#Criminal Macabre | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

s0dium · 3 months ago

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𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑!!!

𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐱 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: Never in your wildest dreams did you think you’d find out that your crush, Geto Suguru, was just like you: a murderer. Not only that but you share the same passion; killing criminals and pedophiles! (Happy Kinktober) 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: DARK CONTENT, gore, mutilation, murder, mentions of pedophiles (y/n kills them), serial killing, unprotected sex, breeding, choking, teasing, knife play, whipped Suguru 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.3k 𝐀/𝐧: This is based HEAVILY on the novel Butcher and Blackbird by Brynne Weaver. The original idea is credited to Brynne Weaver ONLY. This work is fan fiction and is not intended for commercial purposes or to infringe on the intellectual property rights of the original author.

Being a serial killer who kills other killers, pedophiles, and rapists is a great hobby.

Until you find yourself locked in a cage.

For three days.

No AC.

With a body you carved up.

You glare at the fly-riddled corpse whose legs are kneeling opposite of you in the locked cage you were both trapped in. The air is thick with the putrid stench of decay, a relentless assault on your senses. The body's skin is pallid, marred by the writhing mass of white maggots that feast mercilessly. Where eyes once held gaze, now only hollow sockets remain, tediously scooped out and vacant. The ears too have been sheared off, leaving clean edges that blend into the mottled, blood-stained flesh. Its chest has been cracked open; ribs pried apart in a macabre mimicry of an unhinged broken cocoon, revealing the dark, empty cavity where a heart once beat.

Then, of course, the piste de resistance of your work, the removed eyes, ears, and heart rest in the corpse's upturned palms—placed with ceremonial care amidst the chaos of mutilation.

So now, if anyone were to walk down the steps of Gary Green House's basement, they would not only find his mutilated body, but the person who did it, trapped in a cage together.

"Fuck." You curse at yourself for the millionth time since you've been trapped here for the last three days. The cold realization that you've fallen into Gary’s final trap gnaws at your mind as relentlessly as the maggots at the corpse across from you. The cage, a cruel relic of Gary’s twisted pleasures, had seemed the perfect place for your ritual—turning the hunter into the hunted in his own den of horrors. But in your fervor to see him pay, you overlooked one crucial detail: the cage's sinister design, which sealed shut the moment its door swung closed.

The remote control, now a mocking symbol of freedom, lies just beyond the bars, on a small, grimy table. You remember the sickening click of the lock, the finality of it echoing in the cramped space as you turned back from the grisly task of dismembering Gary—his last, silent victory.

Even the idiot police could deduce that this was all your doing, seeing as all your bloody tools were still with you in your backpack. With fingerprints. It was just a matter of time before they opened the basement door.

You could practically hear Gary’s voice from beyond the grave: "Hah! Serves you right, you stupid bitch! That's what you get for killing me!" The taunt echoes in your head like a song over and over again and you're seriously contemplating banging your head against the iron bars.

"FUCK FINE!" You yell into the darkness. "I renounce my wicked ways!"

"That's a shame. I bet I would like your wicked ways."

You jump at the sound of a man's deep, smooth voice, the cadence of slight raspiness warming every note. Your curses cut the humid air from the startlement of the man's presence. How the hell did he even get in here? You didn't hear the basement door open. You scurry out of reach of the man who saunters into the thin thread of light from the narrow window, the glass opaque with fly shit.

"You seem to be in a predicament." He says stepping into view. The thin light from the window partially illuminates him, allowing you to make out his face. Oh rather, what is on his face.

Holy shit.

A ghost mask stares back at you, its hollow eyes and elongated mouth frozen in a chilling scream. The stark white of the mask contrasts sharply with the surrounding shadows, and you watch with wide eyes as he tilts his head.

Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

In any other situation, you might be fan-girling. You know exactly who you're staring at: the infamous Crucifer, a killer, like you, but notorious for his crucifixion of criminals in rather, flamboyant displays. The few eyewitness accounts of the Crucifer all mention the ghost mask, leaving no doubt in your mind about his identity.

While your hunting grounds have been Osaka, his have typically been Tokyo, but despite the geographical difference, his reputation precedes him. In all honesty, you shouldn’t be surprised he’s here. Your victim, Gary Greenwich, is notorious even among the authorities. Despite his crimes, the lack of solid evidence has always allowed him to slip through the cracks of the justice system, leaving him free to continue his heinous activities. He was high on your kill list, and it’s no surprise he was high on Crucifers as well.

He takes a few steps closer toward the cage to stare down at the corpse, bending to take a closer look.

"Well what happened here?" He chuckles.

You are on day three of no food. No water. The gnawing hunger in your stomach feels like a relentless beast, clawing at your insides with increasing ferocity. You wonder if your body has started to eat its own organs at this point.

You can't deal with this shit.

"Self defense." You say.

The man chuckles. "I doubt that, you're not his type." Despite his mask you can feel his eyes shift from the corpse to linger on you.

"And how would you know that?"

"Well disregarding the state in which you "self defense" left him, you're not a 6 year old boy. And," he steps closer so now he is inches away from the bars and his whole body is illuminated. "I make it my business to know."

You don't answer. Instead you watch as he crouches down to meet your gaze. You try to hide behind your tangled hair and folded limbs, giving him only your eyes.

And of course, just your luck, he is stunning

Black hair flows behind his mask and down his shoulder. He's wearing a black compression shirt that hugs every muscle of his biceps and forearms, accentuating his athletic build. His broad shoulders enhance his imposing presence, giving him the aura of a seasoned athlete. Black cargo pants complete his ensemble, practical and intimidating, with a hunting knife sticking out of his pocket, probably what he would've used on Gary if you hadn't got to him first.

Something about him looks familiar, something you can't put your finger on.

"I guess you made it your business to know too." He pauses before moving even closer so his mask is practically pressed against the iron bars. "Hey, you look pretty familiar."

You shift uncomfortably, feeling the prickle of anxiety creeping up your spine. Instinctively, you brush a tangled lock of hair from your face, wincing as it catches on your dry lips. The man's shoulders tense as if he has been electrocuted.

"Y/n?" His voice cuts through the thick silence like a knife.

Oh, what the hell.

You jerk your head up from your hunched posture, eyes wide in shock, meeting the unsettling, hollow eyes of the ghost mask. Your heart races, pounding loudly in your chest.

"Wha-"

"Oh my god, it is you!" He exclaims, his loud deep voice echoing through the basement.

"I'm sorry, I don't-" you stammer, confusion and fear knotting in your stomach.

