lilibeams

[lilibeams]

Fours a Franchise

Part 19

Wordcount: 6,978

A male cop sat by your bedside that afternoon.

Asking you as much as he could while Judy and him took turns writing things and asking things as well. “Those men, who were they?” 

“Hard to say.” You replied as calmly as you could. You were a horrible liar according to everyone but you tried your best to dance around the truth. Sweating bullets and being able to thankfully blame it on sepsis and medication.

“What about that night?” The cop asked as Judy wrote things down.

“They just showed up… Do we have to ask all this right now?” You coughed out sickly. You felt like absolute death.

“I'm afraid we do, Miss YN... Did you know them?...Witnesses  say you called someone.” 

“Jill is the only one alive. Just say Jill.” You mumbled in agitation. Oh you wanted so badly to unravel her lie that she was SUPPOSED to be hiding under a bed and you were on the roof on the other side of the house fighting Ghostface when you called Stu. She was a fucking liar but you had to bite your tongue. You both had a deal here.

“No, of course not. Who I called wasn't those guys if that's what you're implying...I was calling numbers on my phone for help and accidentally called a distant friend I barely ever see. I meant to call Dewey and accidentally called him. He probably thought I was pranking him or something. Ghostface attacked me after that I dropped my phone in the yard and fell off the roof.” You shrugged. Trying not to look at the cop and keeping a poker face with the truth with sprinkles of lies in it. 

The officer wrote things down, “Did those two men take you against your will from this hospital?” 

“Yes.” You firmly stated and looked back at him. Not a lie. They did drag you out. That was God's honest truth that you wish they wouldn't have done but also what choices did you all have left?

“Their description?” 

You tried to ponder, truthfully having to remember what Jill even said. She rushed it out while threatening you in a half delirious fever type of state. “I um…They uh didn't let me look at them too much…”

“Elaborate for us. Why wouldn't you look at your captors?” He sternly demanded

You softly raised your hand trying to find the words and swiped a hand motion over your eye. Getting nervous he might be unraveling you already. 

“You mean blindfolded? Threatened you?” 

“B-Blindfold. Yeah, they blindfolded me once in the car.” What a lie but a good one to save yourself. You didn't know if you could lie that well so try as you.might you gave a half truth. “I passed out most of the car ride, anyways. I didn't see where they took me like roads and everything. And um…And once at the house, I wasn't around them much and they didn't let me see them with being uh…Blindfolded and tied. I was way too weak to even try escaping…” You swallowed. 

“Too weak?” 

“Yeah. Too scared. Too sick. Too injured. I really was out of it and a sitting duck as a hostage.” You gave with a tight voice. God, you might puke again. 

You yelled internally, ‘Damn it, YN. Pull it together. Tell some damn useful fake info!’ Especially now that the cop eyed you, pausing in their writing to analyze you. 

You continued, “But um I did see them a few times and at Kirby's of course…One had red hair I think and far apart teeth and eyes. Tall… The other with dark hair had a hook nose and tan skin…Um…The tall one had a tattoo of something on his shoulder. Uh…Right. Yeah, his right shoulder. He… ” You debated but just went for it. “They reminded me of that Tim and James guy from Windsor years back. Just older and different.”

“So you think these men are the same ones from the 98 incident in Ohio??” Judy asked instead and looked intrigued at the revelation.

It was risky. It could link Billy and Stu to Tim and James like you tried 13 years ago…But it could also get them away from the Tim and James image and send police on a wild goose chase for a while.

You sighed, “The one's never found or proven? I can't say..Maybe? I was in too much shock. It all happened fast and I was on anesthesia once at the hospital and…” You sighed more begrudgingly this time. “This time; I was too focused on protecting Jill at the house than to get details on who those men were but they did remind me of them. I just know that the one definitely had a tattoo and the other had a hooked nose and gree- no, blue. Yeah, blue eyes.” You swallowed down the lies just spewing from you to save your ass while you felt your back sweating and soaking your hospital gown.

“What was it? The tattoo?” 

Oh shit…Shit! Damn, what did that little murdering cretin say it was? Oh no…Think think-

You gave a tight uncomfortable smile and shook your head, “A Phoenix or Dragon or something? I don't remember.” Well the not remembering part was true. 

“And if we reviewed cameras; would it match your story of being dragged out?” 

You ALMOST felt a coughing fit happen at how dry your mouth was…But ICU had no cameras in the room, you remembered that much. Only the hallway.

Judy wrote all this down and nodded to herself. Hopefully that was good…

“Yes…I was dragged out against my will.” 

———————————

Gale listened beside Dewey as they stayed out of the room but within ear shot as he was still technically on the case as Sheriff till he fully turned his badge in. Dewey seemed like he didn't want to see you, didn't want to be near you, didn't want anything to do with you, especially the more you spoke. 

After the officer left your hospital room with Judy in tow, Gale went in despite Dewey trying to get her not to. It seemed she wasn't even worrying about Judy, just enraged at your lies. Dewey was trying to grab her arm but she barged in anyways once you 3 were alone.

You laid there still sicker than a dog but feeling more aware with the right treatment each hour. You gazed over at the woman you once tried so hard to see as a friend even after everything she had done over a decade ago. Look where it got you?

“What are you doing?” Gale demanded with a stern hiss. “What are you playing at? We all saw them and you know who they were. Shit, you protected them! You protected them from Dewey!” 

You said nothing…Glancing over at Dewey in the doorway who wouldn't look at you. A frown and tense look on his face as he folded his arms.

“Listen, YN. I know now. Okay? I do. I should have listened; I believe you. I know Jill Roberts was one of the Ghostface's and she helped Charlie. If you help me; we can lock her up. Randy and all the other victims can get justice.” 

Your eyes widened with a tiny glimmer of hope in you but you shoved it down and knew better. Gale could just be baiting you. Getting you to admit just to lock you up too. And besides…It was too late for that. They shoved you aside, damned you, and protected Jill. There was no turn from that. They could have killed Jill when she showed how she was the potential killer or at least arrested her and kill or fight Billy and Stu afterwards…You didn't know if you would've fought for Billy and Stu as much had Jill been dead but you'd be damned if Jill lived and your only support in Billy and Stu died because of Dewey and Gale. That hope was dead.

Gale stared at you as you were silent. She urged you, “Please just give a correct goddamn statement. Even just to us. I swear, if you tell us the truth, we'll get her…Damn it, do it for Randy. Wasn't he your friend?” 

You stared at her long and hard. “...Because you're so trustworthy after everything you've done?” You mumbled then stayed silent. Anything you said could and would be used against you with cops or the media…Especially Dewey and Gale now. 

“Hmph. So that's how it is, huh? You're gonna betray everyone to hide those two and to keep your own ass safe? Using Selfish Bitch." Gale spat not even whispering now.

Apparently you were a bad liar and a using bitch to everyone lately.

You just looked away wishing she would just leave. “...I told you that night.” You croaked out. “I told you and look what you did. What both of you did…I told you 15 years ago and then 13 years ago…” You shook your head to yourself. “And from a decade onward I've had to rely on myself…You both did this decades ago and now you're trying to blame me?”

Gale perked up and Dewey spared a glance.

You continued in a low mumble, “...I never helped Billy and Stu in 1996. I meant every bit of that. I swear on my life, I never helped them kill my friend's and tried to get them caught for it.” You told the whole truth but carefully in case Gale had a wire. “And you tried taking me to court to be tried as an accomplice for murder over a delay and possibly altered tape. A serious crime with decades of prison time had it worked and you expect me to trust telling you anything? Fuck you.” 

Dewey subtly eyed you. Frowning deeply at ‘friend's’ knowing that meant Tatum too. Yet he seemed like he couldn't even bring himself to truly look at you let alone talk to you. Gale's eye twitched at you dishing the fact of what she tried to pull years ago.

“...Fine.” Gale shrugged mockingly. “Fine, you weren't involved then but you know they're alive. You knew all this time and you hid it…Why? Why did you hide it? Why did you buck me so much at Windsor? Whether we had bad blood or not; we both agreed. We both know who Tim and James are and the first description is accurate. Not this shit you're selling. We both saw them at Windsor, we both saw them a few nights ago in ICU and they do not have a hooked nose and blue eyes and red hair and a fucking tattoo. Why did you hide them in Hollywood? Why are you hiding them now? WHY?” She pleaded urgently with a frown.

You blinked at that but kept your lips sealed.

“Dewey has the pictures of you with them in a motel. Twice.” She threatened through gritted teeth. “I didn't see a fucking hooked nose. I didn't see red hair. I see a damn liar meeting up with two murderers…And they look like grown up Billy Loomis and Stu Macher.” 

Ah…That's right. Randy seemed to mention something or maybe it was Dewey? It was hard to tell in the chaos. Regardless, you didn't care if it was clear as day…You were gonna deny it. You had nothing left to lose but your life and freedom and you weren't talking.

Gale seemed to be losing her patience with your tight lip routine. “Aren't you gonna talk? Why are you lying? Why are you giving false descriptions of them when those aren't the pictures you described at college? Andrews and Richard's description matched too…What happened to that scar on James aka Billy's cheek, hm? The one you insisted on at Windsor. Same side you cut Billy with shears the night before he supposedly roped you in against your will. He had gauze on his cheek at the party from you and he still has that scar. In fact, I saw it here at this hospital.  Why leave out that important identifier?...If we found this guy you had relations with or whoever else is on your phone; would he have a scar, YN?” She growled out through her teeth.

“13 years ago…I was under stress and projecting my trauma. I saw what I wanted to see and I think Randy did too. I was in a bad place mentally. But now that I'm more aware and better?” You stared at her long and hard. Lying but this was an easy lie to retell because it was a lie people already labeled you with. “...I just don't remember a scar now-”

“Stop lying!” Gale scoffed loudly, “How can you live with yourself knowing two murderers are free all because of you!? How can you lie to us all these years? In fact, if I was more shocked I'd return the favor and hit you like you did me back in the day; but I'm not that shocked. I always knew you were a liar, I just couldn't prove it. You probably did work with them in 96, right? You're just trying to make it look good, right?...Huh? Are you secretly happy that everyone is dead?” 

You just took it. Numbly gazing at her. Anything you said would be against you. Gale was baiting you to talk and you weren't falling for it. They could claim they had evidence and you still wouldn't speak. 

“You aren't even gonna defend yourself?” Gale demanded. “We could go through your phone, you know. We can see who called. Who you texted. Pictures. I can dig deep. I can find evidence at your house. I can ask around.”

You sighed and just shrugged. All while holding her gaze as you laid in that hospital bed. You felt like you had done this too many times and honestly? You were damn tired. If you did go to prison…So what? This shit was getting way too old for you. Might as well try lying and playing stupid and see if it's as easy as these Ghostface's act like it is.

She grumbled out, “You fucking -” 

“Gale.” Dewey's voice rang out in a low tone. “Leave her alone…She clearly won't talk. We're wasting our time.” 

You frowned deeply wanting desperately to talk to him, more than Gale, to explain…But you knew that was a wasted effort. He wouldn't listen. Hell, he could be bugged; not the same Dewey you knew. So you kept quiet as Gale stormed out before turning back to you and marching back to your bedside to get her final say. 

She returned to get the final word. “You know, I'm a tough cookie. I can handle my maid of honor at my wedding betraying me. I can handle you being a fucking liar…But I can't handle you hurting my husband. He's done nothing but be heartbroken and who can blame him? A woman he looked at like a little sister knew the guys that killed his actual sister; that they were both alive! All while she lied to his face for 15 years!” She spat out, looking almost ready to hit you.

“Gale!” Dewey ordered in a shaky way that just didn't even sound like him. “That's enough. Let's go.” 

You knew your face was failing you. The one ‘Woodsboro Family’ you had left thought you killed Tatum or at least Randy. And at best; he thought, no, he knew you hid his sisters' murderers from him for years.

You swallowed to get the lump down in your throat. Your chest ached as you looked at Dewey and you both locked eyes for a moment and you saw a cold look. Hurt and hate in his eyes you never thought would ever be directed at you as he and Gale left you alone in that hospital room.

“Dewey.” You mumbled to Dewey. “…Where's the Dewey I knew in Hollywood that nabbed my files for me to help me?…Or who read all my book just because I wrote it and found it inspiring?…And now you won't even talk to me alone and hear me out?” You tearly gave in to his revenge and anger and bitterness making him a totally different man. Like seeing Billy and Stu made him spiral and you know it was the cherry on top. “I'm still sorry, Dewey.” 

Leaving you feeling more alone than ever before. Such a stark contrast from him 15 years ago hugging you and crying in your arms at the hospital and defending you…To being the one accusing you and staying away.

Dewey stared at you. His mouth twitched in a tight frown before he left you alone.

———————————

Gale listened as the officer interviewed Jill and her mouth hung open as Jill gave the exact description of the two that you did…It was a lie! It was impossible!

As Judy wrapped it up, Gale all but grabbed her. “This isn't right! Damn it, aren't you trained in observation? Didn't you see the guy that shot you!?” 

“Get your hands off of an Officer, Gale.” Judy ripped her arm away defensively, “I didn't get a good look at him because he shot me after he hit me in the head but he was tall with far apart eyes-” 

“And the hair? Was it dark blonde or red?” 

Judy pondered, “Blondish?…No, Red. Strawberry Blonde-” 

“No!” Gale grumbled at her memory being tainted by Jill and you. “Look at the cameras! Me and Dewey can give an exact description.” 

Judy sighed, “And I believe that of Dewey.” Gale's eyes narrowed at the favoritism as Judy continued, “But we have two witnesses that claim differently and they match up even when interviewing them separately and being away from each other for days. And the cameras only show certain angles that match! We didn't see faces up close and the footage isn't in color.” 

“Why the hell not!?” 

“It's a small old hospital!” Judy exclaimed and shrugged dramatically. “And I'd rather discuss this with Sheriff Riley alone, Gale.” 

Dewey's shoulders were tense as Gale rubbed her face and ignored the blonde's last statement.

Gale mumbled to herself, “I don't understand... How does Jill go from wanting YN dead and claiming she's involved to claiming she was… What? Just scared and misunderstood the situation? And how did they both lie correctly? They had to have communicated together recently under our fucking noses. They had to!” Gale ranted as none of this went how she expected. 

Judy got out her notepad, “Do you want to give another statement? These guys…Sheriff Riley said Billy and Stu…He said in a past statement Jill told him that YN-” 

‘Oh Dewey…’ She thought to herself as she watched him walk away and gave him space. The man looked defeated. Like everything he knew turned out to be a lie.

Gale and Judy blinked hearing something be thrown in the bin nearby. Gale faltered seeing Dewey stalk off. “Sheriff?” Judy worriedly called out to him as Gale went to the trash bin. Picking up his hat with a tight frown. For her husband to do that? To something he was so proud of and his job? 

————————————

You took a stressful 2 days to ‘recover’. Everyday was you on edge and sicker than a dog, you swore your blood pressure was probably up and heart rate a permanent over 100 bpm. The police bothered you one more time for a description and you tried your best to lie about their appearance and you knew you were suspicious. Probably a shitty liar. Stressed and tense and nervous as Hell. But lucky for you, one thing was truthful; you did not know where they were or directions of where they took you. During the day, you were passed out. At night, you were feverish and it was dark. 

You were waiting for them to catch you in a lie. To search your phone. You hated that Billy and Stu stupidly sent you here with your phone on you. Probably not even thinking with you close to death. 

However, it didn't happen. Gale came to pressure you one more time with the photos Dewey had. And to your relief, yeah you COULD say they looked like Billy and Stu especially a decade ago but the most recent ones had them both pretty obscure while inside the motel on the outskirts of Woodsboro. In fact, you couldn't see them. Judy just took shitty pictures to report to Dewey. They had nothing. 

Of course, when she pressed the cops once she realized you wouldn't talk…They questioned.

“Who are those men and why were you meeting them?” 

You paled at Judy's urgent questioning on day 2 in a half of you in that hospital. You sighed…Damn Gale. Damn her.

"You mean the ones you followed me and took pictures of in secret? Stalking me?" I grumbled.

Judy remained aloof, "It was Sheriff Riley's orders to keep an eye on you at all times. Who were they?"

“...One is my mechanic and the other I met in Hollywood years ago…I met them for…” You groaned and was unable to make up something better. “We have…We needed each other.” You nervously coughed out.

Judy looked oblivious. “And what for?” 

Despite yourself you felt flustered because even as a lie; you didn't feel like claiming a booty call. “Um…Relations.” 

She blinked. 

You narrowed your eyes; dear lord how did she have a kid? 

“Sex.” 

Judy's eyes widened even buggier than usual. “Oh…OH!” She wrote something down. “You with…Both??” 

“Yes.” You forced out cheeks heating and a glare at the wall. “I have a well known name and I know how unconventional it is so they're a secret.” 

Judy cleared her throat and uncomfortably adjusted herself. “Well…Ms. YN. There's no room for secrets with a string of murders. Where are they?” 

“Don't know, we called it off.” 

“Oh really? And what were their names?” 

You shrugged, “Vincent and Den..Nis. Dennis.” 

Judy raised a brow. “Last names?” 

“Vincent never told me his last name.” 

“And you never asked??” Judy looked bewildered.

You blew air through clenched teeth, “Look it was never serious enough. Not everything is a Disney Romance, you know... Vincent is just a guy that works at some mechanic shop that I think is closed now and we have…Look we just have quick relations, okay?” You grumbled wanting to be anywhere but here. 

“And Dennis? You met him in Hollywood? During Stab? Could it be-” She gasped. “...The actor?! Rafkin?” 

You winced, “...Um…Maybe...Yes. He keeps a low profile probably out of the Country on Holiday.” Unable to get out of this one. 

“Do you have their numbers?” 

“Yes but I doubt they'd answer. We called it off.” You gazed over at her. “And they weren't involved. I promise I know my…-” You grimaced. “Guys and they were not the two guys involved in this.” 

Judy wrote things down. “You know we can get a warrant to look through your phone-” 

“You can now.” You swallowed hoping doing this might make you look more innocent.

You felt your palms sweating as she looked. Then raised a brow seeing ‘Vincent’ texts. “What's this?” 

“We spoke secretly because I did not want Randy and them to look down on me for my private life…We called in secret. I heard a noise and thought it was the killer and it wasn't. So he texted me frantically thinking something happened.” 

And that was the honest truth, actually…Hm. Maybe this lying thing wasn't too hard. Just tell what truth you could throughout the lies.

Judy nodded looking through your phone seeing you had called an ‘unknown’ number the night at Kirby's.

“That was Dennis. I meant to press Dewey's contact. I always kept his unknown because he was so…Embarrassed over being with someone like me.” You forced yourself to give as if a woman scorned.

She eyed you and you prayed she bought it. To your immense relief, she handed you the phone. “You deserve better. Especially if he's the same guy I heard you arguing with at Mr's Meeks' house in the backyard. I know how tough a situationship can be, believe it or not.” 

“Can't argue with that.” You sighed out in relief. 

“Well, for now, they're not suspects or witnesses. We aren't resting till we capture these guys that kidnapped you though. Murderers, kidnappers, one shot an officer and could've killed me…I swear, I'll never forget his face…I swear he looked familiar.” 

You forced a head nod but felt tension at that. That tension didn't leave even as she finally left. All it would take is watching a movie with Dennis and boom.

You heard Gale arguing with her down the hall and you rolled your eyes. You saw Judy warn Gale to back off of police business. Showing her badge for emphasis through the window.

Gale wasn't gonna stop. She just wasn't. And if she did? It would be a while. Years of watching your back, who you talked to, who you called, what you said.

You sighed and leaned back, closing your eyes in your elevated hospital bed. You couldn't go home fast enough. No more hustle and bustle, no more interviews, no more book signings, no more. You didn't care if you had to work remotely or a shitty normal job  if it meant peace. A nice domestically slow leisurely life. You were so damn eager after all this time and all this stress; so much grief fueling you to shut yourself away like you did a decade ago. Only this time no Randy or Dewey by your side. 

It was a little bit later that you turned on your tv while trying to stomach food of some sort…Every news station was you and Woodsboro and…Jill Roberts.

You declined every single interview not only to appease that little monster but because you just wanted to be done with the limelight. If Jill wanted all eyes on her like a spoiled brat? So be it! 

Your eyes narrowed and a sickening feeling came up as Jill played the victim in her hospital room still down the hall from you. Most likely an interview from earlier today. 

“It was terrifying…I'm just so glad me and YN made it. YN really fought hard but after she went down I did what I had to survive and finish off Charlie and the other two thankfully stayed down…It was traumatic.” She dabbed her eyes.

That lying little bitch. 

You felt anger well up in you. There was no answer. Either go to prison for god knows how long and have your name tainted to HOPEFULLY get her to go to prison too…Or suck it up that the person that murdered her friends and yours; got away with it. Clearly the police after interviewing you both separately again and again were positive despite Dewey or Gale's rambling and a stray nurse or doctor that didn't line up. The police and media seemed to think that you weren't involved and sadly neither was that piece of teenage shit.

Two crudely drawn pictures of ‘suspects’ were up. They somewhat resemble Billy and Stu but not quite. Not enough to pick them out of a crowd right away. Thankfully after you ‘admitted’ to Windsor pictures of Billy and Stu as Tim and James not being accurate and Randy unable to buck you or those two Detectives; they weren't reliable now. Just a traumatized teen girl that needed on meds back in ‘98 that poorly convinced, but convinced nonetheless, the authorities that the current sketch was more accurate of ‘Tim and James’ aka the guys ‘Most likely’ involved. Vincent and Dennis may need to change their look and lay low for a year or two. Maybe even change identities…But they might get away too, and despite how wrong it was, you were kinda…Relieved. 

You groaned and turned your tv off. Unable to listen to Jill's fucking lies. She lied much better than you did but thankfully since both your stories matched and they had no idea the cunning weasel Jill was. No clue she called you in secret on someone's phone or even the hospital staff for all you knew with how devious she was…Who would contradict your statements? Your ‘description’ matched up and you two were the only ones at the house to say so and the hospital had a few camera shots of them but too many contradictions. Judy barely got a glimpse of them and could clearly easily be swayed. Dewey was ranting like a lunatic that it was Billy and Stu and was obviously discredited for it and Gale was 50/50 if people would believe her. 

Dewey and Gale's descriptions were accurate and looked like Billy and Stu who were supposed to be dead. You and Jill's description match for the most part and you both were the victims at the house and both of you feigned innocence that ‘How could they possibly be Billy and Stu? There's no way.’ 

Who would the cops and the media believe? Exactly.

You closed your eyes. Back to square one. Being the innocent sweetheart was good while it lasted but you knew it wouldn't last forever. Just like you knew it wouldn't last for Jill either…She'll find out the hard way attention isn't always good. 

You knew conspiracy theorists would side with Gale and Dewey just like they did in the 90's when Gale made her claims you were involved. Some believer had attacked you at your damn house. And truthfully, this time around they'd be half correct. But thankfully, no one but tinfoil hats and naysayers would trust Gale's word over you, Jill and the media.

————————————

Gale paced their house. “This is bullshit…” She shoved a newspaper onto the table. “Utter bullshit, Dewey!” 

Dewey clutched his head. Yesterday still on his mind and today. He had to identify Randy Meeks body for Karla before they planned any final arrangements yesterday. He didn't want Karla to have that on her…Seeing his lifeless face.

The legal battle of Randy being Jewish and the state versus his religion on keeping his body for examination way past 24 hours for any evidence. He looked like a Halloween prop to Dewey. Skin unnatural from being kept on ice so to speak. They made sure he was not embalmed, at least only kept on ice and a Rabbi performed the right ceremonies for him. The Jewish Community the Meeks were a part of, including his sister Martha, fought the authorities wanting his body buried immediately while coroner's had to gather as much evidence as possible. Fibers, prints, how he was killed, if the knife matched a suspect.

It was only after determining the killer was most likely Charlie after finding knife patterns matching his Dad's hunting knife and shoe prints matching his in the mud and a hair found almost days later on Randy's jeans matching Charlie that they could put him to rest…Even though there was plenty of other contaminated evidence from the party on him and even if arguably some evidence was overlooked. Dewey just had to confirm the body one more time before putting him to rest. The coroner wanted more time but was legally advised along with the police department not to. That they had already pushed Jewish law enough as it was for the examination and Randy's family would win in court if they were taken there, something they threatened if even one more day went by. After all, his body had been kept for over a few days.

Bruises on the neck from the rope, lifeless features, skin so cold it was blue with veins showing. He couldn't imagine how much sewing they had to do to his body under that sheet despite his religion; or else his innards would be spilling out everywhere while on the examination table. When they opened his eyes slightly, lifting the lids, they were gray and dead…He looked nothing like fun jovial smart alec Randy and yet it was him. 

“Are you listening!?” Gale snapped.

“No.” Dewey mumbled in a strained voice, nursing whiskey. It has become a crutch to sleep and to loosen up right now. “No, I'm not. I had a pretty bad few days, Gale.” 

Gale went to snap a snarky remark but faltered. Then with a heavy sigh she leaned over the table. “...I know this was a shitty week. But if anything, it's more of a reason to not stop fighting.” She pointed at the table. “Do. Not. Give. Up.” 

Dewey leaned back looking at her. A lot of hope drained from him the last few days. “...And what? It's an open investigation now turning into a cold case.” He groaned and lightly smacked the table. “There are multiple fingerprints, one might match Billy Loomis from ‘96 but what will that do if they're nowhere to be found and no evidence they're alive? You said it yourself! We'll be laughed out of the courtroom. They'll claim the fingerprints were unreliable smudges or someone else. Same with the blood. If they aren't in the system paying taxes or buying things from reputable places or have credit scores then what good does it do? They might not even be in the Country now.” He shook his head.

“So what?” Gale urged. “And we don't know that. If they're stupid enough to stick around to help YN-” 

Dewey winced at that, “Can we just stop talking about it?” 

Gale looked dumbfounded but sat down. “...Don't you want this solved?” 

He scoffed, “Of course I do! But if Billy and Stu are never found then what good does it do?” 

“Um, incriminating Jill? The actual killer.” She grumbled. “If you won't search Jill's phone records then I will go to the Attorney General and get a subpoena.” 

Dewey glared at his wife, “No you won't.” 

“And what's stopping me? Why not!?” She demanded at her wits end with her husband  going in circles. “Still think Jill's innocent?” 

Dewey's mouth twitched and he rested his chin on his forearm on the table, “I don't know what to think anymore…But you are not going to rock this case until we find Billy Loomis and Stu Macher.” 

“Why?” Gale demanded harsher this time. “What's stopping me from just pointing it out online to some crime junkie then?! That video was shot in Jill's room Dewey and it's obvious and I can't believe you and your department are glossing over it!” 

“Because you're not throwing YN in prison, alright!?” He finally snapped before his voice and face wavered. “If you search Jill's phone and we find that evidence or we overanalyze the video and prove it was there then a case will go to court and…I don't know how much YN is involved. But I just…I just can't send her to prison until those bastards go first!...Besides, a video isn't enough without DNA and eyewitness testimony…Kirby said nothing about Jill or YN, only Charlie, and both their stories match up suddenly. We're the odd ones out here and Judy was knocked out before she could truly see them…All you'll do is send YN to prison, possibly Jill and those two jerks walk free like they have for 15 years.” He firmly declared.

Gale looked bewildered, “I can't believe this.” She huffed with a shake of her head. “You told her to get out and never come back. You were hunting her down. You wanted to arrest her if it meant getting answers-” 

“I wasn't thinking, Gale.” He grumbled and sipped his glass. “Maybe…Maybe I do think Jill could be what you claim?” Gale looked pleasantly surprised but he continued, “Maybe I realize this is bigger than I thought? Maybe, just maybe, I still have a bit of faith in YN that she wouldn't do any of this unless blackmail or forced or something…Why else would she come back? Why else would they send her here? You saw her! She was fighting them down the hall! She didn't want to go-” 

Gale scoffed and got up from her chair, “You're being an idiot!” 

“And you're being an opportunist.” He bitterly told her. “You're being the Gale I broke up with years ago. It always comes full circle for you, doesn't it?” Gale stiffened at his tipsy words and looser tongue as he buried his weary head in his arms on the table. 

“Hey, it does not! I have a career!” She argued seeing Dewey get more tipsy it seemed by the hour. Minute even. 

“Randy's dead. YN's a Traitor whether by force or her own will. Jill could be the victim or the killer. Billy and Stu lived and are out free. Hell, maybe I'm the killer at this point? Or you!” He slurred with a pitiful groan.

She huffed, rolling her eyes and taking the bottle from him. Gale gazed down at him and her usual stoic smugness softened. “...I know this is probably harder on you than it is me and we're being assholes to each other.” She sat the bottle aside and cupped his cheek as he damn near pouted at her. She sighed and softly ordered. “I think you need to take care of yourself with sleep and food that isn't liquid.” 

He grumbled, “No…I gotta keep looking, you said it yourself we can't give up. But for them, not YN and Jill. I want them to suffer, I want them to face justice damn it.” 

She sighed again and combed his short hair back a bit with her fingers. “Yeah, I know. But the biggest evidence to incriminate Jill Roberts and put the murderer away is on her phone, Dewey. It's right there.” 

“And the biggest evidence of all is Billy Loomis and Stu Macher.” He enunciated their names. 

“Look. Two things can be right, ya know.” 

“Not until we get them. I know YN, Gale…They got something on her…She's scared and won't talk cause she's worried.” 

“Yeah, worried about her own ass.” Gale grumbled under her breath as she pulled away.

“What?” 

“Nothing.” She straightened herself. “Dewey, c'mon. You cannot just let the case go cold until we find Billy and Stu; if we find them. What? Are you just giving up because we may never find them?” 

He shrugged tiredly, dark eyes dropping. “Maybe. The media is having a field day with Jill and we would need a LOT of evidence to make her guilty IF she is and you're right somehow.” 

Gale reluctantly agreed in a grunt of resignation. Jill was sweet as pie right now and the media was in her favor. 

“And YN was already made to look guilty from yyoouu-” He pointed at her, “She'll get blamed for something those two did!” 

She sighed and rolled her eyes, “Oh yeah? May I remind you she lied and shielded Billy Loomis from being shot. Twice. 1996 and now 2011” 

“Because she's a good person; you should try it.” He huffed out.

Gale sneered with a tsk, “Alright, you're eating something and sobering up.” She stalked to the kitchen as he sat at the small table and kept talking.

"She may be naive and stubborn but she's too soft hearted...I was wrong. She's gotta be protecting them from blackmail or maybe from being just too sweet of a person." He swallowed and shook his head. “She was dragged out…She didn't wanna go with them…You said it yourself, why was Jill in her room in the middle of the night? Why did Billy and Stu take her back here?...Why isn't she saying anything?...Why does her and Jill's description match when they're lliieesss?” He stretched out the last part. “How'd that happen, Gale? Huh? How did it happen?” He almost pleaded tiredly.

Gale was at a crossroads that she couldn't quite decide yet. She did NOT like the idea of it being a cold case forever looking for Billy and Stu…She hated someone else getting the glory for the inevitable of pointing out Jill's low survival rate and her superficial wounds plus Olivia's death recorded from her bedroom window as her neighbor…

Gale momentarily halted making him something. “...I don't know.” For once, was the answer. The only answer she had. Nothing made sense to her. You and Jill wouldn't talk and Dewey was gonna fight her on incriminating Jill and you. For hiding those two; Gale had no issue sending your ass to prison for tanking her career over lies you were still lying about but Dewey apparently did. 

But she also didn't want to make an enemy of her husband.

Fuck.

She sighed heavily while making him a grilled cheese. “....Fine.” She laid the plate down harsher than necessary in front of him. “We'll twiddle our thumbs waiting around to find Billy and Stu but mark my words, Dewey. If another murder happens? I am bringing that tape in play and that second murder is on you and Woodsboro PD. If YN goes to prison for whatever involvement she had then so be it. You can't protect her forever; especially if she's a damn murderer too.” 

With that, Gale left the room. Leaving a weary Dewey half drunk and tired and so emotionally drained he might as well be catatonic as he numbly nibbled on the grilled cheese his impatient wife burned.

[lilibeams]

We're getting fed so well atm 🥹

Fours a Franchise

Part 18

wordcount: 8,257

You gasped against Stu's lips before you jerked away. Hand raising to smack him for doing that ahile you were vulnerable and angry and-

He grabbed your wrist before you could slap him. You glared and went to use the other hand before he grabbed that one too. Stu gave you a flirty, coy little grin at having both your wrist in his large hands as a frustrated growl of annoyance ripped from your throat. Face hot and head thumping as you nudged him in the gut with your knee.

“Ugh!-” He gasped. Air momentarily knocked out of him as you barely nudged his stitched up abdomen. You shot up and rushed to the door; Your own hurt body be damned.

You were fucking humiliated! Of course he made this a joke, of course he just liked seeing you riled up, he was the most confusing impulsive god forsaken freak you ever met other than the other asshole in the living room.

“No, wait!” He quickly rushed and blocked the door in a panic. Grimacing with the movement. “Don't.”

You glared, “Move, Stu! I wanted to talk; not you look for an opportunity.”

“Sweetcheeks, please.” He begged.

“No! Damn it, Stu. I'm done. Ya know what? Think whatever you want. If you want to believe I was madly in love or I hated you or I lied or me and Billy are a thing; think whatever! I'm tired of the insults and manipulation-”

“YN!” He pleaded as he flushed himself against the press board door. Still banged up from earlier and from the last few days. “Don't go…Please don't go. I'm sorry, okay? I don't think you're easy, I don't think you're a bitch, I don't think you hate me I-” His voice wavered.

You held your glare as he stared at you and continued his plight. “I'm hurt, okay? I'm just saying shit and I know I suck. I know I'm an asshole and a user and a pervert and a freak. I know it, I do, I know it.” His baby blue eyes bore into you in a rare act of vulnerability as you stared apprehensively back at him. “I use fucking-” His voice caught in his throat as he shook his head, “- Jokes and shit to cover up knowing no one wants me unless I'm the clown.”

You sighed at the dull ache in your chest; the damned feeling.

“Please.” You huffed softly. “You were so popular in school, you had girls into you, you had rich parents that let you get away with murder… Literally. You're rich now with models and acting jobs. Karma definitely does not exist because you have it all.”

His face screwed up and he furiously shook his head the more you spoke. Watery blue his eyes stared at you as he sucked in a breath, “No…No, it's all bullshit. I lie all the time. I just make it seem like I got it all…Sometimes I do, sometimes I'm a sad pathetic guy sitting at home by himself.”

“Join the club.” You couldn't resist saying. I mean, damn. Did everyone think because you paraded around by your old publicist like a circus act that your life was grande? You were so SICK of everyone using you or patronizing you or dismissing you in favor of their own hurt.

You were about to shove past him before he dropped to his knees. You looked embarrassed, unsure and tense as you told him, “Stu, c'mon…Get up. You're gonna mess up your stitches.”

He hugged your waist, careful of your own stitches as he looked up at you. Blue eyes twinkling in the lamp's lighting. “I can't! Please, my life is shit without you. I can't stand the idea of you with anyone but me. Fuck, I'm willing to share even with fuckface if I have to…YN, I have to be involved! I have to have you. I gotta be near you, I gotta-” His voice was raw with emotion as he gripped you tighter.

You faltered as he bombarded you. This felt like manipulation in itself and by God it was sadly working as a sinking happened with your weary heart.

His face screwed up like a sad child as tears leaked down his eyes. No longer a murderer at this moment. That was him. He had so many sides. So many curves. So many masks. You knew he was probably just crying for himself and yet you felt pity. Hell, didn't everyone cry for themselves? You cried for Randy but also poor you. You cried for Dewey not believing you because it wasn't fair to you…Maybe this was Stockholm syndrome? Maybe you were as sick as them? Maybe they finally broke you? But you ran a hand through Stu's dark blonde hair, almost a light brown as it darkened with age. He whimpered and cried against you.

“I'm sick of being last. I'm sick of it.” He sobbed. Hiccuping his words. “I-I want someone to fucking love me!…No one ever picks me." He whimpered as he sniffled. "I'm always last. Always second best to Billy. To everyone. Just the comedy in the background…Even you picked him over me.” He sobbed heavily against you more than you ever heard and it tore at you. The real problem right there. A deep sense of pain that he was never you or anyone else's first choice.

“Hey…Hey, Stu. Stu, c'mon.” You ran a comforting hand through his hair. “I didn't pick Billy over you. I didn't pick anyone. I've been trying to tell you all night, I just found Billy's note days ago and confronted him on the porch tonight and…”

“But you had a moment! You go to him because you're scared of me.” He gave in a low voice, sniffing hard and wiping his tears against Billy's shirt you wore as he kneeled. Just insult to injury right in front of him. “Plleasse…Please Yn…Please let me love you the only way I know how. Please, I don't know how to be good. I don't know how to love. I don't-” He faltered with a cry in his throat.

You frowned deeply. “Stu…”

“YN.” He gazed up at you with teary blue eyes. “I love you. I've always loved you in the only way I know how…Teach me. Please please please don't abandon me. Don't leave me again. I can't take it! I don't want that Hollywood shit or those whores or money; I just want you…You're all I want. You're all I've ever wanted. You're all I fucking have!” He pleaded on his knees with pitiful cries.

You stared down at him, wavering on your feet. Light headed. Sick to your stomach. Throat dry. “Stu…Oh Stu.” You sighed out.

“D-Do you love me?” His lower lip trembled as he gazed up at you. Genuine emotion from what you could see. He was always a hurricane. Happy was elation and anger was rage and sadness was devastation and he flipped through them so easily.

You faltered. What do you do? He really had you cornered here. Your face contorted in your own misery and anguish as a lump formed in your throat. “I…” You gritted your teeth and forced it out. Not much left to lose now. “I do. And yet I resent you. I can't let you in. I can't let you close and you make it so hard…That's why I went no contact. Because I'd let you in if you were near me. I can't have you hurting me and breaking my heart over and over.” You softly whispered trying not to cry.

“I won't!” His eyes lit up and he eagerly nodded through his tears, “I deserve your resentment, I suck! I'm shit! I fucked up your life and I deserve it! I-I do... I'll make up for it.”

