as you step into the open doorway of the shower, leaving the comforting warmth behind. 

Joel shrugs, pouting his lips briefly in tandem. “Well, she’s reasonably pretty isn’t she? I like to think I pick out pretty toys, don’t I?” He caresses the point of her chin with an air of confidence that swiftly expels any doubt you had that this wasn’t their first time interacting this intimately. 

Reasonably pretty . You’ll take it. 

Julia’s eyes dart to you, then to Joel. “Sh-she is very pretty, sir,” she stutters, her chin still firmly between his fingers. 

Joel nods and looks over at you. And when he speaks again, he’s studying your expression, but clearly addressing her. “How about you go and see how she feels? See how soft she is.”

Your eyes bulge in your head. “Joel…”

“Sir, I…” Julia trails off, her gaze fluttering between you and Joel. 

“Go on,” he coaxes, tossing his head toward you. “I bet she’d like it. Wouldn’t you, baby?” This time he’s talking to you, and it takes you slightly aback. He looks so cocky about it. Like you wouldn’t dare tell him “no”. 

And fuck him, he’s right. 

So you swallow lightly and consciously loosen your heavy grip on the glass opening. “Yeah. I’d like it.”

Julia is undoubtedly beautiful. A short thing. Dainty. Dark hair, bright eyes, large tits for as small a frame as she has. You’ve never really observed her this seriously before, but analyzing her now it’s obvious that Joel would never have let a gorgeous woman like her traipse around his house without sampling her. 

She looks so unsure as she sizes you up in turn. “Sir, I really don’t know.”

Joel smiles and leans down to her ear. You can’t hear what he says, but you watch her eyes light up as he speaks. When he pulls back to gauge her expression, she nods with a shy grin. 

“That’s a good girl,” he purrs, slipping behind her. 

His fingers burrow under her shirt and he lifts it off of her body, letting it fall to the floor. She avoids your gaze as he undresses her with patience in spades that he never seems to have for you. Her thick breasts fall free of her bra, nipples pebbling in the exposed air. And then his fingers tuck into her leggings and underwear, and he crouches to shuffle them down her hips. She steps out of them timidly, her hands clasping in a show of modesty in front of her neatly trimmed pussy. Joel makes a wanton noise as his hands and lips skim over her ass and hips as he rises to stand. His hands journey up to her tits, massaging them in his huge palms. She releases a tiny moan at the treatment and Joel chuckles. 

“Go ahead, sweetheart,” he nudges her toward the shower. Her legs propel her forward as her hands stay in place to obscure her crotch. You stare at her as she approaches the entrance, and you slowly make your way to the back of the space until you’re pressed against the wall once more with her closing in on you. 

Joel hangs back, watching the two of you move from a comfortable distance, eyes sharp like he’s stalking his prey. 

“Can-can I touch you?” She whispers, shifting on her feet with anxiousness but finally meeting your gaze again. 

You look up at Joel and he nods deliberately. 

You take a steadying breath and say, “Yes.”

Her fingers are so gentle. Gentle in a way that men never seem to be. They skim your sides, stroke your abdomen, and pause at the curve of your breasts. 

“Can I?” She asks again, and you give her the same answer. 

The pads of her fingers are softer than Joel’s. She stimulates your nipples with her thumbs with curiosity, and you catch her biting her lip. 

“You can taste them,” you whisper, and that coy smile teases her lips again. 

“Okay,” she says timidly. Her mouth finds one of your hardened nubs and she sucks it into her mouth. You gasp at the graze of her tongue over you. Hers is smaller than Joel’s. Thinner in width and depth, more flighty over your flesh. You feel your eyelids sagging in pleasure and you sneak a look at Joel. 

His cock is working toward full mast as he revels in the sight of the two of you, a hand caressing his balls. “How does she taste, sweetheart?”

Julia frees your nipple to glance over her shoulder. “Wonderful,” she giggles. 

“Good,” he rasps out as his arousal grows and he advances on you. 

You shudder as she takes your other nipple into her mouth and Joel leans against the entrance of the shower. 

“Touch her pussy, Julia.”

She moans around your breast and pops you out of her mouth as she trails two fingers up your inner thigh. She halts again at the crease of you, and before she can ask, you reassure her of your consent. With her hand on your hip and Joel’s eyes glued to your reactions, two thin, manicured fingers slip between your folds. 

Your head falls back in a moan as she strokes up the length of your cunt and circles your clit. 

“How does she feel, baby?”

“So good,” you sigh, jutting your hips out from the wall to angle into her fingers as she rubs at the bundle of nerves between your legs. 

“I was asking Julia,” he corrects, finally stepping back into the shower and pressing his fully hard cock up against her back, gripping her hips in his hands. He dips down to her neck and sucks wet kisses into her skin. “How does she feel?”

“Amazing,” Julia replies, tilting her head back as Joel’s lips move against her neck. 

It tugs at you, the ease with which he touches her. How often has Joel been inside her? Has he fucked her in their bed more than he has you? How many times has he made her drench his sheets, then paid her to change them?

Julia’s fingers dance at the opening of your pussy and you whine, “Please.”

Soaked and desperate, her fingers glide inside you with no resistance. Just a moan from you and a gasp from her as Joel’s hips rock into her ass. Her fingers stroke at your walls with a grace that feels devastating, even as you hear her breath hitch with the push of Joel’s cock between her cheeks. 

