#like make their worst fear a reality at the get-go?

[chirpsythismorning]

Unfortunately, one major reason streamers like Netflix don’t plan on breaking any time soon in the strike, is because it could have the potential to inspire others to fight for fair pay if it ended up being fairly easy for the writers to do it.

They would rather wait it out for as long as they can, making writers risk financial ruin, so that they have no choice but to agree to a deal that is, at best, half of what they were initially asking.

This means that going into this strike, from Netflix’s pov, it could go on until September, at least, and they would be fine with that.

They assume that by then, writers will have been picketing for 4+ months, without pay, and won’t be able to go on for much longer.

Upon being asked about the impending strike a few weeks prior to it starting, Ted Sarandos said that they have at least 6 months of backlog set in stone. And so apparently, he’s comfortable with sitting it out that long at least.

Though, it is worth saying that as bleak as it all sounds, we’re 3 weeks in and there is a lot of support for the writers. With how bad things are PR wise for Netflix, one could argue they might just say fuck it were used to it and push through. However at the same time, they’ve been struggling with subscriber growth a lot more than ever before, they could be on the brink of risking it all regardless. So if they come to realize fighting this fight as posing a serious risk for them in the short term and long term, something they definitely don’t want to have to admit to their investors at the next conference, they’ll need to get their shit together sooner than later.

I know it’s frustrating to imagine the strike still going on late into 2023, but if we can put our heads together now, this early on still, maybe it won’t have to be that long?

It really does feel like there’s nothing we can do, but showing support and informing others about it so it doesn’t just dwindle to background chatter is a start!

[zephyrchama]

Paper cuts come when you least expect them. You thought it was pathetic that a mature human such as yourself couldn't even flip a page without slicing their skin open, but old Devildom books were made of the worst paper. Super thin, and sharp like a blade when touched at the wrong angle.

The small distraction sucked you out of the novel you were reading and back into reality. You shut the book and shook your hand, waiting for the pain to run its course. These actions did not go unnoticed.

"Let me see your hand," Satan murmured. He was suddenly looming over your armchair and gently cupping your fingers.

"It's not bad, don't worry." You were more concerned about the book's pages. Satan's collection had a lot of rare and expensive tomes. The novel in your lap looked fine, but how angry would Satan get if a drop of blood spilled onto it? He might not verbally assault you like he would others, but you feared he'd sulk about it for at least a few weeks.

Satan pulled a square cloth from his back pocket. He paused to stare at it. It looked fine. Maybe a little wrinkled, but nothing that should have made him frown. "My handkerchief is dirty."

He roughly shoved it back into the pocket and instead lifted the hem of his shirt, then lightly blotted at your wound with the still-warm fabric.

"Hey! Nooo, that's just going to make your clothes harder to clean later." You went to jerk your arm back, but Satan's gentle hold turned into an iron grip. Those abs weren't just for show. "It's gonna stain! Knock it off. I can lick it or something."

"Oh, good idea." Satan's shirt slid back down as he dropped it and knelt. He rested his elbows on the seat cushion, one on either side of your legs.

"I can do it! I can do it!" You tried to stop him, but he was already seductively dragging his tongue over your fingertip. "Don't even thi-- ahhh, Satan come on!"

There was far more blood rushing through your face than in the tiny little cut. It astounded you how Satan could pull off an embarrassing action so smoothly, without hesitation.

"Are you done yet?" You didn't know if it had been five seconds or five minutes, but you thought it was long enough.

"Mmh." He mercifully stopped, giving your palm a quick peck. "Move over."

The armchair was meant for one, but it was big and cushy. If you scooted to the side it could probably fit two. "Why?"

Satan was already climbing into the space next to you, raising you onto his legs. "I'm gonna make sure it doesn't happen again. I'll read to you."

He leaned back into the chair, pulling you along with him, and curled an arm around your waist to reach the novel. "So, which page were you on?"

[cap-winter-barnes]

Home (Tyler Owens x Reader)

You're soaked to the bone, clothes torn, bloody and clinging to your skin. Hair plastered to your face, blooding running down your face like tears. The wind still howls around you as you help people to safety, Tyler by your side. The gash on your forehead is numbed by the adrenaline pumping through your veins. You've always loved storm chasing, but this time it's different, too close to home.

That moment in the motel pool, clinging to the piping for dear life, Tyler moments from slipping through your fingers - that was the most terrifying moment of your life. Yet here you are still riding your fears.

As the streets of El Reno begin to tumble and tear apart before your eyes, you push forward, trying to save as many people as you can. With no space in the small number of bunkers, basements & shelters there are, you have no choice but to guide everyone to the movie theatre.

"Y/N!" You turn at the sound of Tyler's voice above the cacophony of chaos around you. You still lose you breath every time you look at Tyler Owens and fall in love with him like it's the first time you met all over again. "Baby Girl, we need to get inside before it's too late." His hand wraps around your forearm, pulling you closer to his side.

Tyler was the one who brought your love of storm chasing to life, made your childhood dreams a reality. Your parents thought you were crazy to go off with the self-proclaimed 'Tornado Wrangler' but upon learning the reason behind his dangerous adventures and of your utter happiness and adoration of the man, they came to terms with your decision.

With a chaste kiss to your forehead, Tyler takes your hand in his and pulls you along hurriedly toward the movie theatre. Gathering the last few families through the doors with you and taking a glance back at the fast approaching tornado, you close the door behind you. Once inside the theatre, hunkered down between rows of chairs, the adrenaline begins to fade.

With the horrendous sound of the rain, wind and destruction echoing around the large space, panic begins to set in. This building wasn't made to withstand such a destructive force of nature. Tears spring to your eyes as your fear takes over. The cut on your forehead still bleeding, throbbing above your eyebrow. "Ty?" He can barely hear you above the roar of the storm above you, chunks of ceiling ripping away into the sky. "Ty?"

"I'm here Baby Girl, I'm here." You feel him wrap his body around yours as you both lay on the ground, arms tightly wrapped around them to keep you anchored. His warmth envelopes you and the smell of him immediately calms you somewhat. "I'm here, I gotcha." Sobs wrack your body as you try to take your mind away from this godawful situation. You should be celebrating your engagement but instead you're fighting for your lives. "I gotcha, darlin'. We're gonna go home after this." He kisses your temple, his body wrapping tighter around yours as the eye of the storm grows closer. "Wherever you wanna call home, that's where we'll go. We'll st-"

What's left of the movie screen disappears as the wall is torn away from the building, debris and innocent people being ripped away with it. Your fear returns tenfold, Tyler holding on with all his strength to protect you. His life, his home. "We'll start that family we talked about, hmm?" He presses his cheek against your own. "We're gonna make it through this, darlin'. I promise."

You turn to face him, noses brushing against each other. "I promise you, baby." You waste no time in pressing your lips to his own, the taste of blood, dirt and tears on your tongue as you press yourself to him.

"I love you."

"I love you, Baby Girl." You rest your forehead against his as you both prepare for the worst. The building shudders and shakes, groaning against the worsening wind speed. With eyes closed tightly, hands wound around each others, both you and Tyler hope with all your might that you survive this. But no matter what, you were home. Tyler is your home.

[bamsara]

I'm new to this blog, what's dream lamb and dream narinder?? They're cool but I do not understand I wish to comprehend

Dream Lamb (And Dream Narinder) is exactly as the name implies; dream versions of the counterpart that only appears within Narinder's (Or Lambert's) dreams at night.

They are a visual manifestation of the subconscious, they are not real individuals. They can reflect what Narinder/Lamb's true feelings are about something/someone, or torment them about things that they perceive to be true.

One example is that Dream Lamb often makes Narinder remember how fondly he thinks of the Lamb ("You think of them so poetically" + all prior friendship he had with them in the gateway) or pointing out how his words contradict his actions; behaving and believing them to be a traitor and insufferable but doing things of his own will (resurrecting the crab, not killing their flock because it makes them upset, allowing Leshy to live, ect ect).

Dream Lamb ALSO points out the complicated feelings with his siblings; ie reminding him of how he used to help raise his youngers, and the mixture of emotions he feels towards individuals who he claims he despises.

Dream Narinder (Who is not into written form yet and is only in comic form as of this post) who instead of tormenting the dreamer with confrontation of feelings being denied, instead sews doubt and guilt. The Lamb feels even though they stayed true to themselves, they cannot help but feel like their perceived betrayal has damaged the friendship between them and Narinder beyond repair. Despite that grief for the loss of friendship, they'll accept what little companionship they can have from their best friend left over.

Dream Narinder fuels on this, often echoing their worst fears and worries ('You've done a good job as my vessel, so I no longer have a need for you.") So he acts non-nonchalant and often mocking/teasing, or even indulgent with the acknowledgment that none of it is real. Where as Dream Lamb confronts Narinder with feelings he's wanting to push back, Dream Narinder goes the opposite route, and calmly and casually reinforces what they believe to be the reality.

Dream Lamb represents Denial of the Truth, While Dream Narinder is the Acceptance of a Lie.

However,

Because they are corrupted visuals of the subconscious, but still their subconscious nonetheless, this means that these behaviors can change or be different depending on how the dreamer thinks/feels, and how they're processing their emotions in relation to something. Especially when they're confronting it.

In other words, the closer Narinder gets to accepting his feelings and understanding the Lamb's reasoning for their 'betrayal', and the closer the Lamb gets to realizing Narinder's care for them still persists, the more accurate and truer the dreams become.

Like in this comic, where Dream Narinder is tormenting the Lamb, but after their snap back that Narinder would not say something so cruel to them, despite his outward attitude, they are practically rewarded with a praise for it.

For Dream Narinder specifically, his eye remains closed....but opens a little more the closer and closer the Lamb gets to believing how Narinder truly feels about them, whether the real cat has accepted it or not.

As for Dream Lamb, they go from being very aggressive about their confrontation to something more docile, eventually as Narinder starts to process everything.

Another thing: the Dreams are linked. Not always, but they have to be on the same...wavelength for it. An understanding, perhaps. But they do affect each other, sometimes.

The dreams can be nice too, depending. That's why they're not always nightmarish. Meaning, with enough push and pull, eventually:

Why all of this dream and nightmare stuff is happening? Yet to be revealed.

Remember guys if you avoid your feelings in real life they might hunt you down in your dreams, and possibly bluetooth you to the object of your affections dreams as well if you're nice about it

[incorrectbatfam]

WFA spoilers ahead

Content warning for discussion of mental illness

Can I take a moment to appreciate how they showcased Jason's PTSD in the latest ep? This isn't the first time but I feel like this round struck much closer.

Although this is the website where people are open about mental illness, there's still a reluctance to address the "loud" or "frightening" or "angry" or "messy" side of it. Stuff like bipolar, schizophrenia, addiction, PTSD. It's why I'm extremely hesitant to talk about my own problems even under anonymity.

Conversely, there are mainline comics (and other media) that use this category of mental illness as an excuse for characters to go all-out in their aggression. Even if not intentional, it perpetuates the idea that a trigger will always send the person spiraling until either the worst happens or someone steps in as the "hero." It's basically sending the message to people like me that we're a ticking time bomb.

Then there's WFA. Jason's not fully present during his episode. It leads him into a dangerous situation while at the same time he's unable to grasp things like pain. The adrenaline and the overwhelming sense of fear drives him into fight mode. He gets tunnel vision while he's beating up the bar patrons to try and find the Joker. Without getting into details, I've been in Jason's shoes. I've found myself in risky places doing things I'd later regret. All because of the disconnect from reality that makes me believe what I'm doing is necessary. Not even justified, just necessary. Almost like a survival instinct.

And what's so important is that Jason isn't a villain and Dick isn't a savior. Dick reaffirms Jason's trauma and guides him through tangible steps rather than giving broad sweeping advice. Of course there's no one-size-fits-all coping method, but the biggest thing is having somebody in your corner who sees you beyond this bad episode. Sometimes I have that, sometimes I don't. WFA won't show it since it's all about family, but the times I didn't have someone were exponentially scarier.

At the same time, there are consequences that a simple grounding exercise can't remedy—Jason got hurt, he hurt others, and his appearance at Noonan's definitely put him on someone's radar if not the Joker. And they're just as real as his feelings and (hopefully) he's gonna be held accountable. Because that's how it goes in real life. Something sets me off, I screw up, I get bailed out, and once I come down from it I have to fix the mess I made.

Maybe I'm just reading too much into a fan comic. But I know that if a few panels can resonate so closely with me, then it's worth talking about because someone, somewhere is also feeling the same way.