“Stu-” You sighed out heavily especially considering how he acted tonight.

“No, I swear. I promise. Give me a chance, give me one damn chance. Please, YN!” He grasped his long arms around your thighs to hug you to him. “I'll be whatever you need just don't shut me out again. I'll change! Please!”

“You have tried but…Stu, I don't know if you can.”

“Then I'll change more; YN PLEASE!” He begged like a dying man. “Please I love you, I love you please-” He babbled.

You just broke. You couldn't fight this anymore. You might go to prison or die or be alone forever. You had no one. Why fight this anymore?

Yes, he was wrong. He was sick. He killed Tatum and Sidney and tried killing you. He was a monster…And yet the more you let him in, the less monstrous he seemed. When does a monster not become a monster? When you fall in love with them...

He seemed more like an immature child throwing tantrums and begging for love and attention and no one hears him than anything. He felt like a creature that doesn't know how to love yet wants to. You've been so lonely…So fucking lonely. Even before all this, you knew how he felt. Dewey and Randy and your family barely made time for you when you spent years trying for them; so fuck it. What more was there to lose?

“...Okay.” You sighed heavily. “I won't shut you out. I won't do that to you again unless you give me a reason. You're already off on a shitty start tonight.” You warned while dabbing your eyes.

He looked up at you and to your disgusted amusement had tears and snot on his face on your damn shirt. “You mean it?” His voice was so high pitched and strained for him.

You gave a reluctant smirk, “Yeah, don't make me regret it, okay? I missed the Stu that came over for spaghetti at my house years ago, not the asshole I talked to on the phone days ago or the guy I saw tonight.”

He looked at you in reverence. “He's gone. I promise.”

You knew that wasn't the case but you sighed and smiled as he forced himself up and to stand you helping him after the injuries he sustained against Jill and Charlie. “Can you stay?”

“Nooo, I shouldn't.”

“No, I insist. You shouldn't sleep on a couch with springs coming out of it. You deserve a memory foam mattress not that bums couch.” He wiped his eyes and you got him a tissue off the nightstand. He blew his nose loudly and joked, “Tissues on the nightstand? Yeah we know what these are for.”

You couldn't help the smirk. The warmth in your chest at not fighting. At being able to slowly lower your well constructed walls. “Stu, people sneeze in the middle of the night, ya know.”

"Pft." Stu huffed. You cringed slightly at him using the tissue to pick his nose and get any runniness out. “Yeah well, he's a miserable guy in his 30's. He's blowing his load, not snot.”

You groaned softly but smiled reluctantly as he rubbed his nose and sniffled at how hard he had sobbed.

“Ugh. That was pretty unmanly of me.” He grimaced.

“Nah.”

“Don't lie to me. It's patronizing. You still have my snot and tears on your shirt…His shirt.” He grumbled the last part.

“Stu, don't start.” You chided but looked down and…Ew. He groaned standing up painfully and got a fresh tissue to rub his wet face fluids off the edge of your nightshirt.

“Yeah yeah.” He grumbled while cleaning it. He gazed back up at you. “Sorry but…”

You sighed softly and wryly smiled, “It's fine. I think we all have been through Hell. Just chalk it up as...Stress.”

“C'mon.” He urged you to the bed.

Despite your best efforts…That bed looked so nice compared to the old smelly couch. He grasped your hand with the gentleness of a Dove rather than a predator. Easing you both to the bed as you grimaced in pain at moving.

“Shit, sorry.” He mumbled as you winced and both of you accidentally got face to face. "My face good?"

You smirked, "Yeah, you're good."

He gazed at you and you at him. His eyes were puffy and hooded as they flickered to your lips before leaning forward. You almost shoved away but damn you were tired. You were emotionally and physically tired and his lips touching yours just…

You relaxed as he kissed you and you couldn't resist it. Years and years of stubborn resistance became silly at this point. You hummed softly and kissed him back.

This was so different than in that garage at his party in 1996…He deepened the kiss and grabbed you. Urgent and hot and desperate and demanding as you faltered. Memories of your first kiss coming back and seeing Tatum's body-

“Ow!” You hissed at him gripping you too tight and too close where your stitches were.

You glared at his smug grin against your face. “Mm, can't you just take it like a good- Ow!” He yelped at you poking his stitches and he grabbed your hand for him to let go with a glare of his own. “Allrriighhtt. Damn.”

You both stared, trying to catch your breath before you firmly told him. “I need time.”

“You've had 15 years.” He reminded you in mild annoyance as he settled back on the pillow.

“Yeah, well…” You frowned and averted your gaze. “I need more.”

He lost his inflated ego and sighed. Nestling a bit closer and pulling the blanket over you both with a groan at using his arms.

“Alright…Alright, I'll give you time baby.” He whispered as he kissed your forehead and laid back down while gazing at you.

Your face felt hot. It was so uncharacteristically soft of Stu and yet not really. He was very openly affectionate, not stifled like Billy. He was just selfish, rude, pig headed, arrogant, immature, sadistic. Yet...

You almost didn't trust closing your eyes. Pillow fortresses between you both the last time you slept together in the same bed…But god your head hurt, your eyes were heavy, you ached. So tired you just closed your eyes as his fingers gently ran up and down your arm. Observing you.

‘Maybe he's just as bewildered as I am?’ You wondered before sleep took you.

‐------------------------------------

You woke up in the middle of the night feeling unwell. Staring right at Stu in bed as you realized you actually did let your guard down enough to sleep…You still couldn't believe it. You both kissed.

But behind the kiss you told yourself you tried to get out of; was the emotional connection to a fucking murderer…You actually still had something for him. After all the horrible evil shit he's done and everything he's put you through. Unbelievable.

You wanted to hate yourself after everything you let him do. The way you let him manipulate you like that. Yet, you didn't have the energy. You felt worn down, exhausted, hopeless. Like you were lost in the dark and the only ones with lanterns were Billy and Stu. How messed up. They could be soaked in blood and poking you with a knife in that darkness, and yet, they had metaphorical lanterns. They were the only things you truly had left. You were just so…So tired. So damn tired of hiding and wanting connection and never truly having it out of fear of the consequences. And so, this one time, it seemed you let your guard down and finally let Stu in.

…Furthermore, your head was frigging killing you.

You just need to sneak out to catch a breath. You needed fresh air to think. About what? You didn't know. But seeing Stu's sleeping face beside you felt too intimate right now. You slowly crept out of Billy's bed, the old mattress creaking with your movements. Stu stirred and you stiffened a bit. Your sore body pounding and heavy as you waited to see what he might do. You watched him resettle in bed, dozing back to slumber and you tiptoed out of there. Barely shutting the cheap door and shuffling slowly across the shag carpet. You went down the hall, past the open living room and to the front door-

“Where do you think you're going?”

You paused hearing his voice. Sighing to yourself because of course he was up.

“Just getting fresh air.” You said not even looking at him.

“Yeah? Not leaving are you?” He mumbled sitting in that chair and with a grunt of pain to stand.

You looked over your shoulder at the blunt question, “...No.”

“You better not.” He warned as he stood. “There's no way you're leaving me here with that nut job. You can't just fuck a crazy killer that's been obsessed with you since High School then leave thinking he won't go apeshit.”

You scoffed with narrowed eyes. “I did not.” You grumbled not nearly as vehemently as you normally would be.

He held up a hand, “Ah ah. I don't care.” But he did eye you for a moment. “...Did he force you or hurt you or anything? Not that I care just trying to figure shit out is all.” He asked quietly, averting his eyes. “Lots of commotion. I was waiting for you to scream or something and me have to save your ass, as usual.” He shrugged looking away with a grumpy expression.

“No…Besides, I'd fight him the way I did you both at Windsor. Stuff of yours would've gotten broken and I could handle myself.” You reluctantly mumbled with a wry smile knowing you were blowing smoke.

Billy smirked whether at your false bravado or the sick memory of kissing you and almost taking advantage of you backstage at college; it was unclear.

Regardless, he simply lost the wavering smirk and nodded, “Alright. Just don't go running off. I mean it, I will drag you back here kicking and screaming.”

You huffed softly while turning to look at him fully, “Why? Scared I'd go to the cops?” You couldn't help jeering.

“That.” He got a bit closer. “And it's just…Not what you should do. We aren't hurting you and whether we like it or not we need to stick close to avoid cops. I gotta keep you alive to possibly kill you one day.”

There was silence before you mumbled, “Is that the only reason? That goal of yours?”

“Don't be such a freak.” Billy scoffed, “Yeah? The Hell you think I'd miss you or something? Please.”

You rolled your eyes at how damn defensive he got but stayed quiet as he continued.

“- But Stu would definitely go ballistic if you left and I mean after everything I'd hoped you wouldn't abandon me with him in that state.” He shrugged looking away.

“Oh no worries, I won't abandon the guy that's wanting to off me one day.” You sarcastically quipped. You watched him. The air still awkward after the fight and letter reveal but released air through your nostrils you didn't know you were holding in. “Jesus, stop bugging out on me. I'm not leaving. Just need fresh air…” You hugged yourself. “I'm cold. Hoping outside will be warmer, I guess.”

Billy blinked and looked at you. “Cold? You don't look it…In fact, you look like shit. Like you ran a marathon or something. How hard did you ride him in my bed?”

“Shut up and bite me.” You grumbled with an eyeroll. “I told you we didn't. I just don't feel good…Like, at all.” You stiffened as he felt your face out of nowhere.

You stared in wide eyed shock and despite yourself you seemed to memorize his hand. The slight roughness and his more masculine hand on your soft face compared to when you were teenagers. You dare say you relished it. Almost closing your eyes and untensing at his touch…God, how lonely have you gotten?

His brows furrowed, “Damn woman, you're burning up... Get to the couch.” He guided you; not taking no for an answer.

“Hey, what-”

“Shut up.” He ordered in a rushed mumble. Sitting you down and lifting your shirt. You went to fight him, taken aback but stopped the knee jerk reaction as you remembered your stitches, the soreness a stark reminder. His reaction alone made any protest die in your throat as he turned on a lamp then shot up cursing, “Son of a-”

“W-What?” You asked. A feeling of trepidation at his reaction creeping into you.

“Shit. You have an infection. Bad... God damn it!” He cursed, rushing around the best his injured leg and torso could let him.

Your eyes widened. With a pained groan you got up to stagger to the bathroom while he was busy rummaging for things. Your heart felt like it was pounding out of your chest and lungs felt a bit more labored than usual. Maybe it was just a placebo to Billy's reaction?

But that hopeful thought died. You gasped as you looked in the mirror at your whole torso, significantly darker and redder than the rest of your body. “OH MY GOD!”

This was bad. You swore you already had body aches and chills but somehow seeing that magnified it. You felt sicker than ever before.

Billy was rushing about looking through cabinets and cussing, “Damn it.” He hissed as he went to his room and pounded on his bedroom door. “Stu, get up!”

You didn't stop him. Unsure what to do…You could die within a day like this. Maybe sooner.

————————————

Stu and Billy sat around you as you shivered and held a blanket to yourself. Almost spacing out and dissociating.

“...This is so bad, man.” Stu mumbled with his elbows on his knees the best he could with his injuries.

“Yeah it is. Sepsis is setting in.” Billy ran a hand over his head.

You had been watching Stu and he looked clammy too if you were being honest. Billy was the only one that seemed more tired than anything.

“What are we gonna do? She'll die!” Stu urged.

“I don't know.” Billy's leg shook as he tried to think.

Stu demanded, “Do we rob a damn pharmacy?! Do we find a fucking drug dealer? What the hell do we do?-”

“I don't know, damn it!” Billy snapped back. Grabbing at his now short dark hair as Stu seemed to have definitely got over his bitterness earlier.

Stu looked at you, almost doting on you with a worried look. “Sweetcheeks, why did you wait? You should've said something right away!”

“I didn't, I took…The pills um…I took the pills like I was supposed to…Didn't feel this sick.” Even forming thoughts to words was hard. You should have told him ‘I would have but someone was being dramatic and fist fighting’ but you were too tired to even do that.

Billy shook his head with a tense expression. “She's gonna fucking die.”

“No shit, dick!” Stu smacked the coffee table.

“Well, she is! No fucking fish or horse antibiotics or even human pills are gonna help her now that's in her bloodstream like that.” He leaned against the wall clutching his face.

“Then give her all of what we have. Damn it, screw me, man! Just give them so we aren't dumping her in a ditch like this. She was supposed to die by OUR hands; not infection!”

You gave him a side eye but stayed quiet.

Billy groaned, “Are you listening? It's in her blood. Pills are not gonna work and she'll probably just puke them up.”

Stu looked at you as you shuddered at how cold you were. “...She's gotta go to an ER. She has to. Get an IV or whatever. She's not dying like this. Not right now.”

“And they'll nab her.” Billy gave helplessly as he smacked his head lightly trying to think. “They'll arrest her and hunt for us.”

“Then screw it!” Stu was sweating and looking tense. “I'll turn myself in. Screw it.”

That snapped you out of it a bit. “What?” You hoarsely mumbled, “N-No. No you're not…”

“You're gonna die.” Stu glared down at you as he hissed it out. “You're gonna fucking die if you don't get to a hospital soon. If I turn myself in and just claim I kidnapped you and-”

“No.” You protested. in a strained, tired voice. Even breathing feels labored. “You're not-”

Stu looked eye level with you as you sat. “I made sure you survived all this time despite everything. You aren't dying from something as stupid as sepsis.”

Billy groaned, “Shut up! Just think for a second and don't be so damn impulsive-”

“WE DON'T HAVE SECONDS!” Stu yelled.

As if on cue, you felt something coming up and quickly leaned over to the wastebasket beside the couch. Gagging and groaning in pain as you puked.

“Oh great. She just upchucked all the medication.” Billy grunted and rolled his lips in thought, “If we get her to a hospital and get out…Like a tiny one…One with low security.”

“And will they have what she needs?” Stu urged as he helped steady you.

“I don't know, why are you acting like I'm God here!? I don't fucking know, Stu!-”

“It's almost sunrise, so we need to figure something out!”

Amidst their arguing…The phone rang.

Everyone stopped to look down at your phone…An unknown caller at 5am?

“Don't answer it.” Billy was going to snatch it.

You groaned and sat up more, wiping your mouth. “Wait, maybe…Maybe we should?” You panted out. “What do I gotta lose? I wanna know.”

Billy sighed heavily and pinched his nose bridge. “YN, the fever is getting to you. You're not making sense.”

Stu of all people answered, “Yo, whose this?”

You and Billy stared at him. His eyes widened before narrowing at whatever was said on the other line. He put it on speaker phone and replied, “Yeah…She's here.”

“Good. You're lucky I had a spare of these…Don't you dare name drop or I will hang up and go after the Riley's or maybe those tiny Meek brats so vulnerable and unattended by the grieving widow, hm?”

Ghostface. Not just any Ghostface. Jill. You wanted to know how she got another modulator into what you presumed was still the hospital. Did Dewey ignorantly retrieve a bag or something from her house with it in it?

You narrowed your eyes, holding the blanket close to yourself. “...What do you want? How did you-” You demanded.

“I remember the number? Trust me, I would remember your number YN. Even having to punch it into someone else's cell.” They continued after a pause. “I've been debating this all night. Decided to give you a wake up call before anyone is aware. I wanna make a deal with you. Come back to Woodsboro and we forget this ever happened.”

Billy scoffed, “You think we're idiots?”

“Yes.” The voice bluntly gave. “But more than that; you're desperate. Nowhere to go, running out of places to hide, probably hurting really bad too…Everyone knows YN's face, how long can you hide YN?”

You sobered knowing she was right. Even without infection setting in…Couldn't go home, visit family, travel, go anywhere without people recognizing you. People found you during your court trial over a decade ago let alone now with your face on billboards.

“And besides, you're probably wishing you were in a plush hospital bed right about now hm?”

“Must be nice.” Stu retorted.

“Shut up.” The voice warned. “I'm cutting you a deal but any name dropping or information of locations even over the phone and you can kiss it goodbye. Quickly. Make a choice.”

You were having a hard time concentrating as Billy told her, “Alright, name it.”

“YN comes home to Woodsboro. Tell them Charlie was involved and the two unknowns that Police won't find…That's it.”

Your eyes narrowed. “So, you want me to not disclose the real killer, huh? Forget it. You killed my friend and now you want a deal?”

Stu stopped you from hanging up by grabbing your wrist. “Hey, quit.” He for once was the level headed one in your feverish state. He talked louder, “So, that's it?” He asked the caller. “Just say the only killers were Charlie and two unknowns they'll never find?”

“Yeah. Maybe I'm one of them and calling you right now? Couldn't really tell in all the chaos, could you? It happened so fast. I bet the other survivor couldn't either.” She kept up the act like it wasn't her.

You soured. She was asking you to help her get away with murder.

“She'll do it.” Stu stated firmly.

“Stu-” You protested.

Billy said nothing but didn't seem against it either.

“Hurry. Get here before noon and tell the ‘truth’.”

Billy finally chimed in, “And how did she get out of the hospital? What's your answer to that?”

“It was obvious she was kidnapped, moron. I wonder if she ever even saw their faces?”

This was crazy. She wanted you to go to the lion's den that was Woodsboro and testify nothing but lies and pray none of you got any severe consequences for such a risky action?

“Fine. She'll be there.” Billy agreed and hung up the phone for you.

“How dare you?” You tiredly glared, “I am not-”

“You are.” Billy ordered in a cold no bullshit tone. “This gets us off police radar if you give a false description that matches Jill's.”

“I can't…Damn it…She killed-”

“And you'll be next, idiot!” Stu exclaimed with clear worry on his face. “You're dying and you won't do this because of fucking Randy!? I will drop your ass off at Woodsboro hospital myself at this point!”

“You two are nuts!...It won't work.” You grumbled while your teeth chattered.

Stu's blue eyes narrowed in determination. “Do it or I'll turn myself in.”

“You can't be serious.”

“I am! Sweetcheeks, you have a severe case of sepsis and every goddamn minute counts!” He looked at Billy and told him. “Get us some clothes and your keys.”

Usually Billy gave the orders but it seemed after your kiss; Stu's crush on you magnified and he wasn't letting his obsession with you die. No way, no how.

Billy sighed and walked to the hallway throwing an arm up, “Screw it. It's our best shot.”

You gaped and raised your voice the best you could, “Stop it! I'm not!”

Stu grabbed your arms painfully and shook you, “Shut the hell up. You are!” He practically spat in your face. “You know what? We aren't arguing.” The 6’4 guy just hauled you up to your feet and dragged you as Billy got his keys and some spare clothes.

You protested the whole way trying to grab the door and Billy just effortlessly plucked your fingers free in your feverish weak state. Stu helped you down the stairs the best he could before shoving you in the van's back seat while you groaned in pain. Trembling at the night air hitting you while your face felt hot as hell.

“We're taking back roads so police don't possibly pull us over.” Billy informed closing his door. “If they do? You know the drill.”

“Yeah, I got it.” Stu gave, getting in the passenger side.

“What the hell? Stop.” You weakly ordered not having a say in YOU possibly going to prison too if caught and convicted was infuriating!

Billy turned to glare at you while starting the vehicle. “This gets us free for good. No more hunting for Tim and James if you change our description and say it was two different guys. Billy and Stu stay dead. Tim and James don't look like us. Our new identities are safe. You get treatment, we might get treatment if we get worse in a different hospital, you get away and we get away and all you have to do is say fuck your dumbass moral code.”

Stu added as Billy put the van in reverse, “You think you're being selfish to Randy? The dead guy?” You winced at how callous he was as he continued, “You're being selfish to us, YN. We've done you wrong but we also did right, so ya know what? This is something you can do to clear this and be even.”

Your mind in your feverish state was reeling. Too much at one time.“But…Fingerprints at the scene and…Descriptions?”

Stu added, “Yeah yeah, our fingerprints are in the system. Mainly Billy from the false arrest in 96 but we'll deal with that somehow. After all, I got a fake ID and can get another one…We'll still have to lay low but this throws cops off our tail a bit if we need to get treated at a hospital a few cities over and get out as soon as possible.”

“But Dewey!-”

“Fuck Dewey!” Billy sneered as he drove down a rural backroad. “Dewey didn't listen to you at all. Man looked close to shooting you too if it meant shooting me. He didn't care if you had to flee with no treatment. In fact, I'm sure he ordered a manhunt for you and in his bullshit idea of getting medical treatment behind bars.”

You vaguely realized you kinda had the same view of them in 1996…Was that wrong? Was it right? Your brain feels foggy at the moment to decide.

Stu added, “Whatever him and Gale say? Deny that shit, man. Jill and you agreeing as the survivors that were there are the only things anyone needs. Let's just pray there's no trial from the naysayers.”

“We avoided our faces to hospital cameras and nurses will probably give multiple descriptions of the chaos that night.” Billy huffed, “Should've killed the one bitch we stole the keys from. Damn.”

Stu nodded, “Yeah, just glad Dewey was slow as fuck and didn't handcuff us before we woke up. We were two victims that escaped the same night YN did and even as the killers the cops are hunting; if she gives a false description it buys everyone time.”

“No shit.” Billy looked at you in the dark backseat with his mirror. “It's this or die of infection, YN. Your choice.” Billy gave his fingers clenching and unclenching the wheel tensely.

This was happening…This was actually happening. “But…People saw? What if…I mean what if they describe you both?”

“Change our look and lay low if this doesn't work.” Billy gave.

“Done it before. I think I might do a Slim Shady look. You know, bleach blonde and buzzed?...No?” Stu asked and Billy shook his head. “Well fine then. I'll figure it out.”

“But your movies?” You mumbled tiredly curled up in a shaky painful ball in that blanket in the backseat. “Scooby doo?...Oh no…People are gonna know you.” You felt light headed the more the hour went by.

Billy sided eyed Stu. “What?” He asked the man in the passenger seat. “What's she talking about?”

“Man, she's really out of it huh? Scooby doo? Of all things, why say that? Whew, she is not in her right mind.” He nervously chuckled.

“The movie when you played Shag-”

“YN, you're really burning up girl!” He made a show of turning around to feel your head. “You're delirious!”

Billy continued side eyeing Stu but said nothing.

You knew Stu played Shaggy in a movie, right? You and Dewey, no, Randy that's right…Yeah you watched it…With the kids…

Stu snapped his fingers as your eyes wanted to close, “Ah ah. Try and stay up for now. We're getting there, Sweetcheeks. Just hang on.”

—————————————

That morning the still active Sheriff of Woodsboro got a call and he shot up out of bed and had been wrung tight ever since. Dewey was floored. Absolutely outraged, a very rare emotion for him.

Even more so with his wife trying to stop him.

“Would you calm down!?”

“YN!” He stammered, too upset to form sentences. “She arrived at the hospital this morning! I gotta get there in case she runs.”

Gale pushed him back with annoyance, “You aren't doing that and she's so sick . Where is she running? Huh?”

“I don't know! I don't understand why she came back.” He exclaimed frantically “And you!” He accused her with a pointed finger. “You visited Jill behind my back? Why would you do that!? AND went into our evidence room at the precinct for the case I specifically told you not to be involved in!”

“Because she's guilty, Dewey!” Gale yelled in frustration, hands clawing the air as they argued. “She is the killer and I need YN to cooperate and tell us everything she knows so we can get Jill locked up and do actual justice. If that means her ass too, so be it. Two birds, one stone. But we can't go in there hot headed.”

“Justice is Billy and Stu locked up! Not a teen we have no proof of! Not even…” He yelled but faltered at your name while walking to their kitchen. They rarely argued because Dewey usually backed down. But not this time. Not over this.

“There's plenty of proof!” Gale followed him. “If you did your job-”

He glared at her. That definitely hit an ugly sore spot in him.

“You know what I mean, damn it! You signed off this case because you just gave up and in a few days you're retired. With how you're acting now, you are getting too personal with this case and you're blinded so that's probably for the best…I guess! I don't know anymore!…And where do you come off yelling at me? YOU'RE the one that hid photos of YN and those two from me not just for a whole decade but this recent incident too!”

“Because I know how you are. I know how much you love a new headline, how obsessed you were with the case, and I knew how much you secretly didn't like YN and only liked her for me. You would use it against her without any proof.” He bluntly gave.

“OH! And you won't? I was right too, now wasn't I?” She urged mockingly.

Dewey scoffed and to Gale's surprise; went to the kitchen. Once there, he got out the Whiskey they had in the bottom cabinet collecting dust from no use.

Dewey replied, “That's the answer, huh? Gale was right and Dewey is a giant moron. How dare Dewey be upset that YN lied. How dare Dewey be torn over her involvement. How dare Dewey try to protect liars all these years. We just…Accept it! Billy and Stu got away, YN could go to any hospital and she came here after I gave her ample warning, justice isn't served, people died in vain including our friend…And all you can do is think of a good story to spin about a teen girl-” He humorlessly laughed, rubbing his face with a wry smile.

Gale eyed him, “And is that the answer? Drinking at 10 in the morning?”

“Gale. Please.” He sighed out rubbing his face as he took a swig.

Gale glared, “How about you get up and instead of being upset YN is back you question her and Jill and see who's lying!?”

“Why bother? Billy Loomis and Stu Macher are out there and YN knows it and she won't admit it and there's no way to prove it…Randy's killers got away. Sidney's killers got away. Tatum's…”

He went to read a magazine and Gale jerked it away, “So you're just gonna sit like a bump on a log and scratch your ass and act numb now? You were demanding to go out that door 5 minutes ago!”

He almost pouted, “Yeah well, that was before my wife didn't support me. No one else will believe me either and the one person that should have my back in this can only care about a story.” He took a swig with a bitter tone to his voice.

“You know what? Fine!” Gale groaned in irritation and got her purse, “Seriously, just sit there and drink and feel sorry for Tatum and yourself instead of actually solving what you can at the moment and do something to put this killer away THEN those two pieces of shit!”

He glared and gripped the bottle tighter at Tatum's name being dropped as Gale slammed the front door. He wanted to rush out and argue with her, he wanted to send a nasty text to her at the very least but…He just sighed in defeat.

A pang in his heart because deep down inside he was relieved you were okay yet he was devastated and hurt and angry that you came back and that those two were nowhere to be found. According to Judy you were just dropped off alone feverish and not making sense at the hospital and the hospital couldn't disclose information or go against HIPAA without a warrant or subpoena which they did not have right this moment with no court case in the works but may have to get… Most of all, Jill had suddenly changed her tune that you attacked her by accident thinking it was them…Suddenly, she was happy you were back and swore you didn't attack her on purpose according to Judy?? And she just accidentally got in the crosshairs of you and those two? It was a direct lie that contradicted what he and Gale saw. You had protected Billy and wanted Jill to be shot! Jill…She's lying?

Why would she lie? Why did her story change?...Was Gale right?

Dewey clutched his head with a pitiful whine. He had cried so much his eyes were puffy from crying and lack of sleep the last 2 days. And he felt…Numb. Helpless. He didn't want to see you again because it hurt too much.

————————————

You woke up that evening much more aware while hooked up to an IV dripping, a hospital gown, new bandages. It took a moment to even remember where you were and when you did you laid back with a groan. God no.

“Oh... Woke up, dying star?”

You jolted despite your wounds at Jill of all fucking people in the corner of the room. Her face still injured but healing.

“Reellaaxxx. I know you're scared from the other night but you're safe! I came here as soon as I heard you made it back.” She dipped down and whispered in your ear, “You're so goddamn lucky cops are right outside monitoring us…Or I'd finish what I started by choking you till your eyes pop.”

You sneered, “What-”

“Shut up and listen. I don't have time.” She hissed low for only you to hear. “Our stories have to line up in this last ditch effort…Charlie and those two did all the killings. Repeat it.” You stubbornly faltered, feeling rage just with her near you. You gasped as she pressed on your wound lightly. “Repeat it, bitch. No one is gonna believe your story without mine.”

“...Charlie and…” You hesitated.

“I will go out there and tell them it was you. Then kill Dewey and Gale and Karla and maybe even those brats too and blame it on those idiots; now say it!” She growled out low in your ear; only you two could possibly hear.

You swallowed and scowled, stomach turning at the words leaving her mouth. “Charlie…And…Those two men were the killers.”

“You don't know them. If you were dumb enough to text-”

“We called that night.” You reluctantly gave in. “My mechanic and an unknown I can just label as a friend of a friend I never named. At worst they were…Booty Calls or drug dealers or something.” You gave with resignation and tiredness with such a severe infection.

She grinned, “Oh not completely stupid then. Okay, we don't know them…Repeat-”

“We don't know them.” You closed your eyes and gritted your teeth at your arm practically being twisted. “Dewey has a picture of us at a motel though.”

“Who cares? It's that wash up that failed everyone versus you. Play stupid and say that you didn't say because they were quick fucks and you felt ashamed or some shit. Now hurry up. They were working with Charlie.”

“They were working with Charlie. Two men. Don't know them.” You forced out through gritted teeth.

“They attacked us in the ICU following me when I went to visit to finish us both off. You attacked me thinking it was them.”

You sneered but forced yourself to repeat it.

“They kidnapped you as a hostage but got scared and dropped you off when they thought the cops were getting a hold of them. One has dark hair, a hooked nose, blue eyes and the tall one has reddish hair, a tooth gap and…A tattoo on his right shoulder. Yeah a dragon...They blindfolded you most of the time so you couldn't see.” She made up the lie on the spot like a natural.

You tried to keep up repeating what was important. Hooked nose…Blue eyes…Red hair…Tattoo of dragon on right shoulder.

“You and I tried to fight for each other. Dewey and Gale are liars.”

You were silent and she pressed on your torso. You couldn't even call for help or she'd twist the story to make herself the victim, something the media already spun. “They're liars!...Damn you.” You rushed out in a hiss of pain.

“But bitch, the limelight is mine. You better watch your ass after this because-”

Jill jerked away as a nurse came in and she put on the sweet act hugging you, “Oh God, I was so worried! We all were…” She whispered, “I'm so glad you're safe…Right now.”

You didn't hug her back. Feeling disgusted, enraged, guilty, in physical pain, ill. You almost wanted to just say screw the plan and go to prison for a few years for hiding criminals if it meant she was locked up for life. But then you thought of Billy and Stu…Goddamn it, since when were you attached to those killers?!

Jill pulled away pretending to wipe an imaginary tear from her eye as the nurse smiled. All you could do was replay the information over and over in your head. Anxious, sick with sepsis and eager to just be done with all of this for good. Jill left with the nurse while eyeing you…

This was Hell.

—————————

Gale leaned against the wall as Dewey paced the hospital hall, having decided to force himself to go with her. His leg injury gave him a bit of trouble. Gale WANTED to tell him it was the liquor and lack of sleep or lack of a good diet making it mess up again but kept it to herself.

Judy came out and sighed, “Sheriff, she didn't see two men there. Charlie stabbed her in the backyard while YN went to go find Jill and that's all she knows.”

“Damn it.” Dewey groaned, rubbing his face.

Judy, ever the ass kisser in Gale's eyes, told her retiring superior. Judy's eyes wide and trying to be helpful as she assured, “I was shot by one! I believe you even…Though I'm confused how it could be who you say, Sir?”

“Billy Loomis and Stu Macher!-”

Gale shhed him aggressively and shooed him away from Judy as Judy reluctantly let her. Once Judy was out of ear shot, thankfully getting a report from another Deputy. Gale hissed at Dewey, “Are you insane? Shut up! No one is going to take you seriously or this case if you go voicing those names aloud.”

“Yeah, well it's a fact.” He grumbled. “I'm just glad we got Kirby to a hospital that no one knows she's at but her folks.”

“Because of Jill.” Gale voiced.

Dewey rolled his lips and corrected, “After what happened to Jill… She needs protection.” He pointed to the room and Gale rolled her eyes at her husband.

The ex-journalist debated interviewing the stabbed teen but…No. Her story hasn't changed not even once. Charlie acted stabbed, then replicated Steven Oarth, she went to go help him, he faked it and stabbed her. No names or others she saw. She was clueless and a dead end. She didn't even seem to hint at Jill or YN being Ghostface.

Gale mumbled, “Fact or not, you can't have a damn manhunt for two killers that on record are reported dead.”

“Bodies were never found, the door kicked from the inside, footprints, tire tracks, Tim and James matching-”

She replied, “They'll tell you the house was too destroyed for bodies and yes even bones, door burst open from heat, footprints were from chasing people, tire tracks could've been anyone, Tim and James was only described by YN. Tim vaguely by Randy, ya know, two traumatized teens. One was previously medicated for PTSD induced hallucinations. Oh, and two Detectives that are now dead from 13 years ago that the court could argue had just a vague sight of these men and were feeding into teen hysteria.”

“And us!” Dewey exclaimed in exasperation and desperation. “Why are you acting like you didn't claim to see them at Windsor!? You were on stage and swore to me; your story never changed. We saw them and heard them and talked to them the other night. It was them!”

Gale scoffed, “And who's gonna believe us!? I've been down this road, Dewey! A reporter that lost a case over this years ago and her husband… Who…” She faltered.

“...Say it.” He demanded. Dewey's downturned brown eyes stared at her. “Just say it. Failed. He failed. So much so that he's retiring.”

“More like, they'll try saying…Look, I'm not saying it but I know they will that…He never got over ‘96 and the death of his sister and her friend weighed on him enough that now he's seeing Ghost like YN did-” Gale sighed with an eye roll and followed after him as he stalked off amidst her sentence. “Dewey!”

“Let's just get to YN and Jill.” He mumbled as they both made their way to the car.

[lilibeams]

The Perfect Drug // Doflamingo Donquixote x afab!reader // NSFW/18+ Kinks: Drugging + Non-Con

CW: afab!reader [no pronouns used]; non-consensual drugging [drug gives reader escalating degrees of sex pollen/'fuck or die' type symptoms + behaviors], extremely dubcon/noncon sexual acts as a result; shoe-humping; brief daddy kink mention [title used]; exhibitionism; vaginal sex; masturbation [m]; degradation/humiliation; restraints [reader receiving - devil fruit usage]; doflamingo is his own content warning™ WC: 1.4k // Fictober Masterlist

Clear. Tasteless. Odorless. As plain as water, as dangerous as poison. Everything exactly as promised from the finest chemist money and violence could buy.

It was never certain exactly when Doflamingo would administer his little tincture, never certain which food, which drink would settle in your stomach and start to make you woozy, make the world start to feel slightly askew, like you were standing just outside yourself to observe how how painfully desperate you must look, clawing and panting and begging for him to take you where you stood. Days would go by, even sometimes weeks, between doses, just long enough for you to finally let your guard down and feel safe once more in your own body…and then it would happen again. It was all part of the fun for your heavenly demon—seeing you unravel more and more every day, vacillating between begging him to stop and begging him to keep you dosed all the time just to allow you some semblance of consistency.

Most of the time, Doflamingo likes to keep you coherent, teetering on the precipice of intoxication—he doses you just enough to make you even more soft and pliable than you are for him on your own. It makes your limbs looser, skin warmer, cunt even wetter than normal; it is you, still you, but with the volume turned up. It makes you sensitive to the touch, even the lightest stroke of his long fingers lighting you ablaze, making you suck in air through your teeth as your hips roll greedily against him. It makes you easy to overstimulate, and the sound of your pained cries as he grips your hips and pulls your dripping cunt against his mouth, burying his long tongue deep inside you, sucking at your swollen clit, dragging his teeth against it, are exquisite.

Sometimes, Doflamingo likes to make you debase yourself for him—he adds enough drops of the tincture in your tea that he knows will still give you the illusion of control, even as shame courses through your body when it seems to move of its own accord, seeking relief any way possible. How he loves it when you interrupt his meetings, climbing into his lap to whine and babble something barely coherent about how wet you are, how much you need him this instant. He laughs at how pathetic you look, the way you settle in and press your back to his chest, spreading your legs open wide and grabbing his wrist, guiding it to your heated core, not seeming to care that the others at the table are staring at your drooling cunt. You’re suggestible in this state, making it easy to guide you towards debasement that would otherwise take a little more cajoling, a few more threats, a bit more pain.

It’s when he has you like this that you’re whining to be spanked over his knee while he’s on the phone, not caring that the person on the other end can hear your perverse cries of pleasure with every slap. Like this, you’re begging for him during meetings with government men, slurring something about how bad you need daddy’s cock, sobbing into his chest when he tells you get on the floor and grind against his loafer instead if you’re so needy. And you do as you’re told (such a compliant little thing, he’ll call you), mumbling how disgusting you are as he guides your hand to his cock. He keeps conversation in between groans while you jerk him off, matching the movements of your hand to the greedy rocking of your hips against his shoe, coating your arm and face with ropes of his spend while you convulse in pleasure on your knees.

And there are other times—far, far less often, a special treat to be enjoyed like a rare wine or a rich dessert—that he likes to keep you wholly intoxicated, so drugged-out that you lose yourself wholly to your basest urges, forget yourself so completely that you seem only to be a vessel for pleasure. This much of it turns you an utter mess, your veins flowing with a want so violent, so awful, that it feels like you’re being torn apart from the inside, like you’ll die writhing and screaming without his touch, without the relief that only he can grant you.

At times he’ll let you be free to see just what you’ll do on your own before he takes you, sits back and strokes himself while you seek relief with a pillow between your legs, rubbing yourself raw on the sheets when no amount of orgasms will satisfy the want. Eventually you’re crawling to him on hands and sore knees to beg for him, kneel at his feet in supplication, pray that your god can grant you mercy and take away the unyielding pain that inflames you.

But he most loves the way you look laid bare on the bed, your wrists and ankles bound with his string. The way you thrash and pull at your bindings until you’re nearly bloody, the way you desperately hump the air, trying to rub your aching cunt on nothing, crying and sobbing that it hurts, it hurts so much being this empty, being this hungry for touch. It has him hard and pulsing the way you’re barely intelligible between gasping breaths, whining and sobbing to that please, please, you need him, you need him so badly or you’ll die.