“Just like that, good girl,” he praises her, petting down her sides. “You’ve done this before, haven’t you, sweetheart? Fucked another girl.”

“In college,” she mutters, a flush blooming in her cheeks. 

“Naughty little thing,” he smirks, groping her asscheeks in his hands. His eyes glisten as he shifts his attention to you. “What about you, slutty girl? This your first time?”

You try to tamp down your embarrassment as you mumble, “Yeah.”

“Well, I know Julia’s gonna take real good care of you. Aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Julia nods bashfully, but pinches your clit with the sides of her fingers and glides up and down in a move that has you whining pathetically while she fucks you deftly with her other hand. 

Joel groans as he takes his cock in his hand, positioning it between her legs with intent and grinding it up the slit of her pussy until she whimpers. 

“Condom,” she breathes out, and he stops. He sighs and drops his forehead between her shoulders. 

“Alright. Keep touchin’ her. I’ll be right back.”

Joel’s cock bobs obscenely as he exits the bathroom, leaving the pair of you alone, your pussy opening around her fingers at a glorious pace. 

You take the moment alone to whisper, “Has…has he ever done this with Claire?”

Julia’s big eyes go round as she takes in your words, her fingers slowing inside you. She shakes her head. “He, uh. He likes to keep her to himself.”

You nod, closing your eyes to refocus on the thrust of her fingers. A thumb starts to massage at your clit again, and it has a quiet whine leaving your lips. 

“You’re beautiful,” she whispers. When you open your eyes, she’s staring into yours with an aroused ferocity. 

“So are you,” you offer back, your mouth hanging with the pleasure spiraling in your abdomen. 

“Jesus, look at you two,” you hear in Joel’s trademark deep drawl, and he’s stepping back into the enclosure, rubber securely hugging his thick cock.  

And the sight of Joel approaching you, hard and horny and prepared to fuck another woman right in front of you — while he uses her to get you off for him — the reality has your orgasm hitting you all at once. You let out a loud, reverberating moan as you buck into Julia’s hand, and she lets out an adorable giggle as you clench around her fingers. 

“Good fucking girl, sweetheart,” he rumbles, biting a kiss into Julia’s shoulder as he situates his cock where he wants it. 

The heat from the shower swirls in your head in conjunction with your mind-numbing orgasm, and you’re dizzy as you hear Julia moan while he enters her cunt in a fluid thrust, her fingers still curling inside you. 

“Take it just like that, good girl,” Joel coos, angling her hips back as he fucks into her with abandon. Julia is vocal, her whines and screams only muffled by her face buried in your chest. Her fingers slip free of your clutch and cling to your hips as the deafening, wet clap of Joel’s thrusts fill the bathroom. 

Joel snaps his fingers to get your attention and barks at you, “Play with her tits. She loves that shit.”

As much as your brain fights to dwell over the fact that he knows that about her, that he’s fucked her enough to know what she likes, cared enough to notice what she likes, you just bite your tongue and obey. 

Her tits are stunning, that much is undeniable. Round and full, blushing pink nipples stiffened with the humid breeze of the downpour and the slide of Joel’s length that you know the feeling of so well. The kind of tits that men would trip over themselves to stick their cock between. 

It really doesn’t take much convincing to cup the ample flesh of them in your hands and work them in your grip, the drag of her nipples hard against your palms. Julia lets out a guttural moan and tucks her face into the crook of your neck. She whimpers as you pinch and twist at them and she begins to mouth at your wet skin. 

“Kiss.”

And though the order makes your heart stutter briefly, Julia — seeming truly gone to the spread of his cock inside her — doesn’t even think before she’s smashing her lips into yours. Her tongue entwines with your own like silk, sliding with it as she pushes moans into where you connect. 

“Look at me,” Joel says, quiet enough that Julia doesn’t assume it’s for her, but loud enough for you to hear it over the ricochet of the water on tile and his hips against her ass. Your lips still locked with Julia’s, you ease your eyes open. He holds your gaze as he reaches down between Julia’s legs and plays with her clit, pulling even louder sounds from her. 

As your mouth moves with hers, getting sloppier as Julia’s own release creeps up on her, Joel orders, “You watch me get her off. Eyes right on me.”

Julia’s mouth slides off yours, panting wetly into your neck, whining, “Yes, yes, fuck, sir, please!”

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he commands her, his eyes fixed on yours, and she screams out her climax into the echoing room, her fingernails digging into your skin where she holds onto you. 

Joel pistons his hips into her, grunting and swearing to your face until he shouts his own release into the condom. 

At least she doesn’t let him come inside her. That I can give him . 

Julia’s legs shake as Joel pulls out and smacks her on the ass, and you secure an arm around her waist as she grounds herself, all while avoiding Joel’s eyes. 

“Thank you,” she breathes into you, finding her strength as Joel steps out of the bathroom to discard the condom, snatching up a towel off the bar on his way out. 

“Yeah,” you reply simply, a grimace on your lips as pieces of herself fall back into place. 

She heads into the direct line of the shower again, and the water is still miraculously hot, billowing out through the doorway until you yank the door closed and join her under the deluge. 

“What did he say to convince you?” You ask, unable to hold back your stubborn curiosity. 