[fuckmeyer]

the choice between Edward & Jacob is not a question of which relationship is healthier or which partner is best suitable for Bella. neither is correct. neither is best. neither produces a happy ending for Bella. at the end of the day this is still a vampire novel. any choice Bella could make would yield, at best, a bittersweet happily ever after.

if she chooses Edward, she gets the terrifying Breaking Dawn ending: a girl who rejected her call to grow up has hung her love & her eternity on an emotionally stunted partner who hates himself marginally less than he loves her. she's a teen mom with a kid she never wanted who perpetuates the generational trauma passed down from her parents. by keeping this child, the Cullens have set the stage for an uprising/cold war against the Volturi who are likely to take revenge in order to maintain power. Bella is living in a tenuous "dream come true" wrapped in a nightmare & doesn't realize it.

choosing Jacob is the true coming-of-age ending that rips the stitches out of a wound that never fully healed. even if we ignore the fact that she ends up with a man who sexually assaulted her (we must bear in mind Jacob's character is influenced by smeyer's racism, but it did happen), they can't have a secure romantic relationship. based on the high imprinting rate of the pack, Jacob will likely find his imprint in his lifetime & will lose himself to the imprintee. he will no longer be her Jacob. he will inevitably abandon her (whether he wants to or not), & she must reconcile with the reality that she will always be inadequate to Jacob's imprint. & say he never manages to escape the vampires? he will presumably not age for a long time, meaning the relationship Bella always feared with Edward (her being an old grandmother while he stays forever young) remains a possibility. this is the story of a girl who slaps a Band Aid on an open wound & calls herself healed while flinching every time she sees the shadow of the knife that cut her.

if she chooses neither (team therapy), her healing requires her to lose or be at least partially disconnected from everyone she cares about. Bella must spend the rest of her life shut out from one world while never fully existing in her human world ever again. she must always keep secrets. she can never go back home. even in the unlikely event that she manages to escape the Volturi, the threat of being hunted by vampires will never leave her. in addition, she must face her worst fears (aging, losing Edward) while always keeping in mind the immortal life that could have been hers, if only.

even the "healthiest" option produces scars that will never quite heal.

Twilight is a horror. Twilight is a vampire novel. Twilight is gothic. Twilight is fiction. neither Edward nor Jacob is a "bad" choice because neither will give Bella her happily ever after. the choice between Edward & Jacob is simply a matter of which horror story you prefer to read.

[lenacosse]

False god

pairing; jake peralta x reader

word count; 2,500

cw; smut, arguing

summary; reader gets extremely insecure and jealous, instead of talking it through her and jake argue which leads to fucking.



a/n: im backkkk. so sorry for the lack of posting for the last two months, ive been so preoccupied but i hope to get properly back now. also omg try not to make a post about a ts song mission= failed. can’t resist.

‘and you can’t talk to me when i’m like this

daring you to leave me just so i can try and scare you

you’re the west village

you still do it for me, babe.’

════════════════

Your relationship with Jake wasn’t perfect, although to the eye of many that wasn’t obvious. You seemed utterly head over heels, and whilst that was the truth you, like any other couple had problems. But to the extent was not normal, most couples talk it out, that’s never been your method. The problem was Jake’s friendliness, before you got together you loved that about him, it was after all how you got together. You loved how he would talk to everyone, you loved how he made people laugh, but now that you sit in a crowded restaurant gritting your teeth watching your boyfriend make the waitress laugh, he told a joke, a joke first told to you, your gaze was fixated on him, the crease by his eyes as he laughed, the nod of his head as she spoke, but worst of all the prolonged eye contact they held and how her eyes glistened as they done so.

Swiftly you finished your wine, you cleared your throat and the waitress turned to you. You nodded your head to the empty glass, right away she excused herself with the glass to get you another.

“She’s lovely,” you grinned, the sarcasm seeping through your words.

“It’s the Peralta charm, she couldn’t help laugh at my joke,” Jake teased, resuming his meal. You near scoffed at the audacity of him, deep down you knew he was being harmless- a mere joke, but you couldn’t help the insecurity inside of you get the better of your mind. You and Jake have been together for two years, the longest you’ve both been with someone, your biggest fear is that Jake will get bored of you, so interactions like this had your mind running wild- reaching to the worst possible scenarios.

For the rest of your meal you were barely listening to Jake enthuse about his week at work, he talked about his perps, his drug busts and the banter within the precinct. Instead you were in your head, imagining the end of your relationship, more specifically Jake leaving you for someone much prettier and funnier. He’s never not been loyal, he’s never given you an reason to feel this way, yet you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t turn off your self sabotaging mind and that was a slow undeniable killer.

“Are you okay?” Jake said, snapping you back to reality, concern written over his face, his eyes gentle and comforting.

“I’m fine.” You replied. “Just tired.” You couldn’t shake the coldness of your words. Jake reached over the table to grab your hand, you sighed and moved your hand away, feeling too indifferent to talk about it. You could see the disappointment building in his eyes.

“Let’s go then.” Jake said as he stood up grabbing his jacket and pushing his chair in, you paid the bill and got into his car.

A deafening silence fell over you both for the first few minutes of the car ride, you didn’t know what to say, you were worried that if you started to talk you would end up fighting. The car stopped at the red light, you found your eyes wondering over to Jake, one hand on the wheel the other tapping on the dashboard as he starred out the window, his eyebrows were knitted together in a frustrated manner and his body was tense. He glanced at you and instantly your eyes hardened.

“What did I do to upset you this much?” Jake asked, his voice firm.

“Nothing.” You mumbled looking down at your lap.

“Then why are you acting like this? I don’t understand the night started great now you’re distant. Do you not like me anymore or something?”

The emotion in his voice had you heart aching, you couldn’t understand why your mind done this to you, from a rational perspective the interaction was harmless- maybe enough for you to sulk over, but not to this extent and you knew that. You nervously picked at you nails as you replied.

“Of course I do Jake- you know I love you. But it’s just..” you sighed, “I don’t know.”

He turned to look at you now, “just what?”

“You’re too friendly! That’s the problem.”

“Too friendly? What does that even mean?!” He laughed, you looked at him and instantly filled with rage.

“Don’t be stupid Jake. Don’t do that, you were flirting with that fucking waitress.”

The light went green and Jake drove again, his eyes were focused on the road as he spoke. “Flirting? Seriously. This again.” He sighed, “I’m not flirting with anyone.”

“Oh,” you scoffed, “it’s so fucking obvious! The fuck me eyes she was sending you, you’re not blind Jake anyone could have sensed it.”

“You’re seeing things. Seriously, tell me why would I do that?”

“That’s what I’m asking you!!”

“Maybe for once it’s not me, it’s you. You are the one causing the problem here not me.”

“As I recall you were the one flirting!” You fumed.

“Flirting or simply talking? Should I just stay away from all woman from now on?”

“You’re infuriating right now. Just fucking apologise.”

“For what?!” Jake raised his voice, “I didn’t do anything. I made me waitress laugh, you’re acting as if I asked for her number.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if you did.” You muttered.

“Really? You think I’d cheat on you.” Jake said as he parked the car outside his apartment complex.

You got out of the car slamming the door after you and Jake followed behind you. “Well would you?”

He punched in the code to open the complex door, you stood with your arms crossed walking with him. “What kind of question is that? Obviously not.”

You pressed the elevator button and stood beside him, arms crossed again and your body stiff with anger. “That’s not what I picked up on looking at you and that woman.”

“Y/N. I did not flirt with her. Get that idea out of your head.” Jake groaned, clearly becoming increasingly frustrated with you.

“Well maybe I wouldn’t have that idea if you weren’t so fucking friendly!” You practically shouted. Your face flushed red with embarrassment as a couple walked out of the elevator, by the looks of your face you could tell they heard everything. The man gave Jake a sympathetic look which made you roll your eyes, his girlfriend elbowed him in response to that.

Jake walked into the elevator, you followed and pressed the floor number. “I don’t want to have this stupid conversation anymore. I didn’t flirt with her! And I’m not too friendly, there’s no such thing.”

“Oh yes there is. You are a prime example,” you scoffed as the elevator doors closed.

���You want to know what’s exhausting? This. I’m sick of you being so insecure.”

“Then break up with me.”

“What? No. Are you insane?”

“Go on. Do it. I know you want to, do it Jake break up with me.”

“I’d be crazy to break up with you.” Jake moved closer to you.

“I think you want to.” You starred into his eyes, deep down you’d be distraught if he broke up with you. But the thrill of keeping him on his toes outweighed that.

He grabbed your arm pull you closer to him. “Don’t say anything like that again. Ever.”

Your face flushed hearing him being so assertive, when Jake got this way you could swoon. You smirked and looked up at him. “Why? Does it bother you?”

“Everything you’re doing right now is bothering me,” he got even closer to you, your chest was pushed up against his front. “Trying to scare me off?”

“Is it working?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, you could feel Jake’s breath on your face, furthering the heat rising to your face.

“No.” Jake responded. He pushed you against the elevator mirror, your back hitting the rail. His hands firmly gripped your hips, sure enough to leave a bruise, your breath quickened as he lowered his head and smashed his lips to yours.

You got caught up in an intense moment, your hands went to his hair, pulling him closer as your leg rose to wrap around his waist. You were pushed right up against the mirror as you shared a hungry make out, his tongue fought and won dominance as it explored your mouth. One of his hands moved from your waist and hiked up your thigh and skirt. His finger edged to your panties, and started to slowly circle your clit. You gasped at the sudden pleasure, breaking the kiss. Jake kissed your neck however quickly stopped and moved away once the elevator door opened. You tried to fix yourself up and walk normally to his door, you impatiently waited as Jake opened the door, you could’ve swore he was being slow to tempt you. You walked in first, wasting no time you grabbed his tie, a rare thing to see Jake in and pulled him to you.

His hands met your waist, he smirked. “Eager?”

“Shut up.” You replied.

As you kiss Jake backs you into his room, pulling down your top to reveal your bra and down onto his bed. Using his tie again you pull him on top of you, you remove his tie and make a start at unbuttoning his shirt. His lips meet your neck as he marks you, his hand travels down your body resting in between your legs, he moved your underwear aside and shoves two fingers inside of you. You cry out at the abrupt movement but quickly it turns to an override of pleasure, Jake moves from your neck and watches your face as he roughly fucks you with his fingers, curling them to hit that perfect spot, as if that wasn’t enough he circles his thumb on your clit. The pleasure making your legs shake and vision blur, the sounds coming from your mouth were incoherent, your whole body was trembling in pleasure. The pleasure continuing to build you knew you were close, you felt yourself ignite and be overcome with pleasure but just as you were about to finish he pulled his fingers out.

“Jake-” you whined but was quickly stopped by his fingers going into your mouth. You sucked his fingers, you couldn’t help but heat up at the taste of yourself on his finger. Jake removed his fingers and kissed you hungrily, his hand moving to your breast and rolling your nipple in between his finger over your lacy bra. You pull his shirt off and break the kiss, to mark his collarbone.

“Marking territory?” Jake teased as his hand slipped under your and effortlessly undone your bra. As you pulled your head back he removed your top and bra.

“Seems as if I have to.” You scoffed, Jake grabbed your jaw.

“As I’ve said before I’d never cheat on you.”

You rolled your eyes in response, he let go of your jaw and moved to your ear. “We’re not leaving this bed until you realise it.”

His voice was enough to make you squeeze your thighs together but the words spoken had you stifling a moan. Jake kissed down your neck, you arched your back pushing your body up onto him, desperate for pleasure. You grab his hand and bring it in between your thighs, hoping for pleasure from him.

“What do you want?” Jake asks, his eyes bearing into yours.

“You.” You responded, biting your lip. You could see it in his eyes, he was tempted to take you right there but resisted, much to your dismay.

“Be more specific,” he slowly moved his finger to brush against your clit, you hissed at the sensation.

“I want you to make me cum with your fingers. Then,” you moved your hand into his hair, tugging. “I want you to fuck me.”

“So demanding. Not even a please?”

“Are you going to or not?” You raised an eyebrow, Jake smirked and inserted two fingers into you.

You senses once again filled with pleasure from Jake roughly moving his fingers, you moaned his name feeling the pleasure override you. Your legs trembled as using his thumb he rubbed your clit. A continuous thread of moans left your mouth as you came undone, you vision whitened as you released, your body going into a state of utter bliss. Jake removed his fingers and took your skirt off, your hands made quick work of removing his belt and trousers. You watched eagerly as his cock sprung out with the removal of his boxers.

You moved your hand down to slowly stroke him, he softly groaned in response. You then wrapped your legs around his waist and gripped his shoulders as he slid into you, your eyes rolled back in pleasure as you adjusted to him. Right away Jake began to pound into you, one of his hands held your thigh as the other gripped the headboard making him completely tower over you, you watched his face contorted in pleasure. The room filled with the sound of your bodies joining together and your lustful moans, you knew trying to conceal them wouldn’t work, so you let it happen, not that anyone would complain Jake loved the sound of your moans. Jake fucked you like he’s never done before you wouldnt’ve been surprised if your bodies left a permanent dent into the mattress, that was only furthered when he moved your legs to rest over his shoulders allowing him to go deeper. Your mind became numb with pleasure, the only thing you could focus on was the immense pressure between your thighs.

Jake pushed your chin up to look at him, your eyes were pricking with tears as you got closure to release. “Believe me now?”

“Not quite.” You moaned.