He stands over the bed as you stretch and heave your bound body towards him, straining your muscles until they shake. He makes you watch while he strokes himself, showing you the sticky strings of precum that drip from his swollen tip, and you stick your tongue out, despite not being anywhere close to him. He calls you pathetic, calls you revolting, calls you a needy little whore, and you only nod with more and more vigor at every degrading word. He’ll deny you when it pleases him, watch as the hope drains from your eyes as he finishes himself off with a long, low groan and spills himself onto the sheets, just out of reach. You reach your limit, drool and tears dripping from your face as you beg to be forgiven, to be granted mercy for whatever transgressions you committed that would make him do something like this to you.

But when he deigns to give you relief, to bring you back from the precipice of something that feels like certain death, it’s utterly euphoric. The drug, at this potency, passes on its effects to him through your sweat, your spit, your slick; it’s less effective on him at his size, but it still packs a punch. His lungs are invaded with your scent, the intoxicating smell of your prolonged arousal. He keeps you bound still at first, adjusts your position with a quick movement of his fingers, spreads your legs wide and tilts your lower half up to meet him, before he invades you. It’s not long before he loses himself in you and your bindings release, and finally you can have your fingers on him, feel the slick of sweat covering his skin, taste the salt of him, entwine your tongue with his until you’re nearly being choked.

The two of you remain enmeshed, a writhing, panting heap of sweat-slicked limbs, until the high wears off. Doflamingo thinks you’re perfect when you’re so broken afterwards, body bruised and sore, your cervix aching, his spend leaking out of your twitching cunt. You cling to him, throat hoarse from sobbing and screaming his name, softly apologizing for the way you must have behaved—you can only imagine it, your mind scrubbed of memories except for occasional flashes of his ominous grin. He never lets you self-flagellate for long, simply coos your name over and over, tells you what a good little pet you’ve been for him. He bathes you, treats your wounds, dresses you in silks and softness and climbs back into bed with you, assures you that all is okay.

Doflamingo will tend to you as he always does, tuck you up with him and convince you that you’re safe, that he would never so anything to bring you harm. And he’ll hand you a glass of water and tell you to drink up, you need to be hydrated after such an ordeal. And you’ll forgot, for a moment, that it’s clear. Tasteless. Odorless. At least until you feel your limbs tingle and your chest tighten, and you hear the low chuckle rumbling in his ribcage.

Your distress is as addictive as a drug, and he’s not yet reached the peak of his high.

[lilibeams]

GUVHXICOFUTSURS OH MY GOD, I'm literally squealing at that ending

Fours a Franchise

Part 17

wordcount: 8,467

Jill looked at herself in the small mirror she had on her bedside table at the hospital. A small compact she had from her bag she used to repeatedly check up on herself to make sure she looked the part of the poor survivor. Her eye was still screwed up but not as red. Bruises here and there; just not as swollen. What hurt the worst was the stab on her back that asshole gave her. Unlucky for him and collectively for you; it missed major organs but damn did it hurt.

She smoothed her long dark hair with her hands as she did her usual side part with a sly smirk. She just couldn't help smirking to herself. She actually got away with it! She couldn't wait to get home and privately celebrate. Well, not too soon. She still had to look devastated for her friends and mothers deaths. With her Mom dead and her not being 18 for another few months, would she have to live with her estranged Dad or distant relatives or someone else for a bit? Oh well, who cares!

She was going to be so rich and famous that in a year she'd 'go to college' just to keep up appearances, then if she wanted to drop out she could and be swimming in cash. For life. YN this, YN that. Won Court cases, fame, a new paid for house somewhere, book deals. Well now, it was Jill Roberts' turn to shine.

She knew she should be more cautious but today was a good day. She was being discharged from the hospital under police protection tomorrow because soooo many people were chomping at the bit to know about the final girl. Flowers all over her hospital room, cards, even expensive gifts, paid for everything and news stations trying to get in contact with her.

You? Well, it was an easy decision. She still hadn't come right out and blamed you. Trying to play the innocent sweetie pie act a bit longer. Really milk it out. Wait till you got caught. However, as soon as she thought you might be a problem; she was gonna tell the police when they asked for yet another statement that now that her head was more clear and everything 'sank in'...Yes...Yes, it's shocking. YN must have been working with those two men to kill everyone. And they recruited Charlie? But that can't be!...Oh, but it is. Maybe that's why her Cousin and Uncle tried to kill YN years ago? Because she was actually the villian this whole time and they knew her secret. And YN attacked her and YN must have helped kill everyone this time too! The monster deserved to be behind bars boo hoo blah blah what a tragedy. Fake cry. Sniffle a bit.

People will eat that shit up. Especially once the authorities find you with those two. The manhunt for you was most definitely on; considering you escaped the hospital in the middle of the early morning with those two unnamed men after a Deputy was shot by them.

Jill had to not giggle or smirk too much; still in the public eye. The hunt for the 3 of you would be Legendary. Once they find you with those two, who the fuck would believe your side of the story anyways? Jill would be the sole survivor. Any nah sayers locked up or killed. This was in the fucking BAG! Soon, she'd be on the Ellen Show and Yahoo Mail articles and Facebook posts and Tweets and the ID Channel-

Her thoughts of grandeur were interrupted by a short forceful knock. She quickly went to get back in bed acting sore and sad.

"Don't bother rushing. I can see you standing from the window." A female voice rang out.

Jill faltered and had to stop herself from moving too fast. "Oh, it's my...Um, stitches. They want me to walk just not too much." She told the older woman as she entered without even asking.

Gale Riley Weathers whatever the hell her name was...Of course it was.

Gale nodded and closed the door behind her. Back to dressing in her old 'Reporter' style she probably had stuffed in the back her closet behind her robes and casual wear as Mrs. Riley. Stay at home 'writer' that hadn't wrote diddly shit in years.

Jill forced a smile upon her youthful face. After all, the nosey hag was the best in the biz and could get her one helluva a book deal. It's why Charlie spared her.

“Gale, what a surprise.” Jill put on that smile and soft voice, "How's your shoulder? Does it feel okay?"

Gale gave a wry smirk and a slight huff like chuckle. "...It's fine. Good enough for me to go home. Especially since you got a lot more damage and you're going home, right? I mean, if you can have that happen to you and be discharged soon then what a wimp I'd be to stay."

"Oh yeah, matching Shoulder stabs. Twinsies." She jokingly gave that carefree air-head teen act adults seemed to love from her. "And some bruises but nothing I can't handle. I mean, I got it bad but I don't think shoved off a landing and stabbed is anything to mess with...You're tough."

"Yeah." Gale nodded. "Yeah you're a scrapper yourself. Do what you need, do what you want, thrive not just survive...Kinda like looking in a mirror."

Jill forced a slight chuckle at that. The smile not reaching her eyes as a bit of silence stretched between them. Gale moved around the room, heels clacking against the hospital floor as she pondered something. "...Huh."

"Yes?"

She glanced over at the teen. "Nothing just...How funny. Us having matching superficial wounds. What are the odds?"

"Yeaahh....Yeah, pretty lucky." Jill nodded with a reluctant look.

"Almost too lucky." She gave with a wry smile that didn't reach her eyes either. “I swear, it seems like it was almost planned.”

Jill cautiously watched her as Gale acted aloof. ‘Reading’ labels on objects while talking. What was this old bitch getting at?

Gale mused aloud, "I mean, YN gets stabbed in the gut twice and those two, that we are not naming apparently, were shot and stabbed in many places and even almost gutted. Didn't think any of them would live...Trevor got his face peeled off...Coroner said alive while it happened just like YN's old boyfriend in ‘96-"

"I was there. Can we... Not talk about it?" Jill mumbled. "Just makes me uncomfortable. I mean, he was my first love and my…" She trailed off with a strained voice. Not too much, just enough.

Dewey would've been apologizing and comforting her for overstepping. Gale just stared.

The middle aged woman walked about the room a bit. Thinking before replying to the teen girl. "Sorry about that...I guess. But ya know… You'll have to answer to the cops and media about all this in a lot of detail. Over and over. You know how it is..." The silence etched on as Gale looked around while leaning on her good shoulder against the wall. "It's just really bizarre that me and you got wounds that weren't fatal. The final girl and the prize winning journalist that can help the final girl. Everyone else was butchered. Hung like a dead fish, burned, skinned, repeatedly stabbed, gutted, shot…Yet we both only got banged up and shoulder wounds... Daammmnn lucky."

Jill looked uncomfortable at Gale probing as she retorted in a short tone of voice, "Well, we should be grateful to be so lucky. I mean my poor friends...My own Mom…God-" She pretended to hug her face to potentially cry. A tiny forced shaky sucking in of breath as her shoulders shook. “I just…I just can't believe they killed my mother-”

"Cut the shit.”

….

Jill stiffened as Gale coldly told her, “I'm not part of the media anymore. There's no cameras."

...

Jill stilled and looked up for a moment trying to keep the innocent act up. "Excuse...Me?" She drew out shakily.

Gale just stared her down with a raised brow, "Your eyebrows aren't turned up, you're forcing your eyes to water by not blinking this whole time then blinking rapidly, the waver in your voice needs work too and stop sniffling so soon. People don't sniffle till the snot is running down their faces. Interviewed a lot of people including guilty people…I know fake crying when I see it. No Oscar for you anytime soon."

“What are you saying?” Jill just stared at her. "...Are you seriously claiming a girl that lost her friends, mother and boyfriend is fake crying? Are you seriously insinuating that?...Gale?" She said her name with an edge.

"I only accuse or go after the truth. And you?...I feel like maybe you hit your head just a little too hard. You know, what with that giant scuffle that happened. Somehow a teen girl fought off two grown men and a teen boy and now YN too? 4 people at the same time, huh? Things aren't adding up. Especially after YN fled the hospital...Whaddya gonna tell the cops when they ask why?" Gale asked mockingly and folded her arms.

Jill sat on the edge of the bed, body tense and ready to pounce if need be. "I'm gonna tell them the truth. I visited YN and she attacked me and two men attacked me and I was lucky to escape with my life till Dewey showed up. What? You got a mic on, Gale?" Jill's voice dropped an octave to her real voice, not the fake sweet act. "Ohhh…I get it. You want me to say it was Billy Loomis and Stu Macher like Sheriff Riley is convinced? Is that it? Is this some kind of bribe to get your old namesake back by proving something? Or maybe so you and your husband don't look like crazy lunatics saying two dead murderers are alive after such a tragedy?" She mocked back haughtily. “That's sick to do to a victim, Gale. Very tactless.”

"...No." Gale mumbled. "One: I don't have a mic.”

“Sure you don't.”

“Two: of course not. Without them captured; that's career suicide for both of us. They'll label you as crazy or a conspiracy theorist as well as me. I'm not stupid, you lil shit." Gale huffed, "... But you do have to talk, you know. This 'Oh poor me. I'm just a weak fragile teen girl who was victimized.' crap isn't gonna cut it forever. You were in this hospital room when Dewey and I recognized them and by the way you looked…You did too. You weren't surprised it was them. You couldn't wait for Dewey to shoot them so they couldn't say a word.”

“I was stabbed. I just wanted them caught for what they did; I didn't care who they were…And if that meant killing them to spare others the same fate then so be it.” She replied tilting her head and narrowing her eyes in barely contained annoyance at this back and forth between the two.

Gale was quiet for a moment before adding, "They're gonna search your phone too."

Jill sighed with a shrug, "If they find it. I lost it. Need to get a new one. Old one went missing that night and never found it in all the chaos. Couldn't remember my passwords or anything either. My Mom handled all that and I forgot what she said it was. So a new account, card, phone and cloud storage too I guess…I'm really devastated about it. I had so many pictures of me, Olivia, Trevor and Kirby on there.”

Gale scoffed, “It's 2011 and you don't use an email?”

“I'm a kid and schools don't like us to even have phones in class let alone use them for anything constructive. You know, they're bad for our learning. My one teacher had to have a student help her with a password change on her computer…I didn't check any email or password often. Mom did almost everything for me. So, I just plan on getting a new one and having someone help show me. " Jill feigned innocence with such a shitty lie.

"...How convenient." Gale grumbled before she sighed heavily and shifted her stance. "So what?...Get rid of the phone evidence then try and get rid of anyone in your way? All your friends, your Mom, your accomplice. Is YN the enemy now? Had to get her outta the way to get the spotlight? Those two were a surprise to you too I'd say with how things played out and now you're running with it as extra measure to not get caught.” Gale smirked wryly in realization of something. “...You're not giving a real statement because you're buying time to see if they get YN or not."

Jill scoffed loudly, "Listen Lady, I don't know what you're talking about-"

Gale laughed in outrage and smacked her hip with her good arm, "Man, you are really trying to sell it!” She lost her mocking smile, “Seriously, I'm not a bleeding heart like my husband. And we both know…We both know-" She repeated, lowering her volume. "You were not visiting YN in the ICU when she wasn't even awake yet. You had to rip off all your monitors and sneak with all your injuries under cameras and away from nurses just because you were sooooo worried about her…Worried about her ratting you out, more like it. You had to get rid of her when you realized she wasn't dead."

Jill felt her body tense and a slight sweat breaking out on her skin. This goddamn bitch. She should've told Charlie to stab her in the fucking head.

"...I told you, I was worried. The killers were still alive." She clarified once more in a firm tone. “I was attacked by YN then by them. Okay? I was just checking on her. I was scared for her.”

"Oh! So, you snuck in just to see her and got close enough for YN to wake up from surgery trying to randomly hurt you?" Gale mocked. "Are you fucking kidding me? One minute you're worried, then you want her dead and claiming she's involved, now you're straddling the fence to buy time-"

"The bitch attacked me! I don't know why; She panicked or something and then those two showed up." Jill argued with her tone accidentally becoming defensive.

“Oh, but not at the house? You and her supposedly tried to save each other's lives and you held her hand just for her to try and kill you in the ICU when you went to her room when she was just out of surgery? Sneaking too?” Gale demanded. “I still am on the fence with those two involved now…But I know one thing; you're full of shit. You are way more involved than you're saying and we both know it. In fact…Dare I say, YN might be right about you that night.”

Bitch.

Jill sneered, "...I could have your career tanked for questioning a victim like this. AGAIN. All those tabloids dogging you like it's 2000. So how about you back off before you become a nobody.”

Gale stood up from the wall and glared at her, "I'll come back on top; I always do... I think we both know how you knew the type of wound I got without even speaking to me or my husband. We both know you did not leave your house before Ghostface attacked your Mom and two Detectives. We lost two good men on the force... I know you could care less about them when you're the one that stabbed them. And we both know who actually helped Charlie this whole time. It wasn't those idiots. It was you. You and him. He fucking stabbed me in a way that you could keep me alive for your stupid little book idea."

Jill gave a sharp laugh of outrage as her nerves got to her. "Ha! Oh, so the honor roll student, good girl killed people? Killed her wn Mom!? Her best friend's!? You're SICK! You are so fame hungry and sick- I can't believe this! Leave."

She went to press the call button. Fingers hovering over it just a second as Gale spoke.

"-You know they're gonna look through all those snuff films of these murders, right?" Gale quickly rushed out.

Jill scoffed while hitting the call light. "No shit."

"Oh?" Gale smirked haughtily. "So you know...That one of Olivia Morris was recorded from two different angles?"

"Yeah, Ghostface. Ghostface's. And a partner was probably those two creeps in the bushes or something while Charlie killed her. YN was across the street, you know, their accomplice. She almost got me killed on that staircase." She spat with a smartass smug smirk at Gale. Trying to frame everyone but herself at this point.

"Then why was that one video recorded from your bedroom?"

....

....Jill felt her heart plummet. Everything froze as her ears wrang and her palms tingled like the bed dropped out from under her.

“...What did you just say?” She asked in a hushed tone, brows furrowing.

“That second angle of the video was filmed from your bedroom window, Jill.” Gale coldly replied.

. "...What? T-That's insane-" She furiously shook her head with a nervous laugh.

Gale gave the same smartass smirk back to Jill in return. "See, there's no way that video came from anywhere but your bedroom window. You had a clear shot. Are you seriously going to claim it was Kirby? Especially when at one point you can see her left hand in the shot when the video was recorded from the left side of that glass? C'mon! You can hear your voices and she sounded more scared than you!... She didn't have that camera, Jill. Billy and Stu weren't in your room. And YN was actually trying to get into the house from outside to help your friend at the time…No one but you could've recorded that."

“I didn't-”

“You did. Police have it. Got it off a website these murders were posted on. I just saw it in evidence today. But rest assured, they have it.” She chuckled in smug amusement. “Good luck trying to do what Roman did. Police stations, especially during a murder case, are like fort knox to break into.”

“I didn't!” She yelled.

Gale chuckled, “Oh really? Hm. It got uploaded that night…Are you gonna say Charlie did it? You were injured at the hospital, so you never saw Charlie alone and now with your phone mysteriously gone?...How convenient." She drew out and tilted her head in satisfaction at how tense Jill was.

Jill stared with wide eyes, brows furrowed, breath quickening as Gale smirked at her.

…This goddamn bitch. Fucking cunt. Nosey piece of shit. Skinny ass old hag fucking-

The insults in Jill's head were endless as Gale figured it out.

A nurse tried coming in and Gale quickly blocked the door with a chair. Banging persisted as Jill gripped the bed sheet, teeth gritted as Gale smugly told her as quickly as she could in a hush whisper as close to Jill as possible, "That video came from your phone and even if you destroyed it; It's still in the phone records with the carrier you stupid ass moron! They can dig and dig and diiggg-"

Gale jerked back as Jill yelled, "And what would an old washed up Boomer like you know ANYTHING about tech? Huh?! You probably still call it the net and print out pictures of memes and shit off pinterest!"

"I got sources including tech geeks I talked to…And I'm fucking GenX!” She quickly rushed out without taking a breath. “This ‘old hag’ would've recorded the old fashion way on a camera recorder hidden in your friends room and uploaded it using a public computer at the library or at least a laptop with a DPV or VNP or whatever the fuck its called! Not my smartphone connected to everything about me and in my fucking room beside a witness that knows me, you dumbass!" She jeered back as the door slammed open and people rushed in.

Jill felt her heart had been hammering in time with the door banging. Eyes darting looking for something to bash Gale's head in. Seething with anger and fear as she was damn tempted to stab Gale with her fork on her tray and claim she had to defend herself somehow…Until witnesses barged in.

They questioned Gale as Jill felt her world crumbling around her...Everything she thought she was so clever at and it went up in smoke in an instant.

"And when we find YN! She'll fight you! Then this will have to go to court and WAY higher than Woodsboro PD will be involved, sweetheart. It'll all unravel…It's over, Jill!" Gale called over the security guard's shoulder that was shoving her to the exit.

A nurse came in to check over Jill as the teen trembled and breathed heavily. Panicking at the idea of them realizing that particular video's angle was shot in her bedroom. She hid that and got rid of her phone that they'll soon recover calls and text and videos from. She was so focused on getting the video to let people see the murders she never suspected...She never thought-

"Get out...Get out! Get the fuck out!" She screeched at nurses who looked bewildered but complied after Jill stood and threw a tray, "GET OUUTTT!!"

Once alone she started hyperventilating. Grasping her hair and hunched over. Not even feeling the stab Billy gave her on her back, the stitches and pain dulled by morphine and fear.

If they find you with those two? She had a chance. You being with two wanted killers and even if people thought they were dead it would overshadow her…Maybe.

...If they found you alone? And you told the cops the truth? Gale was right...Court. Her phone gone out of everyone else's still on their person; she'd be the main suspect. They'd go to her phone carrier with a waiver to go through records, even videos and calls and texts all deleted but still there on their end. She thought a VPN on the web was enough and deleting evidence then getting rid of the phone! Most of all? Nothing could get rid of evidence that it was recorded from her bedroom window looking at Olivia's room. Eye witnesses including YN and Mrs. Meeks knew she and Kirby were there when it happened. If they find you? It's over! She couldn't even kill Gale, no doubt FBI getting involved in this case if it goes to court. It went from the sole survivor's only word against a bunch of killers to now...It's fucking over.

"Shit..." She tensely gave her voice genuinely shaky now. No more acting "Shit, shit, shit, SHIT, SHHITT!!" She screamed, throwing her tray against the wall.

————————————

You stood in front of Billy's bedroom door. Feeling sick to your stomach…Seriously, you might throw up. Skin clammy and breathing shallow. Debating heavily should you or should you not? Your voice wavered in uncertainty as you forced out, “Stu?...Can I come in?”

“Go away.”

Honestly, his tone alone was enough to make you want to agree and leave him be. Stu proved clear back in 1996 that when this side of him came out; he was dangerous. Maybe even more dangerous than Billy could ever be.

Your fingertips danced over the doorknob. Upperteeth skimming your body lip in trepidation before a sigh escaped you.

Despite his warning, you didn't listen.

Opening the door because you couldn't handle this silent treatment or the unsaid any longer. Not anymore. You had no one but him and Billy in this mess and despite what Stu says about ‘never seeing him again’ he WAS dangerous and he was quite the ‘sore loser’. Billy knew it. Hence his ‘We'll have to sleep with one eye open’ argument after Stu stormed away to the back of the trailer. And what can you say? You just couldn't go back to constantly looking over your shoulder especially over a misunderstanding you knew if he would just listen you could mend…Maybe.

So, you forced yourself to walk inside despite the fear. If he killed you; what else was there to lose? Best Friend dead, friend who was like an older brother to you hates you, can't see anyone, might never go home, the whole Country might soon hate you, you might go to prison…

“Stu.” You softly said his name and gingerly closed the press board style door behind you. He had a lamp on, rereading that letter that you saw he had ripped in half. It crinkled in his hands when you came in; his features twitching in irritation.

He didn't answer you. Just glared down at that paper. You lightly swallowed, trying to find any words you could without him attacking you or Billy getting involved again.

“Stu…We gotta talk. We have to.” You hesitantly mumbled, already getting a headache from this. “We just have to…Please?”

“About?” He mumbled back while not looking at you. His voice was uncharacteristically stern.

“Everything.”

He rolled his lips before smacking the paper. “...This is bullshit.”

You just nodded. “Yeeeaahh. Yeah, I call it bullshit too. Could've saved everyone trouble if he was more blunt.”

Stu scoffed, “So, you want him to admit it? Wow.” He said with a wry smirk on his lips.

You sighed, “Stu, please. That's not what I meant.” You rolled your eyes softly. He was already starting it.

“What do you mean then?” He demanded and tossed the ripped letter aside. “Because why would you keep this if it means nothing to you, huh?” He gave a bitter chuckle under his breath. “Why would you go to him over me? Why?!” He demanded, getting upset all over again. His emotions were like a raging tornado that threatens anything in its path once he gets worked up.

You stayed near the door and replied in a low voice, “I told you, you were passed out-”

“That's not what I meant and you know it!” He snapped. Sucking in a breath as he lowered his voice. “...I left my number there at your cabin for a decade and you didn't call me. Not once.”

Yeah, he had you there. You still argued, “I didn't call Billy either. And you never called me.”

“I was doing what you asked! I left you alone!”

You averted your gaze, “Yes, okay fine… I did want that…I wanted to be left alone at the time. By you and him.” You grimaced at the honest truth.

“WHY!?” He demanded with raised brows in outrage. “Why!? I was already at your house on and off so why the hell did it matter?”

“Stu. Because you're a killer.”

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, classic excuse.”

“Seriously, Stu! I did not want Randy or Dewey to accidentally see you. They came over randomly, you came over randomly, and I was just a huge ball of anxiety 24/7.”

“Oh please.” He huffed, “I evaded them seeing me for years before you told me to get lost. Nah, there was another reason. Probably some guy. Probably rat boy in there. And you're a rat too so how about you leave me be and both of you go off and have your backstabbing rat life together and get married in a sewer and have your ugly ass rat babies.”

He flopped back on the mattress acting like he was going to go to sleep. You frowned, feeling annoyed that he just didn't get it. Instead he was pouting like a child.

You warily sucked air through your nose and tried to stretch your neck. “Okay… Because I didn't want them hurt by you.”

He huffed with his eyes closed while putting his hands behind his head, “What are you on about, man? I haven't laid a finger on them since we were teens.”

“No but you were planning to. You thought about it and that was enough. You even thought about killing Randy in the barn when he found us days ago. I had to draw my gun out on you and Billy!…All these years later, Stu. And you still think about it when all else fails.” You retorted with a frown. “It's why I didn't want you around a decade ago.”

He shrugged with his eyes still closed, “Eh, but I didn't. And even in Hollywood years back, it was just an idea and you got your granny panties in a bunch over it for nothing. You chicks are all the same. Getting all worked up and holding grudges.”

You gave a mild glare as he was just irking you more and more. “Okay, new one. Because you didn't hesitate to scare the shit out of me in that motel the second things didn't go your way. And I didn't feel like being scared in my own damn house after that. THAT is another reason I went no contact. For my safety and my friends.”

That made him go from pretending to try and calmly chill to jerking up ready to snap your head off . “Hey, what the- YOU had a gun on ME first!” He pointed at you with venom in his voice.

Your eyes narrowed. “Because I felt threatened and you were gonna kill me if I stopped you from killing my friends.” You argued, old resentment resurfacing from a decade ago even if you tried to be calm but it was failing the more he talked.

Stu sneered, “You're nuts and freaking delusional, man! I was not. It was just a scare tactic. We were desperate and lacking sleep and turning on each other and you wanna act all innocent when you threatened me and him-” He pointed to the living room. “With a gun multiple times!”

“There should've been no tactics!” You exclaimed, failing miserably at trying to be calm. “And considering how you both were and how fast shit escalates with you two; what choice did I have?” You jerked your arm to the living room where they had just beat the shit out of each other hours ago. “I mean, damn! You both go from 0 to 100 in 3 seconds. I can't take a risk of thinking it's ‘just’ a scare tactic.”

“Oh cry me a river; it was a decade ago. Let it go.” He waved you off in annoyance. “And tonight is different. I've had it.”

You groaned and rubbed your face leaning back against the door. You both ran in circles verbally. Damn him. Doing this at this hour while you felt like shit. Seriously, was it the pills or just exhaustion?

You clicked your tongue and rolled your head back in exasperation. “...M’kay, back to my first and most important point. I didn't want to be caught. There. Billy did not get some special treatment either.” You grew serious trying to make him listen. “I didn't need or want my friends and family finding you at my house even if you didn't do anything. Or the cops of all things or the media. No one needed to know you lived and you were at my house. My secret needed to be kept a secret!"

He bitterly laughed, “Oh and look how good that turned out.” He jeered, giggling out the reply sadistically. “Randy was, ya know, just hanging out! Dewey is probably blubbering like a baby right now that you betrayed him too.” He grinned. “So what good did that do you?”

You felt a deep anger turning in your gut at his mockery of your best friend's death and the situation with Dewey. It was so fresh too. The wounds are still red and hurting to prove it. You wanted to throw something at him, scream at him but somehow you couldn't even move. The anger wasn't hot, it was cold. A chill over you at seeing him for who he was; a cold blooded killer.

“...Wow.” You gave in a lower tone with a heaviness in the air.

“Yeah, wow!” His tone was defensive in turn. He stared at you long and hard with an almost bored expression and shrugged. “Tough. It's the truth. Now, you have no one after all this time. Including me. You blew it more than Monica Lewinsky-”

“I know that, asshole!” You snapped, losing your patience and will to live through this the more you talked to him. “I know the irony. I didn't plan this. I didn't plan for you and Billy to be at that barn, and worst of all…Okay, the worst thing is-” You bitterly chuckled, shaking your head and voice catching.

“- Worst is that these two new killers had no idea you and Billy existed! You both could've stayed out of it completely and none of this would've happened.” You scoffed. No light in your eyes as you still wanted to cry over all this but barely held it together for your pride's sake. “My friend died because of a mistake that could have and should have been prevented. That's on me for life. Everything I tried to prevent blew up in my face. EVERY. DAMN. THING.” You smacked your hand with each syllable. Stu seemed unmoved as you ranted, “Seriously, every single thing that could have gone wrong, did! Are you happy? Is THIS what will make you smile back in your big mansion you claim you have? This gonna make it all better for you while you're with models and preparing for your next big gig or party or whatever?”

Stu raised a brow. A silence in the air for a moment before he mumbled. “You done?”

You stared at him. Pouring your heart out and he didn't care. You…You didn't…Damn, your brain was almost not working!

“...Fine.” Was all you said as you went to turn and he ordered.

“Stop.”

You stopped on command from leaving out of pure instinct at the tone he used.

“No, I'm-”

He cut you off. “I said, stop. You wanna talk? Don't run away the second the fire's on your ass instead of mine. You have bellyached about the same shit for years now it's my turn to be the victim for once. Sit.”

You turned to him in outrage, “I don't owe you shit after what you just said to me! It's…It's not the same thing. Randy and Dewey-” It died in your throat. You'd be venting, sobbing, pacing and heartbroken about this for quite some time. But you only had a select amount of time to clear this shit with Stu even if you both still parted ways permanently. At least he might not try to kill you years from now. You wanted to leave and never look back or even turn you all in but you shoved your fragile heart to the side right now. Either try and convince him for your safety down the road or live on edge for life. Cause vengeance and Stu was…A Casey Becker.

You paused and thought it over. Then nodded and rolled your lips in resignation. “Okay…Okay fine.” You gingerly went to the bed to sit at the edge.

Stu glared at you. “...I treated you well, YN. Better than any skank I've ever been with.”

You glared a bit, opening your mouth and he angrily shut you down. A rant of his own at what he knew you were gonna say.

“Before you say it; Screw Tatum. You knew her for a short part of our lives. Best friend my ass, you knew her for a few months.”

You went to open your mouth.

“I'm talking now. Shut it.”

God you wanted to smack him. You held back digging your nails into your palm with what you knew was a sour look on your face. You old injury from years back hurting as you fisted your hands.

“ I meant what I said. Tatum was a quick fling that didn't mean shit to me. I only dated her as a cover so me and Billy could kill Sidney. Billy's idea, not mine. She was cute with a nice rack so I played along. She didn't mean anything. You did. Alright? You were different…At least I thought.” He used a stern tone you rarely heard from him. “You were so much higher than any girl to me back then.” He raised his hand as if you were metaphorical on a pedestal before smacking his leg. “So much fucking higher, man.”

He leaned forward as you shrank back a bit. His blue eyes full of an emotion you couldn't read. “I gave you EVERYTHING…Everything, YN. My future, my plans, my freedom, my life, my friendship with Billy. I risked it all for you and you broke my fucking heart in half. I tried to save you and you stabbed me in the back. Then I tried to make up for everything after Windsor and you never forgave me after years of me thinking we were finally cool. Then, I had one slip up. Okay? One tiny fuck up and you cut me off like I'm chopped liver. Well, till you need me in our 30's for help…You're a using bitch. Always have been, always will be. You damn me but you're just as sick playing with a guy's heart just to save your own ass.”

You averted your eyes and didn't grip your fist so tightly. Feeling your palms sweating, feeling nauseous from what you inferred was anxiety, feeling bewildered at the emotion in his voice.

He huffed, shaking his head as if trying to find the words. His blue eyes seemed to bore into you as he gave in a hushed tone, “You…You told me you loved me. Do you know how fucked up that was? No girl told me she loves me. My own mother barely said it.” He hissed out. Pain in his voice you rarely got to hear. Always covered by a cocky attitude or perverted joke. “You wanna talk about fucked up? You played me like a fiddle and I forgave you for YEARS. Then you wanna play victim the second I get pissed? Fuck that and fuck you. I deserve to be pissed! FUCK YOU!”

You flinched at the boom in his voice at the last part. Angry Billy; What's new? Angry Stu and hurt Stu was a scary creature to deal with. You looked at him a bit differently as he spoke. What he said was hateful and nasty earlier but what do you expect from Stu Macher of all people? But this?...It made that note with his phone number you kept but never called all these years burn a hole in your chest. Your emotions are in turmoil with fear, anger, shock and hurt and…And guilt.

“Stu…I-” You fidgeted. “Look, I understand why you're hurt and angry.” The words felt uncomfortable to even say.

“Damn right I'm hurt.” Voice a low mumble in his throat; sounding almost like a growl of sorts as he glared daggers at you.

“But the big 3 words and why well…I mean, you were trying to kill me. I was…Kinda desperate?” You reluctantly gave while wincing as it stammered out.

Stu's eyes narrowed, “No excuse.” He grumbled.

“I mean…It's kind of a good excuse.” You tried to smirk and joke but It died in your throat at the glare he gave you. You sighed heavily. “C'mon. Give me a break, even a tiny inch here, Stu... Stu, we were kids! I was scared. You were trying to choke me to death. I was running for my life and trying to save everyone.”

“Did you love me?” He demanded.

“I…It probably wasn't love. Again I was a senior and scared but…I did care about you-”

“Bullshit.”

“I did.” You affirmed. “I don't know what I felt but I know I cared.”

But he just shook his head, “Oh cut the crap. You've never cared about me! You were scared of me or using me as a guard dog; no in-between.” He bitterly grumbled.

You rubbed your face trying to avoid any bruises or soreness from fighting Jill. “No I-...I guess… Yeah. Sometimes.” You reluctantly admitted with a heavy sigh. Your stomach was sinking and turning. “I'm sorry but sometimes I probably did.” You sighed out all the fight in you dissipating.

He stared.

Long and hard he stared at you before scoffing with a wry smirk, “There it is. That's all it was. I forced myself on your life and you were scared of me and just said whatever to save your ass!-” He didn't finish his sentence and flung a pillow in a fit. Thank god it was just a pillow. For now.

“That's not all, okay? I did care about you!” You tried to save yourself like a drowning woman at sea.

“Stop lying!” He yelled getting closer to you on the bed. You expected Billy to burst in at any moment with the volume your voices were reaching.

“I am not lying.” Pivoting on the bed to face him while scooting back. “Stu, you were my friend before you did what you did! Why can't you or asshole out there remember that?”

“Oh that makes it better? You only cared as a ‘friend’! You never cared past your guilty conscious and moral compass. I was your ‘friend’ because I put in the effort while you only knew me from Tatum.”

You groaned, “We had a class sitting beside each other; that's not true.”

“It is. And then you were my ‘friend’ to save your ass years later from me or from Billy or anyone else wanting to kill you.”

“No-”

He laughed in outrage, “Ohohoho, okay. So you cared huh? I loved you and you only cared? You never even cared that much!”

“Stop it, Stu!” You lashed out, finally yelling back. “I cared in High School even when I shouldn't. I really fucking did. When it was so wrong and sick and…Too much and...” You sighed and trailed off.

His eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”

You clamped up realizing you admitted a bit more than you were proud of. Always claiming to yourself and others you cared about them as friends only but…Who the fuck were you kidding? Even then? It was just too confusing and wrong and then the mix of hating them at the same time for what they did intermingled with that. Maybe not Billy as much until these confusing feelings with this letter happened but Stu had years of you getting to know him without the mask and talking and dinners at your cabin on and off or a chat on the phone…How could you not have some level of fucked up confusion over all that?

“Hey. Talk.” He snapped his fingers and intensely eyed you. “What? Are you trying to tell me… That you…What? You had a crush on me or something?” He taunted mockingly.

You felt your face scrunch up and looked away. “It's not the time for this, okay? I just lost everything. I'm just trying to clear the air about NOW not 15 years back.”

His taunting smirk receded and he looked at you in surprise. “...No, it's the perfect time. Now say it.”

“Stu.”

“Did you like me as more than a friend? I won't kill you, you have nothing left to lose now anyways, Billy will save you, we might all die or go to prison anyway so say it! Did you or did you not want me?” He pressured looking at you with desperate demanding eyes. A glimmer of what you would describe as hope under all that rage.

You didn't answer and he gripped your arms and shook you, “YN!”

“Ow, Stu-” You grimaced at him touching your arms that were fucked up from the last few days.

“I'm gonna hurt you more if you don't fess up! Fucking talk, woman!” He ordered but his action didn't match his words as he loosened his grip

You groaned inwardly and shot him an annoyed look. “...Yes. Okay, fine. fine! FINE!” You raised your voice each word and shoved him off you as you had his undivided attention.

You shakily ran a nervous hand over your head, unsure how to even come back from saying what you've known for years and hated yourself for. “I did. I had a crush on you…I'm not saying love, okay? That is a big word for people like us…I mean, you.” You swallowed. “But I did have a crush, I guess. I know it was probably obvious but clearly not if you thought it might've been just to save myself.”

“You did?” He looked taken aback before he scoffed clearly not trusting you as he leaned back. “Oh suurree. I bet you did on Billy too, huh?”

You frowned and looked away.

“No way.” He grumbled.

“Billy's name with mine; per usual.” He rolled his eyes.

You sighed realizing there was no point in hiding it. “...Well sorry, but it's true. I liked you both in your own way before you got with my friend or...Oh fuck. Before guys attacked me at my parents house.”

“Then why not get with me then?” He demanded eyeing you up and down skeptically. “Why hide it?”

You scoffed a humorless smirk on your face in exasperation. “It was the 90's! I was confused how I could crush on you and Billy at the same time and felt like a slut that you both were taken by my friends. I felt awful!...So, of course I just said it was a fleeting thing that would go away. I never wanted to admit it. I don't want to even admit it now.”

“Did it?” He pressed easing closer.

You rolled your eyes, “...I don't know, okay? Your asking questions that don't matter-”

“Oh, but they do.” He urged.

You rolled your eyes feeling sweaty yet chilled as he was up in your breathing space. “No it doesn't…” When he wouldn't stop staring you groaned and begrudgingly just started admitting it like pulling teeth. Feeling awful and lightheaded. “...Sometimes it did. Sometimes it didn't. Okay? Sometimes the feelings came back then left just as quickly the second you open your mouth.”

He gave a look that was almost a stubborn pout at that. Like a kid not getting the answer he wanted. “Yeah yeah. Then you dated Randy two years later. Why not just be the friend group's bicycle, huh? Maybe all of Woodsboro could have a ride if you gave James of all guys a chance!” He bitterly insulted you. “The horror movie logic? I grew up and realized it doesn't exist. Even you can live.” He grumbled with a triumphant smirk

…But as he said it with that haughty smirk he glanced at you.

At the expression you had; you saw him frown. A slowly forming frown after the words left his mouth. The smirk and sadistic glee left his eyes a bit. He adjusted in his seat and cleared his throat looking down. Rolling his eyes whether at himself or you was undecided.