"It's me," he interrupts, and with a swift motion, he takes off his mask. The sight of his familiar face makes your breath catch in your throat. "Suguru Geto."

Suguru Geto. The name alone sent ripples through your thoughts, dragging along memories and emotions you had long buried. Suguru wasn’t just any ordinary guy; he was a micro-celebrity in Tokyo, renowned for his breathtaking tattoo artistry. His ink adorned the bodies of celebrities, flaunted in TikToks and Instagram posts that garnered thousands of likes. His reputation was impeccable, his designs sought after by the elite.

You had crossed paths with Suguru a few times at various parties, your social circles occasionally overlapping due to mutual friends. Each encounter left an indelible mark on you. His presence was magnetic, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. It wasn’t just his talent that made him irresistible; it was everything about him. Those hawk-like eyes that seemed to pierce through to your very soul, the perfect curve of his lips that could shift from a smirk to a genuine smile in an instant, and those dimples that appeared whenever he graced you with that smile—each feature was a weapon, effortlessly disarming.

You, like many other girls, harbored a secret crush on Suguru Geto. It was impossible not to. That face alone could kill, and his charisma was the final blow.

And now, here he was, standing right in front of you, unmasked and undeniably real. The reality of it all hit you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless and a little overwhelmed.

Suguru clears his throat, a small smirk playing on his lips from how obviously you are gawking at him.

"Shot in the dark here but are you the Mute Collector?"

You part your lips to say something but you can't seem to form the right words.

"I-"

Suguru's grin widens and a sharp laugh escapes his perfect mouth. "Oh my god. I knew it. I fucking knew they had it wrong about you with that bull shit profile they built. What was it, they said you were a 30 year old white man?" Suguru throws his head back and smiles at the ceiling. "And the Mute Collector? You? That's just awesome. I'm such a huge fan."

"Yeah..." You clear your throat and push your hair completely out of your face. He grins at you, as though awe struck, and if you weren't wearing 100 layers of grime on your skin you are sure he'd be able to see the blush flaming in your cheeks for a second.

"And you?" You nod toward the mask. "You are?" You don't know why you are feigning ignorance but something about humbling him seems tastier than actual food right now.

"Oh come on." Suguru's tone flattens and he brings the mask up next to his face.

"The Crucifer?"

You shake your head.

"The cross maker?"

You shake your head again. Lying through your teeth is fun.

"The Tokyo Butcher?" When you shake your head he sighs and stands up. "Well," he glances to Gary whose maggots have made their way to the empty eye sockets. "What do you say? We ditch this lousy scene and get something to eat. Maybe when you get food in your stomach you will remember some of my little nicknames."

Your eyes widen and your stomach growls loudly, reminding you of how long it's been since you last ate. You glance up at your Suguru, a mix of hope and suspicion in your gaze.

"Are you serious?" you ask, your voice hoarse from dehydration.

"Yeah, after we get you a shower, some clothes and burn the house down."

You gulp and stand to your feet. "Could we get burgers?"

Suguru grins before grabbing the remote and pointing it at the cage.

"Fine by me."

The Mute Collector.

Geto Suguru is sitting across from the fucking Mute Collector.

And god you are beautiful.

Not that he just realized it now. Like many others, he has always known how attractive you are; he just pushed it to the back of his mind. But now, knowing who you really are and what you do in your free time, your body has practically been encompassed in bright warm light and your head adorned with a halo. He watches as you down your 6th cup of water with a sigh and wipe your mouth with your sleeve.

The two of you sit in a cozy booth at a restaurant, the warm, smoky aroma filling the air. Suguru leans back with a beer in hand, watching you with a mix of amusement and caution. The waitress approaches, placing a large plate with a double cheeseburger and fries in front of you. Your eyes light up, and without wasting a second, you pick up the cheeseburger with your fingers and take a big bite, savoring the flavors.

Suguru chuckles, raising his beer in a mock toast. "You look like you've just found the Holy Grail."

He doesn't miss the way you stifle back a laugh, trying to speak through a mouthful of burger. "If the Holy Grail were covered in cheese and ketchup, then yeah, maybe."

He takes a sip of his beer, grinning. "I’ve never seen someone so excited about food. Maybe you should give up your little hobby and do food reviews."

"Well, that's what being trapped in a cage with the rotting corpse of a pedophile does to you I guess." You grumble, setting down the burger and taking another drink of water.

Suguru's eyes stay on you, and he takes the opportunity to really assess you. Your hair is damp, and the wetness seeps into the white Mickey Mouse shirt you're wearing, causing it to cling slightly to your skin and reveal the elegant lines of your collarbone. He bought that shirt and the shorts for you at a thrift store, and despite the fact that such clothes should look bad on anyone, you are rocking them effortlessly.

He can't help but notice that you didn't buy a bra, a fact that makes him smile to himself.

No bra.

"So tell me." Suguru sets his beer back on the table and leans in.

"The whole ears, eyes and heart thing." He waves his left hand in the air. "The police say it's satanic ritual stuff but I don't buy it."

You pause, a hint of a smile playing at your lips as you meet his gaze. "It's simple, really. Hear no evil, see no evil, fear no evil."

Suguru raises an eyebrow. "You have a way of making the macabre sound poetic."

You're about to reach for a fry, but he snatches it before your fingers could reach it.

"Why not the tongue?" He says. "You know, speak no evil."

You roll your eyes and snatch the fry out of his fingers. "Tongues are hard to cut, too slippery and make a mess."

He nods thoughtfully, leaning back in his seat. "You know, most people would be horrified to hear you talk like that."

"Good thing you’re not most people," you reply with a smirk.

"Touché."

He watches as your lips wrap around the thick fry and your teeth rip off half of it into your mouth.

No bra.

"What about you Suguru?" You lock eyes with him. "Why are you here?"

"Why am I here?"

"You heard me. You swoop in all superman-like, save me from the dipshit’s pedo dungeon and take me out for a double cheeseburger. Why are you here?"

Suguru shrugs and averts his gaze from your unyielding stare. Shit, your piercing eyes are almost making him sweat.

"Same thing you already did. I was going to skin him alive and and display the fucking monkey Jesus style infront of his house. At least, something like that."

"Yeah but why him? I thought your hunting grounds were in Tokyo?"

Your eyes widen slightly as the words hang in the air, the weight of your mistake sinking in immediately. You feel a rush of heat to your cheeks, a telltale sign of your embarrassment. Your lips part as if to take back the words, but it's too late; they've already been spoken.

A sly smile spreads across Sugurus face as he watches your face fall.