Julia hesitates, then raises her hand and rubs her thumb on the pads of her fingers in a telling gesture. 

“ Money ? He offered you money?” You ask incredulously. 

“I need to pay off my student loans,” she mumbles, massaging at the back of her neck as she allows the hot water to soak her muscles. “He always gives me a bonus after he fucks me. But this time it was…significantly more money. Like, don’t-think-twice kind of money.”

You stare at her as she speaks, and you are left speechless. When you don’t say anything, she pivots her head to you quizzically. 

“He gives you bonuses, right? That’s why you let him treat you like that? I’ve noticed.”

And you really don’t want to lie. You don’t like to lie to people who don’t deserve it. But, for what is possibly the first time, you truly feel embarrassed about what you’re doing with him. And you hate that feeling. 

So you plaster a smile and nod. “Yeah. Yeah, he gives me money. So much money.”

“Good,” she nods back. “Get that bag, girl. Claire drives me fucking nuts anyway.”

“Yeah,” you agree quietly, feeling yourself going distant. “Yeah, same.”

Julia shrugs, stepping out of the spray and wringing out her hair. “Anyway, what my boyfriend doesn’t know can’t hurt him. And I don’t hear him complaining about the nice gifts, so he can deal.” Julia gives you a warm smile and squeezes your hip reassuringly before exiting the shower and heading for the clean towels, putting one up on the hook next to the door for you with a wink. “Maybe we can do that again sometime.”

“Sure,” you mutter, a faint smile still formed on your lips as she leaves. 

As you melt in the heat of the water, you drift a hand between your legs, feeling where she was. Then further back to the tender pucker of your asshole, the memory of the stretch still prominent when the skin smarts at your touch. 

Joel’s voice jolts you out of your reverie from the bedroom. “Wasting all my fuckin’ hot water! Wrap it up in there.”

So you hasten your scrubbing, wistfully contriving all the methods you could use to smash that stupid Cartier bracelet into scrap metal. 

Taglist Update: I have decided to decommission my taglist in favor of an updates blog! Please follow@atticrissfinchupdates and opt in for notifications to get notified when I post a new fic!

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[navybrat817]

Dark and Light

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You learn the real reason why Hydra wants to keep you.

Word Count: Over 2.65k

Warnings: Threat of dubcon/noncon, minor character death, violence, canon divergent, captivity, brainwashing, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: It's been almost 3 years since the last part of Soldat and Sparrow. Are you lovelies still interested? ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @silkholland . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The cell they kept you in this time was larger than your last. It didn't make it any less uncomfortable. The thick gray walls surrounding you made the room suffocatingly quiet and hollow. You only knew the color thanks to the singular lightbulb in the center of the ceiling, too high for you to try and make a weapon out of the glass. Without windows, you didn't know it was dark or light outside.

There was no escape, but you couldn't give up hope.

It was maddening not knowing the time of day as you played the waiting game on the worn mattress in between meals and sleeping. The screams of your lover played on a morbid loop in your mind and you had to will yourself to not let tears surface. Other than temporary relief for your emotions and aching heart, crying would do you no good. It never did.

What you needed to do was focus.

The man on the bridge.

He triggered something inside of the Winter Soldier. Something Hydra wanted to keep locked away. But what was it?

Bucky. He called him Bucky. He knew him. But how?

Two hard knocks on the door pushed the thought away before it swung open. Narrowing your eyes as Brock walked in, you wondered if he could’ve been a good man in another life and fought for the people who needed it most the way he pretended to. This wasn’t that life though. He chose his side.

The wrong side.

“You know, I don’t get it,” he said, crossing his arms as he stood in the doorway. He didn’t hide the lust from his eyes as he looked you over. “I mean, the Asset does his job well, but it’s like he forgets all about being a soldier when he’s deep in your pussy.”

“What can I say? I guess my pussy’s just that good,” you sneered, not in the mood for his taunts or anything else.

“Is that right? Maybe he should fuck your ass next to get the stick out of it,” he snapped back. “Or are you too stuck up for that?”

Pierce had a range of prostitutes lined up to satisfy his soldiers, but Brock didn’t hide how pissed off he was that you were “given” to the Asset after that fateful training day. He claimed it was special treatment. He dropped the issue almost as quickly as it was brought up, which led you to believe he was either reprimanded or given something to shut him up.

“Is that what bothers you, Rumlow? That I'd rather fuck him than you?” You asked, tilting your head as you regarded him. “And just so we’re clear, I’ll never want you.”

Brock clenched his fists as he took a step forward. “You really are a fucking-”

“Let her be,” a melodic voice ordered behind him, making you stiffen as he moved out of the way.

The doctor, or Doc as most called him, stepped into the room with a kind smile on his face. Unassuming in stature, you knew better from the start than to judge him by appearance. The man was a snake in the grass ready to spread his venom to unsuspecting victims.

“How are you?” He asked.

You kept your eyes on him as he moved closer, doing your best not to show any emotion. The doctor somehow made you more uncomfortable than Rumlow and that said something. “How do you think I'm doing?”

“Hmm. Not well, I'm sure.”

“You guessed correctly,” you said.

You didn’t know why he bothered asking. Maybe he thought he was better than the others because he didn't physically hurt you. If anything, his indifference to the evil around him made it worse. It told you that he either justified or accepted it.