“Yeah. I'm not too shocked you think like that of me. Of any woman really.” You numbly replied. You felt your chest ache. “I guess I can admit it now. James was a piss poor distraction from how confused I felt and so I wouldn't be the spare tire in the group. As for Randy? Ray and I dated as a fling out of pure confusion. Make no mistake, I was happy for him and Karla. We were young and almost died and he was in a coma after college. We were confused kids. And truthfully? I guess it worked out because you and Billy would've found an excuse to kill whoever I was with. James or Randy. Derek was a distraction too…The one that got away. Got snuffed out, shockingly not by you two, was that Detective...Mark Kincaid was it if anyone had been it and he's dead. He's been dead over a decade.”

You saw the bitter jealousy in Stu at the truth. He tsked in irritation, “...Yeah he was just to save your ass. You knew him a few days and he wanted to bust me and Billy.” Stu grumbled with narrowed eyes the second you mentioned Mark's name.

"He was the only one that understood me without being crazy." You just coldly told him. “But no, that's what you want to think. That I can't care past using like you and Billy are. You're projecting your own personality onto me. I cared at that party or I would've killed you when you got knocked out or let Sidney. I would've turned you in. Shot you at my house. Shot you at the motel. I cared not to ever turn you in; YES! Out of fear but also out of your well being which is way more than a scumbag like you deserves. Seriously, you have tried to kill me, killed my friends, tried to assault me once, tried to kill me, saved my life, then was good to me for years, then tried to kill me again, then came here to save me, now you're insulting me and making me feel threatened again- It is a fucked up conundrum loving someone like you, Stu! Can't you understand that!?” You almost pleaded with that thick skull of his as it just blurted out.

“You are such a whiny victim wannabe, I don't know how I put up with you all these years. Constantly boo hooing! Poor YN, poor wittle YN so pathe-...” He froze as he realized what you said. “Wait…Wait, wait…”

“ME!?” You yelled, still heated. “You ate my food, crashed at my house, threatened me! Who the fuck?-”

His eyes were wide as he shushed you, “Wait, what did you say?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

He looked at you in wonder, “You said you loved me.”

You looked bewildered. Flabbergasted…Mortified even. “I-I did not!”

“You did!” He urged scooting closer. “You said it's a Conundrum loving someone like me? What the fuck does that mean?” He searched your face and huffed. “What? That I'm too messed up to love?”

You stared back with wide eyes, kicking yourself. You usually had more skill than that then to just blurt something like that out. You sighed and looked at him reluctantly. “...Yes, I mean no I-” You softly addressed the elephant in the room. “Maybe if you weren't who you are I would've…I might've…” You trailed off voice shaky and unsure. You closed your eyes with a grunt of embarrassment. “Damn it, why are you like this!? You just have to press; That's you! You have to have your way or you kill or manipulate or insult! I don't owe you anything; this was just me trying to not have you fight Billy or kill me no-”

!!!

You didn't get it out as your eyes snapped open at feeling something bump against your face. Kinda hurt, actually. Your eyes widened as you tried to understand what the hell just happened before realizing you felt his lips…On yours and-

Stu Macher was fucking kissing you. Deeply. Passionately. Stu was kissing you on Billy's bed.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Authors Notes:

Okay, between life just being weird right now. Seriously, I wasn't even excited for Halloween and that is not me...

I had a tiny scene from Scream 4 show up on Tiktok of Jill recording Olivia's death and thought "Wow I didn't see that...Wow, that's stupid of her...Wow, this messes with my plot- OH FUCK!!"

And I redid like 20k words give or take because I had all of Scream 4 done ready to post till I saw that and I just couldn't ignore it PLUS writing my own books (It would be cool if yall bout them once I publish 👉👈... It would be neat of you guys and stuff.) plus life and trying to get a part time job and writing for clients bc a bitch got bills and just...FUCK!

So yeah. That is why this is so late and I've been MIA recently. Ily all for supporting me and your patience I am so sorry but Jill being that stupid in canon is too much to ignore and I lowkey like this plot better even if it's riskier.

I'm gonna try every 2 weeks every weekend now that I think I have a clear plot and have most of 4 done.

[lilibeams]

『 Tentacles 』

☼ synopsis: Mahito loves to experiment on you simply because you let him - loving how he pushes past your limits and pleasures you beyond belief.

☼ character: Mahito

☼ wc: 2.6k

☼ cw: DARK CONTENT! fem!reader, afab!reader, sub!reader, slapping, dacryphilia, clit slapping, bondage, tentacles, choking, throat fucking, spitting, humiliation, degradation, penetration with tentacles, anal, overstimulation, womb fucking, squirting

☼ notes: I'm bringing this cursed piece back because I miss my skrunkly rat 🫡

Mahitos eyes went wide when he saw the way you were looking right at him instead of through him like everyone else. He knew right that moment that you will be his, if you want to or not so he gave you a silly grin while waving at you. Talking to him was so easy, he would always have interesting topics to discuss for hours as time flew by whenever you two hung out, always listening to you, always agreeing with you without making it too obvious but before you knew it you were craving his company. You fell so hopelessly in love with the man who did nothing but sweet talk you, luring you in and giving you a sense of being heard and seen along with this false sense of security - his plan worked. He's not a master of manipulation for nothing, not even surprised that you were seeking out his attention all the time, almost addicted to it like a lost puppy.

The fact that he wasn't human didn't even surprise you when he broke the news to you, already aware that he was a little different from your average man but you never once minded, finding it quite appealing actually. Mahito’s lighthearted attitude along with his dumb jokes never failed to make you smile, always pushing you to your limits or having you be the butt of the jokes. It was playful banter to you, an experiment of how far he can take it for him. Testing you… you were never more than just an experiment to him, while you called him your boyfriend in such a loving way it always amused him. Your giggles lit up his heart but he wouldn't admit it, blaming it on everything but you. He's a curse after all, made out of hatred… he can't love.

It was just a question of time until he took these little experiments into the bedroom though and before you knew it, you found yourself pushed far past your limits but his sweet encouragement in your ears made it bearable. “You're taking me so well. Just a little bit more, cupcake” he chuckled and rubbed little circles on your clit to distract you from the almost unbearable pain he caused with his slaps to your thighs and ass - skin painfully sore to the point where it's bleeding. But you were his good girl, his perfect little human, you didn't want to disappoint him so you took everything he had to give despite your cheeks being stained with tears. Seeing you this broken, eyes all red and puffy from crying and far out of your comfort zone got him hard like nothing else, knowing he had you in the palm of his hand like a little puppet he can control made him feel invincible. The orgasm that followed was earth shattering, little slaps to your over sensitive clit gave you a high like never before after getting edged for hours on end, drooling on yourself and the bed beneath from the exhaustion and barely noticing how Mahito cleaned you up with utmost care, bandaging the wounds he caused before kissing each of them. “Can't have you breaking from this… you did so well for me” he praised while wrapping you in a fuzzy blanket and cupping your cheek to prevent you from moving while he kissed your forehead with a tender kiss. The collar around your neck jingled when you moved to cuddle up to the curse, a tired smile spreading over your lips at the reminder that you're his and he is yours - your name carved into his soul and there to remain.

You didn't need to know that even if you ever used the safeword, he wouldn't stop. It just existed to give you this false sense of security but worry not, he would never quite literally split you in half. Mahito was so much sweeter with you than with any of his experiments before, adoring you for the way you wanted his love so badly, how you humiliated yourself just to get some words of praise from him. All you were to him was a little project to study humans on, liking to see your reactions to various things and how you seemed to mind it less whenever he encourages you, how the unbearable pain suddenly became bearable with simple praise never failed to make him laugh, how desperate you cling onto his words to guide you out of it and towards your sweet reward for being such a good little human to him. He could own you and you would thank him for it, making him feel like a god.

This was your mistake - trusting him to never take it too far, that he's doing this for your pleasure rather for his curiosity but this mistake is what made you end up in this delicate situation. Your hands were tied behind your back, a spreader bar preventing your legs from closing as Mahito manhandled you onto all fours, a sickenly sweet smile on his face when you just let him move you the way he desired, not thinking much of this since he does this a lot. Your eyes locked for a moment while he caressed your cheek with his hand until something changed…

You tried jerking your head away when you felt these cold and slimy appendages slither over your cheek instead of his beautiful slender fingers you loved to feel on your body. “Hold still now, bunny. You don't want to get hurt… or worse, now do you? He asked in a playful tone, letting his fingers - now tentacles slither over your face and neck. Tears started forming in your panicked eyes, the sensation of tentacles on your skin new and frightening when they slowly started choking you. Mahito was laughing menacingly as he watched a fresh wave of fear mixed with disgust wash over your face when one of the appendages slithered over your lips which you pressed into a thin line. “You need to open that little mouth of yours… or i might let them go through your nose” He hummed in amusement, proving his point by letting one of them move towards your Nostril. Your head was shaking violently from side to side, panic increasing as your tears streamed down your cheeks in thick streams now and he sighed, one tentacle pushing into your nostril to let your know he was serious while a look of disappointment started forming on his face - His once so obedient little human suddenly refused him.

Every single hair on your body was standing from the feeling which caused you to reluctantly open your mouth, the tentacle immediately removing itself from your nose and slithering over your lips, slowly ascending into your awaiting mouth. Your body was repulsed by it, gagging wildly at the salty taste the slime left behind on your poor tongue, making sure to rub itself all over your wet muscle so you had no other choice but to taste it. “Look at you, taking it like a good girl. Now close your pretty lips around it, treat it like my cock you love so much” He chuckled but it turned into a laugh when you were pleading him not to make you do this but Mahito wasn't asking you, he was demanding so you behaved like his good little human and did what he wanted, sucking on the tentacle as if its his cock. It took everything inside of you not to gag when you felt a second one slide into your mouth and down your throat, moans from your lover filling your ear when he saw how beautifully your throat was bulging from the intrusion until he decided you had enough, taking the tentacles out of your mouth and kissing you forceful, his tongue invading your mouth like the slimy tentacles did just seconds ago.

His face showed pure euphoria upon tasting your saliva mixed with the salty taste of his tentacles. His kiss distracted you from the way his other hand transformed now too, letting slender tentacles slither over your naked body that was at his mercy until you couldn't ignore the cold sensation anymore, crying out for him to stop but still not using your safeword, which would have been useless regardless. Mahito positioned himself behind you, your ass still propped in the air, your face now resting against the mattress. Wet tentacles slowly slithered over the globes of your ass and along your thigh, ultimately resting at your folds to pull them apart, giving your lover a perfect view of your pretty slit. “Look at you, little pet. Crying and screaming but your cunt is drenched” he mused, smirking at your miserable frame before spitting onto your core that was fully on display for him which made you whimper out of humiliation, feeling his saliva along with your juices slowly dribble down your thighs and staining the mattress beneath you. He was right - it felt disgusting and you wanted it to stop but at the same time it felt so good to be forced into submission by him, letting him do everything he wanted to your body. Unbeknownst to you, a moan slipped out of your lips when one of the tentacles slowly wound itself through your folds, missing every sensitive spot on purpose. This made Mahitos wolfish grin spread further, the tentacle stopping dead in its tracks, resting right next to your bundle of nerves. “What a naughty little thing you are, bunny. Enjoying this like a needy slut” He whispered the degradation in your ear before wiggling the slimy appendage over your clit in a barely there touch, making you cry out from the weird, yet intense sensation.

The way your juices mixed with the slime of the tentacle caressing your clit made it unbearable to you, whines and moans cascading out of your mouth in a desperate way, needing a little more to tumble over the edge than just the feather light touch but Mahito heard your prayers, the slimy appendage now adding more pressure to your sensitive clit, making your jaw slack with a silent scream. The wetness of it aided as lube, easily flicking over the nub until it had you screaming out loud in pleasure, the knot in your abdomen finally snapping and Mahito laughed at the mix of emotions on your face, pleasure and disgust when you realized just what gave you this mind blowing orgasm and that this would not be the end. Your fears were correct when you felt four tentacles play with your entrance, taking turns on slipping in the tiniest bit until two of them slithered in to spread your cunt open, opening you up for the third one. A scream escaped you, begging him to stop but it was only amusing him further, letting the tentacle grow in girth as it slowly pushed itself inside of you. You felt every nub inside of your walls and the way it wiggled inside you let you feel things you've never felt before. “There you go. Give up your little fight… accept the pleasure it brings” Mahito cooed, feeling the way you slowly stopped clenching around the tentacle, making it much easier

To slip it further inside of you, the two smaller ones which spread you open slowly joined the thicker one and stretching you further than you've ever experienced.

Your jaw hung wide open at this sensation, one tentacle pressing against your sweet spot as the other two rubbed against your walls and prodding at your cervix to give you pleasure. With your eyes closed you slowly allowed the sensations to make you feel good, another tentacle playing with your clit again had you whimpering for more, growing greedier by the minute. “Awh are three inside of you not enough?” your lover teased and slid another one back into your mouth to fuck your throat but this time you welcomed it, sucking on it like a pacifier. It muffled your moan when you felt another tentacle enter your stretched cunt, but there was no pain, the little appendage rubbing your nub made sure you're enjoying it all as two more sucked and pulled on your hardened nipples. Pure ecstasy spread through your body, moaning loudly around the tentacle in your mouth but your eyes shot wide open when you felt another small one massage the ring of muscles at your ass, slowly prodding into your puckered hole. “I can't believe you let a disgusting tentacle take your little anal virginity, aren't you disgusted by it? By yourself for feeling this much pleasure?” Mahito asked sinister as he pushed it further into your behind but you only shook your head - it didn't hurt and you the disgust was long gone. You knew he didn't mean it, he loved the way you were so eager to please him by letting him do everything to you, he would never shame you for feeling pleasure since that's exactly what he wanted, for his little experiment to discover new pleasure and the way you slowly succumb to it.

The torturous assault of tentacles lasted hours, your holes stretched and your poor body begging for a break from the continuous orgasms Mahito brought you with his newest experiment. “Give me one more and I'll let you rest” he cooed, pushing against your sweet spot repeatedly with a smaller tentacle as the thick one nestled itself into your womb, making you feel as full as never before. It was enough to have you screaming until your voice was hoarse and with a last flick against your clit he had you squirting all over the bed again, taking one tentacles after the other out of your abused cunt until only one remained on your clit along with the other inside of your behind. “I need to see you break, bunny. Think you can cum again just from this?” He asked, nibbling at your neck while one of the slimy appendages kept rubbing your clit as the other one thrusted into your puckered hole. Your head was shaking violently, overstimulated to the point where it started to be painful but you still didn't use the safe word and allowing him to continue with this torture until he had his fill from seeing you cum over and over just from the anal penetration until you passed out.

You don't know how long you were gone but your legs were aching, your holes sore which reminded you that this wasn't a nightmarish wet dream - it really happened and you felt like crying when Mahito pulled you closer into his arms. “Did we go too far today, my bunny? Does your tiny body need a break?” He cooed in a fake sympathy but you still appreciated his care, nuzzling your face into his chest to return to the safe space in his arms. You knew he didn't want to hurt you and he didn't, at least not physically. “You did so well for me today… such a good girl. My perfect little human” he whispered as he played with your hair, hoping you can fall asleep soon since he already cleaned you up while you were unconscious. Mahito may be a curse created out of hatred, unable to love but he felt something towards you, something that runs deeper than just his curiosity - your name was carved into his soul after all.

Networks: @pixelcafe-network @interstellar-inn @houseofsolisoccasum

[lilibeams]

BUTTER

Synopsis. First time cúmming inside = first time losing his mind.

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, creampíes, PÚSSYDRÚNK JJK MEN, breéding, cúmplay, men whímpering, virgínity loss (Choso), overstím, ínnapropriate use of jujutsu, GOJO’S POWERS, proposals, full nélson, true form Sukuna, dp, spítting, p slápping, p talking, limitless, oraI (fem rec.), pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 5.9k

A/N. Hope y’all have a lovely week <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Earned it.

“I-is she really tellin’ me to hah- f-fill her up inside, doll?” Toji breathes, dazed eyes locked down at your stuffed entrance. And he can barely focus his gaze - barely even try to sound like himself right now. “I-is this real?”

Ragged rasps just about half as ruined as he feels, lilting up in pitch. In strain. Sharp intakes of breath becoming so labored when his entire hulking body wracks with a heaving shiver. 

And Toji’s scrambling his thick fingers to latch roughly onto your face, your waist - anywhere and everywhere that might help him keep an ounce of his sanity.

But it was too late.

“Heh, did I hngh- fuck the rationality outta ya? You really want me t-to-” Head throwing back, he can’t even think of finishing his sentence. Of doing anything other than curling one set of fingers around your throat. Biceps flexing when he shoves you even harder onto all fours on the silken sheets, he cranes over to place a line of pretty pecks down your teary cheeks, panting, “Well…wh-whatever my girl wants- she gets, right?”

And he meant it.

Oh, he couldn’t even believe it. Toji had your pretty pussy overfilled with all of his thick, thorough inches - slamming his hips drunkenly against yours when you’d babbled to cum inside. Fuck, it’s so real.

And that’s all it takes for him to clamor up one of his staggeringly muscular thighs up onto the plushy bed. To messily slip and slide across the saturated puddle of your sweet, sweet dripping juices and press his foot down shamelessly on your head. Like he couldn’t get enough.

The new angle nestles his hefty cock disruptively, dredges of his sweltering hot precum splat! against every inch of your clingy cunt.

“Oh yeah- th-this is the stuff.” His dark, dewy eyes veer to the very back of his head, hissing when his achy cock expands open your gummy walls. Throbbing head swelling plumper to curve even deeper, “Let me- l-let me hear ya, ma-”

Your trembly fingers rake a reddened line down his calf. Gasping for air at the way the rotund end of his angry, strawberry-pink tip kisses against your g-spot so snugly. “W-wan’ it so badly- please.”

“Want what?” Toji’s teasing tone rumbles from behind, and he’s gyrating his hips ever-so-slightly slower. Making sure to draw out those wet, translucent glides down your tight channel, “Can’t- can’t hear you-”

Honestly, he had absolutely no idea whether it was because of your honeyed tone breaking out into the cutest of whimpers, or because Toji’s ears were popping. Swatting a wet smack! at your beading clit to get you to yelp, his drawling mouth moves all by itself. “Already asked- t-tell me now unless ya want me to cum outside-”

“No! No no no-” And that was all the threat it took to have you careening unsteadily onto your elbows, fully forgetting the mean restraint of Toji’s foot on top of you. “Please- need you to cum inside please-”

“Louder.”

You’re sneakily shivering your hips down every one of his rummaging inches. “Toji-”

“Ohhhh- my bad.” With a slight snicker, his tongue glissades a wet gloss down the very edges of his scar. Leaving rounded circular bruises at your bobbing throat just how harshly Toji was jostling you with the vice-like embrace, and you can only manage out a few sniffles when he drags by one strong arm to crash the recoil into his ruthless hips. Dangerously stopping you in your tracks. Humming, “Stop fuckin’ running, I w-was talkin’ to ya pretty pussy.”

Your bleary eyes snap open, “What–”

“Shhh, doll- stop whining so much–” he’s cooing in a syrupy slow cadence. “Jus’ needa- needa hear it from her.”

Slapping down his leaky cockhead along your sloppy hole every few strokes, having you drooling a glossy sheen down his thick shaft like you were painting him. So much of it that the dripping wet noises were resounding in Toji’s ears, dancing around his melty mind like his new favorite song. 

Oh, he loved to hear it. Over and over and-

“S-so soaked.” he’s groaning out like a mantra, darkened eyes grifting together. Mouth can all but lift his drunken maw slack open at every tightening clamp of your syrupy pussy, “You want me to cum inside this badly, doll?” 

And you feel your puffed-up pussy lips get even more soaked at the utter pussydrunk look on Toji’s usually smug-features. “Because I’ve been thinking about this e-ever since the day I met ya-” He’s craning over - hunching, more like.  Baring you with his most crazed gaze, “To breed ya- to fill you up ‘ntil you think you’re gonna hah burst. To make ya a pretty momma so-” Back muscles flexing, abs aching with fatigue, lips dragging a sopping wet kiss. “-please let me cum inside.”

Ah, who was Toji Fushiguro against you?

Because as soon as your head even dares to move within the inch of that half-delirious nod you send his way, Toji’s sopping your insides sloshing wet with his cum. For the first time. In awe. Load after load being fucked up into you - white flashes behind your eyes when you feel it knock against your womb, trickling down over your cervix.

And there’s so much of it.

“Gonna have yer g-gorgeous eyes-” he slurs, crushing you with his full body weight. “-n’ your smile fuck- my love for ya-” It won’t’ stop - Toji can’t stop, can’t reel back the weepy curving divot of his head. “M’thinking four- no- five.” Still oozing out a milky gloss even when he’s dragging his fat cock out of your hole. 

Still cumming. Smearing every nook and cranny of the sheet below white as he flips you around and plants a sudden smack! on your overspilling pussy, gushing out obscenely when Toji’s urgently bringing his face down, down, down.

“Oh. Fuckin’ delicious.” His eyes droop half-lidded at the heavenly sight - shit, he could get used to this. Mouth watering, his feverish breath wafts all over your sensitive pussy. “I earned this, didn’t I, ma?”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Happy wife, happy life

“Ken-”

“...”

“Ken.”

But oh, Nanami Kento can’t even hear his pretty wife right about now. Can’t do anything but shove his greedy tongue down the ends of your sopping wet slit, pooling your syrupy juices all the way down to his throat.

In fact, the only response you’re being gifted with is a furious pull on his dangling work tie - barely even bothering to change out of it - to be able to swipe his nose down more freely in a long kiss down your puffy clit. More, more, more-

Keening, your fingers tangle into Nanami’s blond strands - tugging, dragging, but shit, he couldn’t - wont. It hurt for him to even think of pulling away. Roughened palms scissor past your folds, and he pants, “P-please- fuck- just a bit- more-”

He was addicted. Gone. 

“B-but Ken-” Couldn’t register anything past the way your voice was dipping into a whiny territory right now that made him twitch dangerously. That is, until- “Wan’ to cum w-with you- to have you ah- cum inside-”

Oh.

If you thought that Nanami was drunk on you before then you were completely unprepared for the way that singular babbling plea make him still. 

It makes him gasp, honeyed eyes widening, feverish breaths spilling out in heaving puffs of condensation - once, twice. Before your back is suddenly slamming down on the counter, legs splayed out shamefully by Nanami’s sturdy forearms, and your cunt-

Fuck, in a few split-seconds, you were being stuffed so thoroughly open. Nanami’s reddish cockhead springing down to gift a wet thwack! thwack! thwack! on your puffed-up clit, he’s swiping down the ends of your drooling lips. 

“I-inside?” he breathes, a few octaves higher than usual.

You’re nodding, your fingers twirling around his haphazard tie. “Inside.”

“Anything…” Nanami breathes, and he sounds like he doesn’t even know that he’s saying the words. Barely ripping his gaze from you to scramble for your left hand - before placing a sweet, sweet peck on that cool wedding band on your ring finger. “Anything f-for you, my love.”

You’re almost crying at that ruthless stretch of his globular tip poking at your insides, he’s caving in a way open - and even after so many years, you’ve never gotten used to how staggeringly big Nanami’s girth was. How his curved divot was steaming out a thick wad of precum that already made you feel so full.

Now, you two had discussed kids - but never acted upon it like this. This needy. This frenzied-

“Wh-whatever you want, y’know-” He’s humming depravedly into your mouth like a mantra,  thumbing past your pouty lips to spit into your mouth. And that very sight of those translucent splatters makes his hips stutter mindlessly, “Anything for you- anything for the future momma of my kids-”

Shit, you throw your head back as soon as he’s grazing two digits down the very hood of your neglected clit - only for Nanami to jostle your head over his hands.

“C-careful-” he murmurs, hand dipping down to massage your neck. Your shoulders - all while his fat cock was rummaging every nook and cranny of your insides. “-don’t wan’ you to hurt your- hah-self, darling. S’not good f-for the-”

Baby.

Nanami doesn’t think he can even bear to say that simple word right about now. 

Risking losing whatever’s left of his sanity, he’s wrapping one beefy arm around your middle to crush your body to his. And before you know it, you’re being hastily jostled off of the counter and dangled midair - all while your gentle husband barely even breaks a sweat. Utilizing the lewd properties of gravity to let you bounce down onto his long length and back upwards. His voice cracks, “-baby.”

“Ah-” your trembly hands wrap their way around his neck, giving Nanami the perfect angle to pepper peck after sultry peck onto your bouncing tits. “D-don’t hah- drop me, Ken, m’kay?”

Drop you?

Drop you?

God, he lets out a slight chuckle at the very thought. Angling to rut his inches even deeper upwards, every tiny massage of your elastic walls around his painful cock makes Nanami nod. So fervently that stray strands stick to his prespired forehead. Such a pretty mess of your sensible husband. “Mhm- w-won’t drop you, I swear- I swear-”

Hips speeding up in such a sloppy way now, but even how you’re tightening his tie won’t make Nanami stop - slow down.

“Promise?”

Slowly, his dribbling cock gushes out even in even more velvety ribbons, you’re watching in such delirious awe at the way those delicate strings of slick and spit stretch all down his pinkish shaft. 

“Promise-” he groans, feeling light-headed. Heavy balls thwacking in a sticky staccato against your ass. Fingers gliding up, up, up to where he was nudging your sensitive g-spot, bruising out his circumference on all your sensitive areas. Kiss after French kiss into your gooey heaven. He presses down. “-gonna f-fill you up right here- won’t miss. Swear I won’t m-miss-”

And he doesn’t.

God, he grows sullenly quiet to hear all those delicious squelches the very moment Nanami’s steaming hot cum is spilling into you. Warming you from the very insides- and your own orgasm has you seeing stars. 

Sloshing around in his favorite little swivels, he can’t help but let his hips gyrate slowly to feel it coat a creamy gloss down his sensitive cock. To feel your tiny whimpers and whines when his seed dredges down your womb. Drip! drip! dripping onto the kitchen tile in an echoing splatter from your slobbery slit. 

You leave a wet peck at the ends of his curled lips, “W-wan’ keep it all inside, Ken- all of it-”

God, you were going to be the death of him.

“M’gonna marry you all over again- s-swear and- and…” And just then, he shudders so violently that you fear for a split-second, legs around his toned waist tightening. “-o-oh, my love- m’gonna cum again.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - “U-use me.”

“I-I’m so close-”  Geto finds it in himself to grit his teeth, to force his jittery fingers up to pinch your plump clit. “-gonna cum- fuck, s-stop riding me, honey- unless ya want me to fill you up heh-”

It’s said so low and sultry and even through your hazy mind, you know that it’s a simple tease coming from your boyfriend. You know that he didn’t mean anything by it - but that certainly doesn’t stop the way that your hands grasp around his shoulders, knocking your heads into a messy French kiss. “But, I want you to, Sugu.”

Oh. 

Geto Suguru can’t hide the way his chest heaves with a choked-up moan, how his head throws to the very back of his silken pillowcases when his hips rut upwards into you like a fucking animal.

It’s like he was out of control. Ears ringing with the words, it takes the cult leader below you every shred of will in his entire body to groan out, “D-don’t joke like that- fuck- gonna give me a heart attack, y’know-”

“M’not joking.”

Shit, his eyes widen. Straying down to where your puffy pussy lips were bulging around his fat girth, swallowing up every greedy inch that you were being drilled with. Throat dry, every sound that comes out of him now is painfully raspy, “Y-you fuckin’ mean it? Better not be fuck- talking outta this naughty-” Swat! Coming down to kiss a punishing smack against the edges of your drooling cunt. “-pussy.”

You couldn’t fake the way that makes you glissadingingly drenched even if you wanted to. Nails raking down Geto’s curvaceous pecs to steady your stuttering hips, your bounces grow frantic. 

“Please- c-cum inside-” begging. Maybe you were cockdrunk already, pouting in a way that has his hefty, cum-filled balls squeezing. “Jus’ want you all inside-”

And when Geto thinks back to this situation, he doesn’t know how he was ever supposed to stand a chance. Because with a gasping ricochet of his fat, curved cock onto your most precious g-spot, he’s surging stringy wads of seeds that trickles down your inner thigh. Cumming and cumming so hard - it’s never felt this good - that he almost forgets it’s too early.

That is, until you’re gasping a soft “Baby, did you-”

“Sh-shut up-” And you swear your big, strong boyfriend whimpers. He’s furiously blinking away those glittery globular tears at the ends of his eyes. A tiny pout smeared across his rosy pink lips when you’re being flipped.

One hand around your throat, the other plugging back creamy dredge after dredge into your drooling cunt. Almost as if it was offensive to him to catch that syrupy drizzle, he’s making such a fucking mess. 

“Such a filthy girl- n’ a filthy cunt-” He sputters out, and Geto felt like he was burning a bright red blush all down his pretty features. Matching the angry way your hips were being slammed into his, “Think you s-sooo fuckin’ fuck- fuck fuck fuck-”

And shit, he can’t even finish his sentence before those moans are petering out into speechlessness. A singular tight squeeze of your gummy walls encircles his hot girth. And it’s enough to make him whine, “Please- fuck, how are you doing this-”

Sounding so genuinely in disbelief, you watch as Geto’s mouth drops lewdly at the way every pearlescent bead of his cum was directed towards your cunt. Seeping out through the edges of your sopping lips.

You’re giggling in a drunken way that makes him flinch, “S-something wrong, Sugu?”

“Don’t-” he bares you with a feral grin. Heavy limbs throwing apart your limp legs to jostle his hips into you even harder, and it’s like Geto was spearheading into your lungs. Swiping up translucent wet splatters of his fat head in delicious drags down your spongy cervix. Hissing that even the slightest bit of recoil had him parting from the melty depths of your pussy. “-don’t call m that ‘nless you want me to- oh-” His dewy eyes roll to the back of his head, leaving another unapologetic smack! on your peaked clit. “-t-too late. M’gonna cum- fuck fuck fuck- n’ s’all your fault-”

“Awww–” Teasingly, your fingers drag through his long curtain of hair, scratching lightly at Geto’s scalp in a way that makes him purr. “-how can I hah- make it up to you, Sugu?”

The only thing he wanted right now was to cum inside you again. Once more. Twice. Thrice. Again and again and-

“Use me-” Geto gasps, and he’s careening his head down for what you assumed would be one of his favorite messy kisses - only to wrap those pinkish lips around your tongue and suck. “Use me use me- ohh please, use me- honey- make me a daddy. D-don’t even care anymore-”

And when he cums, Geto’s filling your already sloshingly drenched cunt with heavy loads of his seed. Sticky and honeyed enough that it’s next to impossible for him to pull out and sheath his rock-hard dick unforgivingly into your pussy. 

One of the biggest threats to jujutsu society - whimpering when he spews out a stream of wet swears into your open-mouth, shivering at every one of your milking clamps to drag out something delicious from him. 

He’s curling his hulking body into yours, dripping fingers glistening all the way down to Geto’s wrist with just how much of his loads he’d shoveled all the way back inside your cunt. Giving your sloppy hole a languid circle around the diameter with his slender fingers, before popping them into his mouth. 

And Geto can only see stars behind his eyes, he can only moan at the taste, “I think…” Peaking out a hazy eye at your squirming figure - where the hell did you think you were going? He’s hypnotized, dragging you back into his clutches with a hand curled prettily around your throat. “-that w-we’re not done until m’cumming b-blanks, honey.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Marry you…

One swipe - just one swipe of Choso’s fattened, blushing red tip down your slit is all that it takes for his stupidly pussydrunken eyes to run to the back of his head. For his drooling mouth to slack open with all the utter need of a virgin, “Please-”

You’re humming through your moans, arching your body just right for him to feed you more and more of his half-flaccid inches. “Tell me what you want, baby-”

Fuck, he’s winking open his eyes to peer down at you. Hands traveling their way to roughly jostle your pliant body into one of the meanest mating presses you’d never thought your dear inexperienced best friend possible.

“N-noo–” Choso’s whining, pressing wet pecks down your lips. “Don’t call me that, baby- or else m’gonna…”

Choso’s handsome cheeks burn a shameful red when his eyes drift down to the gooey splatters of cum smeared along your stomach from not too long ago. Just the prospect of being able to put it in too much for his fried brain to handle.

And you’re finding your fingers darting across the glossy sheen sticking to your skin, bringing those drippingly wet digits up, up, up for Choso to gladly wrap his lips around. Sucking. 

“But I want you to, Cho–” Watching as his eyes widen, mouth dropping into a soft oh! Your voice drops into such a hum that makes his swollen tip twitch startlingly. “Want you to c-cum inside m-”

Shit, he doesn’t hear the rest of the sentence - and he doesn’t want to. 

Not unless Choso wants to make an even bigger fool of himself in front of his pretty best friend that oh-so-kindly suggested taking away his virginity. Not like there’s anyone else he’d even dream of giving it to.

Thick, sculpted thigh hiking up, he’s slamming his hefty cockhead down until your swollen folds were kissing up in a sweet, sweet pucker against his thick hilt. Grinding in slow, sultry gyrations upwards like he still wanted to stuff you with more, more, more- 

“I-I can can cum inside?” Forehead beading with sweat, lower lip wobbling with the sheer effort that it took to merely hold back the way that his achingly hard cock was straining for release once more. Hissing at the almost sizzling drag of precum down your bulging g-spot. “For my first time? Inside? R-really inside?”

And despite the way that he was so patiently waiting for your answer, Choso couldn’t help the way the greedy curve of his thumb swipes down your peaked clit. Rolling in lazy circles - low, and slow to make your gummy walls clench in that particular way he’s slowly gotten addicted to. 

You’re nodding with a smug smile at how pretty he looked all fucked-out like this. Darkened eyes all droopy and half-lidded like he was blinking through syrup, muscles twitching mouth-wateringly, hair browner than usual with his sweat-dampened streaks. You can’t help but wring your fingers through his locks and tug, in a way that makes him hiss. In a way that makes him gasp. 

In a way that has him spurting out a thicker stream of precum into your gooey cunt - close. So close. “Mhm– let it a-all out inside, baby.”

Oh god, and then he does-

He does and Choso’s sure he sees the pearly gates of heaven right then and there, and he knows you’re his very own angel.

“Move your pretty fingers, baby– I wan’ you to t-take it all-” It’s not even mean the way he swats away one of your hands subconsciously cupping your split pussy - it’s just desperate. So that he can place pound after filthy pound to fuck you into the soaked sheets. 

Whining out, “Yeah please- fuck-”  Snapping his flexible body down until you were folded helplessly in half, every languid second is spent with such velvety ropes of cum being stuffed down to the bottom of your pussy. “Wan’ this forever- forever please-” Thick, stringy wads that stick and slide down your walls - that overspills when it’s too much for your snug channel to take. “W-want this…”

And just one look of his greedy gazy downwards And Choso’s gasping like he couldn’t even believe he could cum this much - couldn’t even believe he could stop at this point.

“Marry me-” he’s sputtering, eyes clearer with the sudden idea. As if he’s imagining it already. Hips shifting to lazy down his sloppy staccato into something more thorough. “B-be my wife- have my kids- please-” Something that has your toes curling with pleasure, branding every ridge and thumping vein down his shaft into your walls contorting around him. Hiccuping - little sobs curling at the back of his throat, “Please- please I need you to marry me-” 

It’s overspilling - adding to that little milky pool from below. He’s barely even thinking before swiping a hand through some of those creamy remnants of cum. Sucking. Taking your own - popping that ring finger of yours into his mouth.

Drool drips down the side of his sodden lips, moving to mewl softly. “D-did that really just happen?”

The words come out nothing but a whisper, strangled and strained from the very depths of his rumbling chest. And Choso’s peering down at you like you were everything - his softening cock sending sparks down his spine with every slight rub down your sopping wet folds. 

“Mhm–” your hands make their way down his pecs, rubbing over pert, pink nipples. Something that makes him let out a low shudder, reddened divot bursting in a few more wispy strings of seed. “N’ you did so hngh- good, Cho.”

“D-did I? Was I your oh- good boy?” he stutters, before letting out a keening pout. “B-but I need to have you cum, too, baby- need to have you cum-” And you’re so at his ravenous mercy when Choso swipes a wet thumb over and over down your throbbing clit. “-and then- then can we get married?”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - MESS!

“What the fuck-” The king of curses breathes - he heaves - like never before, even in that human form of his right now. “Wh-what the fuck have you done to me, woman-”

And all the foes in the world had nothing against your honeyed whines. Absolutely no match for the way your elastic walls were clinging around his throbbing cock so tight. No match for your cockdrunk babbling that drove him insane.

“Such a filthy mouth you h-have-” he groans, leering over his inhumanly powerful body to bend over yours. You’re gaping when one of his big, beefy arms jostle you upwards into a headlock. Even shapeshifted from his true form, he was still so strong. Spitting, “Do you dare to- fuck- move those pretty lips of yours n’ repeat those words back to me, brat.”

As if you could do anything else. 

“I-I said-” you’re choking out, panting in feverish gasps of the heady air. “-said I want you to c-cum inside-”

Oh. 

In a split-second, you’re feeling your tautly stretched walls expand to limits you weren’t even sure were possible. The very bottom of your pussy being ravaged with two circular brandings - two. Two matching rock-hard cocks jostling around you. 

And the stretch of Sukuna’s devilishly true form opening your cunt to its very limits is so maddening that it takes you a second to realize that the rest of him had shapeshifted, too. 

Suddenly bigger, suddenly more towering, suddenly the king of curses. 

His strong forearm curls even tighter around your throat, knocking the remaining gasps out of your lungs. “Seriously? L-look where talking outta ya slutty pussy hah- got me-” Sukuna chuckles. Deep and rumbling from his bulging pecs, “-c-can’t even hold a n-normal form- you made me do this- fuck-”

He was fucking you like it was your fault.

Solid inches upon inches that were bruising. And if you thought that Sukuna’s size was staggering in whatever human form he’d conjured up for the safety of your poor pussy - it was absolutely incredible with both his twin girthy cocks. Bigger, thicker. The slightest ruts and grinds into your gushing cunt having him knocking into your lungs, painting down a hefty load of steamy precum. 