"Oh you totally know who I am Y/n."

"Fucking hell."

"You do! You know that I like to hunt near my home, how long have you been a part of my fan club?"

You roll your eyes and fall back into your seat. You blink rapidly, trying to maintain your composure, but the subtle tension in your jaw and the furrowing of your brow betray your embarrassment.

"So which one was your favorite? The monkey I strung up next to the police station? Or the one I flayed inside the Tokyo Union Church?"

"Oh my god I can already tell you are going to be insufferable." You grumble, the heat of embarrassment slowly dissipating as you take a deep breath. Suguru leans back, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he swirls the beer in his hand, watching you with an almost predatory curiosity. As seconds pass, Suguru assesses your face, following how your eyes dart around the room, searching for an escape route, and Suguru’s playful expression falters for a split second. He realizes with a sudden jolt that you're trying to leave. He can't have that. He needs to see you again.

"Hey speaking of suffering," Suguru clears his throat. "Have you heard about the women killings in Kyoto?"

Your eyebrows raise, curiosity piqued. "Yeah, I've heard. Pretty gruesome stuff. Why do you ask?"

A playful smile tugs at his lips. "How about a friendly competition? The killer's already taken six lives so far."

You tilt your head, your eyes narrowing slightly as you try to decipher his intentions. "What do you mean by a competition?"

Suguru leans in closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "That's exactly what it sounds like. Who can hunt him down first?"

For a moment, you're taken aback, your eyes widening as you process his proposal. A mix of surprise and intrigue flickers across your face. "Are you serious?"

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your reaction. "As sin."

"And what do we get if we win?"

Suguru's eyes gleam with amusement and something else—admiration. "Bragging rights, of course. And maybe... another dinner like this one."

You throw your head back and let out a laugh. "Oh yeah? Who says I'll need you to get me another dinner?"

"Can't let you go hungry again. What do you say?”

You sit at your desk, the dim light of your laptop casting a pale glow on your face as you scroll through articles about the woman killer from Kyoto. The room is quiet, save for the occasional click of your mouse and the hum of the laptop. Your phone buzzes, and you glance at the screen to see Shoko’s name. With a smile, you answer the call.

"Hey Shoko, how’s your night shift?" you greet her with a teasing tone.

Shoko’s laugh crackles through the speaker. "Busy as always. Just patched up a guy who thought he could outsmart a bulletproof vest with sheer willpower. Spoiler: he couldn’t."

You chuckle, shaking your head. "Sounds like my type of guy."

By day, Shoko is your best friend and a dedicated med student, excelling in her studies with a, albeit, half hearted, passion for helping others. But when the sun sets, she transforms into the notorious Dr. Reverse, the underground doctor every criminal and lowlife turns to in their time of need. Using her medical expertise, she serves those who cannot seek help through legal means, operating in the shadows and patching up criminals who live by a different set of rules. In addition to her medical skills, she also deals in poisons, further cementing her reputation in the underworld.

You first met Shoko in a moment of desperation. After cornering a serial rapist, you were attacked with a machete, almost severing your arm. With nowhere else to turn, you sought out Dr. Reverse. Shoko skillfully sewed you up and, in the process, deduced that you were the infamous Mute Collector. To your surprise, she didn't seem to care about your identity, and you, in turn, didn't question her underground business or her dealings with poison. This mutual understanding and acceptance laid the foundation for a strong bond, and you've been best friends ever since.

Shoko laughed, a sound that always manages to lift your spirits. "Right? Anyway, what's up? I saw your SOS text."

You hesitate, glancing at the photo of Geto Suguru on your screen on a separate tab. His annoyingly white teeth glare back at you, and you try to resist staring at his six pack in an instagram photo someone took of him at a pool party. His dark eyes seemed to stare right through you, as if mocking your indecision. "It's about Geto."

There was a brief pause before Shoko's voice came back, tinged with curiosity. "Geto? What about him?"

You take a deep breath, your fingers drumming nervously on the desk. "He's the Crucifier."

Shoko's reaction was immediate and loud. "Geto is what?" she practically yelled through the phone, causing you to wince.

"The Crucifier. I know." You scoffed, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it all. "Can you believe it?"

Shoko let out a low whistle. "Wow. I mean, he always seemed like a guy with secrets, but I never pegged him for a serial killer, I mean, someone like you."

"Yeah, well, here we are," You mutter, rubbing your temples. You focus your attention back on your computer screen. Suguru is squeaky clean, not even a bad review on his website. There was only his questionable taste in best friends: Gojo Satoru—the biggest playboy and the infamous heir to the Gojo Company, Japan's largest and most influential corporation. Gojo's notoriety was legendary, his exploits plastered across tabloids and whispered in gossip circles. You’ve met, and been hit on by the man a few times, and not once did you fall for any of his slimy cheap antics. No, Geto Suguru is who your eyes fell on.

"And now he’s proposed some sort of competition."

"A competition?" Shoko's voice was practically dripping with amusement. "Like a hunting competition?”

You let out a snort of air through your nose. “Basically.”

Are you gonna do it?"

"I don't know," You admit, leaning forward and resting your chin on your hand. "I said I would, but I don't know. I barely know the guy. Well, I thought I did."

"Well, you should," Shoko said, her tone shifting to one of gentle teasing. "Besides, isn't this your chance to get closer to your crush?"

You feel your cheeks flush. "Shoko, seriously? Come on, that was ages ago."

"Hey, I'm just saying," she replies, laughter bubbling up again. "This could be your big break."

"You're impossible," you grumble, though you can't help but smile. "How's the side business, by the way?"

"Thriving," she says and you can practically see her small smile through the phone.. "You'd be amazed at how many people need a little untraceable something for their enemies."

"I don't doubt it," you say, shaking your head. "Just stay safe, okay?"

"You too, Mute Collector," Shoko says, her voice softening slightly. "And remember, if you ever need anything, you know where to find me."

"Always," you reply, your smile growing wider. "Thanks, Shoko. Talk to you soon."

"Later," she says, and the line goes dead.

You lean back in your chair again, your thoughts drifting back to Geto Suguru and the strange, dangerous world you both inhabit. As much as you hate to admit it, Shoko is right. This is your chance, not just to catch some sick killer, but to uncover the secrets that lie hidden beneath Suguru’s enigmatic exterior.

With a sigh, you close your laptop and stand up, determination settling in your chest. The competition awaits, and you have a feeling it's going to be a game changer.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Suguru rolls his eyes at the white hair man’s mocking tone and continues to stare at his phone. It's been 10 minutes. How long does it take for someone to respond to a text. Suguru lay sprawled on the couch, his eyes fixed on his phone. Across the room, Gojo was bustling about in the kitchen, the sound of utensils clinking and food sizzling filling the air.