This only fuelled Jake more to the point where the bed was slamming against the wall and tears of pleasure were streaming down your face, you felt the pleasure override you.

“So close.” You moaned.

“Cum for me,” Jake said, his voice dripping with pleasure, that itself sent you over edge.

The euphoric sensation washed over you yet again, your vision blurred as your entire body shook, never had you felt this way before. Jake continued, cashing his own release as you slowly came down from that high, however it wasn’t long until you felt it building up again. Jakes movements got strained as he got closer, again you came and white hot pleasure overcame you. Jake came inside you, moaning into your ear. Slowly he pulled out and lay beside you. You both starred at the ceiling, catching your breath. He turned to you and tucked your hair behind your ear, you couldn’t help the smile that creeped onto your face as you turned to face him too.

“Believe me now?” Jake teased, stroking your cheek.

“I always did I was just in my head, totally worth it though,”

“Totally worth it though; title of your sex tape.”

“Jake.” You rolled your eyes, playfully shoving him.

[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. 

[zwhoreo]

what would happen if Luffy ans reader have a Big argument ?

ty for the request!! :) this is my angstiest one yet ooo (but I could never have a non-happy ending)

careless scars - luffy x gn!reader

angst (fluffy ending)

summary: luffy recklessly abandons you in a dangerous situation to find and save zoro, and you get injured. your feelings are hurt and your heart is broken, and your ensuing fight with luffy leaves you not speaking for days. until, of course, you find each other again for comfort

contains: distressing emotional situations, reader hits luffy, everyone is sad, but happy/comforting ending <3

words: 2.4k

________________________

The dungeon is dark and Luffy holds you. Only his precarious torch guides you through the midnight catacombs, knee-deep in dark water, you’re terrified and shaking and Luffy’s hand on your waist is the only thing you have right now. He’s tight-lipped and facing straight ahead, you’re wordless, you hope you aren’t lost.

Evading the monsters of the dungeon has taken a lot out of you, mentally and physically, as you and the crew have battled for escape and now it feels like hours since you’ve all been separated, terrified and in a ceaseless search for light. Luffy wouldn’t leave your side, partly because you’ve clung to him this whole time, you had lost your cutlass and twisted your ankle, your shirt is torn, you’re very vulnerable and you need him. You’re not proud of it, usually you’re reliable and independent, usually you’re someone Luffy can count on to do well on your own, even in the worst of times, but today isn’t like that. He can tell by how your nails dig into his shoulders.

Every corner turn feels agonizingly slow, your organs tightening with each knot of anticipation, there can only be death or light or more darkness and the three possibilities war within you with every step. Dust falls from the dungeon ceiling. Stone creaks, how far are you below the sky? Not knowing when you’ll find the exit, or when you’ll find your friends, or if they’ll make it out too, you’re left in a limbo of uncertainty and dread. You’re forced to move slowly because of your ankle, you’ve been trying to walk it off but the unclean saltwater is making the inflammation burn.

A scream echoes through the tunnel in front of you, freezing you and Luffy in place. You know that voice, it’s Zoro, tinny and distorted from the stone and water but so real and so filled with agony and desperation. It’s a call for help.

“ZORO!” Luffy yells back, his heart pounding in his chest, breathing becoming erratic, “please! Where are you??”

But there’s no answer. Luffy turns to you, fear-filled eyes watering, and he places a hand on your shoulder, determination filling his voice.

“Stay here. I need to go help Zoro. I’ll be back for you, [name].” And before you have a chance to react he lets go of your body, your warmth and light leaving you, racing off down the corridor and disappearing.

You trip and fall to your knees without him, soaking you up to your waist. You’re left with nothing and no one and you’re too scared even to scream. You can’t do anything, left weaponless and injured, the water ripples around you and you can’t even move. And you’re forced to wait like this until sound ricochets behind you, an inhuman and ancient sound, the water exploding around you and stone crunching as if it were sand. Writhing, ink-black eels with unseeing eyes and too-symmetrical fangs are bursting from the walls in a tidal wave of suffocation, blood-lust for your fear. You can tell they’re eels from the way they squirm and splash against your body, and the walls cave in and stone tumbles upon you, but it’s only these sensations of pain and cacophonic sound that guide you to your horrible new reality because there’s no light anymore, not at all. Immobile, all you can do is scream and swing wildly with your hands as you’re dragged to the ground, plunged beneath the water that now grows thick with the fallen stone and with your blood.

You’re convinced for a moment that you’ve died, your brain can’t process the warmth and the flood of air to your lungs. Your eyes fly open as you soar from the ground, carried securely as the ceiling overhead shatters, you’re drowned in beautiful, beautiful light and sky at last. You’re laying bridal-style in Sanji’s arms, with one powerful kick he’s freed you both from the dungeon, the island luckily not far above. You look up at him, your head resting against his chest, he’s breathing heavily, staring stoically upwards. It’s all over.

____________________________________

You wake up in Chopper’s office. Your head is ringing and you feel so heavy, and your left leg is numb, and the whole room is blurry. Chopper rushes over to you, hopping up on a stool and resting a hoof on your shoulder.

“[Name]! Oh, I’m so glad you’re awake, how’re you feeling?” he says, smiling down at you.

“Not… ah, I mean, my leg just…”

“Mm. You got a pretty big gash on your lower leg. I've been trying to fight off the infections all night, but you seem to be stabilizing. It’s lucky how fast Sanji was able to find you.” Chopper’s ears twitch a bit with nerves.

“Thank you, Chopper.” You manage a smile for him. “Is everyone else ok? Did we all make it out?”

And so Chopper tells you how yes, everyone’s ok, the whole crew escaped the dungeon and found the ship again. And you and Zoro are the only two who ended up with serious injuries, Zoro with three broken ribs and you with your mauled leg. But you’ll both make full recoveries, so it’s alright. And you’re told that you’ll have to be very careful for at least a week, until the stitches and staples can be safely removed, that’s a long time to limp around the ship and lie in bed but you’re just grateful right now that everything’s all over.

Worried about Zoro and his whereabouts, Chopper leaves you to rest and stare at the ceiling. And that’s when Luffy bursts in, coming over to you and sitting on the bed, looking at you with concern. And you stare back at him, neither of you say anything, until he leans in to give you a hug and starts asking after you.

“Don’t touch me, Luffy.” You look away, your voice is ice.

He freezes. He isn’t used to this from you, he looks betrayed, a bit, and confused, this makes you feel angrier because how can he not see what he did wrong? His eyes narrow and slowly he gets up, and turns, and leaves, and now you’re here alone again.

_______________________________________

You’re sitting alone on the deck. You’re getting air, your leg is raw and in pain and the cool evening air is refreshing against your face. Your hands are folded in your lap, you just want to sit here in silence.

Steps you don’t want to hear, a tap on your shoulder you don’t want to feel, you don’t want Luffy to be here right now and you don’t want to have this conversation but he’s perched next to you, leaning over you. He wants a hug, probably. He misses you.

“Hey, are you mad?” he asks in a small voice, head cocked.

“Yeah,” is all you say.

He just looks at you, biting his lip.

“You left me alone in the tunnel when I was hurt. I could barely walk on my own and I didn’t have a weapon or… or anything!” Hey, no, don’t cry yet, you think to yourself. Your voice is breaking. “I really, really needed you!”

Luffy sort of curls away from you, his fists are balled tightly. “I had to help Zoro! He was in trouble! I don’t know what you wanted me to do, [name]!”

“Really? Really you don’t know?” You’re so upset and sad, you stand up to get away from him, stumbling on your burning leg, defiant. “You could’ve carried me! You could’ve put me on your back! You could at least have found somewhere dry and safe for me to hide, you could have given me a light, I don’t know, Luffy! You could have done so many things…” You’re really, truly near tears now. “I was hurt, I was defenseless, I was scared, I thought you knew all that…”

“Zoro needed my help.” Luffy is scary when he’s mad, it’s awful when he’s mad at you, when his voice gets authoritative. “I’m not sure what to say, [name], I was going to come back for you-”

“But you didn’t! Sanji saved me. I could’ve died, Luffy!”

He makes this little angry whine in his throat and then says, “I just needed to rely on you! I had to help Zoro!”

Which makes you snap. “Stop saying that!” you shout, “I was hurt and scared and I couldn’t fight!” And out of rage and cloudy pain you scream, “WHY AREN’T YOU LISTENING TO ME??” and strike Luffy across the face.

You expect this not to hurt him. It shouldn’t, not with his rubber body, it’s more a display of your deep anguish and frustration, but he cries out in pain and clutches his face. He begins to cry. Your heart is crushed into sand.

But you can’t do this anymore and you just limp away.

_______________________________________

These two days are so long. They’re so, so long, longer than two years. Your leg flares up in horrible, unending pain and your heart wails to you but you can’t do anything. You’re so angry. You and Luffy aren’t speaking, he avoids you, he looks away stoically when you’re close by. This has never happened to you, you miss that loving, sweet boy attached to you like a koala, you miss getting kissed, you miss everything. But neither of you know what to say. You’re both sad and torn up inside, Luffy just feels so confused and frustrated all the time now, shutting down completely.

Everyone else knows what happened. Zoro feels really terrible but he doesn’t say anything to either of you, he just retreats, cursing to himself over his own weakness, blaming himself and his vulnerability in that dungeon for hurting two of his best friends. Even with his broken ribs he trains and trains and reopens his wounds. And nobody knows how to help any of you. Not even Chopper, his pleading eyes begging Zoro to stay in bed, words stuck in his throat as he rebandages your wound, wiping blood away with shaking hooves.

But finally in the deep light of one sunset, at the end of those two days, you’re making your way slowly off of the deck when you hear your name screamed from behind.

You turn your head and Luffy scoops you up and slams you against the mast, he’s crying and shaking and holding you tightly in his arms.

“Please, please, I can’t do this anymore! I don’t wanna be mad at you, I don’t! I hate this!” he shouts in your face, voice loud and wavering.

You don’t know what to do but this feeling enveloping your body is incredible, so warm, your soul craved this in spite of it all.

“I’m so sorry, I feel so bad, I didn’t mean to get ya hurt, [name]! Oh, god…” He sinks down the mast onto the deck with you in his arms. “I don’t wanna forgive myself. I shoulda carried you, but I didn’t wanna put you in danger ‘cause I didn’t know where Zoro was, I really thought it was gonna be ok, and I was gonna come back for you, I really was!”

“Luffy… it’s ok, I’m sorry…” You wrap your arms gently around his body, your own tears coming now. “I just wanna forget all this, I hate when we’re mad at each other… I love you.”

“Mm- I love you too!” Luffy grins, eyes closed, face wet. “I just wanna keep you safe, that’s all I want.”

“It’s hard sometimes,” you whisper, “you love us so much, I know it’s hard, I know you get scared too.”

“I do get scared,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your shoulder, leaving tear streaks on your neck. “I just wanna make it all better…”

You’re smiling now. This is such a relief, such a weight off your heart, so you carefully lift his hat so you can ruffle his hair. “This is a good start.”

His hand goes to your leg, caressing timidly up and down your skin, his face is against yours but he’s looking down at your bandages, eyes scared and concerned.

“Ooh, [name], Chopper was teaching me how to make scar tissue stronger!” He taps the center of his torn chest. “You use two fingers and uh, like, make these little circles on ‘em, maybe I can do it on your wound and you can feel better?” He’s staring at you excitedly.

His kindness makes your chest feel warm. “You’re sweet, Lu, but it’s not a scar yet. You shouldn’t touch wounds when they’re fresh. I’d like that when it’s healed up, though…”

“Oh.” He’s a little disappointed, but understanding, and now he’s going back to thinking more, nibbling your shoulder a bit to get his mind working. “Sometimes when I’m hurt, Robin gives me massages. They feel real nice, do you want one?”

This sounds so good and you snuggle against him with the promise of such a perfect gift. “I’d really like that, actually. Maybe on my thigh? It’s pretty sore from all the limping.”

So Luffy leans into you in joy and relief, turning you around and pulling you into his lap, you turn your head to look up at him and everything seems to be ok now. You lay on his chest and his hands find your thigh on your hurt leg, he’s clumsy and doesn’t know what he’s doing but you feel him shivering in concentration, kneading your sore muscle with his fingers, and then with his palms, his skin smooth and calming against yours. He’s breathing softly in your ear, you close your eyes and let yourself be bathed in his touch, in his unwavering love for you.

Maybe you’ll need to have a real conversation about this with him, later. But now all you want to do is sit here against him, his weight shifting against you as he rubs your skin and hums quietly under his breath to soothe both of you.

“I love you,” you say again, very quietly, “and I’m gonna love you forever.”

He nods. He knows this well. His nose presses against your cheek, lips seeking yours, wanting to taste your words. And he echoes, “me too. Forever.”

[giamee]

𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐃 𝐌𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐓𝐘!