Messy.

“Messy-” you hear a primal rumble from above you. Shit, did you say that out loud? Condensed breath heady and hot against your ear, “Heheh- you think this is m-messy, lil’ human? Wait until I-I- hah-”

“Y-you’re really gonna cum inside, Kuna?” you’re batting your teary lashes up at your king, a delirious smile smearing itself all over your face. 

Wobbling when his snapping hips purposefully slow down to mere gyrating squelches, every push and pull feeding your slobbery pussy languidly. You have him hypnotized, maw slacking open with every lazy drag of his heavy cocks back and forth back and forth back and- “Mhm- gonna fill ya up. Breed ya u-until you’re begging that ya can’t take it. Until y-you’re all round n’ glowing with my heirs.”

God. He was out of control.

“I-I can take it-” Your nails rake airily down his ever-tightening forearm - nothing but mere kitten scratches to Sukuna. “Promise Kuna- I can-”

“Tch- this damn naughty m-mouth of yours.” he smirks in a sleazy way - just about all that Sukuna can do to not let his voice break out in whimpers right now. All he can do to hold back his building high, curvaceous tips of his thickened cocks spazzing out tight, voluminous globs of wispy white. He’s covering your prattling mouth with one hand, “Take it then- take it- but ya better make an equal mess f’me. Heh-”

Even through your bleary mind, you already knew what he wanted - to have you squirt all down Sukuna’s weepy cocks. To make a mess. 

Always his favorite.

“Th-think ya can do that?” He snarls down at you, twiddling a few sopping wet digits to toy with your pulsing clit. Third and fourth arms snaking around your waist to keep from your pathetic scrambling. To stop your escape when his hips jackhammer away harder. “Can you- my queen?”

Oh, he cuts himself off with a whimper.

Because all of a sudden your gushing cunt is surging out in waves of translucent slick. It sticks to his rubbing cocks - and all the way to his washboard abs -like a gloss, stars behind your eyes when Sukuna’s fucking you through your high. Praises slipping out in a way that would’ve tarnished the king’s reputation if anyone found out.

But right now, he didn’t care. 

Not when he’s all but bursting from his bawling tips - such thick rivers of cum that knock mercilessly into your gummy spots. The force of both his fat heads streaming out relentlessly is enough to leave your forbidden sweet spots all bruised and battered. 

Inflating your snug channel until Sukuna only had to slide a hand down to about halfway down your abdomen, pressing down at that nudge. “Heh, s’right at h-home-” 

And now that he’s filled your pretty pussy with seed, Ryomen Sukuna doesn’t think it’s possible to cum anywhere else. With a shuddering hiss, he’s dragging his cocks out, spying down with hooded eyes at the way your sloppy entrance was molding and constrictign around him - like you were trying to milk the fucking soul out of him.

But Sukuna had other plans - plans that included letting his second tongue loll out, rough tastebuds sweeping a long lick down your leaky slit. Creamy cum trickling down the pinkish muscle, and he could feel his mouth grinning. Something he’s been wanting to do since he moment he fucking saw you.

“H-hey-” you’re turning your head to huff back at him. 

Smack!

“Ahh, stop yer whining-” Sukuna’s smoothing one hand down over the raised bumps of all five digits on your ass, another one of his hands guiding his fat bases to drive up your sopping crease. Pooling the milky remnants on his rotund tips. “-because m’not done breeding this cunt properly yet, my queen.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Limit(less)

“This time-” Gojo’s heaving out a dragging shudder, his face burying hotly within the tender crook of your neck. Spitting - panting, “This time this time- this- time-”

Oh, it’s been just about the same thing that he’s been babbling for the past few hours now. All that he can utter after so long of his sensitively overworked cock stuffing in and out over your overspilling cunt, flickers of jujutsu bolting with every sodden drag down your melty walls.

Truly, the strongest didn’t expect to be addicted the first time he filled your drooling pussy with thick globs of his seed - it was an accident, the first trial of trying to use limitless for its…unintended purposes. 

But right now, Gojo had absolutely no clue if this was the nth trial or whether he was simply addicted to breeding your pretty cunt.

“T-Toru–” Your fingers scramble backwards to bury in his snow locks - difficult, with the way that your boyfriend was wrangling you into a tight full nelson. Feeling the push and pull of thick cursed technique in the air - inside you. “-s’not gonna work.”

God, just the sear of your grip on his scalp is enough to have Gojo’s hips rutting up in a perfect curve off the plush king-size mattress. Fucking up into your cunt so thoroughly that you gasp at the syrupy slosh of his cum from before inside you. 

His hiccups, voice cracking into a whine at the very end. “D-do you hate me, sweetheart?”

“No?” you’re breathing out in exasperation. But shit, you underestimate just how crazed this tiniest sentiment would drive him, choking back a strangled cry of your name when he’s sending a buzzing smack! down to the hood of your plump cunt. “Fuck- why would you think-”

“Th-then let me use limitless as a- hah- condom, pretty girl-” he’s whining. And you jolt at the wet splatters of a few stimulated, pearlescent tears slipping their way out of Gojo’s eyes. “It’ll work- this time- m’the strongest- s’gonna hah- w-work- a-and if not m’jus’ breedin’ my girl’s cute cunt, r-right?”

But even as he’s prattling on and on about this, you’re feeling the flickering falter of jujutsu around Gojo’s hefty girth. Molding your gummy walls taut around his fat circumference, your spine arches with electricity. 

“Heheh-” Goosebumps prickle down your spine at the high, humorless bout of laughter at your ear - and you crane your head to look at Gojo. Sure that he’s lost it. Already wondering just how high the kill count would be. “-didn’t think th-this pretty pussy of yours would have me so ruined, sweetheart.”

And truly - he sounded like it. 

He looked like it, with his rosy lips ajar, those cerulean eyes watery and half-lidded. Glowing with power and tiny shivers of lighting at every sodden kiss to the bullseye of your g-spot. Clashing over and over in a wet push and pull, Gojo thinks that he could almost feel the rotund indentations of his curved tip right on your sweetest spots. 

“Looks like y-you’re the one ruining me- Toru-” you whine. “Just look-”

Drunkenly, Gojo’s lolling his head to the sound of your voice. Not even looking, barely even thinking - that is, until he sees.

And Gojo can’t help but let out a slew of honeyed, pathetically cracking profanities at the heavenly sight below. Pale forearms stretching out your trembly thighs even more shamefully wide to get an even closer look. 

Of your quivering hole winking up at him glisteningly, coating his fat hilt a creamy ring of white from so many of his failed attempts. Your saturatedly wet pussy lips were practically gulping up all of his heavy inches, slobbering a slow trail of drool down the side of his strawberry pink shaft and onto his twitchy balls. Needy. 

And if Gojo’s limitless protection was unsteady before then-

“Shit-” Gojo takes in a shuddering gasp, slender digits falling down to plant a wet smack! on the very middle of your bulging slit - as if all of this was your fault. “Shit shit shit shit- I-I can’t- oh-” Sharp canines sinking down so hard into your skin that you think he might break through. Just about all that’s keeping Gojo tethered to reality when his limitless shatters. “Oh god. Th-think s’gonna be another b-baby…”

All the way into a zillion pieces of nothingness and-

And then he’s cumming. 

Cumming so hard that the dim lamps by the side of your bed flickers. Then explodes. 

Pouring out such steaming hot piles of his cum - once. Twice. Before his swollen, overwhelmed balls are clenching and then he’s shooting nothing but pathetic blanks. 

It takes you a second to register the sudden darkness - all across Tokyo, in fact. You’re gasping, “O-oh, Toru did you-”

“Run out-” he’s giggling. Giggling. “Fuck you m-made me- hah- really milked me dry, didn’t ya- Spread those pretty legs a bit more, pretty girl. Let me see.” All five rounded pads of his fingers are bruising on your thigh when Gojo’s splaying them out to confirm the sputtering way his cock was driving into you. “Can’t- can’t believe- no way, baby m’supposed t-to fill you up-”

Shit, he was babbling out his true intentions so stupidly. But luck was on his side, because with a final, jujutsu-sheened swat at your cunt, the buzzing power finally sends you over the edge. 

Crashing headfirst into waves upon waves of white-hot pleasure, the engulfing goodness made you squeal. And it made Gojo grit his teeth with a low whimper at the way the simple clenching convulse of your gripping walls wrapped around his cock made him twitch in another dry orgasm. Another. And another. 

God, his first - well, not quite first - time cumming inside you and he’s already so fucked out.

Yet, despite it all, Gojo could almost count it a success…almost. 

“S-sweetheart, y’know Yaga always taught us that science experiments have hah- twenty-five trials, right?”

“...”

A/N. Gojo’s so annoying I love him.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[lilibeams]

Synopsis: You were always so curious about Rafayel's tail when he's in his Lumerian form. But what you wasn't expecting was the slit in the front and your curiosity got the best of you and you slip a finger down it…

Warnings: Monsterfucking, Siren!Rafayel with two cocks, sex on the beach, fingering, multiple orgasms, double penetration in one hole, squirting, oral sex (fem!recieiving), handjob, hinting at oviposition (Rafayel says he'll fill reader up with eggs), breeding, overstim unprotected sex, sex under water, mild breath play (lemme know if I missed anything!)

Word Count: 6.2k (fuck, it was supposed to be a drabble/blurb)

Pairing: Rafayel x fem!reader

A/N: This is my first time writing for Love and Deepspace, so I hope I got Rafayel down okay 🥺 I apologize if he's ooc

You were always curious about Rafayel’s mermaid form. You’ve seen him in his Lumerian God of Sea form many times during fights with wanders. But you’ve never seen his tail and his pretty scales he got during his weak days of the month always intrigued you. So today was going to be the day, you were going to ask him to see his tail during your trip to the beach.

Rafayel stretches his arms above his head, his face lifted to greet the salty air of the beach with a tender smile on his lips. It felt good to be in the presence of the ocean after a long day of fighting wanders with you. This was a well needed treat and being with you was a plus, too. “What made you wanna invite me out today, Miss Bodyguard?” His voice was teasing at best as he sent you a smirk. 

You huff a little before moving over and flicking him on the forehead and crossing your arms over your chest. “Maybe I just wanted to treat you to an outing on the beach.” You lift your chin up at him, peeking open an eye to see him pouting as he holds his forehead tenderly while whining softly. A giggle bubbles up in your chest at his expression. Rafayel was always so cute; his purplish eyes swirling with flecks of blue. 

Biting your lip as you place your hands behind your back as you rock gently on your heels. Your eyes shine with a curious glow. “Hey, Rafayel?” You hum out his name, your hands moving to grab his in between your palms. When he looks down at you, his head tilts in acknowledgement. “I have a request for you.”

“A request from me? Now why would my bodyguard request anything of me. Unless....” His lips curl up into a teasing smile as he turns to face you, his long arms moving quickly to wrap around your waist as his hand moves to grasp your chin gently. “My Cutie is the one asking.” His eyes lighten to a purplish pink as he stares down into your eyes. “Hmmm? Well which is it? Miss Bodyguard or Cutie? Answer quickly the offer is limited.”

You puff your cheeks out at his teasings and reach up and grab his cheeks in your fingers in retaliation. “You cheeky Lumerian!” You yelp out as the two of you turn it into a contest of who could squeeze the other’s cheeks longer. During the brief duel, you had forgotten what you were going to ask him until you slipped on a patch of slippery sand due to the water’s edge and the two of you came crashing down in a splash of ocean water.

Rafayel had quickly pulled you closer to him as he turned so that most of the impact would be on him as you landed against his chest. His infectious laughter fills the air around the two of you. He wraps his strong arms around you and hugs you closer to his chest. “Are you okay? If you wanted to be on top of me, all you had to do was ask, Cutie.” He winks at you as his hands slide up your back to cup your neck. He slowly tilts your face down towards him to lay a kiss to your lips.

“W-wait! Rafayel! My request!” Your hands shoot up and cover his lips as your eyes widen. You shiver when his eyes narrow just the tinies bit, darkening before lightening back up to that playful purplish-pink. You feel something warm and wet swipe across your palm and you snatch    your hand back, glaring down at Rafayel. “Why you?” You grab his cheeks in your hands once more and pinch them until he laughs and apologizes. “Now, let me ask my question.” You grab his wrists in your hands and pin his arms down by his head.

“Oh? This intense?” He teases, his eyes flashing teasingly before he cringes when you huff and dig your nails into his wrists. “Ow. Ow. Ow. Okay. Ask your request, Miss Bodyguard?”

You suddenly grow shy and nervous as you sit up on his lap, your hands still gripping his wrists as you bring them to his lap. “I- Will-” You choke on your words, becoming flustered. You thought about how pretty he was in his Sea God form, those iridescent scales that were so well placed on his face and those intricate markings that swirled over his body. Your thighs hug together as you think about just how handsome Rafayel was.

“Can you show me your tail?” You blurt out your question, heat rising to your face as you close your eyes. You could feel the way Rafayel stiffened under you and you peek your eyes open to see him looking up at you with a serious glow in his eyes; the blue flecks spreading until his eyes were almost completely cerulean. “Rafayel...” You whisper timidly, a bit afraid that you broke some sacred Lumerian rule about asking to see their tails. You let go of his wrists to cup his face gently. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I was just...”

“Curious.” He finishes your sentence for you as his large hand encompasses yours, fingers cool from being pressed into the damp sand and the ocean water licking at them. He pulls one down to his lips, his Lumerian fangs biting down on the fleshy part of your palm causing you to wince slightly and try to pull away from him, but his grip holds firm. Slowly, he rises back to his feet, arm locking around your waist pulling you up with him. 

Rafayel takes a step backwards, slipping his shoes and stripping his clothes off as he walks into the cool water of the sea. “Weren’t you curious about my tail? Then we’ll need to be in the sea for me to show you.” His voice was muffled a bit by your palm as you gasp at the cool water lapping at your ankles before he pulled you in deeper. The water reaches your neck and you gently kick your feet to stay afloat. A misty blue glow surrounds Rafayel as those pretty iridescent scales start to form on his face and neck. The wispy energy curls around his ears, giving them the illusion of being pointed like that of a Siren.

“Rafayel, I-” your words are cut off in a gasp as he begins to glow, his body shifting. His muscles grew and bulged slightly as his form became slightly more muscular and you could feel scales under the palms of your hands, some soft, others sharp enough to cut your skin if you weren't careful. You close your eyes when the glow flashes brightly, bathing you both in a brilliant blue glow. Moving your hand away from his forearm to cover your eyes from the light, the light temporarily blinding you.

You open your eyes as your mouth parts in a gasp as you take in his form. His once short purple hair had grown, the long strands floating on top of the water. His eyes glow a bright and beautiful blue as the whisps of energy darken around his ears. You jolted as you felt something wrap around your legs and when you looked down you could see the watery shadow of a long tail winding around your legs as Rafayel kept you close to his chest. “Oh...you're beautiful.”

His lips curled up into a sly smirk as he raised his hand, each finger tipped with a long blue claw and caressed your cheek with the back of his knuckles. “Excited? Hold on.” With the flowing fins of his tail, he propels the two of you through the water, smiling when your arms and legs wound tighter around him. Rafayel brings you into a hidden cave, lifting you out of the water to sit you down on the shelf ouf the mouth. “Here. I don’t want anyone but you to see me like this, Miss Bodyguard.” He winks at you as he places his hands on the space next to you and lifts his upper body out of the water.

Your eyes widened as a long iridescent blue tail trails after him, hints of pink and purple scales scattered throughout the length; they gave an illusion to his eyes. His long purple hair sticks to his skin from the water and those intricate light blue markings that graced his skin when in his God of Sea form glow faintly in the dim lighting of the cave. You reach out your hand in morbid curiosity and lightly trail the tip of your finger over the soft scales at his hipline were his waist faded into his tail. When he trembles, you pull your hand away, thinking that you hurt him. “I’m sorry. Did that hurt?”

Rafayel’s heart beats fast in his chest, a blush covering the bridge of his nose all to the tips of his ears as he grabs your hand gently in his as he shakes his head. “No. Keep going. You wanted to see me like this.” The gossamer fins at the tip splashed in the water, making it ripple slightly.  He places your hand back at his waist, guiding your fingers over the scales that led down the front of his tail. His fangs threaten to break the skin of his bottom lip as he lets go of your wrist to allow you to freely explore.

You nod your head, trailing the tip of your nail down his waist before pressing down with the pad of your finger. Your eyes never leave Rafayel’s face until you reach a long...slit in the front of his tail. Your curiosity only grows as you circle your finger around the softer scales around it. “R-Rafayel...? What’s this?” Underneath it you feel something wriggling around just below the surface and it makes you withdraw your hand again.

“Oh no, Cutie...” He purrs, grasping your wrist in his hand while the other takes your chin. Rafayel brings your face closer to his as his lips drop upon yours in a sweet, tender kiss. His tongue swipe over your bottom lip before prying your mouth open to explore its depths. As he feeds you his tongue, he guides your hand back to the slit just below his abdomen, easing your finger along the edge before slowly pushing it inside the warm, slick opening.

An audible gasp leaves your lips that Rafayel quickly swallows up as the slit opens under the pressure of your finger and you feel something slip out. You manage to pull away from his lips, eyes darting down to see not one, but two wriggling fleshy tentacle-like appendages slipping out of the vent. “Wh-what is...Rafayel...” Heat bloomed to your cheeks as you came to realize what the slit was for. It was meant to hide away his cocks. You were forced to look back up at Rafayel when his hand squeezed your jaw in a firm grip, turning your face back up to his.

“Go on. Touch them. Isn’t this why you were so curious about seeing my tail, Miss Bodyguard?”

His voice was a teasing mockery of his once gentle tones, his Sea God persona taking over as he guides your hands back to the pale pink appendages. The instant your small hand wraps around the flared base of one of his cocks, his head drops forward as an appreciative moan rumbles in his chest. When the sound reaches your ears, you grow a little more confident as you stroke your hand up from the wide base to the narrow tip, gathering the slick that coated them on your palm to help you give a few more pumps. The sticky sounds echoed off in the cave as Rafayel lifted his hips in effort to thrust into your soft hand more. You gasp when the other cock rubs against your other hand as if begging for attention too.

“Oh? Didn’t you know I can control them in this form, unlike my human form.” He brushes the left one against your hand once more, chuckling at the wide-eyed expression on your face.”Go on. Touch it for me. Make me feel good and I’ll return the favor.” Rafayel’s eyes were glowing blue as he pressed his hand against your chest and guided you down onto your back. His hand slides back down over your belly, claws gently raking over your skin as he brings your thigh upward and pushes it towards your abdomen. “Relax for me, Cutie.You do want this, right?”

Breathing in through your nose, you look up at Rafayel, admiring just how pretty he was above you as a curtain of his long hair falls over his shoulder to blanket you in its softness. You nod your head as you tighten your grip on his cock, moving to wrap your other hand around the second one. You stroke your palms up and down then slowly at first picking up speed as they begin to grow harder in your hands and Rafayel’s soft desperate moan echo off the walls of the cave.

Rafayel’s eyes slide close as he fights off the urge to rip your undergarments away and shove both of his cocks into your warm little cunt. But he had to prepare you first. His fingers slide down your thigh, long claws gently scraping over your skin until he reaches the pretty white lace of your panties, a bit sadden that the water from the ocean had washed away any evidence of your arousal, but his sensitive nose could still smell you. The tip of his claw draws down the slit of cunt, making your hands stutter in their motions. “Don’t stop.” He slips his finger under that thin strip of fabric, his claw catching it and slicing cleanly through it.

His thumb easily finds that hidden pearl nestled between your soft lips and strokes it gently, feeling your body jolt underneath him. Rafayel knew just how to pluck the strings to your body to get you singing for him rather quickly as he retracts the claws of one hand so that he wouldn’t hurt you as he pressed his ring and middle fingers at your clenching hole. His hips buck up into your soft palm as you tighten your grip back around the thick flared base of his cocks, your soft moans edging him on.

Rafael pushes his fingers inside, relishing in the feeling of your slick popping and bubbling around the longest digits. He lets out a low curse as a pressure builds up in his cocks as they stiffen more in your grip as your strokes become more confident, the sticky sounds of your palms gliding up and down them ringing out in the cave. He was not about to be beaten. Rafayel curls his fingers upward, searching for the rough, spongy patch of flesh and hooks onto it while thrusting and twisting. 

Your back arches, hands opening and closing around his cocks as a shiver rolls down your spine. Hips lift off the sandy ground, your greedy walls trying to suck his fingers in deeper as you toss your head back deeper into the sand as your lips part in another keen of his name. You slide your hands back down his cocks, squeezing at the flared base and making Rafayel’s body go still as he fights off the urge to cum. 

“Enough.” He whines, pulling your hands away as they slip back inside the vent as his eyes glow blue with need and want. Rafayel slides his body back into the water while using his free hand to push your other leg up to your chest. His face nuzzles your thigh, strands of his bangs sticking to the damp flesh. “You smell so good. Better than fresh salt sea breeze on a beautiful morning. Let me have a taste, my Cutie. Shall I up the ante now?”

Before you could say anything, Rafayel’s long, thick tongue lolls out of his mouth, the pointed tip circling your clit. He looks up at you with lustful eyes as warm breath fans out over your glistening cunt and saliva pools on his tongue. He parted your pretty lower lips with his thumbs and watched as the stings of arousal spread with them. "Such a pretty pussy and it's all mine."  With those words, he dives in, sucking gently on your labia before tonguing your hole. The sounds of your moan were beautiful, sounding better than the cries from the angels of heaven.

His tongue slips into your clenching hole as his fingers slip out to ease back the hood of your clit, revealing the pretty nerve to the elements. His thumb brushes over it as he delves his tongue in deeper, licking and curling it through your slick folds. He maps out every little gasp and moan you make, taking note of every little thing he does that makes your body shake and tremble for him. He was thirsty for a drink of the sweetest elixir you had to offer him and he'd stop at nothing until you were squirting it down on his tongue.

“Haaa.” He breathes as he lifts his head, glowing eyes finding your face and admiring the blissed out look on it.

Rafayel leans back down and licks a long stripe through your slit, gathering as much of your essence as he could on the flat of his tongue. “So delicious.” He moans against your pussy as he pulls at your hips to make you cup your thighs around his head as he ate you like a starving man devouring his last meal. Two of his slim fingers press into your entrance, scissoring them to find the soft spongy spot deep inside you as he tongue slips out to lap at your sensitive little clit.

“Fuck, Rafayel!” You scream out, your fingers digging into the soft sand under you as you buck your hips.

Rafayel didn’t stop. The need to feel you cumming and drenching his face in your cum sparking a fire in his chest. His licks become more desperate as his lips close over your pulsing clit and sucks harshly. He hums in response to each broken sob you let out as you desperately try to keep still despite the overstimulation of your cunt.

There was a tightening in your belly as your clit throbs. Even though you couldn’t keep up with his pace,  you rolled your hips over his mouth. That hot coil winding tighter and tighter as Rafayel's relentless tongue and fingers dig out your orgasm. “M’g’nna cum, baby. Rafayel!”

The speed of his fingers and tongue, fucking into you like his cocks would and increases at your warning as obscene squelching noises mixed with your saccharine moans filled the tiny space of the cave and his greedy ears. He wants —no, he needs you to wet his face and let him drink up everything you had to offer. “Give it to me, Cutie, I need it.” Rafayel draws out the letters for his name on your clit as he vibrates his tongue as he switches them against, thrusting his fingers back into your hole with a loud squelch.

Your mouth falls open as you give one last jolt. Your walls clench and flutter, spasming around his thrusting fingers. “Oh my fucking god...” Pleasure washes over you as your essence leaves your body to pool in his awaiting mouth. “Rafayel...” you moan softly as your chest heaves, your body giving out and your head rests back on the sand.

His body gives a violent shudder at the sound of his name falling from your lips as he catches every last drop of your release on his greedy tongue. Rafayel laps at your heat, licking and drinking everything you have to offer. Subtle, but feral growls vibrate in his chest as his eyes roll back as the taste of your orgasm settles on his taste buds. “One more, Miss Bodyguard. I know you got another one in there for me.”

You whine as you try to un-straddle his head, but he locks his arms around your legs.  Rafayel then pushes his hands against the backs of your thighs, pressing your knees to your chest and melting between your thighs as his mouth latches back onto your slick cunt. Each overstimulated whine you give only edges him on even more.

Tears begin to burn at your eyes as the pain of overstim settles on your already throbbing clit. You push at Rafayel's head trying to wiggle away when he pulls away and slaps your pussy with the flat of his fingers. “Rafayel!” You scream out his name when his fingers press firmly against your sore little clit one more time.

“Don’t run from me again. I’ve waited so long to have you with me again. You owe me this, Cutie..” Rafayel growls before pulling on the thin fabric of your already ruined panties, snapping it off your body as he returns to his feast. Your body was shaking by now, quivering with the approach of your orgasm. His tongue slides over your clit once last time before a stream of hot clear liquid pours down on his mouth, which he eagerly drinks up. “There it is. Squirt for me right on my tongue, baby."

Your thighs were trembling as your clit twitches from the over stimulation, “Fuck...” Your body feels weightless as you squirt, your hot juices spraying out of you in an almost violent stream, what he didn’t catch soaks down into the sand. Your chest heaves as you feel his tongue gently swipe your folds, cleaning you up from the sticky mess he made you make.

Rafayel watches you with hungry eyes, all fucked out and drooling — a pathetic writhing mess under him and he hasn’t even put them in yet. He loved seeing how your eyes roll back until they were damn near white, drool seeping from the corner of your mouth as your body trembles from the aftershocks of your orgasm. His hand rubs your cunt gently as you’re slow to come back down for your high. Rafayel knows that he should feel bad for overstimming you, but he doesn’t. He always gets what he wants after all.

“Are you okay?” He questions, placing his hands on either side of your limp body to pull himself back out of the water, his tail pressing against your core, soft scales slipping over you puffy wet lips, When you jolt, trembling under him, he smiles softly before leaning down to kiss your lips, his long tongue prying your mouth open so that you could taste yourself as his fingers move to grip the material of your shirt. Rafayel quickly pops open the buttons of your blouse, deft fingers find your nipples and twisting them.. He feels his slit open once more as his cocks wriggle out, crawling up the length of your leg.

The tips find your clit and circle the sensitive nub until you were trembling and pushing at his waist to get him to stop. “What’s wrong? Can’t handle it anymore?”

You cover your face with your hands, heat burning low in your belly as your squirm underneath him. “Rafayel, stop teasing me! You’re such a brat!” You bemoaned, both loving and hating it when he teases you with what you want. You knew that he wouldn’t give you what you want unless you told him directly or tease him back until his patience finally wore thin. But as boneless as your body felt from squirting so hard, you had no desire to tease him back. 

“Pul-please Rafayel...I need you.” You peek through your fingers at him as you whine out softly, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him in closer.

Unable to resist you any longer, Rafayel places his heavy tail between your thighs, forcing them apart and begins to slowly push his cocks inside you and has to pause for a second as his mind grows fuzzy from the feeling of your welcoming pussy surrounding his cocks, both sucking him in deeper and trying to push him out. Your hands find purchase on his biceps, nails clawing at his skin. The pointed tips just slipped inside, but that was nowhere near enough for him. Your sweet little cunt felt too good.

“Fuck...” You whisper as he slides in deeper, stretching your walls out to accommodate his girth and length of twin cocks that weren’t meant for humans, his thumb ghosts over your clit, trying to help you relax more so that he could slide in even easier and causing you to shudder. Your back arches off the sandy floor as you draw in a quick intake of breath, eyes rolling back and letting out a breathy moan of his name.

You couldn’t help yourself. Even if you had just cum twice, you were greedy for more. Your mind was too far gone, lost in the painful pleasure. “Oh god...” you moan out, nails digging further into his biceps as he continues to push in even deeper. Your hips move of their own accord, trying to pull him even closer. “More....” you whisper, staring up into his glowing blue eyes as one hand comes to cup his face in your palm. You want — need more; you need to feel him moving thrusting deep inside you.

That was all Rafayel needed to hear. That breathy plea for him to continue. Within your slick walls, they twist together, the girth doubling as they thrust even deeper inside you, making you dig your nails into his forearms and leaving red crescents in his skin as he snaps his hips into yours.  His hands come to cup your cheeks as he laid out on top of your body, his cocks never stopping their thrusting into your perfectly tight little snatch. Thumbs come up to wipe at the tears that were prinkling at your lash line.

“You’re okay, Cutie. You can take it. Just listen to her.” He pauses for a moment, letting the lewd squelching of your pussy echo off the walls of the cave as he fucks deeper into you. “She’s taking me so well, Miss Bodyguard. Isn’t this what you wanted after all?” Rafayel’s fingers pinch and tug at your nipples, as he picks up the speed of his strokes. The pointed tips kiss your cervix with each deep penetration, making you cry out louder and squeeze down on his dicks, the thick flared base stretching you to your utmost limits. "That's it, baby. Clench down for me. Make my cocks nice and wet, yeah?" The sounds of your moans and whines mixed in the wet sounds of his cocks entering your gushing heat were like music to Rafayel’s ears. And it made him greedy for more. 

You could only stare up at Rafayel as he fucks into your sloppy pussy, drool leaking from the corner of your mouth. The burning hot coil in your belly intensified as your moans became even louder, forcing Rafayel to cover your mouth with his lips, swallowing and muffling your screams with his tongue.

Breaking away from his lips, you plead with him. “W’nna cum! Please, baby. Make me cum.” Your voice was a high pitch keen as Rafayel thrusts in and out of your aching pussy, giving fast deep strokes. You could feel that thread pulling tighter and tighter but each time it was going to snap, Rafayel would slow down, grinning down at you teasingly as he edges you. “Rafayel, please, lemme cum on your cock, baby. Let me make it so wet f’you.”

“Yeah?” Rafayel challenged in that flirtatious teasing tone of his. “You wanna cum on my cocks, pretty girl?” His fingers move down to grip your chin, tilting your face up to his as he pulls you in for another sweet. Wet and sloppy, full of tongue and desire. His cocks pump in tandem, one in and the other pulling out. Fucking you slowly as your pussy stretches to accommodate them; your fingers coming up to curl into his long purple hair as your legs hang open weakly. “Go on and cum for me. Wet up my cocks like a good girl.” His thumb finds your clit once more, circling the slick nub in quick rubs.

Your pussy clenches tightly as your walls begin to spasm. Your clit twitches as your thighs tremble. “Oh fuck, m’g’nna...g’nna. Cumming!!” Your release leaves you in a gush of creamy liquid that creates a thick ring around Rafayel’s dicks, streaking down the lengths as he never stops his thrusting. His thumb continues to circle your sensitive clit, wanting to extend your orgasm for as long as he could.

“Good girl. Just look at the mess you made on my cocks. Creaming them and making them so wet.” He watches as your chest heaves, trying to bring air into your lungs. Rafayel pauses in his thrusting to give you a second to regain your composure. When you look up at him with those big, wet eyes, he lets out a groan, sliding his cocks out and pulling you up. Wrapping his arms around you, Rafayel pulls you into the water. He shushes you with a single clawed index finger. “You trust me?”

You peer into his eyes; eyes as blue as the sea, and see that while his pupils were blown wide with lust, you could see the love he always held in them for you. Folding your arms around his neck, you place your forehead against his and nod. “I trust you, Rafayel. I wouldn’t have let you do this to me if I didn’t.”

He smiles as the soft gills at his neck open. Rafayel’s cocks slip up your legs and one teases your clit while the other nudges at your slick little opening. “Take a breath.” That was the only warning you got before his lips close over yours and he pulls you both under water. His tail propels you both so that you were stationary under the gentle waves of the sea as his cocks then slip back inside your aching cunt. Rafayel spins the two of you around in the water as he breathes for you while simultaneously stealing the very air out of your lungs with every desperate moan you give.

Your eyes clench tightly together as you allow Rafayel’s tongue past your mouth and take in the air he blew into your lungs, giving it back in a keens and cries of pleasure as his cocks thrust in and out of weeping cunt. You whimper against his lips as the thick pointed tips brush against your cervix, wriggling against it like they were going to slip past it to fuck directly into you aching, womb. Your lower belly clinches as heat heats through your veins. You buck your hips against his wide tail, the soft scales of his slit rubbing against your labia and tickling your clit.

Rafayel swallows every last moan, whine, and whimper you let out as his hips meet yours thrust for thrust. He uses his fin to help guide him through the water, his eyes peeking open to see where you were. His cocks felt like they were going to explode inside you at any moment, but he wanted to make you cum again before he even thought about cumming. His fingers find your nipples again, tugging and twisting them between his index and thumb as he speeds up the momentum of his cocks, fucking your tight cunt in such a pace that it nearly made you break away from him.

You whimper against his lips, almost breaking away from him if his hand hadn’t immediately pressed against the back of your neck to keep you close. You suck in a desperate lungful of air only to let it out in a muffled scream of his name as you come hard, your sensitive little clit twitching and throbbing against his soft scales as they rub against it. Bubbles pop around your head as your scream echoes in the water around you two. Finally just as your heads break through the surface, he lets you break away.

Sucking in quick breaths, your chest heaving from the back to back orgasm as he never stops pumping his dicks into your poor abused little hole, you claw at his chest. “Rafayel! I can’t anymore!” You bemoaned, balling your fists up to hammer them against his chest. Gasping when he grabs one and brings it to his lips, his Lumerian fangs grazing over the artery in your wrist.

“You can, Miss Bodyguard.” Rafayel murmurs as he swims over to the waters’ edge and lays you down on the sand. He pulls out for a moment and turns you to lay on your belly as his guides his tail between your thighs, using his weight to spread them. “Yes, you can, Cutie.  Just one more for me. Then I’ll breed this sweet little cunt like I always do. Such a good girl you are, Miss Bodyguard. That what you want? - For me to breed you and fill you with my eggs?”

You whimper out when he lifts your hip easily, the tips of his cock slipping against your entrance. His words were like silk to you - soft and velvety as they caress your ears. His praise warms your skin as he slowly brings you back up on his cocks. You wiggle your hips, grinding against him as you take in inch by delicious inch of cocks not meant for humans, but neither of you cared. “Oh fuck...baby...” you whined out as he stretches your sore walls out once more. Fingers slips past your lips to press down on your tongue as his other hand grabs the fat of your hips and fucks into with slow, deep thrusts, his scales rubbing against your swollen labia.

“Good girl.” Rafayel purrs as he feels you immediately suck on his fingers as he bottoms out with a low grunt. “Such a tight little pussy no matter how many times I fuck it to the shape of my cocks.” He could feel his high approaching as he slams his hips into you over and over, faster and faster.  “Fuck, baby girl, you’re gonna milk me so fucking good.” He took his fingers from your mouth, trailing the strings of saliva that clung to them down your belly to your swollen clit. 

Wrapping his free hand around your throat, Rafayel locks you in place when you jolt and try to squirm away from his deft fingers on your clit. His mouth finds your pulse point and his lips close over it to suck a his marks into your flesh, fangs brushing against your jugular. “Gotta cum for me, Cutie. Only then will I fill this sloppy pussy up to the brim with my cum.”

You let out a loud whimper of his name as he fucks into harder, faster as your fingers dig into the soft sand under you, burying them deeper into the slippery earth. “Fuck, Rafayel! ‘S too much.” Your eyes waters as he tightens his hand around your throat as you could feel him swell inside you and you knew that he was close. Turning your head so that your lips were to his ear, you moan out sensually. “Rafayel~ Fill me up, please? Wanna cum together with you. Breed me and let me carry your eggs.”

That triggers something in Rafayel as his hips stutter hearing you wanting him to fill you up with his eggs (even if that was impossible) makes his cocks twitch  “Cum with me, please, my Cutie.” He thrusts into once, twice, three more times before he cums, spraying your insides white with his sticky seed. He groans when your own release hits you as you squirt hard, the hot liquid drenching his fingers and pools underneath you on the beach. “That’s my girl.”

Your breathing comes out in quick pants as Rafayel slowly brings you back down from your high, kissing your shoulder gently and rubbing his hands over your breasts soothingly. His hips rocks gently into yours, the mixture of his and your cum spilling down his softening cocks. Rafayel rolls off of you, light shimmering around his body as his tail morphs back into his human legs. “That was...” You breathe as you turn over to rest your head against his chest.

His lips nuzzle your hair gently. “Amazing. I know. We can do it again once we’re home in the bath tub.” Rafayek laughs when your fists smack his chest before you reach up and pinch his cheeks. “Ow, ow, ow, I was kidding.” He rises to his feet, his clothing still scattered along the beach and pulls his underwear and pants back on. He looks back and notices something drifting up onto the land. Rafayel quickly scoops it up and places it in his pocket. Just as he did that, you sit up and button your blouse back up and smooth back down your damp skirt.

“Rafayel, what did you do with my panties?

His thumb brushes over the ruined lace in his pocket, a teasing smirk spreading over his lips. “Would you like to know, Miss Bodyguard? Let’s get you home and dry before you catch a cold.”

2022-24 nymphoheretic - I do not give permission to copy, edit, alter, or distribute my work. Do not adverse on tiktok. Do not repost on any other platform.

Taglist: @linpunny, @ryomance @bleach-your-panties, @m00nchildwrites, @celestialforce, @tkeuphoric @yandere-kou , @hellkaiserinphoenix , @quaranweeb

[lilibeams]

just aizen and baby trapping... can you see the vision... just him being a yan and breeding his squad member bc she keeps going agasint his word, aizen doesnt want her to ingure herself, after all aizen needs her for his plan..

tw: noncon, breeding, baby trapping, manipulation, power imbalance, abuse, size difference, humiliation, forced orgasm, sensory manipulation

All characters depicted are 18+

Aizen is a very calm man, frighteningly so, it would take the most dire of dire circumstances for him to so much as break a sweat, let alone lose his cold composure. Very few things irritate him, although insubordination is one thing he can't stand for, especially if it's continuously being done by the same person over and over again.