Either way, he disgusted you.

“Don't worry. You'll have the Soldat back soon and I’m sure you'll feel all better,” he assured you.

“You wiped him,” you reminded him, your voice cracking.

His screams echoed in your mind again, your heart aching as you tried to block it out. When pain knocked on the door, it didn't wait for an answer. It broke it down and made itself at home. But in the pain Hydra inflicted, the soldier found solace with you and you found the same with him. The light for each other within the darkness.

While you failed to protect him and couldn't stop what they did to his mind, you had to believe you’d help heal his soul once you had him back.

“We did indeed as we have many times.”

You knocked his hand away as he tried to place it on your shoulder, your stomach turning from his words. “Don't touch me.”

He held his hands up in surrender as he took a step back. “I mean no harm.”

“All of you mean harm,” you whispered.

The Soldat was your only bright spot in this nightmare. Ironic that he thought you were fire, bright and warm. The truth was you burned because of him. He was your eternal fuel that made the flames grow.

“I only want what is best for you,” Doc argued, his eyes void of any emotional depth behind his rimless glasses.

“Liar,” you whispered.

An exasperated sigh left his lips. “Now, now. I really do want what’s best for you. Don't you realize how important you are?”

“I'm not important,” you said. You never were. “Pierce made it clear that I don't have a purpose.”

But if that was the case, why were you still alive?

The doctor's chuckle made your blood run cold. “That's what he wants you to think. You see, the more they cut you down and make you question your worth, the easier it becomes for you to comply. Because by that point you’re so desperate for survival you'll do what is asked of you,” he explained, pushing his glasses up. “Yet you still only comply to an extent. It’s rather fascinating.”

He stared at you like you were a bug under a magnifying glass. And wasn’t that what you were to him? An experiment or something for him to study? “I haven't complied. I won't.”

“Oh, but you have,” Brock chimed in. You almost forgot he was still in the room. “Those missions you completed. The lives you took.”

Bile rose in your throat as images of violence and blood flashed in your mind. They would haunt you for the rest of your days. “No, I didn't want to hurt anyone.”

“Of course, you didn't. It’s as I said: desperation. You did what you had to do to survive,” the false sympathy from Doc grated on your nerves. “Don't let the weight of those souls wear you down. They were meaningless. But you? Oh, you are meant for more.”

He attempted to touch you again, but his hand moved toward your stomach this time instead of your shoulder. “I said don't touch me!” you snapped, scrambling backward to put distance between the two of you. As much as you wanted to hurt him, Brock was still there and could do a lot of damage.

The doctor pressed his lips together before he smirked. “Pierce and Rumlow are right. You have a hold on him. Even with his programming and orders, it all comes back to you,” he said, your body going rigid. Where was he going with this? “And it’s you that we want to carry his child.”

Your stomach churned again, but you weren’t sure if it was more at the thought that he wanted to force a child on you or that he’d try and force your soldier to impregnate you. “Care to repeat that?”

“You’re going to carry his child. You’re going to give birth to the perfect soldier. And you’ll keep doing so,” he said slowly like you were a petulant child, standing tall and proud as your mouth fell open in horror. “You’re the perfect incubator.”

Your stomach sank as you looked between him and Brock, wishing it was a sick joke. “No, I won't.”

“You think you have a choice?” The doctor questioned nonchalantly, like he was asking what you wanted for dinner. “And do you think the Asset needs to remember exactly what you mean to him to fuck you? I guess we'll see if he does. Science versus instinct.”

The room became eerily silent as the doctor gave you his first genuine smile since he walked in. You struggled to get your bearings and process the words. That was why you were still alive. They were going to make you an incubator. Force your soldier to breed you. They would take another choice away from him. And raise your children in captivity.

In Hell on earth.

“Well, that shut the bitch up,” Brock chuckled.

Before you could think, you launched yourself from the bed. The doctor’s eyes widened as you tackled him to the ground, unable to brace himself as you landed the first blow to his face. You straddled his waist, the second hit knocking his glasses away as fury rushed through your veins like a wildfire. He didn’t try to fight you off.

You could’ve cried. Screamed. Anything to keep him from making his twisted plan a reality.

The sound of a gun cocking stopped you from hitting Doc a third time.

“I won’t kill you,” Brock said, your fist frozen in the air as you looked toward him. Your chest heaved as you stared down the barrel of the gun. “But I’ll make it hurt if you don’t get up.”

“Go ahead,” you said through clenched teeth.

The doctor coughed, but held up a hand. “No shooting,” he croaked as you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. “No harming her.”

Brock’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head. “She can still lie down and take a cock if-”

None of you could have foreseen the metal hand punching through the wall. Before you could blink, the hand closed around Brock’s shoulder and pulled him through, his cry of pain silenced almost immediately by the sound of a gunshot. The doctor beneath you was long forgotten as you scrambled to your feet just in time to see your soldier step into the room through the hole, his face obscured by his typical mask and goggles.

But you felt his gaze on you as he stood like a dark angel ready to avenge you.

Hope launched into your chest like a shooting star as you smiled. “Soldat,” you whispered.

He came for you. Found you. But the star that filled your heart quickly faded when he didn’t move toward you or say “Sparrow”.

The dread grew stronger when he holstered his gun and took out his signature knife.