╭─────────────────────── ( 🫀 )

there's a certain beauty and pain in being with someone carnally, and nothing more than that

› 〉 📂 .ೃ | friends with benefits, more angst than smut, like this is basically all angst no smut lol, kinda short too mb

header art (left to right) by pcrow ; artsquirre ; _sekidesu

╰─➤ 💌 ₍₁₎ being in a situationship is all fun and games until u catch feelings fr 😕. anyways. let's go thru that pain in this. lowkey i wanna make a part 2 to this with a happy ending cos im SOFT lmaooo

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 ALHAITHAM.

BEING IN... WHATEVER THIS RELATIONSHIP COULD BE CLASSIFIED AS was not good for your mental health. in the past weeks that you and alhaitham had started sleeping together, you had been plunged into one of the worst emotional rollercoasters that you had ever been on.

what didn't help was the way he treated you so differently depending on the setting. you understood not wanting people to know, but did he have to ignore you entirely in public?

he wouldn't even spare you a glance as you walk past each other in the halls, eyes stubbornly trained ahead, leaving you steamrolled in his icy trail. and if you dare to try and talk to him- he'd look at you like you've grown a second head, completely shunning you and walking away as quickly as possible.

but it's a different story behind closed doors- in private, he's the sweetest man alive.

he'll whisper such sweet nothings into your ear, wipe your tears so tenderly with his thumbs like a lover would. he'd prop himself up with an elbow just so that he can gaze into your eyes as he pushes into you, even smiling at you as he watches the way your expression changes.

and the way he kisses you is what really throws you- always with such desperation and urgency, like he needs you in order to breathe when it's quite the opposite. he kisses you like he loves you, and the sensation is dizzying, perplexing when those fantasies are ripped from you in favour of reality.

but you know that you won't ever be his. not properly.

if it was meant to be, he'd at least smile at you as he passed. the more rational parts of your brain screamed at you to call it quits before you're sucked in too deep, but some part of you still held onto the hope that one day he would see you then smile.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 THOMA.

IT TRULY HURT TO REMEMBER THAT you weren't actually dating thoma. it was easy to get fooled- he was a gentleman, making sure to treat you right even when you weren't fucking. he'd make sure that you were okay, and he never kicked you out as soon as it was over.

he'd ask about your day, take interest in you and what you're doing. and arguably, worst of all, he wasn't afraid to be seen with you. the details that blurred the lines defining your relationship seemed like an afterthought, if the way his arm wrapped around your shoulders indicated anything.

you were his, unofficially or not. it only took a glance to be able to tell.

you liked to think that he was yours, too. that you meant something to him- more than just a pastime and a stress reliever.

there were moments where it was easier to believe it- with the way his eyes remain transfixed on you as you writhe in pleasure, cries of his name leaving your lips- his little coos and reassurances buttering you up, having you right in his palm, so pliant and willing for him.

maybe he got off on knowing that he makes you feel good in every sense of the word. seeing you happy acting as some sort of foreplay, all so he can claim you as his in every way except the one that you wanted most.

the urge to tell him how you feel, those three little words that dangle on the tip of your tongue and fight to be freed, are a constant struggle. but something inside you, some sick gut instinct, stopped you from blurting it out every time.

the fear of his reaction- disgust? confusion? kept you uncertain. a part of you would die if he didn't reciprocate your feelings. it was better not to know, and keep living in the make-belief of being his without the label.

you could only hope that you would be proved wrong one day.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 WRIOTHESLEY.

DESPITE EVERYTHING, YOU COULDN'T HELP BUT crawl back to him every single time. a never-ending cycle- one that you couldn't escape even if you wanted to.

both of you knew how it goes. you unblock him, play coy for a few messages before he's telling you to come over. you fuck like it's the last time you ever will- it never is- and then you spend the night.

he'll hold you, play with your hair, even kiss you, and you pretend that it's enough. if you're lucky, he'll even lend you a shirt that smells of him to sleep in.

and this facade is fine- while it lasts. but then you remember why you blocked him in the first place- the forced indifference, his refusal to open up. the way it hurt your heart to be pushed aside.

and then you go and ask him what you mean to him. he'll smile at you without mirth, the both of you knowing how this conversation goes. he doesn't want anything serious. you want more.

and then it's tears, you ripping off his shirt and throwing it back at him, storming out of his place and blocking his number with shaking fingers.

you cry yourself to sleep in your cold and empty bed- already sorely missing the warmth of his body as he holds you close to him in his sleep, whether he's aware of that or not.

and you're fine, you tell yourself. you can live without him. and you do, for a little while. honestly, he's the last thing on your mind as you distract yourself with work or seeing your friends.

but then a lonely night gets the best of you, abd you find your finger hovering over the call button next to his name. and you press it, cursing yourself for doing it.

he picks up at the third ring, voice smug as if he knew you couldn't go much longer without him.

and he's right, unfortunately.

you're already out the door, on the way to his apartment.

𝜗𝜚 genshin impact masterlist

[drowningmist]

𓇢𓆸 [4:14 AM] GOJO SATOROU

You glared at your phone, infront of you on the mattress which had been ringing for five minutes straight.

12 missed calls from toru☆ , it shows.

Your phone brightened again with a message

"Baby please pick up the phone"

You grabbed your rectangle and switched it off. You were never like this, never ignored the stressful situations, always confronted them but right now you were in a tight spot yourself.

You have been with gojo satoru the gojo satoru for 8 months now and you were happy, happier with him. But never dated before the sudden relationship made changes in your life which you only came to notice now. Now you had a person to remind you to take rest after studying, now there was a person waiting for you to cuddle him, now you saw places never seen before although leaving in this city for almost 2 years. Now you had conversations with your aged people that didn't end with just a small question related to assignments. Maybe, you liked the nows so much, this new change in your life that you side tracked from your goal, what you came her for. This was your dream university for which you worked so damn hard to get in, it took you two attempts to get into this uni , the first time you got sidetracked , had friends , you get swayed by them. The failure gave you a reality check and only you knew how hopelessly and desperately you tried again, completely alone fighting your depressed tired mind that you will make it this time and you did and you swore you would never repeat your mistakes and only focus on being the best student in your firm and get placement, a job , a peaceful solace life. That was your plan but then came gojo satoru.

He was in bussiness branch, you being in robotics and automation. But you both shared a few clubs and that was enough for the gojo satoru to set an eye on you. That was it, man had your whole schedule revised, your cafe order to you favourite place in the library. Initially, you despised him. He had everything you didn't have, got admission cuz he was rich while you rubbed your ass, unsurprisingly popular and surprisingly one of the best bussiness student for straight two years. You often wondered when did he studied and how much, did he even had time for it after his night outs . Maybe it was jealousy you felt but you don't know, your heart don't know what he his eyes did to you in the two years of knowing, from pulling away and pushing his advantages to grabbing his face to gently peck him from making a disgusting face when he was around to greeting him with open arms and snuggling to his chest.

But yesterday's results of your mid semester pulled you back on earth. Yeah , afterall you didn't belonged there with the gojo satoru who had everything you didn't and gained everything you couldn't. Unlike him you had to be consistent you weren't gifted, hardwork was your key. You weren't here to fall in love, you were here to be the best student. And maybe it was your insecurity but you always thought you were just his temporary infatuation, a fling, you thought it wouldn't last he will get bored of your stiff personality and leave you alone. But you were immune to being left alone what you feared was the failure you didn't wanted to repeat the pattern. So, you broke up with him and in the worst way possible on a text. Maybe it was intentional you wanted him to stop chasing you, stop loving you , stop looking at you as the most priced possession.

There was a knock on the door, you remained still but then the few more thuds had you standing on your doorstep.

"I know you are there open up"

" its early sato- gojo, go home". You gulped down your whimpers and spoke sternly.

You heard a dry laugh from the other side

"Gojo, huh?"

Then there was another thud on your door making you jump, this one was the loudest.

"Stop , you will disturb the neighbors! "

"You open the door and I'll stop knocking" he replied curtly

Sighing you open the door mentally readying your break up speech. But you didn't get the chance, just as you opened the door gojo was pulling you to your couch settling you there and then crouching down to your eye level and flashing you his phone screen.

" Explain".

You eyed his phone it was opened to your today's conversation more specifically your message of breaking it off.

You looked at him but immediately looked away.

Was he able to make this type of face before?

" there's nothing to explain, I want to break up with you"

He scoffed

"Why?"

"You are .. you sighed " I don't want to be in a relationship now"

"Should have thought before kissing me"

You glared at him

" I am not able to manage it all. My studies and our relationship "

Gojo cupped your face and sighed

"Oh baby.., you should have said so ,we can just study togeher its a win win, u see? we could plan study dates then ..hmm yeah thats a good change of pace, we can meet in the library and study or we could plan home dates too-

"Gojo" he stopped

"You don't get it.. i-i don't want to be in a relationship! I want to focus on my studies"

"Nobody is stopping you from studying and your way of studying is not healthy at all. it's always good to relax and don't worry about managing stuff I'm a part of your life now just like you are of mine, all I want is for you to be healthy and happy . who will stop you when you are at your limit-

"You are a distraction gojo! You are the problem if it weren't for you then I wouldn't have to go through all this again I don't want to experience that shitty feeling of being a failure!"

''distraction''

his lower lip wobbled as he tried not to sniff even thought there were no tears in his eyes.he was looking at you with flummoxed expression on his face.

you paused at his crack of voice and kept your head low.

''just leave please''

Nobody said anything and gojo got up and left without uttering another word and you remained still tears cascading your eyes which started to fall as you heard the door shut.

[arienotari]

Drowning

Summary: When your worst fear becomes a reality and all you have on the other side is a brown eyed boy.

Pairing: Wally Clark x Reader

Warnings: Death, Drowning, Bullying

Edit: I am terrible at editing, and I tried my best so I'm sorry if you find any mistakes. This is my first full story I am releasing out into the world.

Word Count: 3330

I’ve never liked swimming.

People say it makes them feel free, but I felt anything but free. Every chance I got I avoided water at all costs. It's suffocating. Something about floating in a body of endless water and possibilities always made my skin crawl. One major problem that contributes to my fear is the fact that I can’t swim. I don’t blame anyone for this setback because I've never asked how to or showed interest. My inability to swim didn’t become a problem for me until my senior year of high school. I’ve gotten out of swimming class every year up until now and I had no choice but to take it. I tried to tell the swimming coach and counselors privately that I couldn’t take the class. All they said was I could stay in the shallow end. That I’ll be fine. I believed them. 

Word spread quickly throughout my class that I couldn’t swim once they started noticing I wouldn’t leave the 4ft mark. I didn’t really care, all I cared about was getting through the year. I was never really popular which didn’t matter much to me but being in this class never made it more obvious how much I hated it here. I felt eyes on me at all times which only made being in the water worse. 

It was March 12, 2015. Only a couple months left of school and then I’d be off to NYU living my dream of being a writer. First I had to get through 4th period swim class of course. I walked into the girls changing room preparing for the next 50 minutes of anxiety as I put my swimsuit on. I folded my dark blue jeans, my gray sweater, and a white tank top with lace on the trim that I wore under the sweater. Making my way to the pool I started putting my hair up in place of a hair cap I seem to have forgotten. Staring at the water I can see the bottom but it doesn’t stop the feeling of wanting to crawl up from my throat. Half the girls were already in the water preparing for a game of volleyball. Step by step down the ladder my hands begin to shake and my mouth becomes dry like I just ate pancakes. I make my way to the back to avoid any confrontation or any chance of being involved in the game. The one thing good about this class is it has a perfect view of the sky. I always get lost staring out at it wondering who’s also looking back. It makes me forget the situation I’m in and my environment. That's until a ball lands in front of me and about 15 girls are looking back at me waiting for my next move. I pick it up with my now calmer hands from before and spike it. Thankfully I made it over to the other side and the girls immediately turned back to the game. Not without some dirty looks but quite frankly I don’t really care. I watch as Mrs. Withers gets a call which seems to be serious as she tells us that she needs to step outside and when the bell rings to just go ahead. It’s only 10 minutes later when the shower bell rings and I feel the crushing weight lift off my shoulders. The other girls split based on which ladder they are closest to heading to the locker room and I help one of the girls get the volleyballs together. Making my way back to solid ground I rush to put the balls away not wanting to be one of the last to leave. I grab a towel on the rack near the other end of the pool as I make my way back seeing the last of everyone leaving. At least that’s what I thought until I heard someone behind me scream “Wait up” before running past me tripping me in the process. Losing my balance I watch as the one who screamed leaves the room leaving me alone. I hit the water with a loud splash waiting to hit the bottom to kick back up only to never feel my feet hit the concrete. I try to reach for the surface but everything I try seems to pull me down further. I panic, feeling my lungs on fire from filling with water. I tried to scream but no one could hear me and no one ever would. Everything was starting to go black and everything was becoming numb. All I could think about was how much I would miss out on. Finally, everything goes dark and I feel like I’m floating but I’m not, I’m being pulled up. I grab onto whoever’s pulling me up as if my life depended on it. Once I reach the surface my lungs fill with air as I begin to cough unbearably with my eyes screwed shut. I feel myself being hoisted up on the ground and out of the water. I’m pulled into the person who saved me as I am unable to move from exhaustion. When the person holds my face to center it I finally open my eyes as I am met with wide brown ones. 