Normally Aizen would murder or mentally break anyone who'd dare to defy him, but he can't do that in this special case, this minion of his is required for his grand plan, and losing her would be a minor setback, a slight annoyance even. She's a tiny piece in his vast puzzle, but even the absence of the smallest of pieces will make the picture look incomplete. So instead of murdering or imprisoning her, Aizen has a different way to force her to remain by his side.

Aizen could easily just use his ability to instil feelings of adoration into her, but that would be too easy, not very fun for him. While usually a very serious man, Aizen does desire some recreation from time to time, and he isn't fully immune to desiring pleasures of the flesh, and if he can use those pleasures to ensure his plan stays on track, then Aizen will gladly indulge himself on her.

Aizen doesn't need to worry about getting her alone, he knows Las Noches inside and out, so if he needs to find her, he'll do so very quickly, whether she's preoccupied or not. Aizen's expression is unreadable, he's smiling like usual, but it doesn't reach his eyes, it never does reach those cold, calculating eyes of his. His touch is deceptively gentle yet firm as he holds her in place, his words as vague as usual.

"Why are you so insistent on defying me, hmm? Are you perhaps upset about not having enough responsibilities in my ranks? Well don't worry, I'll give you the most important responsibility of them all..."

His vagueness doesn't last very long when his intentions become very clear, as he pulls down her underwear, keeping her in place with his superior strength and size. Aizen is only doing this to remind her of his authority and to give her his 'responsibilities', but that doesn't mean he can't have a bit of fun with it, cruelly mocking her for being such a silly girl in thinking she can defy him without consequence, his mockery of her not stopping when when he's balls deep in her.

He isn't gentle, but he isn't rutting into her like an untamed beast in heat, he's not a simpleton who thinks with the head between his legs, instead he'll move at a pace that's somehow both too slow and too fast at the same time, the tip of his long cock brutally poking against her cervix with each thrust as he prepares to bestow her with his progeny.

Somebody walking in on them is a very real possibility, in fact she won't even know if someone is able to see them or is watching them, because Aizen will manipulate her perception to make it impossible for her to see anybody but him, so she has no clue if they're alone or surrounded by spectators. He's feeling especially cruel, so Aizen will tell her how good a show she's putting on for his Espada, even if they're completely alone.

There is one word that can be used to perfectly encapsulate Aizen's entire being: manipulation. Aizen can manipulate people with both his words and his Kyoka Suigetsu. In this case, Aizen will use his Kanzen Saimin to control not her mind, but her bodies reactions. He won't tell her that he's controlling her body of course, letting her believe that she's cumming uncontrollably on his cock all on her own.

"My my, cumming again are we? Your mouth might lie, but your body certainly doesn't... This is precisely why you're more suited for breeding than fighting."

Aizen will walk away from this lovely little encounter feeling very accomplished. Not only did he put a wayward puzzle piece back into it's proper place, but he ensured that it stays there permanenty. He doesn't really care about having a child, children aren't very interesting for him to interact with, but she certainly needs a baby in her fertile little womb, it'll do wonders to keep her compliant.

[lilibeams]

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ 𝑻𝒐 𝑩𝒆 𝑬𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒏 𝑨𝒍𝒊𝒗𝒆 | Jonathan Crane

NOTES -> Hello hello! im gonna be in uni full time again starting first week of september so uploads will be much slowerrrr im sorry. I’ll try to write as much as i can for u my little loves!

REQUEST -> Based off the prompt 15 from this list here

SUMMARY -> Your boss, Jonathan Crane, plans on isolating you away from your old life, consuming you whole until you become nothing but devoted to him...and you're too naive to see the mind games that the expert psychiatrist is playing.

WORD COUNT -> 3.3k

WARNINGS -> Smut, p in v, soft!dark Jonathan, doctor/nurse relationship, boss/employee relationship, creampie

MASTERLIST

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Jonathan felt his chest tighten as he narrowed his blue eyes behind his glasses. His focus was locked on you and only you, along with the orderly speaking to you for the last few minutes.

You were a nurse at Arkham, young and bright-eyed, so full of energy — and that caught Jonathan’s attention. Your unusually cheerful demeanour and sweet aura drew him in, whether he liked it or not. Maybe it was how you’d always give him a cute little wave every time he’d pass by you, or maybe it was how you’d smile at him when everyone else seemed to cower away from the stoic doctor. 

Or maybe it was because once he saw you leaving work in your everyday clothes instead of your usual scrubs, and when you seemingly bent over to pick up your keys which you dropped on the ground, he could see the lace of your pink panties poking out of your low-rise sweatpants — but I guess we’ll never know. 

See, that was the problem. You were so sweet, but you were like that with everyone you worked with; which made Jonathan feel inferior in many ways, but he promised himself that he’d have you eventually.

He didn’t want to hurt you by any means — oh god, no. He’d rather torture himself than watch you suffer through any anguish. However, he did want everyone around you to fall victim to a rather sinister fate if it meant they stayed away from you. 

Jonathan didn’t really consider himself a sadist, but watching those around you seemingly go missing and suddenly quit their jobs at Arkham (unwillingly, of course), derived an innate sense of pleasure within him. 

That was one of the perks of being the chief psychiatrist — he had all the power in the world to do whatever he pleased within the walls of Arkham, no matter who he hurt in the process. Jonathan would quietly fire many employees who he felt were “too friendly” with you, but he’d always tell you that they’d mysteriously quit or that they had changed jobs. 

“Perhaps they just didn’t have it in them to help the…unique patients we house here,” he’d say to you. “Not everyone is as dedicated and as kind as you are, you know?” 

Foolishly, you let his flattery get into your head; you let yourself fall for him without even realizing it.

You believed that the universe divinely guided you to him. You were sure of it — he was just so kind and understanding. You couldn’t believe the other staff of Arkham didn’t see him the way you did! How could they dislike him? Fear him? 

To Jonathan, you were like an angel that fell from above, capturing his cold, dead heart within your warm, beating, and very alive one. You were so kind to the patients, so gentle with them — and your patients only ever had good things to say about you. 

As you spoke to the orderly in front of you about what you did over the weekend, you noticed your boss looking rather tense from the corner of your eye. His jaw was clenched slightly, and his expression unforgiving. He exhaled sharply before ushering you over toward him, causing you to excuse yourself from your current conversation. 

“Doctor Crane,” you greeted sweetly, “how are you?”

“I’m rather stressed today,” he answered softly, taking on that same gentle tone that he always seemed to take with you. 

“Is everything okay?” 

“Everything is fine, but I'm worried about you.”

“What do you mean?” you asked innocently, cocking your head to the side slightly as if to emphasize your confusion. 

“I think perhaps we should speak in my office about this,” he offered. “Come with me, please.” 

Your smile suddenly faltered slightly as anxiety and paranoia ran rampant through your veins.

Your paranoid thoughts had to be put on the back burner as you took a seat across from him in his office, watching him as he sat down at his desk. His suit was pristine as always — and today, he opted for a brown sweater vest underneath it.

You’d count every thread and stitch on his suit for him if he asked you to. 

“Doctor Crane—”

“Just Jonathan is fine,” he interrupted before clearing his throat. “I wanted to speak to you in private about a certain concern of mine.” 

“What is it?”

He sighed before he took off his glasses and meticulously placed them on his desk. He leaned forward slightly, and you stayed quiet as he hesitated for a moment before his smooth voice finally cut through the silence in his office between the two of you. 

“I’m worried that you may be overworking yourself,” he explained, looking at you with his tantalizing eyes. “I notice you pick up shifts and work overtime frequently, and I worry that you may be taking on more than you can handle. As your boss, I just want to make sure that you’re not burning yourself out as that can’t be good for you, and I believe in a healthy work-life balance.”

You made an ‘o’ shape with your mouth, unsure as to what you could say to him — that wasn’t what you were expecting him to say to you. Perhaps you had been overworking yourself, but that was just a part of you. Having a strong work ethic was something you strongly believed in, but maybe he was right. You couldn’t care for your patients if you were too exhausted to, right? 

Now that he mentioned it, you were quite tired today. You started to think about it — as of recently, you’d been slamming coffees left right and center to stay awake at work, hadn’t you? You just wanted to help out since you were fairly new around here, but maybe it was doing you more damage than good.

Jonathan saw your usually cheerful demeanour deflate in his office, and he looked at you sympathetically, “I know this is not something you’d want to hear, especially from your boss of all people — but I just want to ensure that all my staff are doing well, you know?”

You bit your lip for a mere second, hesitating to speak before you let the words fall from your lips, “You know, Jonathan, sometimes I feel like you’re the only person here who actually…cares about me.” 

He internally applauded himself — in a moment of vulnerability, you sought out comfort in him. Just like he had planned. Just like he wanted.

“I think you’re an exceptional nurse,” he mused, “and truthfully, I do enjoy working alongside you. So yes, of course, I care about you. I remember when I first started working after finishing my residency, I would exhaust myself constantly. I’ve learned through many years that it’s just not good for you.” 

Jonathan’s plan was being executed perfectly — he wanted to isolate you. He wanted you to come running into his arms, far away from everyone else around you. He was on his worst behaviour today, but he believed you brought out the best in him. 

You weren’t overworking yourself, but with Jonathan’s quick wit, years of training in psychology, and exceptional gaslighting skills, you thought perhaps he was right. Maybe you should take some time off of work, you thought.

“Tell you what,” he said softly, “how about you and I have drinks tonight instead? Forget about work and such. I think you need it.”

His words caused your cheeks to heat up. He was your boss, and this was way out of line for a boss to ask an employee. However, it didn’t help that you were very attracted to him.

“Drinks?”

“My place at eight. I have a bottle of cabernet I think you’d enjoy — If I remember correctly, you said it was your favourite?” 

“Y-yeah,” you stammered. “It is.” 

“So I'll see you tonight at eight, then,” he smiled softly, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach. “I’ll text you my address.” 

You nodded, slightly starstruck. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Once you’d parked your car on the side of the neighbourhood street, you stepped out into the chilly night, your high heels clicking against the pavement of the ground loudly as you made your way onto his porch.

You gave three soft raps to his front door before you heard shuffling coming from inside the house. After a few moments, the front door swung open gently, and Jonathan stood there with a small smile on his face.

“Come inside,” he ushered you, “make yourself at home, darling.”

And so you did. 

You two talked over a few glasses of cabernet, bringing up the topic of work a few times here and there, but he mostly attempted to get to know the real you. What you did in your spare time, what your hobbies were, if you were seeing anyone…

“Out of curiosity, are you seeing anyone?” Jonathan asked you casually, but his voice dropped an octave as he looked directly at you, resting his hand on your thigh rather boldly. “I’m asking because I've seen the way you look at me…” 

“I-I’m sorry?” you stammered, your cheeks feeling warmer and warmer by the second with the way his hand was now resting on your leg. You couldn’t deny it now. “I didn’t mean…um, I just — you’re always so kind to me…and I–”

He shushed you softly, creeping his hand up a little further. “I’m quite flattered, darling. Not to worry,” he purred. “I figured it wouldn’t be very appropriate of me to tell you how hard it is for me to not look at you when you’re at work, but after today, I just don’t think I can help myself anymore…” 

Suddenly, his lips brushed up against yours, and as if it was instinct, your hands came to wrap around his shoulders. He let you pull him in even closer, his hands now coming to rest on your hips as you two kissed feverishly on his couch.

You and him were like a chemical reaction — explosive, unpredictable, and potentially fatal.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered against your lips in between kisses. 

A shiver ran down your spine as his hold on your hips tightened slightly, his words causing your brain to short-circuit for a moment before you could think clearly again. 

“Jonathan, I–”

“Don’t speak, just give into it, my darling.”

You let yourself get lost in the constellation that was Jonathan Crane, letting him run his hands all over your body and kiss you with an insatiable hunger. Soft moans left your mouth as he peppered kisses down your jawline and neck, nipping at the delicate skin gently. 

You would’ve been worried about him leaving marks because you wouldn’t want your boss to see the next day at work — but you had to remind yourself that he was your boss. 

But none of that mattered when it felt so right; when his lips felt so good against your skin.

“Can I take this off?” he rasped, toying with the strap of your dress. 

“Mhm,” you hummed. “Please, Jonathan…”

Slowly, he took the dress off of your body, gently tossing the garment to the side as he looked at you in absolute awe. It was like looking at a priceless piece of art in a museum exhibit to him — nothing could compare. Even a picture wouldn’t do the sight in front of him justice. 

“Should we go upstairs?” you suddenly asked. 

Maybe it was the handful of wine you’d shared that evening, or maybe it was just sheer arousal; you weren’t sure which one, but all you knew was that you needed him to have his way with you. 

“Yeah, of course,” he agreed, taking your hand in his. “Just up the stairs to the left — I think I'll let you lead the way, darling…”

The two of you got up from the couch, hand in hand, and Jonathan’s eyes roamed your body from behind as you made your way up the stairs together. 

Of course, you came prepared — you know, just in case things were to happen. Before you left, you threw on your sexiest, laciest, lingerie underneath your dress, and it was a good thing you did because that investment certainly paid off.

He watched your hips sway in your lingerie, along with the heels you were still wearing (because we simply can’t forget about those), and he could feel his cock straining against his pants. “Pretty girl,” he mumbled from behind you. “Your body is heavenly.” 

“Shush,” you giggled, grabbing him by his tie and pulling him close once you reached the bedroom. 

He looked down at you in the dim lighting of his bedroom, noticing the way your skin was glowing under it. Your hair was slightly messy from making out on the couch earlier, and you had a small smile tugging at your lips — you were perfection if he’d ever seen it. 

Jonathan kissed you rougher this time, his hands finding their way into your hair, tugging ever so gently against your scalp. He backed you up onto the bed, pushing you down onto it as he undid his tie, looming over your delicate body which was sprawled out on his king-sized bed. 

After taking his tie off, he threw off his suit jacket and started to unbutton his shirt. You hummed softly, running your heel against his leg as he rushed to get himself out of his clothes. The tent in his pants made it all the more obvious how desperate he truly was for you, but you stayed patient. 

Once he was on the bed with you, he helped you out of your bra and panties, causing your cheeks to heat up from how exposed you felt. “You’re cute when you blush,” he commented when he noticed your blush, making you all the more flustered while he undid his belt. 

After freeing himself, his thick, veiny cock caught your attention, and you swallowed the lump in your throat. He was big — you weren’t sure how that was supposed to fit, but right now you were so wet, you were almost certain your walls would stretch out around him with ease. 

He lined himself up with your dripping entrance, giving himself a few strokes before looking at you with his lip caught between his teeth. “Are you sure?” he whispered, and you nodded feverishly. 

“Please,” you whimpered.

Your back was arched and you let out a filthy moan as he slid himself into your warm, sticky cunt with little resistance. The sheer size of him alone had you feeling so full, and he stilled as he bottomed out in you so that you could adjust to him. “Tell me when,” he said softly, his hand coming to brush up against your hips softly. 

“You can move now,” you breathlessly said, giving him the green light. Your breath got caught in your throat as he started to set a gentle but deep pace, the tip of his cock brushing against that spongy spot inside of you with every thrust. 

“O-oh–” you moaned.

His hands found purchase on your hips, and his eyes trailed over your face as he fucked you sensually, but slowly, eventually going harder and faster as you got accumulated to him. “So fucking tight, Jesus—” he choked out. You’d never heard him curse before, and his smooth voice had you clenching around him, to which he let out another moan. “Fuck, darling — you feel so good.” 

“Mm-hmm!” you squeaked, taking his cock deeper and deeper into your soaked cunt with every stroke. “Jonathan, fuck—!”

“Right there, darling?” he cooed softly, slamming his cock into your hole much rougher now, causing you to see stars as he stretched you open on his thickness. “Feels good, baby?” 

“Yes, yes, yes — oh my god!” you chanted, grabbing onto his biceps as you felt his fat cock drilling you. You were letting out feverish moans, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you became increasingly more cock-drunk by the minute. 

Your moans were like music to Jonathan. Like the sound he would hear being played once he died and went to heaven — because to him, this was heaven. You’d come running into the arms of the man who was slowly isolating you, breaking you; cornering you into his heart. 

But there’s always something so right about something so inherently wrong, isn’t there? 

“I can feel you squeezing me,” he groaned, watching you with furrowed brows as he concentrated on your pleasure. “Are you close, darling? Fuck, you are, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you whimpered breathlessly, moans being forced out of you with every delicious thrust he gave your cunt. “Gonna– oh, I’m gonna cum!” 

Jonathan watched in a mixture of pure bliss, awe, and satisfaction as you fell apart in his very hands. Yes — this is where he wanted you. He just wanted to love you, to show you how perfect he was for you, to take care of you and make you see that everyone else around you was just a waste of time. 

No more talking to orderlies who’d flirt with you, no more going out for after-work drinks with the other nurses. No, none of that. He was going to make sure that you’d work under him only, figuratively and literally.

“Gon’ cum,” he groaned, feeling his cock spurting ropes of cum into your warm, tight hole as he gave you a few more lazy thrusts, not bothering to pull out. Your mind went blank as he filled you up wholly, stuffing you with his sticky, warm seed as you lay there fucked out from what just happened moments prior. “Why don’t you stay over tonight?”

You looked up at him groggily, mind still foggy from your orgasm. “What? I work tomorrow–”

“Take a paid day off,” he shrugged, pulling his softening cock out from your worn-out hole. “Use as many as you’d like darling, I won’t tell.” 

His teasing words caused you to throw your head back into the pillows blissfully with a sigh, genuinely believing that he only had your best interest at heart — he just didn’t want you to overwork yourself. It’s not like he was planning on totally locking you away from every living being in Gotham besides him or anything…

“I feel bad though,” you murmured sleepily. “I feel like I’m – I dunno – abusing my privileges.” 

“Don’t be ridiculous, pretty girl,” Jonathan assured you softly, turning off the lights so that only the moonlight was dimly shining into his bedroom. He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head as he pulled the covers over you both, cradling you in his arms like you were made of fine china. “You know I only want what’s best for you.”

“You’re so lovely, Jon. You truly have such a kind soul.” 

“Surely nothing compared to yours, my darling,” he whispered against your hair as you closed your eyes. “Now, get some rest. We can talk about moving your things in here in the morning…”

Unfortunately, you had already dozed off in his embrace; too busy being washed away by sleep to hear his words. Jonathan smiled to himself — he’d never let you go now. You’d lost all control the moment you stepped into his house, unknowingly making yourself a hostage of some sort.  

In the end, as you clung to him, believing he was the saviour from your exhaustion, you failed to see that it was his “love” that had slowly consumed you whole, leaving you nothing but a hollow shell, devoured by the very hands that promised refuge.

Sometimes, the most dangerous traps are the ones we walk into willingly, thinking they’re the key to our freedom, as they say. But the cruel irony of it all is that we think we’re being saved from the jaws of this terrible world, only to be eaten alive by those who we call our saviours. 

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Taglist -> @girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @psylrd @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones 

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @esotericdoe

@kpopgirlbtssvt 

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebellebarnes @wiseyouthinfluencer 

@abprill @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h @franzine-xii 

@stsrfujid @psylrd @eyraaaaaae @nyxxie-pooh @momoewn

@fauxcongenialite @ceruleanrainblues @o0laura @fiona-my-love @cranecat

[lilibeams]

imagine succubus!reader lurking in the phantomhive manor to find a victim for the night cause a succubus gets their energy if they take control but ends up getting caught and noncon-ed by sebastian until she cant take it anymore and begs to stop

UGHHH I HAVE BEEN STUCK WITH THIS IDEA SINCE THE DAY I IMAGINED IT 😭😭 petition for more succubus!reader fics 😔

tw: noncon, succubus!reader, size difference, tail pulling, rough sex, overstimulation, humiliation, creampie

All characters depicted are 18+

Sebastian takes his duties as the butler of the Phantomhive household very seriously, so seriously in fact that he doesn't ever sleep, mainly because demons don't need to sleep, but the fact still remains that there is no butler more diligent than Sebastian. His keen senses are able to pick up on the smallest of noises, even the faintest creak of the floorboards won't escape his notice. If a pin dropping doesn't go unnoticed by Sebastian, then there is no way in hell that he won't notice the presence of another hellish entity in his midst.

He is equal parts intrigued and concerned. Sebastian knows he can effortlessly dispatch any threat towards his master, bit even so the thought of another demon being after him is quite concerning. Never one to waste his time dwelling on any worries he might have, Sebastian will quickly do his part as a butler by apprehending the uninvited guest.

It's comically easy for Sebastian, he's not called a devil of a butler for nothing, he's able to use his superior strength to yank the little demon over to him when she's unaware, grabbing her by the pointy tail, which makes her hiss out in pain like a cat. Sebastian likes cats, even the ones with claws, but he sadly can't pet her, not when she's been such a bad girl as to even attempt to endanger his master.

Sebastian knows precisely how to deal with a naughty little succubus like herself, her kind feed off the sexual energy and desires of men, so he'll give her exactly what every succubus wants, he'll give it to her until she's begging him to stop. It's a fitting punishment for the demonic intruder, and it finally gives Sebastian the opportunity to stop feigning his humanity, even if just for a short while.

"Naughty thing, did you truly believe you could intrude oh my master's property without consequence? Oh how adorable~ I'll be sure to give you something to remember before sending you back to our home~"

His eyes are glowing unabashedly now, the glowing red orbs now having a feral intensity to them as he starts teasing the lesser demon, yanking on her tail roughly as he exposes her holes to his hellish gaze, teasing her sensitive pussy lips mercilessly before he decides to have his fill of her. Sebastian hasn't had a good fuck in a while, and certainly never with another demon that was aware of his true nature, so he's going to savor this rare treat.

Being centuries old, Sebastian is well versed in the art of making somebody come undone around his cock, whether they want to or not. His hips will slam against her from behind, his balls slapping against his ass while he fucks her raw, pulling on her tail like a bully pulling on the braids of a girl he likes. Sebastian's cock is long and thick, even in his human form, so it'll ram against her oversensitive womb with every thrust, forcing her into one mind breaking orgasm after the other.

Demons typically can't reproduce with one another, so Sebastian can cum inside of her to his heart's content without a care in the world, and he won't be satisfied with cumming inside of her just once, he's going to breed her until she's begging him to stop, and for hours after that too. It won't take long for her to go from confident and rude to whining and pleading with him to show mercy, but nothing will come of those pleas aside from her receiving even more mockery and even more loads shot into her already overstuffed womb.

He finds her reactions and pleading to be both adorable and pitiful, not to mention ironic; a creature who feeds off of sex now begging him to stop fucking her, her impish pussy overflowing with cum and weakly gripping his cock, fucked loose from the brutal pounding she's getting. He definitely won't be stopping anymore despite her pleas, after all, lesser demons make lovely fucktoys.

"Oh my~ begging already, little one? How sad, your kind usually loves getting ravished so, you truly are a disgrace from all demonkind~! How cute~!"

But alas, he can't keep this adorable little kitten as a house pet as much as he wants to, his young master would never allow such a thing, but Sebastian takes pride in the fact that he successfully subdued another interloper, and she won't mess with him again, that is unless she wants her holes destroyed again.

[lilibeams]

hii i love ur work smm <33 do u think u could write an obito x younger sister reader where he still becomes evil but he watches over in the village as the years pass and notices kakashi getting too close, so he kidnaps her and reminds her who she belongs to <3 thank u

tw: incest, brother/sister, noncon, stalking, jealousy, possessiveness, semi-public sex, kidnapping, quickie, manipulation

All characters depicted are 18+

Obito still possesses a deep resentment for the Hidden Leaf Village, and just reality itself, but there are two things that keep Obito spying on the village; Rin's grave, and his younger sister. Obito still has some semblance of love and protectiveness towards his sister, even if she is all grown up now and able to be on her own, Obito just wants to make sure that she's alive and well, as long as she isn't getting involved with the wrong crowd that is.

He's checking up on her one day when Obito gets his worst fears confirmed, his sister has fallen in with the wrong crowd, the worst crowd possible; Kakashi. Obito is enraged, wondering why she would involve herself with Kakashi of all people, she knows damn well that Kakashi was (and still is) his biggest rival, so why would she be getting so friendly with him?

The Uchiha can only reach the conclusion that she's either malicious, getting involved with Kakashi just to spite her dead brother, or she's forgotten about him, about her own brother, the one whose supposed to be the most important man in her life, and Obito just won't let that slide. He's going to make sure his sister learns two thing: that he's still alive and kicking, and that she belongs to him entirely.

He'll snatch her up the very second she's alone and vulnerable, didn't he ever tell her not to walk alone at night? He's disappointed in his dear sister's carelessness. She has no clue who this mysterious masked man grabbing her is, and it takes her a moment to realize who he is even after he removes the mask due to his scarring, but when she realizes that it's her presumed dead older brother, she looked horrified, especially since Obito looks pissed.

"I can't fucking believe you! I leave for a few years and you decide to jump ship to Kakashi of all people?! I think its time to show you who your real big brother is!"

He'll start dragging her away with the intention of taking her to his hideout, but she's struggling and screaming her empty little head off, she's being much too loud and annoying for Obito's liking. He'll take a little detour, one that will shut her up nice and quick. He'll shove her against a nearby tree, covering her mouth with one hand and holding her wrists with the other. He'll hiss at her one last time to keep her mouth shut before he begins to undo his pants.

Obito is normally very gentle with his sister, seeing her as delicate and helpless, but his judgement and rationale is greatly clouded by his anger at the moment, so he'll be anything but gentle as he rips off her panties and forces his cock into her without any preparation or consent. He might apologize to her later, and she has to forgive him, they're family after all.

Normally hearing his sister scream and cry would make Obito upset, even if it is muffled by his hand, but Obito has become nothing but normal since his supposed death, and instead of being saddened by the sight of his sister in pain because of him, it turns him on, his decency and morality seems to have died along with his old self.

He's in a bit of a rush, so Obito will dump his load into her pussy rather quickly, consequences be damned. He'll make a half hearted attempt at apologizing to her as his spent cock slides out of her cunt, but it's clear he doesn't exactly mean it, he just doesn't want her to completely hate him, but he'd be fine with her fearing him, it makes her more obedient that way.

"Don't be like that, this is just a punishment for your bad behavior. Now stop whining already, let's go home so I can make you feel better, like I used to..."

Of course when he says "home" he means his dark and dank cave he calls a hideout, but he can make it comfortable for her, if she's good. If she's an extra good girl, then he might even give her the privilege of having her own bed instead of being forced to share his.

[lilibeams]

hii i love ur work smm <33 do u think u could write an obito x younger sister reader where he still becomes evil but he watches over in the village as the years pass and notices kakashi getting too close, so he kidnaps her and reminds her who she belongs to <3 thank u

tw: incest, brother/sister, noncon, stalking, jealousy, possessiveness, semi-public sex, kidnapping, quickie, manipulation

All characters depicted are 18+

Obito still possesses a deep resentment for the Hidden Leaf Village, and just reality itself, but there are two things that keep Obito spying on the village; Rin's grave, and his younger sister. Obito still has some semblance of love and protectiveness towards his sister, even if she is all grown up now and able to be on her own, Obito just wants to make sure that she's alive and well, as long as she isn't getting involved with the wrong crowd that is.

He's checking up on her one day when Obito gets his worst fears confirmed, his sister has fallen in with the wrong crowd, the worst crowd possible; Kakashi. Obito is enraged, wondering why she would involve herself with Kakashi of all people, she knows damn well that Kakashi was (and still is) his biggest rival, so why would she be getting so friendly with him?

The Uchiha can only reach the conclusion that she's either malicious, getting involved with Kakashi just to spite her dead brother, or she's forgotten about him, about her own brother, the one whose supposed to be the most important man in her life, and Obito just won't let that slide. He's going to make sure his sister learns two thing: that he's still alive and kicking, and that she belongs to him entirely.

He'll snatch her up the very second she's alone and vulnerable, didn't he ever tell her not to walk alone at night? He's disappointed in his dear sister's carelessness. She has no clue who this mysterious masked man grabbing her is, and it takes her a moment to realize who he is even after he removes the mask due to his scarring, but when she realizes that it's her presumed dead older brother, she looked horrified, especially since Obito looks pissed.

"I can't fucking believe you! I leave for a few years and you decide to jump ship to Kakashi of all people?! I think its time to show you who your real big brother is!"

He'll start dragging her away with the intention of taking her to his hideout, but she's struggling and screaming her empty little head off, she's being much too loud and annoying for Obito's liking. He'll take a little detour, one that will shut her up nice and quick. He'll shove her against a nearby tree, covering her mouth with one hand and holding her wrists with the other. He'll hiss at her one last time to keep her mouth shut before he begins to undo his pants.

Obito is normally very gentle with his sister, seeing her as delicate and helpless, but his judgement and rationale is greatly clouded by his anger at the moment, so he'll be anything but gentle as he rips off her panties and forces his cock into her without any preparation or consent. He might apologize to her later, and she has to forgive him, they're family after all.

Normally hearing his sister scream and cry would make Obito upset, even if it is muffled by his hand, but Obito has become nothing but normal since his supposed death, and instead of being saddened by the sight of his sister in pain because of him, it turns him on, his decency and morality seems to have died along with his old self.

He's in a bit of a rush, so Obito will dump his load into her pussy rather quickly, consequences be damned. He'll make a half hearted attempt at apologizing to her as his spent cock slides out of her cunt, but it's clear he doesn't exactly mean it, he just doesn't want her to completely hate him, but he'd be fine with her fearing him, it makes her more obedient that way.

"Don't be like that, this is just a punishment for your bad behavior. Now stop whining already, let's go home so I can make you feel better, like I used to..."

Of course when he says "home" he means his dark and dank cave he calls a hideout, but he can make it comfortable for her, if she's good. If she's an extra good girl, then he might even give her the privilege of having her own bed instead of being forced to share his.

[lilibeams]

sephiroth forcing himself on a girlie thats too shy to talk to him?

tw: noncon, power imbalance, size difference, humiliation, degradation, semi-public sex, misogyny, victim blaming, verbal abuse

All characters depicted are 18+

Sephiroth is well aware of his little fanclub of swooning fangirls who are all head over heals in love with him, he doesn't hate it, but he certainly doesn't like it either, he treats their existence with the same passive indifference that one would treat ants on a sidewalk, uncaring if they are there or not, Sephiroth has about as many love confessions under his belt as he does inches of hair on his head, but none of these women interest him very much.

That is the case for a while until his keen senses pick up on someone following him, he initially assumes it's just Hojo coming to pester him again, or Zack coming to ask him more idiotic questions, but instead he catches a glimpse of a girl peeking at him from around the corner, only to quickly hide when he turns around. Being a trained SOLIDER from birth, Sephiroth immediately assumes hostile intent from her, what other reason would she have to follow him whilst concealing her presence?

He'll almost immediately confront her, although not in a brutish manner, no, a man like Sephiroth is one to use cold intimidation over such savage tactics. He'll corner the little spy rather quickly, placing his gloved hand on the wall next to her head as he asks her what exactly she thinks she's doing. He'll watch as she flounders about like a fish on land, struggling to get a single word out as her face turns a bright red, that when Sephiroth will notice a very interesting looking note clutched to her chest.

Sephiroth will pluck the note from her hands the moment he sees it, holding it out of her reach with his superior height, ignoring her protests and pleas as he begins to read it, sneering at the flowery words and shoddy handwriting, it's pitiful how little effort she put into confessing her silly feelings to one as important as Sephiroth. He'll make it clear that her little crush is nothing but delusional wishful thinking, but that won't stop him from taking advantage of it, and of her.

"Oh... How cute. Did you really think a few scribbles on paper would be enough to win me over? How pathetic. But I suppose I can give you what you so clearly want..."

He'll pay no mind to her protests as he rips her shirt open right on the spot, Sephiroth doesn't see why she's protesting, she said she likes him, and now she doesn't? Are all woman this indecisive? Sephiroth has never really understood women, or men either for that matter, he's always had trouble understanding those beneath him, but none of that matters to him now, all that matters is giving this cute little stalker exactly what she deserves.

Sephiroth isn't gentle with her at all, it's just not in his nature to treat anyone with kindness, not even an innocent young woman who's only crime is having a crush. He'll cover her mouth with a large leather clad hand as his hips snap into her's from behind, fucking her just around the corner of the hallway and in the blind spot of the many security cameras in Shinra's hallways.

Despite forcing her to be silent, Sephiroth won't do the same, instead he'll whisper venomous insults into her ear, telling her that she's no different than his other admirers, that this is the most attention any man would deign to give her, and how this is what she wanted from him, so she should be grateful, he's practically a saint for humoring her pitifully misguided affection towards him, an affection that definitely won't replace after this encounter, instead being replaced with fear.

He'll be finished with her rather quickly, as if his body itself is in a hurry to be done with her, Sephiroth won't care if he cums directly inside her, even if he doesn't knock her up, she should be grateful for his attention and his seed, he doesn't give that to just anyone, only the shy little brats who don't know how to talk to people like a big girl.

"Hmpf, I have no more use for you. Now go back to your little hovel like a good girl, unless you want more of my attentions, that is..."

Sephiroth will watch her leave without another word, showing faint amusement at the sight of her limping away, her pussy leaking his semen as she does. He finds her very amusing, in fact he might even consider using his high standing in Shinra to get her alone again.

[lilibeams]

A Routine Check-Up (Kinktober #2)

Your phone buzzed. A message from Zayne showed on the display.

Your bi-annual gynaecological health exam is due. Can you come in this week?

A/N: *cough* I'm just gonna leave this here. Have fun!

Words: 2578 Warnings: you guessed it—smut ;)

Your bi-annual gynaecological health exam is due. Please schedule an appointment with your primary physician as soon as possible.

Oh. Your heart skipped a beat when you read the message that popped up on your Hunter’s Watch. Damn it all, you’d rather fight a horde of Wanderers than put yourself through that. You were, of course, very well aware of how important these regular check-ups were. Under any circumstances, they wouldn’t be a problem. But it wasn’t just any doctor that—

Your phone buzzed and you pulled it out of your pocket. A message from Zayne showed on the display.

Your bi-annual gynaecological health exam is due. Can you come in this week?

Alright then…the sooner you made an appointment, the sooner you could get this over with. You weren’t necessarily nervous about the exam itself; it was uncomfortable, sure but other than that… Ugh. It was the fact it was Dr. Zayne—your Dr. Zayne—who would be performing it. There was something you’d wanted to bring up. A little problem, so to speak.

Sure thing, Dr. Zayne! I’ll be off the clock tomorrow afternoon?

He read it. Mere seconds later, the three dots indicating he was typing a reply popped up at the bottom of your screen.

Come see me at my office at 5 PM then.

Right. You’d do that. You glanced at your bathroom door. Perhaps you should get trimmed a little down there before that.

Thinking about anything other than that fateful exam in the evening, you spent the whole day whiling away. The pile of paperwork—reports on Wanderers you defeated and the Protocores you’d retrieved—didn’t grow any smaller.

Damn it, you’d feel more comfortable walking straight into the N109 zone rather than Zayne’s office. You hesitated when you finally stood before his door, your fist hovering mid-air. You’d count to then and then you’d knock.

One, two, three, four, five…with a start, the door opened, revealing Dr. Zayne in his usual medical attire. He was wearing his glasses and he looked a bit tired around the eyes. Perhaps he hadn’t slept well either. Presumably, however, not for the same reasons as you.

You smiled. “Hello, Dr. Zayne.”

“Come on in.” Reciprocating your smile, he stepped aside. He’d already prepared the room. Normally, these types of exams were conducted in the treatment rooms but given you were a Hunter and Dr. Zayne was your primary care physician, no such arrangements had been necessary.

You took a deep breath, eyeing the gynaecological chair he’d set up.

“You seem nervous. Are you alright?”

“Me? Nervous? N-no, why would I be?”

Zayne tilted his head. His scrutinising gaze was full of worry—it often was when you discussed your health with him. “I’ve been doing your gynaecological health exams for many years now. You were never nervous before. What changed?”

Many years ago I wasn’t in love with you yet, you thought. Besides, we still haven’t talked about that kiss the other night…

“I guess I’m just a little anxious,” you lied, “Tara told me they found two cysts in one of her friends’ ovaries once.”

Zayne frowned. It was the last thing you saw before you moved behind the makeshift medical curtain to undress. Your skirt came off, and your panties soon followed.

“Have you been experiencing any pain or abnormalities?”

“I haven’t.”

“Then I don’t see any reason for worry. Have you been tracking your menstruation?”

“I have.” Timidly, you reappeared from behind the curtain and tiptoed over to the chair in your socks.

“Anything out of the ordinary? Any bad cramps or other symptoms?”

You shook your head. “No.”

“Alright then. Sit down on the chair for me so we can begin.” He was always so calm, so reassuring, so…collected. Come to think of it, you had never seen him lose his temper. Even that one time he was so angry at you for dismissing yourself from the hospital early he’d been quiet—almost eerily so. It was a trait that drove you mad in the best ways possible.

Biting your lower lip, you climbed on the gynaecological chair and crossed your fingers over your belly, scooting forward until Zayne had you where he needed you. You watched him prepare a speculum and cover it in lube, his hands hidden by a pair of medical gloves.

Your heart was pounding when he moved between your legs. Knowing that this wasn’t the first time he was seeing you…down there and that there was nothing to worry about barely helped your situation.

It was different this time. You longed for his touch, longed for his presence. But…you took a deep breath when Zayne inserted the speculum into your opening slowly and carefully. But if he could stay professional, then so could you.

“I’m going to do your pap smear first. It might feel a little uncomfortable.”

You hummed by way of a response, bracing yourself. Zayne was so gentle you barely felt anything though. You almost closed your eyes. Almost.

“Alright…” he said when he was done. “Everything looks normal. No infections, no discolouration…” You were pretty certain he was talking to himself and working through a protocol in his head. You nodded regardless, resisting the urge to flinch when his hand grazed your outer lips when he removed the speculum again.

“I am going to feel inside you now to check for any abnormalities. I need you to tell me if anything hurts.”

“O-Okay.” Shit, he was going to do what now? You bit your lower lip when he inserted to fingers into your warmth. They slid inside with ease due to the lube he’d used earlier…although at this point you weren’t so sure anymore if it was just the lube that helped him.