Was this the beginning of the end?

The doctor smiled as he wiped the blood from his lap and slowly stood up. “You really think he’s here to save you? Oh, no. He just doesn’t want any competition near his breeding partner,” he taunted as your eyes stung. “Back from your assignment early, Soldat? Good. Now you can complete your mission.”

The Winter Soldier tilted his head before he took a step forward.

You remained rooted to the spot, casting your fear that he’d force himself on you aside. “Bucky,” you said, using the name you heard. His real name. A tear rolled down your cheek when he flinched and tightened his fingers around the handle. “I’m not going to fight you. Or hurt you. Do you know why?”

Another step forward, your heart pounded as you stood as still as a statue. “Why?” He asked, the word clear to you through his mask.

The tears flowed freely as he stopped in front of you and slipped his goggles off, your heart breaking when he dispassionately looked at you. “Because I’m your Sparrow. Remember? My fire burns for you and you only,” you told him and pointed to your chest. You needed him to remember. “We swore we’d be free together. Somehow.”

“Don’t listen to her. Breed her and be done with it,” the doctor ordered.

The soldier’s brows furrowed before his metal hand came up around your neck, not squeezing or bringing you any harm.

But it felt like a warning.

“You won’t hurt me,” you breathed out, placing your hand on his arm as you kept your panic at bay. “They won’t break me. And I won’t leave you,” you promised, echoing his words when he took you the first time. “I’m yours.”

No matter what they forced him to do to you, he would never be to blame.

The doctor had the gall to smack the flesh arm when he made no move to shove you down on the bed or remove your clothes. “Finish your mission. Now.”

“It’s okay,” you mouthed.

Somehow, it would be okay.

“My mission…” the soldier began mechanically, not taking his eyes off you as he plunged the knife into the doctor’s jugular. You weren’t sure you could breathe. “Is to keep my Sparrow safe.”

An intake of air caught your sob as the metal hand fell away, the doctor collapsing as he tried in vain to stop the blood from leaving his body. It was useless. And a kinder death than he deserved.

“Hail,” he gurgled, his fingers stained red. “Hydra.”

“Just shut up and die,” you snapped as your soldier ripped his mask off. “Soldat,” you said, softer, almost crying all over again.

“Sparrow,” he whispered.

There was nothing gentle or sweet in the way pressed his lips to yours, but it was warm and safe as he pulled you against you. Your arms slipped around him as you returned the kiss, your cheeks still wet from crying. For a second there, you thought you’d lost him. For once, fate decided not to be cruel to you.

It brought you back together.

“I’m sorry I couldn't get to you sooner,” he said when he allowed you a moment to breathe, quickly scanning as much of you as he could. “Did they hurt you?”

“No, I’m okay. I just thought…” you trailed off with a shake of your head. “You came back to me.”

But how?

“I’ll always find you, Sparrow,” he said, touching your cheek as your heart swelled. “Steve helped me remember a lot of things. Including you.”

“The man on the bridge? You saw him again?” You asked before an alarm sounded, the blaring force echoing in the room.

“Yes. And his friend is sending reinforcements, so we need to go,” he said over the noise, nudging the doctor’s body with the toe of his boot before he stepped on his glasses.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

Where could you go since you no longer had a home? You had so many questions, but understood that you’d have to wait for answers. Getting out of there in one piece was your priority.

“Somewhere safe,” he answered, fear flickering in his eyes for a moment. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” you promised without hesitation. And anything else you had to offer him.

The next kiss was one of gentleness, relief, and thanks. “One thing before we leave.”

“What’s that?” You asked as he took your hand.

Love and determination filled his eyes as he glanced back at you and put a gun in your other hand. “We burn it down.”

You could hardly contain the fire inside you as you smiled. “Together.”

You didn’t know what the reinforcements would do or what would await you once you got out. It didn’t matter. Your soldier found his way back to you and you would follow wherever he went. The two of you would finally leave Hydra behind.

In a pile of rubble and ash.

But you’d find out soon enough that the man on the bridge wouldn't let your soldier go either.

I'll try not to let so much time pass before the next update. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[lecliss]

Im caught up. Everything fucking hurts. Sid got me bawling again, Gale is still an adorable little babey boy, Ben is cute with his crush on Unicorn, Jinyoung is actually a comedic genius and I now feel really bad for him even tho I dont really like him. Just. Everything is everything man.

[dolcezzatoru]

Just seen your sfw & nsfw alphabet for gojo (my current obsession) and I think your grasp of his character is really good. I'm all for he's an all or nothing type. If you break through those walls he's all in. I was wondering if you could do headcanons for how he'd be if his f partner was a virgin and not very used or comfortable with being vulnerable or exposed.

hi angelcake, i wrote a lil bit of a fic instead (sorry) !! if this doesn't answer your question, shoot me another one and i'll write some delicious headcanons instead ♡ thank you for requesting, love ♡

𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞?

gojo satoru x virgin f!reader

“fuck, you’re so beautiful,”

satoru nips at your neck, the two of you grinding against one another on the couch. the apartment was cold, and the only light in the room was the low light of the television reflected against you and your boyfriend. it was playing some show you two stopped watching a while ago, the quiet dialogue between two characters on-screen humming behind satoru’s soft pants.

it felt good. satoru was a little needy; his hands running all over your body, pushing his own further into yours to try and be any closer than he was now.

it felt good, you thought. or it was supposed to.

anxiety started to pull you out of what was a moment of ecstasy. you became a little too aware of it all–how his body felt on yours, the way your hands rested effortlessly onto his back, how your hands were clammy, and your lips might be chapped, and your hair might be tangled, and-

“hey now,” 

satoru catches his breath and runs the back of his hand on your cheek.