"Is this about Y/n? The Mute Collector or whatever?" Gojo asked, glancing over his shoulder with a mischievous grin.

Suguru didn't respond, his gaze unwavering from the screen. He could feel Gojo's eyes on him, the scrutiny almost tangible.

"I don't think I've seen you put this much effort into a woman since, like... ever," Gojo continued, his tone teasing. He turned back to his cooking, the corners of his mouth twitching with amusement.

Suguru's jaw tightened, but he kept his silence. Gojo, undeterred, pressed on. "Besides the fact that she's the Mute Collector, what do you even see in Y/n? Well, I guess she does have other assets," he chuckled.

"Keep her name out of your fucking mouth, you prick," Suguru snapped, his voice low and menacing.

Gojo raised his hands in mock surrender, a laugh escaping his lips. "Alright, alright, no need to get all territorial."

Suguru continued to stare at his phone, his fingers hovering over the keys. "How long does it take for someone to respond to a fucking text" he mutters under his breath.

Gojo leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "Maybe she's busy. Or maybe she's just messing with you. You know, playing hard to get."

Suguru finally looks up, his eyes narrowing. "She doesn't play games. And she's not hard to get—she's hard to keep."

Gojo raises an eyebrow, clearly amused by Suguru's reaction. “Touchy, touchy,” he mutters, returning to his culinary task.

Just then, Suguru's phone pings. His heart skips a beat as he sees your name flash on the screen. He quickly opens the message, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he reads your response.

Y/n: Fine, I'll do it. But what are the details?

Suguru: Oh, I'm thrilled

Y/n: Shut up.

Suguru: The rules are simple: whoever deduces the monkey’s identity first and guts the bastard wins.

Y/n: And how do I know you don’t already have a head start?

Suguru: I guess you'll just have to trust me.

Y/n: Trust you? That’s rich coming from someone who literally stabs people in the back.

Suguru lets out a snort of air from your comment catching Gojo’s attention. “Ah, there it is. The smile of a man who's finally gotten what he wants.”

Suguru doesn't dignify that with a response. Instead, he focuses on your message, feeling a grin grow on his lips.

Suguru: You wound me, truly. But where’s the fun without a little challenge? Besides, I wouldn’t want to make it too easy for you

Y/n: Easy, huh? I suppose you think you’re quite the genius, then?

Suguru: Only compared to the average monkey. You, on the other hand, might actually make this interesting.

Y/n: Is that a compliment or are you just trying to butter me up?

Suguru: Can’t it be both?

Y/n: Oh, don't worry. You’re not the only one who enjoys a good chase. But don’t cry when I beat you at your own game.

Suguru: Cry? Please. I’ll be too busy admiring you in action. It’s a win-win for me.

Y/n: Flattery will get you nowhere, Suguru.

Suguru: Really?

Suguru: Not even a little bit princess 🥺?

Y/n: *One attachment*

You send an image of your hand flipping him off. Your middle finger nail is painted black and he assumes so are all your other fingers. His heart thuds against his chest. God, how he would love to have those nails dragging down his back. His dick twitches just thinking about it.

Gojo snickers as if he can read Suguru’s thoughts and Suguru considers throwing his phone at the smug white hair man when Gojo’s phone rings. Any humor falls off Gojo’s features like snow from a shaken tree branch. He glances at the caller ID, his eyes narrowing, and picks up the phone with a serious tone.

“This is Gojo.” He says. His voice is gruff as he responds to the caller with clipped “yes” and “no” answers, his timbre low. “I'll be there in 30 minutes.”

When he sets down the phone, Suguru meets his blue eyes, Gojo’s brief smile is grim.

“Trouble?” Suguru asks.

“Trouble.” Gojo repeats.

On the exterior Gojo is Japan's most infamous playboy and philanthropist. But by night he is the devil's tool, the country's most lethal assassin for anyone from politicians to presidents. What Suguru and you do for a hobby, Gojo Satoru does for his job.

Gojo dumps his hot food in a container, grabs his hunting knife coat and bag and heads for the door. Before he exits, he turns around to lock eyes with Suguru.

“Be safe. A woman killer is a deadly combo.” He says.

Suguru chuckles, and for a second he doesn't know if Gojo’s talking about you or the guy in Kyoto. “You to ass hat.”

You can't believe you are doing this.

You can't believe that you took up Suguru’s competition, spent 120 dollars on a train and hotel room at Kyoto and an extra 20 on room service. Moreover you can't believe that you are here, hiding in a forest of bamboo shoots at the dead of night, watching some man who may or may not be the Kyoto women killer.

It’s a warm summer night, and every time the wind blows, the bamboo shoots rustle against each other, creating a haunting melody that sets your nerves on edge. The air is thick with the scent of earth and foliage, and the occasional hoot of an owl punctuates the silence. You’re crouched low, your body tense, watching a man named Noaya Zenin who you followed out here. He seems to be wandering aimlessly, but you know better than to underestimate him. The Zenin clan's reach is long and shadowy, and their involvement in the Kyoto women killings is a tangled web you’ve been unraveling. All key witnesses were either paid off by the Zenin clan or had lawyers representing them from the Zenin clan. The pattern was too precise to be a coincidence.

Your heart thuds in your chest, adrenaline coursing through your veins. The thrill of the chase, the hunt, makes your senses sharper, every movement and sound more pronounced. You can feel the need creeping up on you, slowly reaching your brain until your skin itches with anticipation.

Each minute feels like an eternity as you scrutinize Noaya’s every move. He stops occasionally, looking around as if sensing he’s being watched, and you hold your breath, pressing yourself closer to the ground. The moonlight filters through the dense bamboo, casting eerie shadows that dance with the wind. Your mind races, piecing together fragments of evidence and suspicion. If Noaya Zenin is indeed the killer, catching him here could be the breakthrough you need.

“Hiya.”

A scream almost rips through you when you feel someone's breath against your ear, but you quickly cover your mouth and whip around. Of course, you’re met face to face with the man you least wanted to see right now. Familiar hazel eyes gaze back at you, glinting with mischief and amusement. Suguru is crouched right next to you, his nose mere inches from yours, a sly smirk on his face. You didn’t even hear him approach.

“Suguru, what the fuck?” you hiss, keeping your voice low. Your first instinct is to grab your knife out of your pocket and press it against his throat but he holds both his hands up as if surrendering, stopping you.