“Are you okay”, he’s breathing heavily as I study him blocking out his yell to someone to bring his jacket. 

I feel a warm weight on my shoulders seeing its a blue and white letterman jacket out of the corner of my eye. 

“Thank you for saving me” I give him a weak smile but all I get in return is an expression filled with nothing but sorrow and guilt. 

Still seated on the floor I hear a horrified scream from beside me causing me to whip my head towards the chaos. Suddenly time stops and everything goes silent as I choked out a sob watching as a student and Mrs. Withers pull my body out of the water. The whole class comes to watch as they try to resuscitate me but nothing is happening. I feel the stranger push my head into his chest and I begin to cry harder than before. He repeats “I know’s” and “I’m sorry’s” as my world comes crashing down on me. 

Hours later we are still in the same position my hair and clothes dry now along with a tear-dried face. It’s dark outside with only the poolside fluorescent lights to illuminate our two figures. I begin to shiver more and more as the stranger who pulled me out of the water rubs my back and arms. 

“We need to get up, you're getting too cold” he whispers, pulling his body to get a better look at me. 

I lift myself up getting a better look at him as well as I memorize his long structured face, beauty marks, and brown eyes. After a minute I nod and try to stand up realizing that I’m still exhausted, the position not helping adding to the pain. He helps me steady myself and fully extend as he holds my hands making sure I’m okay. 

“You should take a shower and change into your regular clothes, I’ll probably do the same and I will explain everything once we're done. Okay?”, he says softly with an uneasy half-smile waiting for my response.

“Okay,” I whisper back at him not wanting to raise my voice feeling it’ll be too much to handle. 

His smile fills out more as he nods and begins to turn away to do the same tasks as me. I begin to turn away as well before I realize I never got the guy's name who pulled me out of the pool and stayed with me for hours. 

“What’s your name?,” I said, grabbing his arm to stop him from walking away. 

He looks down at my hand holding his arm which makes me see I’m still holding onto him causing me to let go. 

“Wally, Wally Clark”, he said with a wide smile that made me feel alive again for just a split second. 

After warming up from the shower I changed into my clothes from before that were neatly folded. As I begin to walk out of the locker room I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look back at the girl staring at me feeling disconnected from who she was or what she could’ve been. I take a heavy breath before opening the door to leave and face the reality of my situation. Stepping into the hall, the school looked unnatural to me with the lights off. I look over and see a less wet and cold Wally approach me with the same smile as before. 

“How was the shower? Do you feel better?”, he asked one right after the other. 

“The shower was good and I’m doing the best I can with the fact that I am already dead,” I said, peering up at him only noticing now how tall he really is. 

“I know it's hard and I’m sorry it happened this way but I will try to explain everything the best I can.”, he said, extending his elbow out for me to take it as we began to walk further down the halls.

And Just like he said Wally kept his word and explained everything to me that he could. Like how we’ll never be able to leave school grounds unless we pass on. He also showed me all the other kids stuck here just like us and told me how some passed. As well as the weird support group that the kids attend in the gym. Even though he’d joke he never sugar-coated anything, which I couldn't help but appreciate. I won’t lie, the first couple of weeks were rough. I was plagued by the memory of what happened as well as the thoughts of the future I’ll never get. It definitely didn’t help that everyone at school was mentioning it and not in a sorrowful way. During those few weeks, Wally helped a lot with trying to be a distraction so I wouldn’t focus on others. I guess one of the perks of being dead is being able to duplicate belongings so I was able to get my phone and journal. I found the perfect spot on the football field to just listen to music and lie down. I’d close my eyes and imagine what life could’ve been but I knew I couldn’t do that forever, so I started to write more. It was easier to put my wishes and fantasies on pages without having to dwell on them. I usually kept my writing to myself so around 7:30 every day I’d go to my little bubble of solitude on the field and write. It was May now so the sun would start to set around 8 giving me enough light and a view. 

“What are you writing?'' I suddenly hear Wally's voice right next to my ear. 

“Jesus Christ Wally you scared me to death”, I said, jumping in reaction to the sudden deep voice, placing my hand on my heart and dropping my journal. 

“I mean it's a little too late for that someone must’ve beat me to it.”, he said smiling at me as he sat down next to me grabbing my journal to open it. 

I glare at him and snatch my journal back. 

“What too soon?”, he said with a stupid grin trying to get my journal back.

“Just a little,” I said, scrunching my nose. 

“No but seriously what are you writing? You come out here every day and write in that little journal.” He said leaning back on his arms a bit more to get my full face into view. 

I try to hide the blush that has crept up on my face when I realize that he’s been watching me come out here. After a moment I brush my hair out of my face and am met with those famous brown eyes. I take a deep breath before explaining to him my reasons. 

“I don’t want to stay stuck in the living because all it’ll do is bring harm. All I thought about for the past couple of months was what I’ll miss but I never stopped and processed my death. I’ve been hurting for all the things I couldn’t change and it caused me to push anything away, even you. So I thought why not write my wishes and wants down so they don’t stay on my mind. At least this way I can close the journal.” I said with a tiny smile looking up at him as he was staring back intently listening. 

“Before I died I wanted to be a writer and I had my whole life planned out, I was going to attend—“ 

“NYU, I know,” he said, finishing my sentence before I could. 

I watch as Wally sits up straighter and scooches closer to me before tilting his head. I can tell he’s trying to figure out what to say because he’s fidgeting with his necklace. I wait for him because there’s no point in rushing, I have all the time in the world. 

“I’ve been watching you for a long time,” he says with a breath held in waiting for my response. 

One of my eyebrows lifts as I tilt my head in response to the slightly weird statement. 

“Oh god, that came out creepier than I meant it to. What I meant to say was even when you were alive I knew who you were.” He said laying back fully down in the grass. 

I watched as he covered his eyes with his hands with a frustrated grunt like he was trying to revert into a hole. 

“What do you mean?”, I said moving towards his laid position to where I’m now bent over leaning towards him leaving my crisscross position to now on my knees. 

I grab his hands that are covering his eyes and pull them down to his chest as I hold them to keep him from covering his eyes again. How he’s looking at me I can tell he’s debating with himself. I wait and listen before I watch as he closes his eyes. 

“The first time I saw you was during your freshman year in the library. I was looking for something to watch for group movie night. I had Rhonda yelling at me in one ear and Charlie telling me something in the other. I was getting a little annoyed but then I looked between the bookshelves and there you were.” He takes a pause to look at me and I squeeze his hand in return to continue. 

“You were tucked into the corner where the bookshelves meet, where no one could see you. In your hands was The Devil’s Highway by Luis Alberto Urrea. I watched as you cried the further you got into the book. After that day I came back to the library every day to see you. I even started picking up some of the books you read, but I couldn't finish half of them though.” He said with a small smile on his face and in his voice.  

He sat up which caused him to become closer to me while he took my hands instead of me holding his. He was looking at the grass for a minute while rubbing his thumbs over my knuckles. When he looked up I could see that he was tearing up making my heart ache. 

“I knew you had anxiety when it came to swim class because you couldn’t swim so I’d go to try and help. Even though you couldn’t see or feel me, I was always there.” He said lifting his hand up to tuck a loose strand of my hair that fell. 

His hand stayed in place as he cupped my cheek and I went to ask why he was tearing up because of this before he spoke. 

“I watched you die. I was there and I couldn’t do anything until it was too late, that’s why I was there. I had to watch you struggle knowing I couldn’t grab you or even scream for help.” He said with his voice croaking with the struggle of what he’s had to go through. 

My eyebrows furrowed as I watched the walls I built up crumble down with one look at him. I never knew he’d been holding in something like this for so long. If I had known I would’ve never tried to shut him out. I was scared of what had happened and how my life had ended but I never thought about him. He was always there and whenever I needed help he was right by my side. I moved from my position pulling him into a soul-crushing hug. It took him a second to respond to the sudden gesture but after a couple seconds, I felt his arms wrap around me.

“Wally my death wasn’t your fault, I need you to know that.”, I softly spoke while hugging him harder, feeling him return it. 

We continued hugging for what felt like years but could never be enough for me to be satisfied. One of my arms is coming up from under his arm grappling his shoulder while the other is around his waist. His arms are wrapped around my waist and I can feel his hands rubbing small circles on my back. Looking up from being tucked away in his shoulder I notice the sun is beginning to set. I begin to pull away and when I make eye contact with him again he’s only a mere few inches away from my face. I raise my hand to brush his hair away from his face as it has flattened from the hug. My hand slips down as it trails from the side of his head to where it now rests on his neck. He’s staring at me the whole time while I do this and when I look up to meet his eyes my heart quickens. Well, I imagined it quickened. There’s something about those brown eyes I’ve grown fond of that makes me feel alive again. His eyes flash down to my lips and back up to my eyes like he’s silently pleading. I give into his wants that now become a need for me and all I can do is nod. His hand comes up to my face pulling me towards him as our lips meet. The kiss felt like everything in my little life led up to this moment. Nothing else seemed to matter to me but the boy in front of me right now who just confessed that he’d been watching me for years. Wally’s the one to pull away first. I slowly opened my eyes to look at him wanting to capture this moment forever. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek and giving me a quick peck. I can’t restrain my gleaming smile as he pulls away for the second time. 

“Well I’m glad we got that cleared up”, he laughed as he spoke. 

I glared at him while punching him in the arm causing him to fall back but not before dragging me down with him. I land on his chest relaxing in his touch like it’s something I've been craving but have been deprived of. We lay in comfortable silence as I felt Wally rub circles with his thumb on my hip. 

“I’m glad it was you who found me. I don't know what I would’ve done” I said, being the first one to disturb the still air. 

“I am too,” Wally said into my hair as he kissed the top of my head. 

We lay there all night even when the stadium lights came on we just talked about everything and anything. Maybe the afterlife won’t completely suck. 

[angelicyoongie]

lovesick (X)

— pairing: yandere ot7 x (f) reader — word count: 4.8k — warnings: yandere, stalking, obsessive behaviour, spanking as punishment, minor injuries, other content that may be triggering. — summary: You dreamed of the day you would get your very own soulmark. Though, you didn’t expect to wake up to a searing hurt in your arm, the phantom pain of your shoulder being dislocated and your forearm fractured. As if dealing with the worst possible soulmark ever wasn’t bad enough, you also have to come to terms with the fact that you’re being stalked. When the letters and gifts you receive begin to escalate and the police offers no help, you have no other option than to figure out who’s behind it yourself – and hopefully before it’s too late.

Previous – Next

You wake up to the sound of gravel crunching under Namjoon's shoes.

Your face is tucked against his chest, breathing in the scent of the crisp night air that lingers on his coat. It takes you a moment to reorient yourself, for the last tendrils of unconsciousness to slip away.

It all comes crashing down over you like a cold bucket of water as reality sets in; he's taking you back to the cabin.

It'll be as if the last hours never happened, as if you never stepped foot outside the sturdy wooden structure. You're going back to them – except, perhaps it won't be the same men that you left that you'll have to face once you step back inside. The soulmates you ran away from were terrible and selfish but they were never cruel. After your failed escape attempt, however, you no longer know if that still rings true. If that's something you can count on. 

Your body locks up at the thought of the monsters waiting for you down the road, muscles spasming with the need to move despite the utter exhaustion weighing you down.

Namjoon tightens his grip around your middle as you grow stiff, arms locking you securely against his body.

"You're awake," He notes, the usual honey in his voice gone. "It's for the best. We can deal with everything much quicker this way."

The fearful whine that shoots up your throat gets trapped behind your teeth, your lips too numb for the noise to pass through them. It takes great effort for you to move your head over, turning just enough that you're able to pick up on your surroundings. Namjoon must have parked just down the bend from the cabin, his steady steps already closing in on the dark silhouette looming between the trees in the distance. 

Your heart feels like it's trying to beat itself out of your chest as you pick up on muffled yells, shivers racing down your frozen spine as you make out six distinct voices. The soft light emanating from the cabin sends ferocious shadows dancing across the ground, their movements erratic and violent.

It gets harder to breathe the closer you get, your chest refusing to move as Namjoon steps up on the small patio in front of the entrance. Blood rushing in your ears, you try to make yourself as small as possible in his arms as he reaches out for the handle, wishing you could just melt away into nothing. Anything would've been better than this.

The cabin goes deadly still as Namjoon pushes the door open. 

Your vision blurs as you're brought into the heat, your eyes stinging as you attempt to blink some moisture back into them. You can barely make out the six fuzzy figures scattered around the room, their bodies stock still as if they're frozen in time. The chilly wind that blows into the cabin is nothing compared to the sight that greets you as your eyes adjust – the six men in front of you looking everything from angry to icy to hurt. A few of them even have the gall to glare at you with something akin to betrayal; like you were only stringing them along for your amusement and not your survival. 