“you okay?”

his voice was soft, gentle, and concerned. it was safe. he was safe.

“i’m…um-”

your voice trailed off as your eyes darted to anywhere but his face. you settled on looking down into his lap.

“sorry. yeah, i’m fine. sorry about that,” you said.

satoru shuffled a bit more to get a better look at your face. something about the light coming off of the tv made your eyes look more watery than usual. but you had a soft blush on your face, and your lips were pouted and puffy. you looked perfect. 

“we don’t have to go any further if you don’t wanna,”

“it’s okay, satoru, really,”

“have you ever…done this before, love?”

“um, sure–plenty of times,”

your lie must’ve been bad, because satoru saw right through you. he squeezed your hand in his and laughed when he answered. 

“ah, i see, i didn’t realize i was with an expert in the field”

he was joking to make you feel better, but your face definitely got hot. you looked up to see him laughing, not daring to let go of your hand as he searched for what to say next.

“oh, shut up, satoru, i don’t know,” you make a weak attempt at defending yourself, “i’m nervous,”

your honesty makes his gaze soften into yours. he finally lets go of your hand to wrap his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.

“we can go however far you want, okay?”

you nod as you feel emotions well up in your eyes.

“good to keep going, baby?”

“yeah, s’okay, satoru,”

he hums in agreement as he kisses you again, slowly working up to the pace you were at before.

it feels good. for real this time. you mean it when you think it, and you think it when you feel it. he feels good.

you stop a bit when satoru’s hand settles on the edge of your shirt, slowly lifting it. you pause as the cool air just touches the exposed skin, and satoru stops.

“is this okay?”

he’s whispering now, slowly speaking in front of your mouth as to not startle you, hurt you, or break you. simply treating you like he loves you.

you think on it for a fraction of a second, suddenly self conscious of anything you’ve ever done or been in your life.

and then you snapped back into it. satoru’s hand on your side, waiting for direction, while the other one was just underneath your jaw, holding onto your neck like he’d be lost at sea without it tethering you to him.

he was close, patient, and accepting. you figured no matter what the direction was next, he’d be okay with it. he’d listen if you were uncomfortable, if you needed to stop, if you felt self conscious; it all mattered to him in ways unexplainable. 

it’s because he did love you. he wasn’t doing these things like he loved you–it’s because already does. a lot, really. an unfathomable amount. it doesn’t matter if you wanted to fuck now or ten years down the line. it would be with you. you’d be together, and the details would just fall into place after that. he was sure of it, and you were just coming around to realizing that now.

“s’okay, satoru,”

he leaned in more to kiss you sweetly, nodding his approval for your consent as he carefully lifted your shirt off. he followed suit shortly after, taking his off with your help in solidarity. 

“god, you’re so beautiful”

this was the second time tonight he’s said that, in addition to the heaps of times the words have fallen out before today. it felt different tonight though. satoru could not be looking at you more when he said it. he said it like he was reciting a prayer–if he didn’t say those words it would kill him.

it made you bashful. you found yourself instinctively covering your exposed torso up and looking away. 

satoru took your wrists in his hand. 

you lean in to kiss him as he stands up to take off his pants, his erection suddenly obvious as his boxers try to contain it. naturally, your eyes point towards it. satoru’s quick to lift your chin to meet his line of sight.

“hey, eyes on me, sweetheart,” he smirks, “you okay?”

you’re at eye-level to his belly button, a soft white line of hair dancing down into his boxers. you hold his waist in your hands, using it to steady yourself as you rise to your feet.

“‘m okay, love, really,”

satoru kneels down to remove your pants and panties, pressing his face to your tummy to be close to you. he peppers a small parade of kisses across your waist as he gently palms your ass in his calloused hand.

he rises up to meet you again, taking your jaw in one of his hands. 

“are you still okay with this?”

his genuine care makes you melt a little, finding yourself clenching your thighs together at his sweet remarks for consent.

“mhm, please satoru, ‘m ready”

he leans in once more, kissing you a little feverishly than before, and holding your entire head in his hands as he pulls you closer to mold your body into his.

“sure, baby, just follow my lead,”

[spookiekewchie]

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Characters: og form!Ryomen Sukuna x woc!reader

Summary: Sukuna has some points to prove.

Word Count: 1k+

Warnings: my poor attempt at coming out of retirement, monsterfucking bc sukuna, mean!sukuna (imean is there any other type of sukuna?), rough sex, restrained reader, crying, possessive behavior, there's a slap, biting, bloodplay (sukuna bites the reader with his fangies), p in v, this is literally just filth with no plot or reason, sorry not sorry.

A/N: Yeeeah so if this is trash my bad. It's been a minute since I wrote anything, but leave it to the walking red flag that is sukuna to drag me out of retirement smh. I gave it a look over but I might have missed some errors and typos. My bad if I did. The divider is by @cafekitsune

DO NOT repost or translate my work anywhere. If you like it don’t forget to reblog and share with others who might enjoy it as well.