“Woah woah princess, let's cool our engines.” He chuckles softly, clearly enjoying your reaction.

Your pulse is still racing, but you force yourself to calm down. “You could have given me a heart attack. How did you even find me?” You seethe.

“I have my ways,” he replies cryptically, his smirk widening. “Besides, I couldn’t let you have all the fun, now could I? So,” his eyes flicker to Noaya, who still seems to be staring at his phone. “Who are we looking at?”

“We?” You scoff and roll your eyes. “Are you kidding me? There is no we. This is a competition, remember? Go do your own research.”

Suguru raises an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Oh, come on. You know you love my company.”

Before you can retort, Noaya picks up his phone. You both strain to listen, and you catch his words clearly.

“Yeah, I’m at the bamboo forest. See you soon, babe.” He then hangs up the phone with a click and puts it back in his backpack. But just when you're about to turn back to Suguru and rip into the man, Noaya pulls something else out too. A hunting knife. A large one at that with serrated ends and a pointed tip that glints in the moon light. Just like the one used on the victims. And as if things couldn't get any more apparent, you watch as a wicked grin spreads across his face when he draws the blade diagonally through the air.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, eyes wide. “That’s definitely him. That’s like some comically evil villain shit right there.”

“Dibs,” Suguru whispers back, a glint of excitement in his eyes as he puts on his ghost mask. “I call fucking dibs.” He stands up, the crunch of leaves making Noaya whip around and stare right at the area you both hid in.

For a solid 5 seconds your two flabbergasted to even form words, you can only watch as Suguru steps out from the bamboo shoots and onto the trail, slowly walking toward Noaya like a lion cornering a gazelle.

Or course, Noaya turns, screams like a little girl, and makes a hard right straight into the forest of bamboos.

“Oh hell no,” you mutter, leaping up and chasing after him. You sprint through the forest, the warm summer air thick and humid around you. Each footfall is muffled by the dense undergrowth, but the occasional snap of a twig or crunch of leaves marks your frenzied pace. Moonlight filters through the dense canopy, casting ghostly shadows that dance along the forest floor, creating an ever-shifting maze of light and dark.

Your breath comes in quick, controlled bursts, each inhale filling your lungs with the earthy scent of the forest. Adrenaline surges through your veins, sharpening your senses. The rhythmic pounding of your heart in your chest matches the rapid beat of your footsteps. Ahead, you can just make out the faint silhouette of Noaya, his panicked movements betraying his desperation.

Branches claw at your clothes and face, but you push through, eyes locked on your target. The thrill of the chase ignites every nerve, propelling you forward with a singular focus. Suguru’s presence is a constant just behind you, his footsteps a steady reminder of the competition driving you both. You can hear his breaths, steady and calculated, mirroring your own.

The path twists and turns, the bamboo growing thicker, creating a claustrophobic tunnel. You duck and weave, dodging low-hanging branches and vaulting over fallen logs. The forest floor is uneven, riddled with roots and hidden pitfalls, but your reflexes are sharp, your movements instinctual.

The thrill, the excitement, the danger—it all converges in this moment. You are a predator in your element, and your prey is within reach. The bamboo forest seems to blur around you, time stretching and contracting with each heartbeat. This is what you live for, the ultimate test of skill and nerve, the ultimate game of life and death.

Just as you’re about to close the distance, your fingertips brushing the fabric of Noaya’s shirt, he whirls around with surprising speed. The moonlight catches the gleam of his hunting knife as it arcs through the air. Instinct takes over, and you try to dodge, but the blade slices across your palm, leaving a hot, stinging line of red in its wake.

For a split second, time seems to slow. You see the wild desperation in Noaya’s eyes, the way his chest heaves with exertion and fear. But there’s no pain, only a white-hot fury that floods your veins, fueling your next move.

Your grip tightens around the hilt of your own knife, slick with blood but steady. The cut on your palm feels like a mere scratch compared to the surge of adrenaline that courses through you. With a fierce snarl, you lunge forward, using the momentum to drive Noaya back a step.

He stumbles, his confidence faltering as he realizes the severity of his mistake. You don’t give him a chance to recover. You move with a predatory grace, every muscle coiled and ready to strike. The forest around you fades into a blur of green and shadow, all your focus locked on the man in front of you.

Noaya swings wildly, his movements frantic and uncoordinated. You sidestep his attacks with practiced ease, your fury giving you a sharp, clear edge. The scent of blood mingles with the earthy aroma of the forest, and your pulse pounds in your ears like a war drum.

You close the distance again, this time with a calculated precision. Your free hand shoots out, grabbing his wrist and twisting it until the knife clatters to the ground. Noaya yelps in pain, his eyes widening in terror. The tables have turned, and he knows it.

Your injured hand, still bleeding, clamps down on his shoulder with a vice-like grip. You lean in close, your breath hot against his ear. “Nice try,” you hiss, the fury in your voice making him shudder. “But it’s over.”

With a swift, brutal motion, you plunge your knife into his chest. The blade sinks into flesh with a sickening thud, and Noaya's eyes widen in shock and agony. Blood spurts from the wound, hot and sticky, spraying across your face in a macabre mist. The initial strike is met with a gasp, a desperate, choking sound that fuels the savage fire within you.

A wicked grin spreads across your face, the thrill of dominance electrifying your senses. You pull the knife out, feeling the resistance of tissue and bone, and then plunge it in again, and again. Each thrust is accompanied by a wet, squelching sound, a symphony of carnage that drowns out the world around you. Blood flows freely, pooling at your feet and soaking into the earth.

Noaya’s body jerks and spasms with each stab, his strength fading with every violent assault. His once panicked eyes grow dull, the life draining from them as you continue your relentless attack. The coppery tang of blood fills the air, mingling with the scent of the forest, creating a heady mixture that makes your pulse race even faster.

You lose yourself in the rhythm of the violence, the way your muscles strain and flex with each plunge of the knife. Blood splatters across your face and clothes, warm and viscous, painting you in the evidence of your victory. Your grin widens, a feral expression of triumph and fury.

Amidst your frenzied stabbings, Suguru places a hand on your shoulder. "I think—" he begins, but when you turn around to face him he immediately shuts up.

Your eyes are wide, pupils contracted like a deranged predator. Your hair flows wildly in the wind as you grab Suguru's throat with your bloody hand, smearing the crimson on his skin and pressing him against a tree.

"This woman-killer fucker is mine." You seethe.

His dick strains against his cargo pants waistband. You look divine.

“ Of course, All yours baby.” He coos.