It leaves you trembling with fear, the knowledge that no matter what you do, nothing will make them understand that they're the ones in the wrong. That they're the selfish ones.

Namjoon takes another step forward, chest rising with a small sigh as he readjusts you in his grip. Perhaps he regrets bringing you back now that he can see the state the others are in, their hair and clothes rumpled, the furniture in the common room strewn about like a hurricane has torn through it.

You glance back up at his face in time to see him set his jaw, his voice tight as he says, "We're back." 

The door that slams shut behind him jerks the cabin back into motion, the noise that was sucked out before suddenly rolling over the room like a crashing wave. You screw your eyes shut as their yells blend into each other, feet thundering across the room as they stumble over themselves to reach you. 

"What were you thinking?!" You flinch as Taehyung's voice booms across the cabin. You can't discern if it's anger or concern that's got him so agitated, so loud, and that scares you. 

"Calm down, Taehyung. I know you were worried but this isn't the way to show it," Yoongi hisses. 

His voice drifts closer, a little softer, as he addresses you, "You're lucky Namjoon found you, Y/n. You're already chilled to the bone." 

"Never scare me like that again, angel," Seokjin sounds wobbly as he pats over your hair, hushing the choked noise you make at the contact. 

Your eyes flutter open against your will at the low, irritated snort that travels through the room.

Jimin stands with his arms crossed over his chest by the couch, scowling as the two oldest keep fretting over you. "Don't tell me you already forgot why you were so distraught in the first place, hyungs? Y/n ran away. She was just playing with us with whole time – she doesn't love us." 

Seokjin's fingers still in your hair, the warm touch of his hand slowly receding as he takes a step back. He throws a hard glance over his shoulder, mouth pinched in annoyance, "Jimin, did I not tell you to shut up for the rest of the night?" 

Jimin grits his teeth at Seokjin's tone, turning his head to stare blankly at the wall. 

"He's right though," Hoseok says, hand brushing over Jimin's shoulder as he steps closer. "Y/n tricked us. She betrayed the trust we gave her and we can't let that slide without any consequences." 

"What are you suggesting?" Namjoon leans back on his heels, fingers digging into your thigh.

"She deserves a punishment," Hoseok blankly states, eyebrows cocked as he stares you down, "Don't you agree, Y/n?" 

"N-no," You weakly shake your head.

The tsk you get from Hoseok in return makes you recoil, the fear in your body so tangible you can taste it on the tip of your tongue. 

"I think you're right, Hobi." 

A small, betrayed gasp leaves your lips as you hear Yoongi's careful drawl. His agreement stings more than expected, somehow you had deluded yourself into thinking that Yoongi wasn't as bad as the other men in the room; that he and Jungkook actually seemed to care a little for you and not just your soulmate connection.

Jungkook still hasn't moved from where he's sat in one of the big ratty armchairs near the couches. His doe eyes are shiny with tears when you meet them across the room. Jungkook starts curling in on himself the longer you look, shame pulling at his features as he ducks his head.

"Fine," Namjoon says, "But nothing too bad." 

"Of course not. I don't actually want to hurt sunshine, she just needs to learn a lesson," Hoseok scoffs.

The men around you share a look, a silent conversation passing between them. You have no idea what they're thinking but it frightens you to know that this must have been something they have already discussed, that they've already decided on a punishment should you ever disobey them. 

"Who–?" Seokjin trails off, biting his lip nervously between his teeth.

"I'll do it," Taehyung sounds chastised, his voice meek as he adds, "I should do it." 

He takes a seat in the middle of the couch, dragging his hands over his jeans as he gives Namjoon a nod to show that he's ready. 

"W-what, no!" You uselessly tug at Namjoon's coat as he strides across the room, your frozen limbs making it impossible to fight back as you're carefully manhandled across Taehyung's lap.

Fingers wrap around your ankles, keeping your legs glued against the couch as you futilely try to push yourself up with shaking arms. Another hand is pressed against the small of your back, rendering your movement useless. No matter how much you try to squirm, you're simply too exhausted and cold to shake them off.

It takes you a second to recognize the position you're in, disgust curling in your stomach as it hits you that you're about to be spanked. 

"I'm not a c-child," You bite through clattering teeth, fingernails digging into threadbare cushions. 

"No? You sure act like one," Hoseok scowls. "Big girls wouldn't run off like you did." 

You jerk as Taehyung's hand settles on the back of your thigh. You turn your head back to look at him as the others crowd around the couch, voice breaking as you whisper, "Please don't." 

Taehyung doesn't meet your eye. His gaze is trained resolutely on his hand, his expression pinched. The corner of his mouth is downturned as he moves his hand from your thigh to your butt, his long fingers easily spanning over one cheek.

You let out a shuddering breath at the unwanted touch, pressing your forehead to the couch to hide away from the six burning pairs of eyes that surround you. Taehyung's fingers flex against the material of your trousers as he murmurs something under his breath, the feeling so weirdly intimate it makes your eyes cloud over, hot tears trailing down your temple. 

"It's just ten, babe. We could do a lot worse," He comments gruffly. 

There's no preamble before Taehyung raises his hand and delivers the first hit, the harsh smack echoing through the room. You bite your tongue, choking down the strangled cry that tries to rush up your throat.

You feel the imprint of his fingers burn on your cheek, the sudden pain so consuming you barely register how someone else hisses out a low curse.

It's only when Taehyung is on the third hit that you feel how he jolts as his hand makes contact; how it takes him a moment to collect himself before he delivers the next one. The fifth smack brings a weird sense of clarity to you, Yoongi's irritated cough finally making you realize that you're all feeling Taehyung's slaps. Your soulbond is connected through pain so the hurt that blooms with every hit doesn't just affect you – it has an impact on them as well.

The somber atmosphere in the room isn't just because they're disciplining you for running away; they're also punishing themselves for letting it happen. 

You let out a harsh breath at the next smack. Despite the numbness in your limbs, you can feel how horrible your butt is stinging, the alternating hits doing little to lessen the pain a new one brings. It becomes harder and harder to think with each hit, your mind slowly falling apart under the excruciating combination of fear, exhaustion and pain. 

The final smack seems to linger in the room and the silence that follows feels so thick you might crumble under it. 

Your right-hand aches as Taehyung uses his to lightly rub over your smarting ass, his breathing shaky as he tries to soothe the bruises that are no doubt already starting to form. 

"Hyung," Taehyung rasps.

The hands pressing on your back and ankles disappear in an instant. Taehyung springs away as Namjoon lifts you, moving your body into Seokjin's waiting arms. You try to blink away the tears clinging to your lashes as Seokjin leans you back against his chest, taking some of the pressure off your backside as you're maneuvered to lay on your side. 

"You're absolutely freezing, angel," He tuts. He motions for Yoongi to grab him a nearby blanket, quickly tucking you in. The warmth that wraps around you is a small comfort, but it's not nearly enough to quell the shivers that are still rattling through your body.

"Let's do this quick, she needs to warm up." 

You swallow thickly as Namjoon kneels by your feet, gently pulling your socks off. They're so cold you struggle to move your toes. 

It's not until a rush of warm air hits your exposed skin that you realize you're hurt. Your soles are aching something fierce and you catch a glimpse of blood on the socks Namjoon throws down beside him. 

"Darling," Namjoon furrows his brows as he looks at the torn skin, tongue poking into his cheek in disappointment. "Why did you do this to yourself?" 

He shakes his head as if you're going to answer him. Heaving out a heavy sigh, Namjoon wordlessly accepts a small basin of warm water and a cloth from Hoseok, wetting and wringing the material out before he brings it to your feet. 

You let out a wounded hiss as he makes contact, your foot involuntarily jerking away from the water that stings your open cuts. The quick movement causes you to drag your sole against the couch and it only causes you more hurt, a sharp pain shooting up your leg.

"Fuck," You whimper, body shaking against Seokjin's as Namjoon quickly reaches out to grab your foot, holding it securely over the side of the couch. You can feel Seokjin's leg twitch as the pain moves through the soulbond, the others grimacing as they feel it too.

"Angel, please be careful," Seokjin admonishes as he tucks his head over your shoulder, holding you in a tight hug as he rests his cheek against yours. 

You shudder as Namjoon once again brings the cloth back to your skin, wincing as he meticulously and carefully cleans up all the dried blood and dirt clinging to your wounds. Namjoon's voice is perturbed as he moves on to your other foot, holding it with a firm grip as he says, "This is why we were holding you down during your punishment, darling, so you wouldn't hurt yourself more by moving around. We don't enjoy doing any of this." 

You choose not to voice your disbelief. Judging by the sour look Jimin sports as he stares you down, you're sure it's written all over your face regardless. 

Namjoon hands off the dirty water and cloth to Yoongi, switching it out with an antiseptic cream that he starts dabbing on your cuts. 

Seokjin's warm breath hits the corner of your mouth as he cautiously asks, "What made you come back, Joon? You weren't supposed to return until tomorrow." 

The bandage that's being wrapped around your left foot pauses, Namjoon tilting his head as he mulls over what to respond.

"I think it was that pull you've talked about before. I just suddenly felt like I had to go back to the cabin, that I was needed here," He lets out a low snort, humorless. "I guess whatever feeling it was, was correct." 

"Interesting," Yoongi muses. He leans against Jungkook's chair, absentmindedly patting the youngest's hair. Jungkook leans into the comforting touch, face still marred with shame as he chances a glance over at you in Seokjin's arms. 

You stare blankly down at Namjoon's hands as he finishes up one bandage and moves on to the next, his words echoing in your head. Did the soulbond somehow call him back? If it knew you were trying to put distance between yourself and your soulmates, can it work against you to keep you from separating from them?

You don't want to believe that it can affect you that much. But if it is true, does that mean your own soul is betraying you – that it'll do whatever it takes to keep you close to these monsters who don't actually care about you, as long as it'll keep the bond strong? 

"It's definitely too strange to just be a coincidence," Hoseok purses his lips.

The sweater you picked out this morning suddenly feels too heavy on your shoulders. Was it just by chance that you picked out one that belongs to Namjoon, or is there something else to it? Can you even trust yourself anymore? 

You barely register as Namjoon finishes wrapping up your foot, the blanket being pulled away from your body as Seokjin lets go of your waist. Your chest is tight and your vision spotty as you're handed off to Yoongi, too many awful thoughts and feelings all vying for your attention at once. 

You feel yourself being carried again, the lights going from soft to bright, but it's like everything is underwater, muffled and out of reach. Yoongi's blurry face is suddenly in front of yours and it takes you once, twice, to focus on what he's saying; for the words to make any sense. "–can you do it yourself?" 

Yoongi sighs as you stare blankly back at him. He brushes a finger down your trembling jaw, wincing at how cold your skin feels. "Y/n, you really need to warm up. I'm going to place a stool for you inside the shower so that you can rest and we can keep your feet outside of it and dry. I know you'd rather not have me undress you, but are you able to do that yourself?" 

"Yes," You croak, disgust rippling across your body as you think of Yoongi undressing you, of any of them seeing you so vulnerable. 

"Okay," Yoongi says, unconvinced. You bite your lip harshly as you're placed down on the closed toilet seat, the pressure awful on your bruised ass. 

Yoongi steps over to turn the shower on for you, the old pipes rattling as water starts spewing out of them. He keeps his hand under the spray until he deems the temperature good enough. His expression is sorry yet firm as steps back, nodding to the door as he explains, "I can't leave the room but I'll keep my back turned to you the entire time. You're too weak to be left on your own right now. I won't turn around until you tell me it's okay. I promise." 

"Do you want help to get over to the stool once you're undressed?" Yoongi eyes your bandaged feet, eyebrows drawn tight with worry.

"No," You whisper.

The toilet is only a few steps away from the shower but even just that feels like miles with a body so tired and battered. Still, you're willing to push yourself until you collapse if it means none of them will touch you like that. 

"Just let me know if you need help, love," Yoongi sighs as he walks over to the door, facing it head-on like promised.

Getting undressed is a battle but it's one you refuse to lose. You keep your eyes locked on Yoongi's back as you pull off layer after layer, the steady steam rising in the bathroom only making your shivers worse. You refuse to strip down further than your underwear, the pieces offering you some modesty in a situation that just feels so mortifying. 

You pull yourself up on your feet with a yelp, legs shaking with pain as you slowly hobble over to the shower. You're not sure how you manage to maneuver yourself down on the stool but you do, and the relief of warm water cascading down your frozen body is so great you can't hold back the sob that rips out of your throat. 

Yoongi's back tenses as he hears the broken noise, his hands gripping the doorframe to keep himself in place. He never turns his head, choosing instead to rest it against the door, taking deep and measured breaths as he listens to your choked cries and whimpers.

The warmth slowly returning to your limbs is downright awful. The cold clinging to your skin refuses to bulge at first, and when it finally does slip, it feels like pins and needles being hammered into your flesh as the water rains down on you. The shivers slowly ebb away the longer you sit in the shower, your dry calves and feet prickling with the weird temperature difference.