Zayne pressed down gently on various parts of your lower body, supporting his movements by placing his palm on your abdomen.

“You’re breathing heavily. Are you in pain?”

“No. No, I’m fine, Dr. Zayne!”

“Hmm…” He paused as if he couldn’t decide whether he believed you or not. “Alright. Let’s do the ultrasound and then we’re almost done.”

You nodded yet again and pressed your lips together to a thin line.

You almost whined at the loss of his fingers inside of you. The ultrasound wand wrapped in a condom didn’t feel nearly as nice when he inserted it, his gaze fixed on the little screen next to the chair.

“Your ovaries look healthy…I can see no cysts. Your bladder looks fine too and your uterus…yes. Everything’s alright.”

He looked at you and blinked once, eliciting a shy smile from you. Good god…it was almost over.

Zayne removed the ultrasound wand and began to clean it up. “Do you have any questions for me? Or perhaps…” He hesitated. “Are you planning on getting any birth control?”

“D-Do I have to run that by you if I do?”

“Not all birth control pills or other methods might be compatible with the medication you need for your Protocore Syndrome.”

“I see…no, I…I don’t think I need anything…right now.”

“Alright. You can sit up. If you’d just remove your shirt for me so I can check your breasts for any knots…”

Your eyes widened. “Oh yeah! O-of course.”

Shit. You’d give anything to have Zayne caress your breasts under different circumstances. Embarrassment due to your obvious romantic affinity for him aside, you almost wished…

You sighed and did as you were told. Timidly, you lifted your shirt and kept your arms tucked in.

“That…that is not going to work, I’ll need to feel the side of your breasts too. Perhaps it’d be best if you remove it completely. I know it’s a little cool in my office, it won’t be for long.”

It’s not about the cold, Dr. Zayne. It’s not about the cold.

“S-Sure.”

You pulled your shirt over your head quickly. You hadn’t bothered to wear a bra today knowing the exam was due, and it was just easier that way. You were left wearing only your skirt before him now, your nails digging into the soft leather of the gynaecological chair and almost tearing the protective cover on top of it.

Zayne’s expression remained stoic. After putting on a fresh pair of medical gloves, he examined your breasts one by one. Your chest was heaving.

“Have you noticed anything unusual?”

“What? Uh, no, no, nothing unusual.”

“Good.” He retreated. “That concludes the exam. Are you sure you don’t have any questions?”

Yes. No. God, you couldn’t ask him what’d been on your mind for the past months…could you? Not anymore, not now that you and he…

A shiver went through you when he said your name—calmly but sternly. “Do you remember when I asked you to always be honest with me, especially when it comes to your health?”

“I do but—”

“But what?”

You felt your eyes heating up and sucked your lips between your teeth. “It’s…it’s embarrassing… Doctor Zayne, perhaps…perhaps I should be speaking to a female physician or a nurse about…this?”

“So there is something that troubles you.” He spoke your name yet again and damn it all, you wished he would stop being so considerate and caring for a moment. That would make things a lot easier for you right now. “Even if you do speak about this with a female physician, they are obligated to enter all accumulated data into your e-file. As your primary care physician, I have access to that file. Whenever something gets added, I am either the one who entered it or the first one to find out.”

“O-oh…”

“Tell me what’s wrong.” He placed his hands on your bare knees, his gaze respectfully glued to your eyes rather than your exposed sex right before him. “There is nothing you need to be ashamed of around me.”

“Zayne, I…just…I’ve been having trouble, uh…well…getting there lately.” Oh god, this was so embarrassing. Where was this pit to swallow you whole that everyone always talked about? You felt like you were in some cheap porn movie…

“Getting there?” He sounded genuine. Great. You had to spell it out.

“I’ve been having trouble…reaching orgasm when I…you know.”

Zayne remained quiet for a moment. Not a single emotion escaped his neutral expression—you did not, however, miss the slight twitching of his jaw.

“Prolonged stress can impact the ability to relax enough for acceptance, for lack of a better word, of sexual stimulation,” he began matter-of-factly, “and ever since you finished training at the Hunter’s Academy, your stress levels have almost constantly been alarmingly high.”

“How do you know that?”

“Heart rate variability analysis and regular hormonal testing during your monthly check-ups.”

“Ah…But…a-are you sure it’s just that? I’ve…I’ve tried everything. I even bought…” A vibrator. You stopped yourself and bit your lower lip.

“If you are worried about any physical causes, I can take a look. But, your Protocore Syndrome aside, you are healthy. It is highly unlikely you are affected by Anorgasmia or similar orgasmic dysfunctions that I have missed to diagnose. Have you always struggled? Or have you been able to bring yourself to climax before?”

You didn’t need to see yourself in the mirror to know you were as red as a tomato at this point. “I…no, this did start a while after I passed my Hunter’s exam…”

Zayne nodded. “There you have it. But if you want to be sure, I can go through a couple of tests with you.”

“T-tests?”

Another nod. “To make sure there are no physical restrictions to your ability to feel pleasure.”

Your lips parted. You…didn’t know you’d needed to hear the word pleasure out of Zayne’s mouth. But even so…this annoying little problem had been on your mind for weeks. What if there was something wrong with you? Something new that neither Zayne nor you had yet discovered?

“Then…then let’s do the tests. I want to be sure it’s nothing serious. How… How will you be doing that?”

“The best way would be through direct stimulation of the erogenous zones. We’ll work from there.”

You nodded. “Okay.”

“Sit back on the chair for me.”

You obliged and watched him mutely. Zayne applied some of the lube he’d used earlier to his thumb and moved back between your legs. You spread them wider hesitantly. With your heart in your mouth, you bit down hard on your lower lip when he pressed his thumb against your clit and began to caress it with slow and deliberate circular motions, his fingers cupping your pubic mound.

A gasp escaped your lips before you could stop yourself.

“You are responding right away. That is a good sign.”

Fuck…it…it did feel good. So good. Too good. So much better than when it was your fingers playing with your pussy. Perhaps it wasn’t the stress after all. Perhaps it was the fact that you were longing. For him. Perhaps your thirst could not be quenched unless it was…with him?

But…no! You couldn’t possibly…exploit him like that…he was…genuinely caring and…wanted…to make sure that…fuck…

Zayne applied a bit more pressure.

To make sure that…you were okay…he…he…

There was no way to hold back a moan when he used his other hand to slide two fingers inside of you. He curled them just right, quickly finding what he was looking for. And as he started stimulating your g-spot, you realised that it indeed wasn’t the lube that made you wet, receptive and responsive.

Zayne looked up, his lips slightly parted. Surprise reflected in his hazel green eyes—almost as if he caught himself…enjoying your reactions. Could…could that be?

He kept going nonetheless but his gaze now remained fixed on you, watching you intently.

“Z-Zayne…” You knew what you wanted to tell him. You knew what was going to happen. He knew that too, it seemed.

“It’s alright. Let go.”

“I…oh…oh God…Zayne…” You couldn’t have disobeyed the doctor’s orders even if you had wanted to. You came undone around his fingers, your tight walls clenching around him rhythmically as your orgasm washed over you. You arched your back, bucking your hips to meet his attentive touches. Zayne did not let up. He kept his hands on you to help you ride out every last wave of pleasure he’d bestowed on you.

Your eyes locked with his once you came down from your high, embarrassment crawling up your spine. But Zayne…he was breathing heavily. His eyes were glazed as if…had…had this aroused him too? You didn’t dare look down for evidence.

“There. Are you okay?” he asked gently.

“I…I am. I…”

“It’s the stress that is keeping you from relaxing without a doubt. I…I believe I might have to describe more of this treatment to you just to be sure.” Wait, what? “Especially given how the excessive release of endorphins during an orgasm can help reduce stress levels.” He chuckled. He actually chuckled!

“I…you…we…” It was no use. You were at a loss for words.

“You were my last patient for today,” Zayne announced. “Let me drive you home.”

You nodded, still dazed from what had just happened. Your cheeks were flushed, your ears hot. Between your legs, there was a waterfall you’d have to bring back under control before you put your panties back on.

This evening was far from over. Because if there was one thing you knew despite both your twisted emotions and feelings for one another, this bi-annual gynaecological check-up had just moved your relationship to a new level.

[lilibeams]

legally binding - neuvillette x reader (8.4k)

monsieur neuvillette will ensure that he finds your brother not guilty at trial. for a price.

cw: not sfw, minors dni. DARK CONTENT. extremely dubious consent/non-consent. clothed neuvillette, naked reader. cunnilingus, threats of caning, blackmail, fingering, piv sex, coming inside. neuvillette refers to reader as "little one". reader is afab and is described using language such as 'breasts' and 'cunt'.

“If the terms of our arrangement are not agreeable to you,” the honorary Iudex says to you, his gloved hands steepled before him as he sits calmly behind his desk, “you do, of course, have the right to say ‘no’ at any time. I shan’t hold it against you. It merely means that the particulars of our little entente need not be fulfilled on my end, either.” 

You press your lips together as frustration and anger war within you. You would like to explode at him; you would like to pull the books lining his office walls down and use them as projectiles to hit him straight in his infuriatingly calm and peaceful face. 

That he has the nerve to keep talking to you like this - his voice perfectly even, almost calm, his tone soothing and bordering on paternal (like you’re a little child who he’s telling the ways of the world to), when his proffered ‘agreement’ is so heinous . . .

“You’re utterly abhorrent,” you seethe to him, but the Iudex does not react to being called such a thing - merely tilts his head to one side.

“So you’ve said,” he agrees mildly. “But it does not change your position, does it?”

He is right in that. You stand there awkwardly for one moment more, debating if this is really the hill you are willing to die on; if you are indeed ready to trade away your dignity for the price of your brother’s freedom.

He seems to take pity on your floundering. 

“You agreed to this,” he reminds you, his tone unerringly gentle and patient. “But it does not mean you have to go through with it. I will keep the terms of our pact, my dear, as long as you uphold your own - but I will not hold it against you if you decide you are not . . . brave enough to follow through.”

You wince despite yourself at the deliberate emphasis of the word. You know that this is not bravery; you know, too, that what Monsieur Neuvillette is asking you to do is nothing short of corruption of the highest order. 

And too you know that the only person ranked higher than him you could conceivably go to is Lady Furina herself. 

“I’m sure that a guilty verdict for your brother would not be so bad,” Monsieur Neuvillette continues, and despite the mild tone he uses he must know that he is hitting you exactly where it hurts. “Incarceration is not the be-all and end-all, nowadays - why, many enjoy the Fortress so much they choose not to leave even once their sentence has been finished--”

“Don’t,” you squeak out, and Neuvillette stops speaking. You take a slow breath to steady yourself, and when your voice comes out this time it sounds far more certain than before. You’re proud of yourself, even, for the way that it quavers for only an instant at the end of your next sentence. “I’ll follow through on our agreement.”

“Lovely,” Neuvillette lowers his chin so that it rests atop of the steeple of his gloved fingertips. “I’m glad that you understand the position we’re both in. Well, then, shall we begin?”

You give him a jerky little nod, and he smiles at you like an Archon receiving a prayer of benediction. You stand there awkwardly for a moment more, before Neuvillette lets out a soft chuckle.

“Oh, you poor thing,” he murmurs, more to himself than you. “You really haven’t done any of this before, have you? Let me make it easier for you. Why don’t you disrobe and show me what you have on under your clothing, hmm?” 

You take a slow, calming breath. This is not so bad; you had known you would have to take off your clothes for this bargain. You suppose, if you had been a different kind of person, you might even have felt a thrill at the thought that it would be Monsieur Neuvillette who would be the first man to see you bared - but instead, there is just a cold thumping terror as you work at the buttons and catches of your outfit. 

You are dressed smartly but not prettily. You have never had much time for the fripperies that many Fontaine citizens prefer to indulge in - and especially for your meetings as a desperate petitioner with the Iudex, you had thought sombre was the way to go. This has carried through even to your undergarments - the chemise you wear is plain, without even a trimming of lace. Your brassiere is equally simple, as are the plain cotton bloomers that hide your most intimate place from his inquisitive eyes. 

You swallow as your thumb and forefingers fasten about the hem of your chemise - and then, thinking it better to rip off the bandage from the wound rather than pussyfoot about it, you pull it off and drop it in an unruly pile with the rest of your outer clothes by the Iudex’s desk. 

He sits there in silence for a moment that seems to stretch out for an hour.

“Not much for decoration, hmm?” He asks, after what seems like forever. You shift there awkwardly from foot to foot. You have never been looked at before like this by a man - and though you do not want him to find you attractive, the idea that he’s disappointed in what’s before him is equally horrible. He chuckles softly beneath your breath at the expression that must flit across your face. “Ah, please don’t mistake me as unappreciative. There is very little as lovely as simplicity, I find.” Your cheeks heat. “On that note - I think we ought to lose this layer too. Let me see you as nature intended, my dear.” 

You had thought that once the first layer of your clothing had been stripped, it would get easier, but you find now that it is much the opposite. Your hands tremble as you reach behind you for the clasp of your brassiere. It is cool in his office, but a bead of sweat rolls down the nape of your neck and sets your palm sticky and wet, and it takes you three attempts to unclip. 

You have never been shy before - you had certainly not been shy when you had barrelled up to the Iudex in public and demanded an audience with him, much to the distaste of all around him - but this is enough to make you feel awkward. 

The fabric falls away from the swell of your chest, and Monsieur Neuvillette makes a pleased little noise almost like a purr in the back of his throat.

“Ah,” he says. “Very nice. The underwear too, if you please.” 

Your nipples stiffen in the cool air of his office, the buds puckering and hardening under the twin problems of the temperature and Neuvillette’s stare. It is even harder to convince yourself to hook your thumbs into your underwear, but eventually your body agrees to your demands and you find yourself rolling the plain cotton down past your thighs and your knees and down to your ankles--

You fuss for a moment, putting them with the rest of your clothes, if only to delay the inevitable for a moment longer - that time when you will have to stand and display yourself in your full nakedness for the Iudex. But there is only so long you can conceivably push his patience, and sooner than you like you straighten your spine and try and jut your chin out and pretend that there isn’t a wash of humiliation drowning you as you wait for his next pronouncement. 

You’re surprised when he stands, leaving his cane leaning against his desk, and strides towards you with purpose writ clear in his eyes. Surprised enough that a soft, startled noise falls from your mouth as he reaches for you, and suddenly his gloved hands are palming the weight of your breasts. He lets out a slow, measured breath as his fingertips dig into the soft flesh there. You squeak again as his thumbs brush over the hard nubs of your nipples, and this time he laughs.

“Don’t be so surprised,” he murmurs. “Our agreement involved touching, did it not?”

“I-it involved more than touching,” you whisper, as poisonously as you can manage - but his thumbs are still slowly swirling about your nipples and the sensation of it is making you feel dizzy, little electric shocks of surprise zapping through your synapses. 

“Mm,” Neuvillette agrees. “But I am not so much of a villain that I would simply have my way with you without ensuring you were properly prepared, my dear.” 

You don’t know if this is worse, actually. If he had chosen the latter option, perhaps it would have been easier to close your eyes and grit your teeth and pretend to be somewhere else. But the way he is looking at you, the way he is touching you . . . those things make it far more difficult to separate what is going on from yourself. 

“I’m going to kiss you,” Neuvillette says to you - and you almost protest, until you remember the terms of the agreement once more. 

(“You will give yourself to me intimately,” Neuvillette had said. “I will have my fill of your body, and in return I will find your brother not guilty in court. Is this agreeable to you, little one?”

You had wanted to scream and shout and spit. It was certainly not agreeable to you; Neuvillette was a corrupt pervert, taking advantage of his position. How many other desperate petitioners had done this for him? 

“Oh,” Neuvillette had said, when you’d been unable to stop yourself biting out the last thing. “None at all. I’ve never been quite so intrigued by any of them or wanted to have any of them bent over my desk quite so much. I suppose that makes you special - and isn’t that nice?”)

You feel at his mercy like this, bare in his office, when he hasn’t so much as taken off his gloves - and indeed, the cool silk of those gloves against your heated cheek as he pulls you up into a kiss reminds you of who exactly has the power. He sighs softly into your mouth, teeth nipping at your lower lip. They’re sharp, and you gasp in surprise and win a low growl from Neuvillette himself. His kiss is wet and messy, and he seems almost disappointed when he pulls back from you with his eyes half-lidded. 

“Mm,” he says, “How many others have kissed you like that, little one?”

You press your lips together in a show of defiance, and he chuckles.

“As I thought,” he murmurs, lowering his head again - this time, the kiss he gives you is pressed to the top of your cheekbone. Slowly, carefully, peppered down your jawline. “Ah, don’t worry - you did perfectly well.”

You let out a noise of wordless disbelief and embarrassment that he could tell, which is quickly cut off when he tugs at your earlobe with his teeth instead. It is his canines that are sharp; you give a hot intake of breath at the scratch of them on your sensitive lobe that in turn makes him shudder. 

You hate the shivery feeling of pleasure that the bite sends zipping down your spine; a heat that settles firmly between your thighs, that mixes with the pounding of your heart. 

“Give in,” Neuvillette says softly. “You have no choice if you want me to uphold my word; you may as well enjoy it. I have no wish to be cruel to you, little one. If you like it too, so much the better.”

“I--I won’t--”

Your voice is reedy; it wobbles and shakes in the air. Both you and Neuvillette know that it is a stubborn and hopeless task, when his kisses and his tugging at your nipples and his soft nipping bites against your most vulnerable parts have already made a slick drip between your thighs you do not want to admit to. 

“A pity.” Neuvillette pulls back, and your body misses him - you find yourself making a soft noise of displeasure as his weight moves from in front of you and beside you, before he goes to stand beside his desk and takes his cane back into his hands, leaning on it almost casually. “Come here, little one. Bend over my desk.”

You flounder there, unsure now if you really are willing to go through with things the way that you had agreed to. Your throat feels dry. Disrobing had all been very well, letting him touch your chest had all been very well, but . . .

He taps his cane gently on the ground and makes a soft chiding noise with his tongue. 

“Come now, little one,” he murmurs, his voice perfectly agreeable. “It’s not so large a thing, is it? For the price of your brother’s reputation?”

You shake your head and take a slow, nervous step towards his desk - a large, terrifying presence in the room. How many people has he held the fates of in his hand as he sat here in the Palais Mermonia and read their files?

The reminder that you are indeed in the Palais Mermonia - that only down a hallway is a whole group of gestionnaires utterly unknowing of what their honourable Iudex is doing with the young citizen he has an appointment with - makes your heart beat faster, nervousness rise up in your throat like a tidal wave. One foot in front of the other.

You wish the walk to his desk was shorter at the same time as you wish that you would never make it to the end. 

It is not to be. Your bare hip bumps against the desk’s edge and you let out a slow, steadying breath. 

“That’s it,” Neuvillette says agreeably, and his cane taps on the ground as he comes to stand behind you. “Brace yourself on the table now; palms down. I’m not going to hurt you. Bend over and show me what I shall have the pleasure of conquering, hmm?”

You burn with humiliation as you do exactly what he asks; place your hot palms down directly upon the table and bend at the waist. Neuvillette sighs as if he’s terribly pleased with what he’s seeing. You start as you feel a gentle nudge against your bare ankle, and you realise that he’s touching you with his cane.

“Spread these apart a bit further,” he murmurs, and you comply despite the way you feel utterly debased by the treatment. “Ah. Very nice. Lovely, in fact.”

If you have one thing to be grateful for, it is that he does not mention what you both know; you are wet. The way he had touched and palmed at your chest, the kisses . . . you can feel the beads of slick on your inner thighs, the dampness of the folds of your cunt. The position he has put you in means, too, that you can feel the cool air on your exposed clit - the little button swollen and standing to attention. 

Neuvillette’s gloved hand gently comes to rest upon the back of your thigh. Slowly, slowly, he maps a path over your bared skin; the round curve of your ass where it’s presented to him, down and--

A hiccup of surprise escapes you and you almost rock back into him, but manage to stop yourself at the last moment, as those silken gloved fingers brush feather-light over the soft mound of your cunt. He does not press down yet; merely lets himself get accustomed to the shape of you. Your hips cant forward against your will as his fingertip brushes against the sensitive bud of your clit, a whimpering gasp falling from your lips. 

You have never been touched by anyone before - and the fact it is Monsieur Neuvillette doing it, under these circumstances--

You squeeze your eyes closed, willing yourself not to cry. You are grateful at least that he cannot see you; in fact, he seems rather preoccupied now, those long silken fingers spreading the plump lips of your labia further apart so that he can see your entrance.

“My,” he says, a smile apparent in his voice. “We’re going to have to do rather a lot of preparation, aren’t we? Sweet little thing, you look tight as a vice.” 

“I don’t . . .” You don’t understand quite what he means by preparation, but the soft rustle of his clothing still sets your teeth on edge. You’d known that he would disrobe too, of course you had, but it somehow all seems to be happening so quickly--

A strangled gasp escapes you.

The rustling was not him disrobing. Instead, he has knelt down - and his mouth is hot when he presses it to the sensitive places on the backs of your knees, his tongue wet as he trails it up the back of your thighs.

“Th-this isn’t what we agreed!” You say, panicked, as his mouth inches ever closer to the place between your thighs. Despite the heat of his tongue, the puffs of breath that escape him with his dry little laugh are cool. 

“Isn’t it, little one?” He murmurs, in between the wet kisses; you keen softly as he digs teeth into sensitive flesh of your inner thighs, fangs sending confused shockwaves of both pain and pleasure directly to your sex. “Let me see . . . Did I not use the terms ‘have my fill’? Why, little one - whyever did you think that would begin and end with my cock?” 

It’s too intimate. You have to be too present for it all, and the tears that have been threatening to spill out do so at the same time as his tongue oh-so-gently prods against your folds in interest. If Neuvillette notices that you’re crying, he doesn’t say anything - and you are grateful for that, as he presses his mouth fully against your cunt with a horrifically wanton wet noise and you realise that you are crying in no small part because his mouth against your heated core feels good. 

He merely mouths against you for a moment, his tongue delicate as it travels across your folds and drinks in your wetness. You shudder as he finds your clit, and his tongue flicks against it playfully. Despite what he had said about not having done this to any other desperate citizens, the way he works his mouth against you belies that he has at least some experience--

You know absolutely nothing about the Iudex’s private life, much like the rest of Fontaine. 

He pulls back from you to murmur against your thigh.

“You’re so wet, little one. It’s very charming. I think I shall use my mouth on you until you are glad to have the desk to keep you standing. It would be a hard-hearted creature indeed who would not want to feel you come on his face, under his tongue--”

You whimper out some kind of horribly embarrassing noise, as he returns hungrily to his former task; he licks at you and suckles at you like a man starved, and your body reacts with hot little shivers and shudders and jolts of pleasure. You make an attempt to curtail the pleasure - try to tell your body that it ought not to be enjoying this - but pure animal instinct wins out, and you are bent double over the desk whimpering helplessly, tilting your ass up to give him more room, and grinding your cunt into Neuvillette’s face despite all of it.

Neuvillette does not seem to mind at all. He groans into you instead, using the flat of his tongue to stroke as much of your cunt as possible, to work through your folds and suckle on your clit until your entire body feels aflame with strange new feelings. Every so often, he teases his tongue over your entrance, the tip circling the ring of muscle - but he does not push into it yet. 

His grip on your thighs is iron-tight. You don’t know when he let go of his cane, but both hands dig into the soft pudge of your inner thighs now, keeping you spread for him despite how the twists of pleasure make you want to squeeze your thighs together. 

You don’t know how you’re still breathing, as Neuvillette’s tongue continues to lay claim to you. You can feel your inner muscles clenching around nothing; slick accumulating around your entrance, just begging for something to be inside of you (though, in truth, you’ve never had anything more than your own finger and even then had felt hot and unsure of it). He growls, tongue flicking out against your clit in a rhythmic drumming that makes you whine.

“O-oh,” you manage, through the lump in your throat. “Archons--”

He gives your inner thigh a warning pinch, just enough to make you stutter, as he pulls his soaking wet mouth away from you and murmurs;

“No, little one. No archons here. Remember who it is, who's here with you.”

You are almost tempted to throw his own words back into his face; to tell him that you’d made no such bargain that you had to acknowledge that he was there. That, according to the legalities of the agreement you’d both made, you only had to let him use your body - not your voice, not your head, not your heart. But the lack of his mouth on you now feels like a peculiar kind of torture. You want him to stop. You want him to carry on. The whimper falls out of your mouth to a groaning purr of satisfaction from Neuvillette himself;

“M-monsieur--”

“That’s better.”

His mouth is back on you, hungrily working his tongue between your folds. Hungrily suckling and stroking and working you over until you feel hot and boneless, trembling on the edge of something - your entire body is a taut string, pulled to the point of snapping. Your cunt is wet and messy with drool and fluid and slick, sliding down your thighs - you cannot see Monsieur Neuvillette, but you’d wager that his cheeks are wet and shiny with the same, if only due to the utter eagerness he was still displaying. 

It’s too much. 

With a whine and pitiful jerk of your hips, you feel yourself slide down into some dark abyss; the thread that’s been threatening to snap finally does exactly as it was always going to do, and a wash of shameful pleasure crashes over you like a stormy sea. Neuvillette lets out a pleased groan as you feel yourself let another gush of arousal out, hungrily drinking you in with lewd, wet noises that have your face as hot as any Natlan springs. 

He carries on using his tongue on you; licking, sucking, lapping like a man parched for water - just to the point where your over-sensitive body begins to complain that you are still too raw for such hunger, and then he pulls his mouth off of you. You stay there, bent double over his table, wheezing softly as you hear him dust off his clothes and the click of his reclaimed cane as he comes around to the other side of the desk so that he can look you in the eye. 

He really hasn’t disrobed at all. 

It’s a callback to the power imbalance between you both; a reminder that, no matter what, you are entirely at Neuvillette’s mercy. You are glad, at least, that he has a reputation for being honourable in his agreements - you have only the very vaguest flutter of a fear that giving him your body will be for naught and he will go back on his word. Everybody knows that the Chief Justice values that same standard he is entitled to embody. 

“You were crying,” he says, leaning forward and cupping his hand about your cheek, a thumb sliding over the apple of your cheek. “It suits you. I’ve never quite understood this human urge not to cry - you look terribly pretty with those diamonds on your cheeks.”

He leans in closer and closer, closing his eyes - and you go stock-still as he kisses the tears from your cheeks and pulls back, licking his lips as if he is savouring the taste of something special. 

“I-is that all?” You ask, a hopeful tone to your voice - but Neuvillette simply smiles at you kindly, as if you’re silly for even asking. 

“Of course not, little one,” he murmurs. “That was merely a precursor to the main event, to ensure you’re . . . sufficiently ready. As I have already said; I am no villain, and I have no desire to hurt you physically. I want to ensure your body is primed to accept me, for the sake of both of our pleasure. And it was pleasurable, wasn’t it?” 

You press your lips together, hot shame rising up your neck.

“No need to get shy,” he says to you, that soft, kind smile not leaving his face. “By the way you were grinding against my face, and how prettily you came for me . . . Mm, I’d wager you enjoyed it very much. But it’s alright if you are not ready to admit it; your body doesn’t lie, sweet one, and I know it will accept my fingers and my cock far more readily than you’d like it to.”

. . . You had enjoyed it. You had felt that pleasure that he was so willing to give to you, and the thought that you were actually deriving some enjoyment from this thing that was supposed to merely be about procuring assistance for your brother . . . You don’t quite know how to feel, as Neuvillette presses a paternal kiss to your forehead and you hear the slow click of his footsteps as he returns to the other side of the desk, where your nakedness and your readiness for him are far more pronounced.

“You really are quite lovely, you know,” he murmurs, letting his gloved fingers slide down the arch of your back, from the nape of your neck and down your spine. “Ordinarily, I’m not too fond of ostentation - but ah, you . . . You could benefit from a little more ornamentation.”

A palm, cupping your ass - giving it a slow, considering squeeze, almost too hard to be painful but not quite. 

“This, for example,” he murmurs, “would be lovely with some discipline. Imagine; how pretty you would be with welts from my cane.”

“Monsieur Neuvillette--!” It comes out in a panicked little gasp, but Neuvillette merely chuckles.

“Now, now, little one - settle down. As sweet as it would be - I am still aware of the legal terms of our arrangement. I won’t force you to give me any extra - and whilst caning you would be terribly satisfying for me . . . it doesn’t count as satiating my desire in that legal sense that is so important to us both.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t known you’d been holding. Somewhere inside of you, your heart pounds at the thought of letting him do as he wishes with you - but you squash it down, holding to the comforting lie that you are getting absolutely nothing out of the arrangement you had made with Neuvillette. 

His hand curves over your ass and slips between your thighs.

“A-aren’t you even going to take your gloves off?” You seethe at him, through clenched teeth, as a fingertip slides between the plump lips of your sex once more, to find the wet mess that he had left there earlier. 

“I fear it would be most unprofessional of me to undress in my office,” he says, and you hear the smile in his voice. “Forgive me, little one. I think I will stay as entirely clothed as I am able.”

His tone does not broker any argument, and you bite your tongue as he - slowly, maddeningly slowly - slides his finger through the valley of your cunt, approaching your clit with a near-torturous pace. Your breath stutters in your chest as his silk-gloved finger finally brushes over the delicate nub, and he increases his pressure from feather-light to something firmer as he begins to make slow, small circles on the pleasure point.

Your hips don’t know whether to shy away from the certainty of his manipulations or to lean into them, so you do the only thing you can think of and let loose a soft whine into the charged air of his office. 

After he has played with your swollen clit for a few more agonising moments, his fingers drag back through the soaking wet valley to toy with your entrance. You feel yourself flex as he comes near, as if your cunt is begging him to finally put something inside of you - and though he gives a soft chuckle, he does not tease you any further.

“I’m going to put a finger inside of you now,” he murmurs - again, you are not sure if it would be worse if he had not told you. With this knowledge, you have just enough time to catch your breath before he slides his finger into you with one quick movement.

It punches the air out of you. If you had not been bent over the desk already, you’re sure you would have lost your footing - but as it is, Neuvillette goes about opening you up with a kind of determined certainty. The finger inside of you gives a few lone pumps, working your tight insides open - you are wet and pliable enough that it does not hurt near as much as you had thought it would. 

“Good,” Neuvillette murmurs, “Are you ready for me to add another?”

Again, you want to whimper and scream and bite - but as he continues to pump his finger in and out of you, you realise with that same shame that the feeling of him inside of you is good and could only be improved if he filled you more thoroughly.

“Yes, please,” you whisper, your throat dry - and you are rewarded with another low murmur of praise, and the feel of a finger joining the first at your entrance. You take another steady breath, but you do not need to; two fingers fit inside of you with only the barest modicum of resistance, your body silky wet and tight and welcoming. The silk of his gloves rubs against your inner walls curiously, making you feel utterly dizzy with sensation. 

There is a purpose to this that there hadn’t seemed to be when he was using his mouth on you. When he was using his mouth, though he had said it was in order to make the final result easier on you both, you had gotten the distinct impression he had rather enjoyed the process - the sucking, the wet noises, the lewd sound of his tongue against your soaking cunt. But here, Neuvillette crooks his fingers inside of you and pumps them in and out and scissors them slightly in a way that leaves no doubt that he is ensuring you will be able to take something even bigger and wider than his fingers when we have done. 

He still does it all with a trademark thoroughness; he rests his other hand on the small of your back to keep you still as those digits plunge in and out of you. You dread to think how soaked through with your slick his gloves will be when he is done--

But he does not use his fingers upon you to completion. 

You feel it building up inside of you with the way he curls them just so, rubbing against a spongy spot inside of you that makes your thighs tremble - but he doesn’t follow through on the promise that begins to build, dizzying, between your legs. 

He pulls out his fingers with a slick pop and a wet clicking noise, giving your cunt a gentle pat on his way out.

“There, my dear,” he says. “It will still be a tight fit, of course . . . but I should cause you no undue pain. And, if I may be so bold, little one - I’m absolutely certain you’ll feel exquisite.”

This time, there is no question that the rustling noise you hear behind you is him partly undressing; that the soft pop is the sound of buttons being freed from the confines of his placket. He lets out a pleased sigh - you assume at the feel of his hand on his own cock. 

“I’ve been longing to touch you,” he murmurs, as he slots himself between your hips. “I had to prepare you, naturally - oh, but little one, I’ve been hard since the moment you walked all trembling and righteous into my office.” 

“D-do you say that to all of the poor hopeful people who come into your office hoping you’ll grant them justice, Monsieur?” You manage, and he chuckles. His hips fit neatly in between your own spread thighs, and you feel the heavy, silky, hot weight of something as it slaps against the meat of your inner thigh and leaves a sticky wet trail upon the skin there. His cock. His pre-come, on you--

“As I’ve said before, little one,” he murmurs, and he readjusts himself and you hiss yourself as his cock presses softly against the pudge of your outer lips. He doesn’t move it yet; merely lets it rest there, letting you get used to the size of him and the knowledge that he is going to put it inside you. “I have never been so intrigued by any of them to want to. But you . . . ah, this human quality of resilience! You’re utterly darling. There’s even still fire in you now, when I have you naked and at my mercy. Tell me, little one . . . what would you do if I went back on our agreement now and still fucked you?”

You half rear up, and the way your body moves has his cock nudging at your clit, against you - you find yourself half-enveloping the thick shaft of his cock with your labia. It makes you breathless that it doesn’t even come close to disappearing inside you; indeed, the stretch of it reminds you of just how big he is.

“You wouldn’t!” You say, a tone of petulant fury edging your words - Neuvillette makes a hum of agreement even as his gloved hands travel up, over the curve of your hips and then your waist, until he is cupping the weight of your breasts in them and your nipples are once more trapped between the silken pinch of of his thumbs.

“You’re right,” he says, calmly. “I value justice too much for that - but oh, you’re quite something when you’re full of moral fury, aren’t you? Justice . . . a funny thing, isn’t it? One might say that having you right here, in my office, naked and hot and wet and exactly where I want you is a just reward for my years of service, wouldn’t they?”

You don’t respond, and he chuckles; nips a bite into the sensitive part of your throat where the curve of shoulder and neck meet that sends another electric zip down your spine.

“I’m going to put it inside of you now,” he says, still as calm as a placid lake. “And then I’m going to fuck you, little one. Are you quite ready?”

He tilts his hips forward as an urge for you to do the same; to lower yourself back down over the desk. You hiss as his cock slips and slides between the folds of your cunt, but it is nothing compared to how it feels when he pulls back and the wet head of his cock nudges almost impatiently against your entrance. He does not let go of where he is still pinching and rolling at the buds of your nipples, sending light-headed little thrills right down to between your legs - your sex clenching at the emptiness, missing his fingers.

“As ready as I think I’ll be, Monsieur,” you manage, hoping the title comes out as barbed as you want it to - but then he is pressing inside of you, his cock opening you up, and you bump against the table and go utterly blank of thought at the sensation of being claimed.

It feels like all of the air inside of you deflates as Neuvillette pushes himself into you. He had been correct on one count - he had prepared you well enough that there is only a light sting, the feeling that is to be expected when something large fits itself into a tight hole. You wheeze over his desk, your eyes rolling into the back of your head, as he seems to keep pushing and pushing and pushing--

You don’t think you’ll possibly take all of him, and then he stops and you feel his pelvis pressing against your ass, and you realise he is fully inside of you now.

“There,” even Neuvillette sounds a touch breathless. “Didn’t you do well, little one? Are you ready for me to begin moving?”

His only answer from you is a huff, as he pinches your nipples again and you feel yourself clench around the cock buried inside of you. He laughs softly, and with a wet drag you feel him pull out of you - and then drive back inside again with a wet pap, the sound indecently loud in the quiet office. Neuvillette had already established when he had made it clear he expected you to fulfil this arrangement in his work chambers that the walls were thick enough no gestionnaires would come running no matter what, but you still have a vision of it happening.

Some poor underpaid Palais Mermonia worker, coming in to ask the Honourable Chief Justice some question or another, only to find him bent over a shivering whining citizen, naked on his desk. The thought of someone seeing you, at such a powerful man’s mercy--

You clench around Neuvillette again, whining softly into the polished wood of the desk, your body wanting to welcome his cock inside and keep it for yourself. It feels so good - you can barely stand knowing how right and full and warm you feel, how you know that if Neuvillette stopped fucking you that you would have no choice but to beg him to carry on and let you come. 

“Good,” he murmurs, as he finds himself a rhythm that makes you quake. Every drag of his hips sets your body aflame, every twitch of his cock makes you huff and whimper. You’re moaning, you realise, as if you are somewhere very far away. “There now, little one - doesn’t that feel good?”

You don’t reply, but you do not need to. The sound of him fucking in and out of you - the wet sticky slap of his cock as his hips bounce against your spread thighs, the obscene feeling of your own arousal drooling out of you, and the noises that keep escaping your mouth unbidden all do that for you. Your body does not even try to push him out; merely pull him in tighter. 

He stops pinching your nipple with one hand, dragging it back down the curve of your body to curl around your thigh, sneaking between you and the wooden drawers of his desk - and you keen a high-pitched little noise as instead of your nipple, he roughly pinches at your clit instead.

The sensation of that silken fabric, sodden already with your slick, and the mean little pinch pushes you over a precipice that you didn’t realise you’d been hovering on. You cry out this time, a moan that you feel certain that everyone in the whole building must hear - but that doesn’t matter, as you spasm helplessly on Neuvillette’s cock and you give him your second orgasm of the night. 

He fucks you through it, even as you feel your cunt flex and flutter around him. You feel dizzy, panting, whining - but Neuvillette’s thrusts have more purpose now, and a low groan that sounds almost inhuman comes out of him as you weakly try and push your body back at him to hurry it along. 

“I’ll come when I’m ready,” he practically growls, and you whine as his teeth fasten into the meat of your shoulder so that he is utterly bent over you - the rasp of his silken clothes against you, fine fabrics and adornments. The satiny brush of his hair over your heated skin. “And you will take every drop, little one - as you agreed to do--”

You nod helplessly, and he groans - and then his cock is twitching inside of you wildly, and he’s biting at you again and huffing and groaning and the plunge of his hips seems to hit deeper inside of you with every thrust.