Sukuna laughs, the sound just as mean as it always is coming from him. It’s a mocking sound as he looks down on your panting form, a hard thrust of his fat cock spearing into you just for good measure, all so he can watch the way you tremble and choke on your screams. This is how he likes you, helpless, trapped under him as two of his hands hold your thighs apart and the other two hands keep your wrists pinned. There’s nothing you can do to escape him as he fucks you past your limits, using you until you think you might truly break apart on his cock. 

He’s obsessed with pushing you to this point, craves seeing that proud attitude of yours crumble as he fucks you mindless and reminds you of your place. Under him, at his mercy, his to possess and own because he can’t let you go. It’s not love, but merely obsession. The closest he can get to such a cursed emotion, and with every thrust that drives his cock deep inside you he punishes you for making him feel this way. You’re under his skin, in his thoughts, worming your way in so much so that you can push him to moments like these where his self control shatters. He can’t let you go because he won’t have his perfect pet used against him, and he won’t kill you because despite all his meanness he wants you close. 

You know it too, that’s why you push buttons, and do what no one else would ever dare to do. Because you know you’ll get away with it with your life intact. Your ability to walk on the other hand? Well that might take a day or two, at the least, to recover. This is your only real revenge against Sukuna, pushing him and provoking him to act on what he feels just so you know you aren’t the only one affected by his obsession with you. Funny how your revenge always ends up with you in tears though. 

“S…sukuna, please…” There it is, what he wants to hear out of you. That broken, tearful plea for mercy that he has no intention of showing you. The hands at your thighs move to push your knees to your chest, spreading you open more for his benefit than your own. The sound you make when he manages to sink even deeper inside you is like a sweet symphony to the King of Curses as he shifts both of your wrists into one hand so he can grip your chin with the other. 

He leans down, turning your head to the side. You shudder when you feel his tongue dragging over your pulse point before you feel his fangs dragging against it. Your mind is too lost to try and stop him, and you can only give another broken, sobbing moan when you feel him bite down. It hurts for only a moment before he soothes over the place he’s bitten, tasting the sweetness of your blood with a heady groan. You know he’s marked you in a place that you won’t easily be able to hide. You clench around him, so hard and so tightly that the formidable King of Curses lets out a deep rumbling growl as he lets his hips surge forward. “You. Are. Mine.” He punctuates each word with a hard thrust, and each one draws a broken cry of pleasure from your lips.

The grip he has on your chin tightens, your head snapping forward as he forces your gaze to return to him. Tears stream down your cheeks, and he swears there’s no more beautiful sight than you being brought to tears by his cock. Sukuna grins, fangs dripping red, and his mouth still bloody from marking your flesh. He uses his grip on your jaw to make you nod your head. “Say it.” He commands, and you have no fight in you to deny him. 

“Yours. Only yours.” You sob, the pleasure overwhelming and far too intense. You’ve no idea how many times he’s forced you to fall apart around his cock, but you can feel yourself reaching that impossible peak again. You feel as if you’ll go mad if he pushes you past it again, and you try weakly to plead with him once more. “Please…I—” He cuts you off with a growl that reverberates through your whole being and strikes you silent. 

“You can.” Sukuna tells you simply, “and you will.” He continues, his cock continuing to rock into you again and again as he claims what’s his. “Now.” It’s an order, and your body bends to his will, the climax hitting you so hard that your vision whites out and you let loose a raw, hoarse scream as your essence floods his cock. Sukuna chuckles darkly at the way you go limp under him, his perfect broken toy. The thought of someone as strong as you, as defiant, and difficult under him like this is enough to send him careening the edge himself. “Who am I?” He questions, giving your cheek a sharp slap to rouse you enough to your senses to answer. 

“My king…” You mutter, words slurred and barely above a whisper with how exhausted you are. It’s enough though, just enough to have Sukuna chasing his own release until he spills deep inside of you. The sound of your pathetic needy mewls as his spend paints your walls, earns a low hum of approval, though he doubts you’re conscious enough to bask in it. 

“That’s what I thought.” He says, hands releasing your limbs while he pulls himself from your warmth, admiring the way he leaks out of you for a moment before his thick fingers are pushing his cum back into you with a laugh at the way you whine. “Perhaps you’ll think twice before trying to provoke me again.” His words are mocking despite knowing this is a lesson you will never learn. Sukuna hovers over you for a moment, watching your barely conscious form. If you could see it you’d swear he was on the verge of kissing you, the thought of you opening your eyes to see him so close with a look of…near fondness on his face is enough to make the King of Curses pull away. Muttering to himself he stalks over to where he’s cast off his robe, shrugging back into it with a mildly frustrated grunt before he calls out. “Uraume!” 

The loyal servant of Sukuna appears in a near instant, obediently awaiting instruction. “Clean her up, tend to the bruises and…” He pauses for a moment, silently cursing himself for the impulsive mark he’s left behind. “And her neck.” It’s all he says before he stalks off to contemplate just how much of a mistake it was to keep you this close. He doesn’t see the way Uraume scowls at the task they’ve been given, he would hardly care if he did. He knows that they will complete the task to the best of their ability, and you’ll be cared for in the end.