You lose track of time as the heat gently returns to your body, face swollen and puffy as the last of your hopelessness trickles out through your eyes. 

You're exhausted and everything hurts. It's like your mind and body has been fractured into a thousand pieces, all of them poking and pricking you no matter what muscle you flex or what direction your thoughts try to stray.

You just want to sleep, to forget, for a little while. 

Yoongi straightens up as the water is turned off. His voice is hoarse, much like he's been crying himself when he asks, "Are you done, Y/n? Are you still cold?" 

You take a deep, shaking breath, filling your lungs with as much bravery as you can muster. "'m done." 

"Wrap yourself up in the towel by the shower, love. Let me know when you're covered, yeah? I'll open the door and grab the clothes Jungkook left for you." 

You do as Yoongi asks, watching as he opens the door just enough to snatch the clothes waiting for him outside. He walks backward towards the shower, still somewhat respectful of your privacy as he leaves them on the toilet. "Take the time you need to get dressed. I'll wait by the door until you're ready." 

Your mind is hazy and drifting as you attempt to dry yourself off, exhaustion weighing your lashes down. Slipping your wet underwear off under your towel in exchange for Jungkook's clothes isn't an easy feat, pain still flaring up your feet as you're forced to put pressure on them. Still, it's a small consolation that Yoongi doesn't attempt to help you until you raise your voice and say that you're done.

Yoongi sweeps you up into his arms before you can even blink, strong arms holding you close to his chest. He swallows hard as he glances down at you, voice unbearably soft as he says, "I really am sorry, Y/n." 

He, much like Namjoon, knows he won't be getting an answer. Yoongi steps out of the bathroom with measured steps, making sure not to move you around too much. The cabin is dark and quiet as he carries you down the hallway, the others nowhere to be seen.

"It's been a long day for all of us," Yoongi mutters as if he senses your confusion. 

Your fingers find Yoongi's shirt as he steps closer to your room, shock hitting you like a lightning bolt as you see the state of it. The door is broken off its hinges, halfway torn off the frame. The desk you pushed against it is flush with the wall and the rest of your room looks absolutely trashed. Furniture has been flipped over as if they were looking for you under it; your belongings scattered everywhere. The brute force they must have used to get into the room makes you realize just how badly this return, this punishment, could have gone for you. 

The moment passes as Yoongi walks further down the hall, but the sick feeling in your stomach lingers. 

He nudges one of the ajar doors with his foot, stepping into the room as it opens. The bedroom is bathed in soft light, the pillows on the bed fluffed and the covers already drawn aside. Yoongi carefully places you down on the mattress before he tucks you in, his expression troubled as he watches how you wince and grimace as you try to get comfortable. 

"This is Seokjin hyung's room," Yoongi explains, "He'll be staying with you tonight. We ... we're going to be taking turns watching over you." 

"Thank you for the introduction, Yoongi-chi," Seokjin's smile is a little strained as he enters the room, a glass of water clutched in his hand. He places it down on the table next to you, patting Yoongi's back before he takes a seat in the plush chair that faces the bed. 

"You can go rest now." 

"Alright," Yoongi nods. He meets your gaze for a split second, mumbling out a gentle goodnight before he turns on his heel and leaves.

Seokjin lets out a small sigh as the door clicks shut. "I should've given him a talking to for not drying your hair properly but I'm sure you're tired, angel. Damp hair must be the least of your worries right now, huh?" He shakes his head.

You pull the covers up to your chin, eyes alert despite how your lids keep attempting to fall shut every other second. There's not an ounce of trust for them in your body but it's so terribly difficult to stay awake when you want to do nothing but sleep. 

"I'm sure you saw the state of your old room," Seokjin winces, "You'll be spending one night with each of us on rotation. You might not wish to have us so close all the time but you shattered the trust we had in you, Y/n."

He folds his hands in his lap with a frown, staring down at his slightly crooked fingers as he says, "You can use the bathroom alone as long as one of us is right outside of the door, but aside from that, we're going to have to watch your every step. We won't allow you to hurt yourself again. I'm sorry it had to come to this but, well, it was the best thing we could settle on." 

You close your eyes to avoid the sad look Seokjin gives you, your chest constricting with fury. If they're trying to guilt trip you, it's not working. You can't believe they're trying to frame all of this as them simply looking out for you when in reality, they're robbing you of any agency you have. 

As you take deep breaths to quell the anger bubbling in your stomach, you feel yourself growing heavier and heavier, your body sinking into the mattress below. You want to be angry, you want to fight, but what's the use? You won't get another chance at escaping the cabin and your own soul clings to the soulbond, refusing to let you weaken your connection to them. 

You fist the sheets, sniffling as darkness begins to drag you under. If the universe wants you here, wants you to stay with them, maybe.. maybe it's time you give up and accept it. 

You wake up, drowsy, to the sound of something clattering. It takes you a second to realize that it's coming from you – your teeth rattling in your mouth from the cold that has seeped into the room while you slept. Everything is dark aside from the pale moonlight shining through the window on the other side of the room, your breath fogging up the air in front of you as you breathe.

You gingerly flip over on your other side, pulling the sheets as tight to your body as they can go, but it doesn't help fend the cold off. It's no wonder this cabin is abandoned during most of the year, not if it's reliant on the fireplace in the common room to heat up the entire place. 

After what feels like an eternity of shivering, you hear Seokjin's raspy voice calling out in the quiet room. "Angel? Are you cold?" 

Fabric rustles as he shifts in the chair. You hold yourself as still as possible as footsteps pad across the wooden floors, Seokjin's darkened silhouette coming into view. He hesitates by the side of the bed for a second, just enough for your teeth to start clattering again before he makes up his mind and climbs in. The mattress dips as Seokjin's weight settles upon it, the man in front of you scooting down until he's facing you in the dark. 

A rush of cold air hits your body as he raises the sheets to shimmy under them, an arm curling around your waist before you can even think to open your mouth. Seokjin presses himself flush against your body, mindful of your injuries as he tucks your face into his neck. 

"I'm still upset with you, angel, and I know you're upset with me, but you need my body heat if you want to sleep." 

Seokjin is very warm. 

You inch closer without even meaning to, your sleepy brain desperate for the heat that radiates off him. Seokjin lets out a small gasp as your cold nose skims against his throat, his hand pressing between your shoulder blades to keep you close.

Sleep slowly begins to weigh down your eyelids again as you soak up Seokjin's warmth, your body relaxing so deeply it feels like your bones have been turned to mush. The last thing you remember is Seokjin nuzzling his face into your hair, lips pressing against it in a soft kiss that makes your heart flutter.

Perhaps, if you had been a little more awake, you would've realized it wasn't fear that made it skip a beat.

a/n: you can read ch 11 of lovesick early by clicking here!

it only took ten months but we're back baby!! how are we feeling about what happened in this chapter? namjoon bringing her back, the boys' reaction and her "punishment", her private moment with yoongi and seokjin ... lots of things happened so i would love to hear what you're thinking!!

see you in the next chapter and remember to wish jimin a happy b-day!! 💖

[nthspecialll]

I think we sometimes as a fandom tend to hyper-focus on certian characters' backgrounds simply because we like the character when in reality other characters who might not be as interesting has way better backstories, because no, Javier, Arthur and John are not the only ones with sad backstories

Like why does no one talk about what happened to Leopold's sister? Why does no one talk about young Lenny tracking down and killing folk? Why does no one talk about Javier actually in a way working for the government for a while and the reason why he killed that powerful military man? Why does no one talk about why Dutch is called Dutch and not by his actual first name? Why does no one talk about Bill's worst childhood fear coming true? Why does no one talk about both Swanson and Micah saving Dutch's life or that Tilly is also a murderer?

Anyways here is a full explanation of all the Van Der Linde gang members backstories.

Sean MacQuire

Sean Macquire and his father lived in Ireland possibly with more family but had to flee because the English (who were at the time in charge of ireland) were chasing them. They fled for their lives and they were in Boston for a month before his dad was shot in his sleep, showing the remaining Sean that there was truly no honor or shame in the world.

He was then sent to a reform school, which we all know was abusive and a living hell, so he ran, living as a low-life thief, he was a teenager, when he in a bar somewhere in North Elizabeth saw Dutch and Hosea and liked Dutch's watch. He followed the two into an alleyway and threatened them at gunpoint, however they laughed at him and told him to shoot, so he did, except the two others had noticed him first and taken the bullets from his gun. Sean started crying, thinking they were going to kill him but instead of doing that they gave him a home, a place to belong.

Lenny Summers

Lenny's grandparents as well as parents were slaves and his mother was born on a cotton field and taken away from his grandmother, who hadn't even known she was pregnant, immediately. His grandmother was then told to simply get back to work.

After the civil war, the old overseer kept making advandages towards Lenny's grandmother, to a point that in the end she needed to kill him and just barely escaped being lynched. Lenny's mother never saw the grandmother again.

Lenny's mother later met Mr Summers who was an educated man and taught Lenny to both read and write, however when Lenny was 15, his dad was beaten to death by several drunk men. Lenny stole a gun, tracked and hunted down the men, shooting them and showing no remorse even years later.

Kieran Duffy

Kieran Duffy's father was an Irishman who came to America with a dream of farming. It was there that he met Kieran's mother and not long after having Kieran, they both passed due to Cholera and not shortly after that the stables that he worked at to support himself threw him out. He decided to join the army to support himself but it didn't last long before he quit due to it "not working out well."

After returning from the army, he fell into work with a bunch of unnamed outlaws, though they all passed away, leaving him alone once again.

At some point he ran into the O'Driscolls who gave him a choice, to ride with them or to get killed, esencially forcing him to join them and work as a stable hand for them, though he was at the bottom of the latter simply working with the horses before being kidnapped by Arthur Morgan and joining the Van Der Linde gang.

Leopold Strauss

Leopold Strauss was born into severe poverty in Austria and his family struggled heavily with food. By the time that Strauss was only twelve, his older brother was beating up nightwatch men for whatever cash and food scraps they had on them. By that time Strauss's father had already sold his younger sister Anna, by the age of nine, into bonded labour to be able to provide for the rest of the family.

When Stauss was seventeen he was sent with his uncle to the US due to health problems, however the hellish sight of Brooklyn gave Strauss's uncle a heart attack on the spot, leaving Strauss alone in a forgein country. To survive he began doing illegal money scams and after doing so for years Dutch picked him up.

Tilly Jackson

Tilly Jackson was the daughter of a slave and became an outlaw by the mere age of twelve, running with a gang called the Foreman brothers who kidnapped her but after murdering the leaders cousin after he made advandages on her, she had to flee. She returned to her mothers workplace but found that she had already passed.

Later Tilly ran into Dutch Van Der Linde and as he was already taking care of John Marston and Arthur Morgan, he took her in, becoming just as much as a father figure to her as to the boys.

Micah Bell

Micah Bell was born directly into a life of crime as his father Micah Bell jr was a petty but ruthless and violent outlaw. Already when Micah was 17 him and his father were on run from the law as they had slid Jean and Roscoe Briggs throats and later hung them as well. His father was also his primary partner in crime, however he also seemed to have teamed up with his brother Amos a few times as well, however Amos regretted his past life and started a proper one with wife and children and threatened to kill Micah if he came close.

Micah had several partners in crime later in life, including Joe and Cleet who appears later in the game, as well as a fellow named Norman.

Micah runs into Dutch Van Der Linde in 1898 in a bar as Dutch is trying to sell some stolen goods, however the deal doesn’t work out and Micah steps in to help Dutch and save his life, earning a place in the gang.

Bill Williamson

Bill Williamson, also known as Marion Williamson, was born into an abusive family with a father who lost his mind to alchohol, even going to the point of mixing moonshine with whiskey. Watching this Bill always feared falling in love with liquor and suffering the same fate.

Bill always showed signs of being more of a troubled kid and being sent to a reform school did not stop him from building s solid criminal record as a kid.

Bill would later apply to the military and serve in the 15th infantry, fighting against the native americans before being dishonorably discharged for deviancy and attempted murder in 1892. For a year after he lived rough, truly falling in love with liqour and stealing from people om the side of the roads, one time being robbed himself by a "woman" (likely a cross dresser or genderqueer person).

In 1893 Bill tried to rob Dutch and got angry as the man simply laughed at him, however he calmed down as he was allowed a spot in the Van Der Linde gang.

Daniel(?) "Dutch" Van Der Linde

Dutch's mother was an english woman named Greta and his father a dutch man who lived somewhere near Philadelphia who fought in the civil war and died, which is why Dutch hated southeners.

Dutch's nickname rumors to come from his father's desperate attempt at keeping touch with his ancerstory.

When he was 15, he left home due to troubles with his mother whom he never got along with and simply saw him as a disobedient and troubled kid. He wished for freedom above all so to gain this he started a life of crime and in mid 1870 met Hosea Matthews.

Hosea Matthews

Hosea was born in around 1844 and lived the majority of his earlier life in the mountians, growing to love fishing and hunting. His father was mostly absent, living a life of "sin and debauchery that would make an emperor blush." Hosea saw his dad only about three times in his life but loved him none the less.