Geto Suguru would be lying if he said that watching you tear apart that woman-killer wasn't the hottest thing he had ever seen.

To Suguru, you looked divine. The moonlight accentuated the sharp angles of your face, casting shadows that danced across your blood-splattered skin. Your eyes, wild with the remnants of fury, glowed with an unearthly intensity. The contrast of crimson against your complexion made you seem otherworldly, a dark goddess of vengeance. Suguru couldn’t tear his eyes away, mesmerized by the raw, primal beauty you exuded in that moment.

The walk back to your hotel was silent, but not because you were soaked in blood or because he felt awkward. More like it was because the only think he could think to say is “You are so fucking hot.”

Now here he is, twiddling his thumbs as he stands outside of your hotel door, trying to think of the right thing to say to you because god he needs to see your face one last time before he goes to bed.

He raises his hand to knock, but before he can, the door swings open. You stand there, your hair wet and smelling faintly of vanilla. You’ve clearly just come out of the shower. A tank top clings to your damp skin, and sports shorts hug your thighs. His eyes widen slightly, and he gulps, struggling to keep his composure.

No bra.

The sight makes his mouth go dry.

"Just checking to see if everything is good," he says, nodding toward your bandaged hand.

You feel yourself fidget in your place and you try to flash a small smile but your emotions betray you. What if you freaked him out? What he saw back there, what you did back there, that was you, the raw you. Behind all the layers of kind smiles and pleasantries, in many ways, you were no different than an animal, consumed by your predatory instincts. You wouldn't blame him if he never contacted you again after this. Shit, did you just fuck up everything?

His presence fills the doorway, and you’re acutely aware of the tension between you two.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you reply, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Thanks for asking.”

His eyes flicker down to your hand, then back up to meet yours. “How’s the hand?” he asks, genuine concern in his voice.

You hold it up and wiggle your fingers slightly. “It’ll heal. No big deal.”

Silence fills the void between you two and you clear your throat, searching for something to say to break the awkward silence, but he beats you to it.

“Mind if I come in?” he asks, a smirk playing on his lips as he leans against the doorframe. “Or are you planning to keep all the fun out here in the hallway?”

You roll your eyes, though you can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips. “Sure, come in. But I warn you, it’s a mess.”

“I’m sure I can handle it,” he quips, stepping inside. His eyes scan the room, taking in the organized chaos. Bandages and clothes are scattered around the floor and he doesn't miss the splatter of blood on the white sheets of the hotel bed. After a moment, Suguru turns around and takes a step closer to you, like he’s examining you.

You tilt your head slightly, letting a smirk play on your lips. "So, now that I’ve won the bet, what do I get?"

He chuckles, the sound low and smooth, as he takes another step closer, closing the distance between you. "I was wondering when you’d bring that up."

You arch an eyebrow, trying to keep your composure despite the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. "Well? I’m waiting. What’s my prize?"

Suguru stops just inches from you. "I don’t know," he quips, "What do you want?"

You let out a short laugh, though it’s clear you’re testing him now. "That’s a big question."

Suguru's eyes darken slightly, his playful demeanor shifting into something more serious, more intense. He leans in just a fraction, his breath warm against your skin. "Try me."

The tension between you two is palpable, electric. You’re the first to break the silence, your voice quieter now, almost hesitant. "I want," you pause, averting your gaze from Suguru’s hawkish one. “I want to know if I scared you.” The question slips out before you can stop it, your bravado faltering as doubt creeps in.

Suguru blinks, then a slow smile spreads across his face. "Scare me?" He repeats, as if the idea itself is laughable. He steps even closer, forcing you to take a step back until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. "Scare me?” He repeats again. “You didn’t scare me," he continues, his voice low and sincere. "You… captivated me. I have never, and I mean never, seen something so magnificent as what you did. And that's saying a lot because I've done a shit ton of magnificent things.”

You sit down on the bed, more out of necessity than choice, as he looms over you. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and you feel a mix of emotions—relief, curiosity, and something much more dangerous.

"What are you doing?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper as he leans in, his hands resting on either side of you, trapping you in place.

He smiles, a slow, almost wicked grin that sends shivers down your spine. "Well, I thought I might kiss you now, you know, after telling you how magnificent you are.” He tilts his head. “Is that a bad idea?"

Your breath catches in your throat as the weight of his words sinks in. You forget to breathe.

You finally find your voice, though it’s a bit shakier than you’d like. "That depends…"

"On?" He asks, his face inching closer to yours, his gaze locked onto your lips.

"On how good you are at it," you murmur.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement. Suguru closes the remaining distance, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that’s as intense as it is tender. It’s a slow, deliberate connection, his hands moving to cradle your face as if you’re something precious, something worth savoring.

The kiss deepens, and all the tension that had been building between you two finally snaps, leaving nothing but raw desire in its wake. You respond in kind, your hands gripping the front of his shirt, pulling him closer as if you can’t get enough.

When you finally pull apart, both of you are breathless, and the world seems to have shrunk down to just the two of you in this moment. Suguru’s forehead rests against yours, and he smiles, a real, genuine smile that you can feel in your bones.

"So," he says, his voice husky and low. "How was that?"

You laugh softly, still trying to catch your breath. "Not bad," you admit, your fingers running through his black hair. "Not bad at all."

"Good," he replies, his lips brushing against yours in a whisper of a kiss. "Because I plan on doing it again."

Suguru’s lips are on yours again before you can even catch your breath, this time more insistent, more demanding. He’s not asking for permission anymore; he’s claiming what he wants, and it makes your head spin. The kiss deepens as his tongue slips past your lips, exploring your mouth with a slow, deliberate intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. You can taste him—warm, intoxicating—and you find yourself leaning into his lips, craving more.

His hand, warm and firm, slides down your side, tracing the curve of your waist before coming to rest between your thighs. The touch is electrifying, sending a jolt of sensation through you, and you gasp against his mouth, your heart pounding in your chest.

But it’s too much, too fast. Your mind races, and you instinctively pull back, breaking the kiss. “Wait,” you murmur, your voice breathless, “I dont know if we should….” You avert your gaze and turn your head toward the wall but Suguru grabs your chin, forcing you to look right into his hazel eyes. Then, he dips his head to whisper in your ear.

“Aw come one Y/n” He grazes your earlobe with his teeth. “I’ve been on my best behavior, a good boy,” Suguru pauses to deliver a soft kiss to your temple. “I've been waiting, waiting ever since I met you in that cage to do this. Don't I deserve a reward for my patience?”

You thickly gulp as he rubs the sides of your neck with his lips.