[salbei-141]

Be honest with me (Roman Roy x reader)

Masterlist

word count: 1.1k

warnings: 18+, pure fluff and comfort, mentions of verbal abuse

a/n: Inactivity who? A rare update I know lol. Anyway y’all I’m so in love with him - honestly in love with all the Roy siblings, but Romulus got a special place in my heart <3

I love how late I jump onto writing trends for characters, but in my defence I've had this in the drafts for MONTHS. Anyway, hope you enjoy my loves <3

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The apartment was silent, it felt too out of character, especially for Roman. The both of you lay in silence on his bed, still in today's clothes.

You move your hand slowly - scared that a sudden movement would cause him to suddenly get up and leave without warning. Tentatively, you inch your fingers onto his own - he said nothing, nor did he move. Gaining more confidence and desperate to comfort him knowing how loud his mind must be right now - you encapsulate his hand within your own. They’re soft and warm - Roman was always warm to touch. You feel his hand squeeze your own back - still no words being said.

You take a deep breath, feeling the need to break the silence finally, but before you can, Roman cuts you off.

“Please don’t,” his voice came out weak - he was usually so quick witted…he just sounded tired.

“Okay,” your voice was soft - a complete dichotomy to the tone he was used to from his father and siblings.

Another 30 minutes went by in complete silence - the both of your steady breaths being the only thing heard. Your hand still lay in his - he hadn't moved an inch unless it was to gently squeeze your hand every so often.

You turn on your side, slipping your hand out of his - he still didn't move. You decided to move closer to him, laying your head on his shoulder and draping your right arm across his chest that rose up and down with each breath he took.

You studied his face - he looked like he wanted to push you off of him, and yet simultaneously he was aching to pull you closer to him. Your touch was the only touch he felt safe feeling - you'd never hurt him, and he never doubted that thought for a second, but he was just so used to being alone and pushing people away.

You were desperate to hear his voice, to understand what was running through his head. You knew he was probably going to say some stupid quip to hide how he really felt, but you'd see straight through him; he knew this and it was the scariest thing to him - that you actually saw him.

"Ro...," you were gentle - a part of him just wanted you to shout at him and tell him he was a waste of space just like his father had - it was all he knew. However, you were just too kind, you actually cared for him, and not in the way his father cared for him - if you could call it that - but in a way that was so genuine and pure that it felt wrong to him, but he craved every second of it.

His gaze moved from the ceiling to your worried face - you looked beautiful he thought, he had always thought you were the most beautiful person he knew. "Yeah," his voice sounded small and tired.

"Are you okay?" the question was stupid, you knew he wasn't, but you wondered if he'd answer you honestly - if for once he'd be vulnerable with you, and truly let you into what was going through his mind.

"What? Pfft yeah I'm fine, real fucking good...just thinking about who has bigger tits - you or Gerri...I think Gerri does," there it was...he couldn't be honest with you for a minute if he tried - he'd rather say some crude shit and hope you'd be weirded out enough like everyone else and just leave him so he could avoid sharing his emotions.

You sat up, leaning on one hand as you stared down at him while he tried to avoid your gaze which was slowly glazing over with unshed tears. "Roman...please I-...can you just be honest with me?" your voice had a slight shake - scared that you were going to push him over the edge and he'd run.

He made eye contact with you, his heart clenching in his chest, no one had made him feel the way you could make him feel, and that scared him. He didn't know what to do - his mind was screaming so many things at him all at once that he couldn't really make a decision, so he stayed silent.

Several minutes passed of you both just holding each other's gaze then he opened his mouth tentatively, "Why do you care about me? Why can't you just call me a freak or a perv and leave?" You watched as his eyes reddened and glazed over as he tried his hardest not to cry in front of you. Had you cracked him? It felt bittersweet that he might finally just be honest with you, but the pain in his eyes was tearing at your heart.

You smiled, giggling softly as you lifted a hand to his cheek and wiped away a singular tear that had managed to fall, watching as he turned his face to meet your caress - he trusted you. "Because I fucking love you Roman".

"But why?" he interrupted you like a child would trying to understand such a foreign concept that you were trying to explain.

"There's no reason - I mean there is, you're...you. I love you Roman." You were so soft with him, it felt alien to him. It broke you that he couldn't fathom the concept of someone genuinely loving him, and in such a pure way too. This love wasn't like the love from his father, nor from his siblings - it was something so foreign that he couldn't understand it, but he liked it...he liked this.

You laid back down beside him, "Come here Ro...please" your eyes had such a soft stare - they were so warm and inviting, he couldn't object to the embrace you were offering him.

Roman inched across the bed over into your arms, wrapping his arm around your waist and burying his face in your chest, while you wrapped an arm around his back, holding him close to you. You fell into a comfortable silence, holding each other without a care in the world - it was just the both of you.

"I love you too, you know?" he muttered it so quietly that it almost went unheard, but a smile spread across your face at his confession. You knew that he had probably been having an internal argument with himself on whether or not he was actually going to say it to you; without any sarcasm too.

You felt your heart fluttering in your chest and you pulled him closer to you, "Yeah I know". You tilted your head down slightly and pressed a soft kiss to the top of his head. He went to open his mouth to say some sarky comment, but immediately shut it - he didn't need to feel defensive around you, not now, and not ever.