He tried to make his way with comedy as a stage actor, however he turned to petty thieft, stealing from his audience and later others in town. He was caught by the sheif stealing a chicken and sentenced to be hanged. Luckiy for Hosea the town folk saw it as a punishment too cruel and a riot broke out which ended with someone shooting the noose around Hosea's neck, allowing him to flee.

Mid 1870 Hosea found Dutch sitting by a campfire and decided to rob him, however found that Dutch had already robbed him. Hosea feared for a moment for his life but it ended with the two of them laughing it off and teaming up.

Molly O'Shea

Molly O'Shea was born into a wealthy Irish family, set up to live a proper and educated life, however she quickly got bored and showed little interest in the life set up for her, so she ran off to America in search of adventure and excitment. At some point she ran into Dutch Van Der Linde and found an interest in him and his life style, only to later genuiently fall in love with him.

Arthur Morgan

Arthur Morgan was born to Beatrice and Lyle Morgan in northen US. His mother died in his early life and he never really got along with his father whom there are rumors was abusive. Lyle lived a life of petty crime and was arrested and executed. Arthur saw his father die and although not having the best relationship, Arthur kept his father's hat and picture.

In 1877 Arthur was 14 and a wild delinquent. He ran into Dutch and Hosea, being picked up and taken under their wing, taught not only the ways of crime but also skills like reading, writing, hunting and so on.

Uncle

Uncle was born in Ohio (insert Penelope Braithwaithe shutter) with the only family present being his parents who died when he was nine and an "uncle" named Jeb whom Uncle hints at being a pedofile.

After his parents death he was on his own and was forced to a new city where he had to care for himself, and from that time to the game start in 1899, we know he has been married at least twice.

Uncle tells many stories of his past such as going to Africa and being worthshipped like a god by the locals, however the truth of these stories are highly doubted due to his tendency to lie. He does tell stories of being a "one shot kid" in his younger days, the truth of these also being doubted, however it may have been his tricket into the Van Der Linde gang.

Susan Grimsaw

Along with Hosea, Dutch and Arthur Susan was one of the founding memebers of the Van Der Linde gang, having run into Dutch during a poker game where both he and she found interest in one another, causing the curious couple and their unruly son to stay in the area a bit longer, paying poker long into the night while Susan sat on Dutch's lap.

Having gotten into a romantic relationship with Dutch, Susan was allowed to join the small group and even stayed when Dutch moved on to Annabelle, now serving as a form of housemother, making sure that people did their work, took properly care of themselves and made camp feel like home.

You can also hear Susan talking to Mary-Beth one time in camp, admitting that she had a fiance once however he went to heaven.

John Marston

John Marston was born in 1873 to an illiterate scottish father born on the boat to New York and a prositute mother who died during his birth. At first John lived with his father who constantly spoke of Scotland and his love for the country, however he was blinded in a bar fight south of Chicargo and later died when John was eight. The true cause of his father's death is unknown however John was told it was a barfight.

John spent a few years in an orphanage before running off and living on his own, at the mere age of eleven commiting his first murder by shooting a man, though he claims it was not his fault.

At the age of twelve John had been caught stealing from homesteaders who planned to have him hanged, however Dutch stepped in and took him under his wing.

Orville Swanson

Swanson used to wrok as a Clergyman but after indulging in the "earthly pleasures", being seduced by alchohol and sex, he lost his family, job and in the end faith, though he desperately tried to regain it.

At some point or another he fell in love with a woman named Margaret, though she was already married, so he simply added bigamy to the list of sins he had already commited. When the two of them were in San Fransisco, the law finally caught up wth them and while she fled onto a ship headed for Shanghai he was stuck and never saw her again.

Under unknown circomstances Swanson came to save Dutch's life and due to Dutch's debt to Swanson he was allowed to join the gang.

Mary-Beth Gaskill

Being a woman of good nature, Mary-Beth did not struggle getting close to her victims after having found herself needing to find a living in the streets. Due to her looks and personality she could with ease fool the richer men into thinking they were saving a poor maiden in need while her fingers slipped into their pockets.

It was through this that Mary-Beth got in trouble with not just the law but her victims as well. One night she had gotten a few foul men on her tail that she ran into the Van Der Linde gang who saved her and asked her to join them.

Charles Smith

Charles Smith was born to a Native Mother and a free African American father, all three of them living fairly happily with his mothets tripe together with a few other free men before the US army chased them away.

They continued to live together but a few years later Charles' mother was captured by the army, leading Charles' father to fall into alcoholism and a deep depression.

At the mere age of 13 Charles left his father and began to live on his own, becoming a supreme survivalist from an early age.

Some point during the late 1898 ran into the Van Der Linde gang in the Grizzlies and joined them.

Simon Pearson

Simon Pearson's family were whale hunters and although Pearson wished to follow in their footsteps it did not go that way due to the whale industry having lessened by the time that he got out of school. Having been forced to look for new employment options, Pearson joins the Navy where he even managed to get stranded for fifty days on a ship filled with plauge, watching his friends and coworkers slowly drop one by one.

After having returned from the Navy Pearson begins to struggle financially and takes a loan, however unable to pay it off loansharks comes after him and it is during one of these attempts at getting to Pearson that the Van Der Linde gang saves him and brings him to camp as a cook.

Abigail Marston

Abigail Marston, originally born Abigail Roberts, was orphaned at a young age and started roaming around bars, scraping whatever few coins she could take from folk before starting a work of prostitution, making an earning by selling her body and at some point running into Uncle at a bar who introduced her to the gang.

Now living with the gang, Abigail still worked as a prositute up until falling pregnant with Jack Marston by John Marston.

Josiah Trelawny

Josiah Trelawny was born in England though he has no memories of his life there, he later imigated to America where he starts working as a conman and trickster. It was during this line of work that he met yhe Van Der Linde gang and joined them bur with a special advandage as he, unlike the others, was allowed to appear and disappear as he pleased, always knowing when Dutch planned to cut him off and return with a big hit.

Josiah has a family living in Saint Denis concisting of a wife and two sons named Tarquin and Cornelius. Just as with the gang, he would disappear on them for months.

Karen Jones

Karen Jones lived as a scam artist in her early years and absolutely loved the outlaw lifestyle and hoped for a bit more which partly drove her to accept the Van Der Linde gang's invitation, hoping to achieve more.

Javier Escuella

Javier Escuella was born in Mexico to a drunkard father who worked for Allende' (a main antagonist in rdr1, a military man) uncle. When he was young he saw his own uncle as well as four other separate men get casterated and fed to pigs for simply suggesting fair wages for their work.

Javier moved on to become a violent and known bounty hunter and revolutionary, fighting against what he saw as a corupt system.

Javier ended up killing a powerful former military man for a woman that he loved, fearing for his loved ones life he fled to America where he knew no english and had no work or food, leaving him starving.

It was in America that he ran into Dutch as they both were trying to steal the same chickens. Dutch took Javier in, fed him, gave him a family and a life, leading Javuer to idiolize Dutch also for his revolutionary ideals.

At some unknown point someone attempted to kill Javier, leading to him having a prominent scar on his throat.

Sadie Alder

Sadie Alder grew up in a harsh envioment and from a very early age learned how to hunt and ride to care for herself, things that Jack Adler fell in love with. The two of them married september 1896, moving to a ranch in Ambarino where they had three happy years of marriage before the O'Driscolls arrived at their cabin.

[candycandy00]

Office Life (Shigaraki x Reader)

Just Shigaraki awkwardly fantasizing about the cute receptionist who works in the same office building as him. You guys let me know if you like this quick “imagine” format for when I don’t have a full fanfic idea.

Smut. 18+. Violence/Blood (not Reader’s). Gender neutral Reader. Dubcon.

Shigaraki, who never had much interest in sex before, when he was so busy with the League and the war. Sure he jacked off to hentai every now and then, but the thought of having real life sex with a real live person didn’t really enter his brain. 

Until now. 

Shigaraki, who is fresh out of prison and working a dumb office job as part of his “rehabilitation”. Who is ignored and avoided by most of his coworkers because of his very publicized past. 

Shigaraki, who just can’t understand why you’re nice to him, why you smile at him so sweetly, like he’s an actual human being and not a monster. Why you, the cute receptionist from down the hall, keeps coming into the office he works in with five other men, desks all lined up neatly. 

Shigaraki, who likes that you look at him and acknowledge him, but sometimes has the irrational urge to show you how terrifying and monstrous he can be, to make you fear him the way everyone else does.

Shigaraki, who sometimes has violent fantasies about you that he will never act upon. Like today when you come into the room to share cookies you baked and brought in to the office. You, having such an obvious crush on him that even a socially inept weirdo like him can tell, blush and smile shyly when he takes a cookie from the box you hold out to him. 

Shigaraki, who has no idea what you could possibly like about him, but feels a little smug that the rest of the guys in the office are clearly jealous. 

And as you move toward the back of the room handing out cookies, constantly glancing back to see if he’s eating his, as if wanting his approval, Shigaraki’s dark fantasy takes over again. 

He imagines standing up from his chair and moving through the room, decaying each man in turn, most of them still holding their dumb fucking cookies, only to reach the back, where you’re cowering in a corner, trembling with fear as blood pools around your feet. 

You turn around to look at him, terror in those big wet eyes of yours, and then the pleading starts. He imagines you begging him not to kill you, babbling promises to not tell anyone, confessing your love in some desperate attempt to win his favor. You’re still clutching your frilly pink box of homemade cookies in your shaking hands. 

In his fantasy, he has perfect control over his quirk at all times, and with no effort at all he can decay the clothes right off your body, leaving you naked and vulnerable in the room full of bloody chunks. And you drop the cookies in your shock, trying to cover yourself with your hands. 

He won’t allow that. He’s wondered what you look like under your clothes for too long. And so he roughly pulls your hands away, getting an eye full, before shoving your back onto the nearest desk, spreading you open and unbuckling his pants. 

In this fantasy, you always struggle at first. But after he starts fucking you hard, you begin moaning his name, wrapping your arms around him, looking up at him with teary eyes and blushing cheeks as he rails you. 

Shigaraki, who snaps back to reality when you walk by him, the scent of your floral perfume drawing his attention. You look at the uneaten cookie in his hand and a flash of sadness crosses your face. He hurries to take a bite, and tries to give you a smile that isn’t creepy. 

You smile back, and he knows for a fact he will never, ever act on his worst impulses with you. Because far more than his desire to show you how much of a villain he can be, he wants you to keep smiling at him. 

And someday, maybe he’ll stop being a fucking coward and ask you to go to a movie with him. 

[wesstars]

ducked out

tara carpenter x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: sam doesn't like what she's hearing. wc: 401 tags: suggestive language a/n: for the wonderful @evilwednesday.

masterlist

“Don’t you think it’s kind of small?”

Sam stopped in her tracks right in front of Tara’s door, feeling the shock of pure terror shoot through her spine. That was Tara’s voice, and while Sam didn’t want to jump to conclusions, things weren’t looking good for her sister right about now.

“No, this is an average size.” Your voice came through the door, snappy. In all honesty, you were the only one of Tara’s girlfriends that Sam had actually liked—she was desperately clinging to this thought as her mind went to the worst.

“It’s a weird design, though…”

“I like this design, Tara.”

“How much does it fit?”

Sam couldn’t make out your hushed words from behind the door, but dread began to ball in her stomach, heavy and sickening, as she couldn’t bring herself to just move. She desperately wanted to, of course, but it was like being frozen from fear.

“Wow, that’s a lot… oh—”

Closing her eyes in pain, Sam felt indignation began to take over. Of course, you and Tara were adults. It—it—was normal, perfectly so, but being faced with its reality… that was something Sam couldn’t handle.

“Just put it in!”

“No, it’s not going in.” Your voice floated alongside Tara’s. What the fuck?

“Try flipping it around.”

“I did, it’s not working!”

Truly, the world was ending for Sam. An apocalypse, natural disaster, global famine, couldn’t have topped this.

“Flip it back, just put it in—” Tara said insistently.

“Okay—”

“FUCK!” Yours and Tara’s voices sounded in unison as the door slammed against the wall. Sam stood in the entrance, panting with bright red cheeks.

“Sam! You almost broke the door down!” Tara was rightfully indignant, you thought. What the hell was Sam doing anyway, barging in and being impossibly loud?

You turned back, giving it one last shove. “Tara, I got it!” Sam dropped to the floor, face in her hands, as Tara faced you with a grin.

“God, you’re the best,” Tara said as she leaned in and gave you a kiss. “I was worried I’d have to go and get one myself.”

You reached out and rubbed Tara’s arm. “You can always trust me, babe.” A USB stood proudly in Tara’s PC, complete with a pattern of uniquely dressed ducks, of Robson...

A flash drive had ended Sam Carpenter’s world, and neither you nor her sister had a care in the world.

--

a/n cont’d: pranked… haha… happy fish of april 🦆