You had never imagined the Chief Justice like this in all of your life, but there is something animal to him now; some latent kind of primal instinct you had never realised that the kind, fatherly Monsieur Neuvillette possessed. You know now he is not as kind as you had once supposed, but it is still something else entirely to see him and feel him fuck you like a man possessed.

He snaps, his hips wildly gyrating into you, slapping against your ass so hard you fear you will bruise - and then you feel his cock jump and he comes inside of you, thick ropes of his release shooting directly into your insides and coating you, viscous and full of him.

He gives another almost animalistic growl against your skin, letting his cock judder and shoot out a few final spurts of his own seed - and then, there is a brief moment of quiet. You can hear yourself and your own shuddering breaths, your heart pounding in your ears - and then, the slick, wet noise of him pulling out of you. He catches hold of his own breath, and when he speaks again his voice is smooth and kind as ever as if nothing more has transpired here than a meeting of minds.

“Marvellous, little one. You did so terribly well. Of course,” Neuvillette murmurs against your ear, his breath a cool brush against your heated skin. There’s the faintest scent of saltwater in it; you shiver despite yourself. “You do realise that the final decision does not lie with me, do you not?”

“Wh-what do you mean?” You’re too breathless to speak, still - laid out across Monsieur Neuvillette’s desk, on display like the most wanton of creatures. You can still feel his come rolling down your thighs, spilling out of you with every pant of your breath - you were so utterly filled and claimed by him that you fancy you can feel his come inside of you even now, in thick ropes and dripping pearls. 

“Well,” Neuvillette moves away, and you  turn your head, cheek cold on the desk, to watch as he re-fastens the placket of his trousers, the tails of his coat swishing about him. You remain utterly debased; your clothes still in a haphazard pile to the side of his desk. You do not yet think your trembling legs could even hold you up, and you have no choice but to let Neuvillette continue to drink in the sight of you akimbo over his office furniture. “Surely you understand it is the Oratrice who will make the final decision, my dear?”

Your heart beats double time in your chest. Your breath comes out in a panicked little gasp, and you rear up before you’re quite ready for it, staggering towards him to clutch at his lapels.

“But it always sides with you,” you say to him, hating that your voice rises in pitch pathetically. “You’re always in agreement--”

“Yes,” Neuvillette agrees with a low hum, and you hate him as one of his thumbs gently comes up to caress your cheek like a lover. “It will be greatly novel for Lady Furina to witness the disagreement, I’m sure. Still - the Oratrice does have the final word, as it always has.”

“But you promised!” You don’t care about dignity now, as you feel the hot splash of tears across your cheeks. Neuvillette takes in a shuddering breath, far too reminiscent of the noise he’d made when he’d pressed himself inside of you. His thumb slides under a tear now, to catch it upon the pad; you watch in mute agonies as he lifts it to his mouth and his tongue flicks out to taste you.

“Really, my dear,” Neuvillette says, with a sigh of satisfaction. “I thought you were better educated than this; you were so very charmingly certain when you first came to see me after accosting me in public. All of those carefully laid out little plans and charts as to why your criminal brother couldn’t possibly have committed the felony that everybody knows he did--”

“But you agreed!” You’re desperate now. He hums again, and one of his arms settles around your waist, keeping you pinned against him. “You said you would find him not guilty! You said he’d be freed!”

“I said one of those things,” he corrects you - and then he sees that you’re very much hovering on the edge of hysteria, and he sighs. “You poor little creature. When I asked you if you were certain and that you’d thought everything through properly . . . you hadn’t really, had you?”

“I . . . I thought . . .” You sniffle desperately, trying to grasp onto the threads of your righteous anger as the cool sting of foresight settles over you once more. Monsieur Neuvillette is correct; he promised that he would find your brother not guilty, and you had taken it for granted that the ruling of the mighty Iudex would be enough to see your brother free.

Not a word about the Oratrice had passed his lips.  

You’re shaking. It is only Monsieur Neuvillette’s arm around your waist that stops you from falling to the ground. You fear if that grounding limb left, you would drop to your knees and hug at his legs and rub your sobbing face against his knee and beg. The fact that you had . . . that you’d given yourself to him, and he must have known that he could not truly give what you were asking for . . .

“And what then?” You whisper, your throat dry. Neuvillette makes a considering noise in the back of his throat; a throaty hum. A hand gently scoops your chin up to force you to look him in the eyes.

Neuvillette’s eyes are blue-grey-violet, boring down into you. There is something ancient and terrifying that lies behind them, but as they look into your own they seem to almost flash possessive. 

“I happen to know the administrator of the Fortress of Meropide,” he says, after a long moment. “Of course, I’m sure you understand that it is not the most . . . welcoming of places. Your brother’s confinement will lack creature comforts. But . . . it doesn’t have to be quite so dreary.”

Against your will, hope rises like a soft flame in your chest. 

“You would do that?” You ask the Iudex. “Make sure that he’s . . . that it’s not so bad?”

“You misunderstand,” Neuvillette tells you, with a small smile. “I have fulfilled my end of our agreement now. I will find your brother not guilty. Legally, there’s nothing else that you need of me.”

“I could tell someone--” You start to say, but Neuvillette only lets out a soft little huff of laughter.

“Poor thing,” he says, “do you truly believe that anybody would take your word - the sibling of some no-good criminal, desperate to save him - over mine? You must understand that I have, as Iudex, a long history of doing only the best for Fontaine.” He lets go of your waist, and you are thankful that you manage to keep your balance even as he turns and sweeps away towards his desk. “I am also aware that I’m the subject of some . . . romantic fantasy, in the hearts of the ever-theatrical people of our homeland.” He seats himself in the great chair behind his desk, and looks back up at you with that damnable smile playing around his lips - small enough you could not call it mocking, soft enough you could argue it was an attempt at sympathy. “Why would I give that up, just to tumble some know-nothing worth-nothing young upstart in my office?”

Your mouth opens and closes a few times in speechless anger, before that cool foresight settles over you once more.

Because he’s right.

Why would he? Why would anyone believe you? 

“. . . How can I ask for your aid again?” You manage to grit out, through clenched teeth.

“You could fill out a form from the Palais Mermonia,” he says, rifling through the paperwork on his desk as if you have already left the room. “Talk to one of the gestionnaires about aid for those incarcerated, once your brother has officially been sentenced. The working time for a response is currently . . .” He tilts his head to the side again, as if thinking. “Ah, yes. Only a year and six months. I’m sure nothing untoward could befall your poor brother in that time--”

“Monsieur,” you step towards him imploringly. “Please--”

You remember your nakedness only when Neuvillette looks up from his desk and lets his eyes critically sweep you again. Your nipples, stiff and sore from his pinching fingers. Your thighs, wet with his release and your own slick. The bite marks from his fangs that litter your bared skin. 

His eyes narrow; the face of a man taking in something that already belongs to him. A dragon considering his latest addition to the hoard. 

You realise exactly what he is going to ask you for, in return for his continued aid, before he opens his mouth. 

“Well,” he says, with a small smile upon his generous mouth. It is a mouth many would describe as kind; at this moment in time, you cannot think of it as anything other than dangerous. “You did such a good job of convincing me to aid you today . . . why, we could make these little meetings more regular, don’t you think?”

You swallow thickly. 

The Fortress of Meropide. Under the sea, with no sunlight, for who knows how long. Who knows where he would sleep, or what he would eat, or what other comforts would be denied to him in his imprisonment? 

“Yes, Monsieur,” you whisper, your throat bone dry. 

“Excellent,” he smiles at you in clear dismissal. You feel . . . used. Cheated. Hollow. Utterly owned and laid claim to and conquered, your spirit deadened inside as you look at the corrupt official you had once held in such high regard. “Next week, then. Wear something prettier, please. I’m partial to blue. Now - you don’t mind, do you? I have cases to review.”

[lilibeams]

Consider

Dottore has all those clones. What if after you’re being a bit of a pest in the lab he decides to kill two birds with one stone: he has all his clones take turns (or maybe more than one at once 👀 ) doing various acts on you while he takes notes on your reactions for his own personal research on you.

me, in the dreamiest tone imaginable: what a terrible man.

cw: not sfw, minors dni. medical kink, dubious consent, dark content, drugging. throatfucking, 'titjob', double penetration, anal, voyeurism. afab reader with neutral pronouns.

(send me a genshin kink thought/thirst for elucidation and drabbles)  

Dottore is humming as the restraints click into place, a smile on his face beneath the mask, revealing sharp, sharp teeth. Teeth that you have become intimately familiar with, and have the bites and the bruises and the puncture marks to prove such.

"Does that feel secure, dearest?" He asks, his smile not dissipating. "They might get a little excited, you see. I'd rather not have you trampled underfoot! We need you still so I can take notes, don't we?"

You tug on the leather bonds keeping your wrists affixed to either side of your head. Almost no give. You swallow back the fear that rises in your throat, and try to keep your voice quiet and calm when you speak to Dottore. He does not miss the tremble, of course - but Dottore always pinches your cheeks and praises you when you try for him, and a pleased Dottore is a Dottore far less likely to let this go too far.

"H-how many of them are you going to . . .?"

Dottore chuckles.

"Well," he says, pretending to think; raising a finger to his chin in a mocking pose. "This time, you only knocked over four of my test samples. So . . . one for each ruined experiment, wouldn't you say? That seems very, very fair to me!"

He's still smiling.

"In fact," his voice drops; lowers a semi-tone, becomes a little darker and rougher and deeper. "I'd say it's more than fair. Those test samples took me days of my time. You're only going to have to be my good little test subject for . . . ooh, a few hours?" He reaches down, fondly chucks your chin. "And you're so, so good at it! My very favourite!"

". . . F-four?"

Dottore's gloved hands slide down your body from your wrists, the thin fabric of the medical gown ghosting along your sides and making you shudder. You're used to this cheap, scratchy nylon ("Why anything fancier, dear, when - if it doesn't get covered in fluids - I'm taking it off at the first opportunity?"), but you're on edge from the threat of today's experiment and it sets gooseflesh all down your back and arms.

"Good to see your cognitive functions are still working," he teases, like this is all just a joke. "Exactly. Four of them. You know, picking which ones got to take part lead to a little scuffle . . . They really like you."

You know this. Dottore's clones - his other segments, the other parts of him who do his bidding sometimes and take care of less interesting tasks - are always staring at you. Always finding excuses to touch you and linger by the operating table or hospital bed when Dottore is in one of his moods and would rather have you there than his bed. Dottore clicks his tongue and smiles and coldly reminds them that 'they may look, but only he may touch'.

Well. Aside from today, it seems.

Dottore clatters around a little beside you, and then something is being pressed against your lips; the cool lip of a glass test tube. The liquid that swills into your mouth is bitter, and every instinct you have says to spit it out - but you are indeed a good test subject, so you don't.

"Swallow," he tells you. "It's simply a mild energy booster. I don't know how rough they might decide to be with you today, but I fear they'd be riots if you passed out before they all got at least one turn." You shudder as you obey him. What does Dottore expect his clones to do to you? "Ah! Wonderful."

Dottore has dragged a chair off to one side; he sits in it now, elegantly crossing his legs, a clipboard resting on his lap. The shine of those sharp teeth keep drawing your eye, even as he murmurs under his breath and scribbles something down.

"Now!" His voice goes a little louder. "They're ready. We can begin." Dottore's clones have a habit of showing up when you least expect them. Melting from the shadows in order to do whatever menial task or errand or job that Dottore has deemed himself above - and now is no different. Suddenly, there are four Dottores by you, all looking at you with a hunger in your eyes that you have become very intimate with.

"Be good for them, now," the real Dottore - Dottore Prime, as he occasionally laughingly calls himself - says, from his position in the chair. "Some of them are more unstable than others."

You blink up in wide-eyed fear at the four Dottores. There has evidently been some kind of pre-agreed on order for this, because it is only one of them who reaches out for you - only one of them, at first, who rucks up your thin cotton hospital gown to your hips to bare your thighs to the room.

"Unbruised," Dottore murmurs to himself, scribbling down on his pad. "Subject begins the experiment with mostly unblemished skin, no orgasms in the past six hours, an average amount of lubrication--"

You have several hypotheses on what Dottore told his clones the aim of his experiment was.

Your first is that they are to see how many times you can orgasm before your body simply shuts down; that one is based on the fact that there are always hands, all over you.

Gloved fingers sliding into your cunt, scissoring you open, rubbing against the tunnel of your sex until your hips are arching up and you're whimpering and they can tell that you're close. Another Dottore's hand pinching your nipples at the same time; one more Dottore with his fingers swirling over your clit. The last one gets to rut his cock into your mouth--

"Oh, they're being terribly noisy, I can barely hear myself think," Dottore had said, sighing. Looking up from his notepad, he had seen that one of his clones looked to have precious little to do, and had smiled. "You. Find a way to keep them quiet, won't you?"

Of course, this means that they have to swap, to ensure that all of their cocks get a turn thrusting into the hot, wet confines of your throat. You're thankful for the energy booster Dottore had forced you to drink then, at least - your mouth was at least wet. This means that different hands pinch at your nipples; a different mouth (full of those sharp, terrifying teeth) decides to over-stimulate your sex in a different way. The last Dottore decides to see how you react to coming if he slides a lubricated finger into your ass, whilst one of his brethren sucks and licks and makes you wail uselessly into the thick cock currently occupying your airways.

Your second hypotheses is that Dottore's experiment is, instead; 'how many times can you bring them to orgasm'.

Your hands are not freed, so you can't assist them in that way; but Dottore's clones are nothing if not inventive. Of course, there's your cunt - wet, hot, tight and needy . . . They argue over that, push and pull on one another, until Dottore tells them in a stern voice that they only have so long for this little experiment and if they really want to get to fuck you they ought to manage their time more wisely.

Your mouth is second place; consolation prize. One of them comes up with the bright idea of pressing the soft mounds of your breasts together and fucking into that, smearing his pre-come over your bare skin and - yes, Dottore was right - ruining the thin medical gown.

Your ass --

"Dottore," you whimper, as the table is readjusted via the complicated lever system that Dottore himself had invented. "I-- I don't know if I can t-take that--"

"Hmm," Dottore had said, giving you that detached cocked-head tilt with the bright, interested eyes that you know never signals good news. "Well! What is science without a little pushing of one's limits, hmm? Just relax and breathe for me, be a good little thing--!"

One of them suggests that they try and fit two cocks inside of your cunt at once, and Dottore practically lights up.

That's your third hypothesis.

There are the others. How much cum can you swallow, how long can they leave you hovering on the precipice of an orgasm without letting you fall, how deep can they fuck into you without you squirming and saying it hurts too much--

But you endure, and you take it, because you are Dottore's good test subject and that is what you do. And you come! You come over and over again, with wails and whimpers and gushes of fluid--

("See? Do that again. Hit that spot again. See if you can make them produce that volume of lubrication again--")

And when you have been utterly exhausted and it hurts to come, it hurts to breathe, it hurts to even have those same gloved palms brush your over-sensitive bare skin - your Dottore dismisses his clones and comes to undo your bindings, he assists you in standing on legs that tremble with over-exertion and needles of pain-pleasure still prickling through them.

"Did you . . . did you get the information you need?" You ask him, and he laughs. Once more, he pets your cheek with the flat of his hand; treating you like a little pet. A laboratory rat. You are praying to any Archons who will listen, to Celestia itself, that Dottore will not want to repeat this experiment.

"You're adorable," he pronounces, as he wipes a bead of come from the corner of your lip. "Ridiculous thing. The only experiment I was doing was how much it would take to make sure you learnt to be more careful in my laboratory. Mmm. You won't be so reckless next time, will you?"

Ah. Final hypothesis:

Dottore is simply a bastard.

[lilibeams]

work health assessment - dottore x reader (nsfw, 4.8k)

you really need this job, and you're willing to put up with more than you should in order to get it.

cw: dub-con, dark content, medical kink, needles, mentions of drugging. reader is explicitly chubby, afab (words such as 'breast' and 'cunt' used, but no pronouns). fingering, glove kink, mentions of forced prostitution. it's dottore!!

You’re trembling. You can feel your leg awkwardly twitching, a trapped nerve in your calf that makes you unable to sit still - and it only gets worse as the last applicant before you comes out with a face like thunder. The other Fatui agent stops and looks at you - he’s obviously higher up in the hierarchy than you are, wearing the trademark hood and red-trimmed coat of a Pyro agent. Somebody looking for a change of pace from combat, then, you suppose. 

“You ought not to bother,” he spits out, vitriol in his tone - but you have been around other people enough to know that the vitriol is directed at the man sitting in the office and not at you. “He won’t care about how well-suited you are, any qualifications, any fucking scientific proficiency--”

The Pyro agent walks away still muttering under his breath; you think you hear something about how clearly graduating the Akademiya meant nothing in a place like this, and you feel an unfortunate pang of sympathy for him. He’s definitely far more qualified for this kind of work than you are. If Il Dottore is looking for an assistant, surely somebody who studied at the Akademiya is going to be a far better prospect than you--

You swallow. You need this role. 

Everybody has been kind to you since The Fair Lady passed on. They knew you were one of her favourites, and they found work for you to do - even if it has been rather menial and trivial, it’s meant that you’ve kept receiving Mora, and been able to keep yourself afloat. Head above water. They’ve looked at you sympathetically for the past year - but this is the Fatui, after all, and you cannot expect to live on pity for the rest of your life. You need to make yourself indispensable to somebody else. 

Heaven knows you’re not primed for combat, you think ruefully, as you look down at the soft curve of your hips and the plush of your thighs where they spread out against the chair you’re waiting on. You’re not clever enough to be an actual scientist underneath Dottore’s instruction, you don’t think; and you hadn’t liked the way that the Regrator had sized you up last time he’d seen you, enquiring after your salary and whether it was truly appropriate for the work you’d been doing around the Palace with that calm, sly smile on his face--

But administration? Handling The Doctor’s papers, filing things away, accounts and schedules and diaries? That is very much the kind of thing you can do, and the thing you did very well for Signora before she met with a shining blade. You grit your teeth and force yourself to think things through and get your words in proper order. The Doctor is not the kind of man who will be kind to you if you start stuttering or falling over yourself; he doesn’t suffer fools gladly, you’ve always been told--

Oh, it would be a step up though, wouldn’t it? To go from the employ of the eighth Harbinger to the second? You’d ordinarily never have dared entertain such a thing, but Pulcinella had sought you out amongst the Palace walls and patted your arm and given you a kind, fatherly smile as he’d told you that he thought you’d be a perfect fit for what Dottore needed. 

The door to the office opens and there he is; tall, imposing, his gaze imperceptible behind the crow-like mask he wears at almost all times. Your breath catches in your throat. You’ve seen him, of course . . . but this close, and with nobody else around, he has a strange aura that makes you feel dizzy and nervous. Like a laboratory mouse being observed through glass. Slowly, his chin tips down, as if he’s looking you up and down, and then he makes an impatient gesture with one gloved hand. 

“Come, then,” he says, in a low, cold voice. “The first thing to learn is not to keep me waiting.” 

You’re clumsy getting up off the chair, still a little rattled by the way he looks and just how much he towers over you. The accoutrements he wears on his lab coat do not soften the effect; they give him the look of a too-large raven who is ready to peck your eyes out, making him seem all the more intimidating and all the wider - and considering he is a Doctor, a scholar . . . he’s not exactly lacking in the breadth department even without them. 

His lip curls for a fraction of a second at the sight of you pulling at your clothes, rearranging yourself, even nervously reaching up to touch your hair to ensure that it’s in place - but then he motions you through the door and his face is blank once again. 

His office is in complete disarray. It’s no wonder he needs an assistant, really; there are files all over his desk, spilling onto the floor. A few tables and chairs in other corners are just as full of ephemera and notes and other things you don’t want to think too hard on. The only things in this office that are meticulously clear and clean are a doctor’s examination bed pressed up against the wall and a tray beside it with an array of silvery instruments that glint cruelly in the snow-bright reflection from the windows. The lock clicks. You swallow again as Dottore motions for you to take a seat in front of his desk and he walks around to recline into his own. 

His is old leather, wingback; more throne than chair, and he sits in it like a king observing one of his subjects in a way that makes you feel so small you can barely stand it. 

“Well?” He asks you, and you squeak in alarm before your words start to careen out of you like a runaway train. 

“I--  The Rooster told me you were looking for an administrative assistant, and you know that’s the same thing I did for the Fair Lady. I-I’m not scientifically-minded or anything, I’d be no help with your experiments - but maybe that’s a good thing, if I don’t know enough to properly even understand the documents I’m handling then I’m no risk with sensitive information--”

He raises one gloved hand to stop you in mid-flow. There’s that quirk of his lip again, as he steeples his fingers together and leans forward on his elbows to rest on the messy wood of his desk. 

“My dear,” he drawls at you, “are you truly trying to get me to employ you by making a show of your own incompetence?”

A cold shiver down your spine. You need this role. You need something to get you out of the drudgery of the boring tasks you’ve been given, to get you away from Pantalone’s prying eyes, to give you some kind of purpose--

“I’m good at admin!” You tell him, your voice pitching high in your nervousness. “I’ve a head for figures, I’m organised, I’m discreet--”

“How’s your health?” Dottore asks, that slight curve to his lip not dissipating even a bit. “I can’t employ somebody who is unreliable, you see. I’m rather more of a workaholic than some of my compatriots, and I do so hate to be interrupted when I’m on the brink of a breakthrough.”

“It’s good!” You blurt out without thinking. It’s true; you’ve never had any issues with it. You had mandated checks every year with a doctor that Signora employed - she always made a point to say she wouldn’t make the Doctor do it, with a pinch to your cheeks and a lazy, indulgent smile. She liked her underlings to think her magnanimous. 

“Mmm.” Dottore says. He regards you over his hands once more, before he says; “When I saw your application on the pile, I had already half a mind to take you on. The Fair Lady was always effusive in your praises, and I do indeed not want a little upstart who thinks they can replace me. You were right to think your lack of scientific knowledge would be a boon to me. My work is very delicate, you understand?”

“I understand entirely, Doctor,” you say, nodding enthusiastically. “I’m the soul of discretion, I promise.”

“Mmm,” he says, the noise not entirely convinced, but your toes have curled in your shoes and you can feel the fingers of hope crawling up your spine. “Despite that, you do not seem unintelligent. I don’t think I could bear having an idiot handle my files. You’re already well-versed in the politics of Zapolyarny and the way working for a Harbinger functions; I would not have to waste time doing too much training.”

“Not at all, My Lord,” you say, trying to smile despite the nerves that you can still feel tingling all over you. “I’d be extremely good at what you want me for, I promise.”

This wins a soft snort from him, as if you’ve said something very funny. You keep yourself as poised as you can, your spine straight, your face as sweet and open as you can manage. Signora always preferred you to be like this . . . in time, you suppose that you’ll learn what Dottore likes, but until then he doesn’t seem opposed to the same gentle demeanour that you’d perfected with the Eighth Harbinger. 

“Nevertheless,” he says, “your physical condition . . .” 

Your cheeks burn hot. You hope he is not referring to the curves of your body; you’ve never been particularly self-conscious about it - it’s rather the fashion in Snezhnaya to be soft, and you receive your fair share of admiring looks and propositions - but . . . you know that Dottore is not originally from your homeland, and there can be such strange stigmas in other lands--

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he says to you, as if he’s read your mind. “In a purely biologically aesthetic sense, you’re very much a prime specimen. But looks can be deceiving, my dear, and before we finalise the employment I would like you to submit to a medical examination.” 

Your eyes widen. You hadn’t prepared for him to ask for this; you try and run through in your head what he might want to check in this examination, but even as you do that you realise he has you caught. You need him to employ you, and he has as good as said that as soon as he’s declared you medically fit and able he’ll be able to officially do so. How bad can it really be, then? Let him poke and prod and walk out of this office with a brand new purpose. You swallow. 

“Of course, My Lord,” you say, giving him a blank smile. “What would you like me to do?” 

Dottore gives a pleased hum at your acquiescence as he stands up and walks towards the medical table. 

“Obedient,” he says, approvingly. “That will serve you in good stead. Come here, if you please. For now, I’m simply going to listen to your heart and do a few quick reflex tests. The more . . . invasive tests will come afterwards. Please remove your topmost layer.” 

You do not like the sound of ‘invasive tests’, but you allow yourself the briefest moment of a flinch before you follow his orders. The fur-lined cloak you wear is shed, and the soft knit cardigan follows suit. Seeing you’re wearing a blouse beneath that, Dottore clicks his tongue briefly. 

“That too, I’m afraid,” he says. “I need to be able to place this device directly onto your bare skin.”

It takes another moment of steeling yourself, but the blouse follows your other garments until you stand shivering in your lace-trimmed camisole. You’re suddenly exceedingly aware of the generous curve of your breast within the silken cups of your brassiere, the bare skin of your collarbone, the plumpness of your shoulders - but Dottore, doctorly in the extreme, merely lets his gloved hands brush over them as he steers you to take a seat upon the examination table and presses the cool circle of his stethoscope against your chest. 

The next fifteen minutes are boring but predictable. Dottore takes your vitals; your blood pressure, your heart-rate. He checks your reaction times with a little glowing light - he takes your temperature. You wrinkle your nose when he produces a syringe, but you have had blood taken before and you manage nothing more than a little flinch when you feel the needle slide into the crook of your elbow. He writes all of his findings down in a little black-covered ring bound notebook. 

It is only when he closes the notebook that you finally let yourself relax; your shoulders to slump, the breath it feels as though you’ve been shudderingly holding on to finally dispelled. 

“Do I meet your expectations, My Lord?” You ask him, and Dottore gives a small, considering noise before he looks back up from the notebook. 

“I’m afraid I’m not quite finished yet,” he tells you, with a small smile. “If you’d please remove the rest of your clothing.”

Your eyes widen. 

“I--”

“There’s a hospital gown for you,” he says, interrupting, reaching towards a lower drawer in the silver cart by the side of the bed. He pulls from its depths a pale blue, paper-thin concoction that you do not feel as though deserves the title of ‘gown’ - but Dottore has you at his mercy. If you refuse now, he simply won’t employ you - and who knows what might happen to you after that? You bite your tongue and repeat the mantra in your mind: what’s the worst that could happen? “I’ll turn whilst you change. Your underwear too, if you please.” 

What’s the worst that could happen? You repeat it over and over as Dottore sighs when he turns around, as if he’s being very generous by making this small provision for your modesty and he doesn’t quite see the point. You put your clothes down onto the pile that’s been gradually growing and shrug yourself into the uncomfortable papery gown, perching primly on the very edge of the hospital bed when you’re done with your knees together. 

You are terribly aware of just how naked you are beneath the flimsy covering when Dottore turns back around and gives you a slow once-over. There’s a lot of your bare thigh on display; the thin ties at the back of your neck you have done your best to fasten, but you’re also aware of cool air on the bare skin of your spine and the precarious position you would be in if he bid you to stand up and turn around. You press your thighs more fiercely together as if sheer force of will can make you less tortuously conscious of your bare sex, your missing underwear, the way your nipples have peaked in the cool air. 

“Are you cold?” He asks, conversationally, as he comes closer to you - and your cheeks go hot all over as one gloved finger comes up and softly circles over the slight imprint of your nipple in the gown. You hiss through your teeth, but don’t say anything. “Your temperature was fine . . . so perhaps you’re just sensitive?” 

He tips his head to one side as he considers it. He still has not removed the bird-like mask, but you have the fleeting impression that you’re being ogled by him. His other hand reaches up, and before you can make even a token attempt to slap him away, he is cupping the heavy fat of your breasts through the material, testing their weight in his palms. 

“D-Doctor!”

“Yes?” He tilts his head again. “I simply have to get to grips with your body, my dear. This interest is strictly professional.”

“I-- this doesn’t seem necessary, My Lord Harbinger--”

“Believe me, it is. Unless . . . well, you do want me to employ you, don’t you?”

The last is said in a condescending tone that makes you very much sure that if you deny him, he will send you on his way and happily throw you to the mercy of whoever swoops down to feast upon his leftovers first. You remind yourself that it will be over soon; think of how this role will cement your place in the Palace as someone of use, and when Dottore’s thumbs swipe over your nipples you bite back the whimper that wants to tear from your throat. 

“Mmm,” he says. “Very sensitive, indeed. Tell me when this hurts.” Still through the gown, Dottore uses thumb and forefinger to gently pinch your nipples. Against your will, you squirm on the hospital bed slightly, heat rising to your face as a low ache between your thighs makes itself known. He starts off soft, but gradually increases the pressure, until you blurt out;

“Th-that hurts!”

“Hmm?” He pinches a little harder and watches you in great interest as you flinch, giving a mean little twist before he finally releases the aching nubs of your nipples. “Yes. As I thought. Now, let me try without the obstruction--”

He reaches behind you and undoes the ties of the gown with one quick, fluid motion - so swift you barely have time to bring your hands up to cover the spill of your breasts, as protests die on your tongue. 

“I don’t have time for prudery,” he tells you. “Show me.”

To your great horror, a shaking breath only a moment away from a sob comes trembling out of your throat - but you do as he asks, thinking once more of that job that is dangling over your head. Dottore seems to observe your naked chest for a moment, and then smiles sharp and cruel again. 

“Lovely,” he murmurs, as he returns to touching them - kneading handfuls in those awful gloves, tugging at your nipples, rubbing circles around the areola until your over-sensitive body squirms. “Ah, these are nicely sized, aren’t they? And these . . .” Another pinch to your nipple, and this time you feel a tear slip from the corner of your eye unbidden, your throat clogged. “Such pretty little things. So responsive! I daresay the rest of your body has reacted just as nicely?”

“I--I don’t know what you mean, My Lord,” you say to him, although you have the mounting fear that you understand exactly what he means. Dottore chuckles. 

“So far, you’re passing the physical examination with flying colours,” he says to you, voice low and cool and smooth. “Don’t disappoint me now, darling.” He pats the side of the examination bed. “Get yourself up here please. Feet flat, knees up.” He leers at you even through the mask as he finishes his order with two words that make your blood run cold. “Thighs apart.”

It almost pushes you over the edge. The thought of Dottore looking at you, so vulnerable, so close to naked (actually, you suppose when you move the gown will flutter to the ground and you will be utterly bare before him) - the idea of him having you entirely at his mercy . . . You’re suddenly all too aware that there is nobody waiting for you; no applicant after you, who might poke their head in rudely to see if Dottore is nearly ready for their interview. For all intens and purposes, Dottore could kill you and use you as spare parts and nobody would ever know--

“My patience is not neverending,” Dottore murmurs, drumming fingers on the leather of the bed. “You do want this, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” you swallow back the fear. You have nothing else that is viable to do, really - you would never beat him to his door if you ran, you would be naked and afraid, you are entirely at his mercy. . . “S-sorry.”

A pleased noise at the apology. You force yourself to keep breathing as you manoeuvre your traitorous body - to your immense horror, you realise that the kneading and the pinching and the petting that Dottore lavished upon your chest earlier has had an effect between your thighs, and there is a definite dampness wetting the curls of your pubic hair. You squeeze your eyes shut so that you don’t have to see that damned bird mask looming down at you. 

“There we are,” Dottore coos to you - fingers slide up your shins, rearranging them slightly until you’re put in exactly the position he wants. “Relax, now. Head on the pillow. This will perhaps be uncomfortable, but I shan’t hurt you on purpose. Ah, there we are. Very good.” You hesitantly settle flat against the leather, and for your obedience you are rewarded with a fleeting pat on your head, like a well-behaved little dog. “Oh, my.”

“I-- is the examination nearly over, Doctor?” You ask him, though you fear that you know the answer - and to answer your fears, Dottore lets out a chuckle that sounds like a creak. 

“Oh, not yet,” he says, airily. “Relax, my dear. If you don’t, perhaps I ought to inject some kind of tranquiliser?”

“N-no,” you shake your head. “I’m sorry. I’ll try to relax.”

“Very good. Ah.” He shifts again, and you hear the sound of the cart being moved. Your heart begins to rabbit at the thought of any of those silvery sharp instruments coming near the soft part of you nestled between your thighs, but Dottore simply pauses at the foot of the bed and once more observes you. 

It’s been a while since he wrote in the notebook, you can’t help but note. 

“You’re just as lovely here,” he says to you. “A perfect specimen, really. Very nice.” Very slowly, all the more terribly enhanced because you cannot see him, you feel Dottore bring his gloved finger to stroke down the plump slit of your labia. Your body tenses at the sensation. “You’re wet, too. Good. I’m going to help that along a little - this might be a bit cold, you can shiver if you need to--”

The clatter of the cart again - and then something thick and viscous and cool is being drizzled over your bare sex. You do indeed take in a deep breath, your nails digging into your palms at the unusual sensation. 

“Wh-what is it?” You whisper, a thousand horrible thoughts flitting across your head - numbing agents, or oils designed to make you all the more sensitive, or any other kind of horrible concoction that the Doctor might have at hand - but he just laughs at you, as if you’ve told a very funny joke. His tone is condescending;

“Merely a lubricant, my dear. We are simply testing your health; your sensitivity, your reactions, how much you can take--”

He gently continues to stroke up and down the slit of your sex, working the lubricant against your cunt - paying particular attention, to your mortification, to the swollen nub of your clit. Of course, you’ve touched yourself - but to have someone else doing it! To have the Doctor, doing it like this!”

“You’re a virgin?” He asks you, with a note of surprise, and you press your lips tightly together because you cannot bear to say it out loud. Dottore chuckles. “Oh, you don’t need to answer that. I can tell from the way your greedy little hole is trying to suck me in even though it barely seems as though it will stretch enough to fit a finger in.” He clicks his tongue and lets out another low little laugh. “I should have guessed when you started panting and whimpering when I played with your nipples. You’re just darling, you know.”

“I don’t . . . I don’t think this is part of an ordinary medical examination,” you whisper, as Dottore’s finger prods testingly against the flutter of your hole. You hate that he’s right - despite how your mind is whispering poison, your body is only aware of how good it feels to be touched like this, by slow and practised and meticulous hands. 

“And I am no ordinary Doctor, as I’m sure you’re well aware.”

“Please--”

Your next words are drowned out by the whine that falls from your lips as he slowly slides his finger into the hot tight tunnel of your sex. His gloves are still on; the texture makes you fight against the desire to wriggle as he crooks it inside of you, truly getting a feel for the pulsing walls around him. 

“I’m sure you’re aware the Regrator has inquired about your contract,” he says to you, as he slowly begins to slide his finger out and then in again, the movement aided by the lubrication and your own slick. Your back arches, but you do not receive a scolding for it - Dottore’s voice has shifted just a semi-tone, thickened just a touch. “He’s thinking you’d make him a pretty penny if he loaned you out to some of his more discerning investors.”

The thought of the way that the Regrator looks at you flashes through your mind again, and you find yourself tearfully shaking your head. 

“As well as being a prospect to indulge in himself,” Dottore continues, as if you have not responded. “Now. I’m sure you won’t want that, do you?”

“P-please,” you say, shaking your head. “No.” 

Dottore lets out a satisfied exhale. A second finger prods interestedly at your entrance, and you try to force yourself to relax as he slides two of them inside instead. The stretch now is noticeable, and the muscles in your thighs jump. Two fingers, and you almost tell him that it’s too much - before you remember what it is that Dottore is telling you. 

“Oh, very clever. I am not lying about needing an administrative assistant,” Dottore tells you, fingers pumping in and out of you now, curling against the pounding of your inner walls, the wet click of his fingers fucking into you echoing too loud in the room. You hate that you can feel yourself, wet and sticky and hot. You hate all the more that inside of you is growing a warmth you have never experienced, a tight ball of tension that makes you dizzy. “I am merely a man who believes in . . . multi-tasking. Dual purpose, if you will. I have found that sometimes I get . . . frustrated in my work, and one of the few ways I have found to expel some of that frustration lies in sexual gratification.”

Your face, hot. Your body, responding against your will. Your heart, pounding like a trapped animal. Dottore’s thumb swipes across your clit, circling the bundle of nerves with the practised assurance that only a doctor can truly embody. 

“Your virginity is a variable I hadn’t quite counted on,” he continues, still working you over like your cunt is a puzzle that he needs to solver. You can barely concentrate on what he’s saying now, that ball of heat within you is so overwhelming. “But it’s hardly unwelcome to know I’ll get to shape you to my own desires, if you will.”

You can feel that you’re close; you can feel that if he just carries on a bit longer, if he just lets you get a little further, that ball will explode like fireworks in your head and warmth will spread through your body like a heating lamp on a cold Snezhnayan night. But he stops. 

“So now you know the full terms,” he tells you, whilst you fight and lose against the instinct to try and hump your hips back to the gorgeous sensation of his hand on you. “Tell me, my dear. Do you still wish to be my assistant? Or do Pantalone’s plans sound more desirable? For a virgin, you’re being more than a little desperate - perhaps you like the idea of him sharing you out?”

“N-no,” you gasp out, shaking your head. Better the devil you know. Better the second Harbinger, and the same face, and the familiar walls of Zapolyarny Palace than beds of men you’ll never see again. “M-My Lord Harbinger, Dottore, Doctor, please--!”

He chuckles.

“Alright,” he murmurs, and he resumes fucking into you, the firm pressure on your clit, and before you know it you can feel yourself spasming around him with soft pleasured cries as your body is suffused in the warm glow of pleasure. Dottore fucks you on his fingers through the afterglow, the ebbing tide of your first orgasm at the hands of somebody else - before he abruptly stands and you hear the clack of his boots on the floor as he walks away, leaving you naked and shivering and gasping. 

“Very well,” he says to you, and though you’re still staring at the ceiling you hear the smile. “I shall see you bright and early tomorrow, my dear. We’ll make a start on my next tests. For now . . .”

It all feels like a muddle in your head. You can’t remember what you’ve agreed to; Dottore’s words are so mired in meaning, and you’re an admin and not any kind of genius--!

But it’s too late. Dottore’s voice is lazy and indolent in a way you’ve never heard it be as he says to you;

“You’re dismissed.”