“I’ve been-” He kisses your jaw. “Such a-” he kisses his way up to your mouth. “Good boy.”

You cave.

As his words sink in, you feel your resolve crumbling, the weight of his desire pressing down on you in the most intoxicating way. Before you can even process what’s happening, Suguru's strong arms wrap around you, lifting you off the bed with effortless ease. His grip is firm but gentle, as if he's afraid of breaking you, and you can't help but let out a soft gasp as he lifts you off the bed and up so your head rests on the plush hotel pillow. His eyes lock onto yours, dark with intent, and you feel your breath hitch as the world narrows down to just the two of you. The room is filled with the sound of your breathing, heavy and uneven, mingling with the quiet rustle of sheets as he leans over you.

“I know you have been thinking about this too.” He coos. Suguru’s hands move with a deliberate slowness, as if savoring the moment. His fingers curl around the hem of your tank top, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he begins to lift it. The cool air hits your skin as he pulls the fabric up and over your head, exposing you to his hungry gaze. But before you can feel self-conscious, his lips are on your newly exposed skin, pressing gentle kisses along your collarbone, his warm breath fanning over your skin.

“Gorgeous,” he murmurs between kisses, his voice filled with awe and reverence. “Just so gorgeous.”

His hands are on your shorts next, tugging them down your hips with the same careful slowness, as if he’s unwrapping the most precious gift. As the fabric slips down your legs, he trails kisses along the newly exposed skin, his lips brushing against your thighs, your knees, your calves, until the shorts are discarded on the floor.

Now you’re lying before him in just your underwear, and the way he looks at you makes your heart pound. His eyes are dark and intense, filled with a hunger that makes your entire body flush with heat. “You’re gorgeous,” he repeats, his voice thick with emotion. “Just so damn gorgeous.”

Suguru straightens up slightly, his hands moving to the hem of his own shirt. In one fluid motion, he pulls it over his head and tosses it aside, revealing his bare chest. The sight of him makes your breath catch—his body is lean and athletic, muscles defined and sculpted from years of discipline and training. Tattoos cover his skin in an elaborate tapestry. He’s handsome, impossibly so, and the sight of him like this, just inches away, makes your pulse quicken.

He doesn’t stop there. His fingers move to the waistband of his sweatpants, and he slides them down, revealing more of his skin, his strong legs, until he’s kneeling before you in just his boxers. The fabric clings to him in a way that leaves little to the imagination, and you can’t help but stare, mesmerized by the sheer physicality of him.

Suguru catches your gaze, a small, knowing smile tugging at his lips. “Something catches your eye princess?”

You nod, “Yes. You. All of you.” Your eyes tracing every line and curve of his body. He’s more than just handsome—he’s breathtaking, a perfect combination of strength and beauty that leaves you feeling weak in the best way possible.

He leans down again, his body hovering over yours, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, “Good, wouldn't want you to be disappointed.”

With that, he captures your lips in a heated kiss, his hands trailing down your sides, touching, feeling, exploring.

You are too lost in the kiss not to notice his hands slipping under your underwear and making their way to your dripping cunt, and when they do, you jump at the feeling of his index finger tracing your slit.

"Gotta get you ready baby.?" Suguru hums and you shake you head vigorously.

"No please Sugu~, I can take it."

You don't have to tell him twice.

In one fluid motion Suguru tears off your underwear, lays you on your back and positions himself between your legs.

"Been waiting to do this for so long," he murmurs as he pulls down his boxers and whips out his dick. You thickly gulp at the sight, you could've guessed he was big not this big, could he even fit in you? A white bead of precum dribbled from his pretty pink tip and down his length and he uses the liquid to stroke himself in a few fluid motions.

You could hear your heart in your ears and adrenaline coursed through your veins at rocket fire speed. The need in between your legs was too much, it was clouding your head and twisting your stomach so tight you almost felt sick. You jolt when his fat tip bumps into your clit; collecting your juices before pressing against your quivering hole.

"Suguru please~" You whine and nearly miss the way his ears go bright red at your words

"I know baby, I know. Don't worry, lift your hips for me love?”

You oblige and immediately when you do so you're struck with the feeling of his length spreading you so helplessly wide and his tip smashing against something which must be your cervix you think. It’s painful, but in the pain is so much pleasure. He presses his forehead against yours as he slides into you, gripping the sheets with his supporting hand as your hot, wet entrance swallows his cock. Instinctively, you're cunt squeezed around the foreign intrusion, trying to push it out, making Suguru let out a low groan of his own and pushing even deeper into you.

“F-fuck I can feel you doing it to me,” he said hoarsely.

His fingers gently press into the skin of your hip, guiding and steadying you as he pulls back and thrusts into you. The sudden friction and collision with your G-spot knocks the wind out of your lungs. Ticklish pleasure courses through your veins and you immediately throw your head back against the wall as Suguru thrusts into you.

"Hnghh, s-so good~~" You whine. It was dizzying, the curvature of his dick digging itself against your g-spot, scraping against your vaginal walls every time he backed his hips up.

Simultaneously, his other hand sought yours, finding it with a purposeful tenderness. His fingers intertwined with yours, locking them together in a grip that was both a clasp and a caress.

You dont even realize that your eyes are closed until Suguru whispers into your ear.

“Come on baby, open those pretty eyes, look at me.”

You do as he says and when you do you feel your heart thud in your chest. Suguru’s eyes were fixated completely on you, how you were reacting, as his hips were continuously slamming into your body as if it were clockwork. The sight alone had your walls clamping down on him, earning a groan from the base of his chest.

Suddenly, the hand that had been intertwined with yours released its grip and began to rummage through Suguru’s discarded pants. Your breath hitched, eyes glazed over as you watched him retrieve a knife from his pocket, unsheathing it effortlessly with a flick of his finger. The sharp glint of the blade caught your attention from beneath Suguru’s body, even as he continued thrusting into you, not missing a beat.

Your body reacted instinctively, clenching at the sight, drawing a low, dark chuckle from Suguru.

“Hah, I knew it,” he said, his voice laced with a teasing edge as he brought the cold steel to the base of your throat. “You’re just a slut for knives, aren’t you?”

A moan escaped your lips, the sound betraying any chance of denial. Suguru took it as an admission, pressing the blade firmly against the skin of your throat as he angled his hips to hit even deeper inside you. The cool metal at your throat was electrifying, but it was his other hand, strong and unyielding, that sent a euphoric thrill coursing through you. His fingers flexed, tightening around your neck, the pressure intensifying.

It wasn’t just the air being cut off—it was the dizzying, intoxicating pleasure that came with it. The way his grip constricted, pushing you to the edge of control, ignited something raw inside. Every squeeze of his hand made your body burn hotter, a perfect balance between pain and pleasure, leaving you gasping for more.

What a primal dirty sight you where, being choked with a blade against your throat while fucked brutaly. Even the devil would clutch his rosaries.

"Were we doing it like this in your head baby?" Suguru grunts, his Adam apple bobs as he groans from the pleasure of how fucking heavenly your pussy feels. “Because we were doing it like this in mine.” Good? Try euphoric, how could he ever think his fist could substitute the wet squeeze of your cunt?

You can't even open your mouth to respond. The friction of his dick against your walls and the adrenaline from the knife is just too good and as his pace intensified, a dizzying warmth spread through you, filling every corner of your being with a euphoric haze. The sensation of being completely enveloped, utterly connected, sent electric flesh arrows of pleasure through your body, making your eyes flutter and roll back slightly in sheer bliss. Every motion Suguru makes, every time his fat tip collides with your cervix, leaves behind a trail of sparkling heat that seems to light you from within.

"Come on eyes on me when I fuck you baby~" Suguru releases his hold from your neck and snakes his fingers between your body , finding your clit and pressing down on the pearl back and forth with the pad of index finger. "Tell me how good you feel, tell me how badly you want to cum.

He doesn’t slow the ministrations on your clit for a second as he snaps his hips into you with primal vigor, your breasts bouncing from the brutality.

"So good Sugu!" You sob. You cant even open your eyes from the colors you're seeing behind your lids. Every time your pussy squeezes around him not only do bolts of pleasure shoot up your body but a ring of milky white cum forms around the base of his cock.

Suguru’s eyes are locked on how good you're taking him - the fat of his head has a hard time popping out with how greedy your cunny is being. He lets out a sharp moan at how wet you are on the inside.

"S-shit baby wanna feel you cum on me, been waiting so long." Suguru is not a whining man but here he is practically stumbling over his words. Fuck, he wants to keep himself inside you forever. He wants your kisses, your skin, your touch, your blood, your lips, to be his to claim until you die together. No one has seen, truly seen him, before you. You are what he thinks about when he wakes up, when he is eating, when he is plunging his knife into some worthless monkey. You are his goddess.

The world beyond this intimate cocoon of warmth and breath seemed distant, irrelevant. His gaze was locked with yours, deep and unwavering, a silent communication that tethered you through the mind numbing ecstasy.

Then, he reels his hips back and slams into you in a new angle that has your body jerking.

“Found it didn't I?” He breathes through a smile and pummels into you with vigor. And your about to disagree with him, insist that the feeling is too new and foreign to feel good when all of a sudden your body begins to shake and your head starts to feel fuzzy

And suddenly—you feel it. What you’ve been craving for and what you have seen in porn.

Its like all your body's energy centers are activating at once and your left utterly helpless to the feeling of tingling ecstasy wrapping your brain and stomach.

You dont know how to tell him that something is happening, not when the pleasure is too immense your barely breathing full breaths. But he understands once again the words you tried desperately to communicate.

“Do it baby. Cum. I’ll fill you up, and if it spills I'll fuck it back into you"

So you do.

Release washed over you in an all-encompassing wave, radiating out from your core to the very tips of your fingers and toes. It swept through you like a storm, leaving a trail of starbursts in its wake. Your body arched instinctively, clinging to Suguru as the wave crested, then gently, slowly, began to ebb.

“Ah, princess, please,” he moaned. “Be a good girl and take it all, yeah?”

Your fingers trailed up his shoulder, only to drag them back down his spine, nails biting into his skin as he buried himself deep inside you, releasing with a powerful shudder. His movements grew erratic, hips pressing yours firmly into the mattress as his hot breath skimmed across your neck, ragged and heavy.

The world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you in this moment, lost in each other, with nothing but the sound of your breathing and the feel of his touch to guide you.

The warmth of his cum spreads through your body with a shiver, and you can feel the liquid expanding against your walls while he kept you plugged and full of him. As you both floated back down from the heights of bliss, your breaths came easier, softer, the lingering aftershocks of pleasure pulsing gently through you.

"You're mine ok?" Suguru coos, and all you can do is dumbly nod.

"I'll die for you, I'll kill a thousand monkeys for you, i'll hold them down so you can cut our their eyes. Just stay by my side."

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto x reader #getou x reader #geto x you #geto x reader smut #getou x you #getou smut #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader smut #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #kinktober

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thewriteadviceforwriters · 3 months ago

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100 Vocabulary Words for Gothic Fiction | For Writers

Hello Writers! I've put together a list of 100 words to help you expand your vocabulary for writing gothic fiction in October. I categorized the words for easy reference. I did some research using thesauruses and dictionaries to compile this list for you. I hope you find it helpful! 👻🎃

Atmospheric Words

Tenebrous - dark and gloomy

Oppressive - overwhelming and unpleasantly powerful

Ominous - suggesting evil or harm is imminent

Eerie - strange and frightening

Uncanny - mysterious and unsettling

Nefarious - wicked or criminal

Malevolent - having evil intentions

Sinister - giving the impression of evil

Melancholy - deep sadness

Lugubrious - mournful or dismal

Sombre - dark and gloomy

Dreary - dull and depressing

Desolate - empty and lonely

Bleak - cold and depressing

Dank - unpleasantly damp and cold

Character Descriptions

Pallid - abnormally pale

Gaunt - thin and bony

Haggard - looking exhausted and unwell

Cadaverous - corpse-like

Wan - pale and sickly

Spectral - ghost-like

Enigmatic - mysterious and difficult to understand

Brooding - appearing darkly thoughtful

Tortured - suffering mentally or physically

Macabre - disturbing due to focus on death or injury

Architectural Features

Gothic - relating to medieval style architecture

Dilapidated - in a state of disrepair

Decrepit - worn out or ruined due to age

Crumbling - breaking into small fragments

Decaying - rotting or decomposing

Ramshackle - in a state of severe disrepair

Crypt - underground room or vault

Turret - small tower on a building

Parapet - low protective wall along the edge of a roof

Buttress - structure built against a wall for support

Supernatural Elements

Apparition - ghost or spirit

Phantasm - figment of the imagination

Specter - ghost or phantom

Wraith - ghost or spirit

Revenant - person who returns as a spirit after death

Ethereal - extremely delicate and light

Otherworldly - belonging to an imaginary or spiritual world

Paranormal - beyond normal explanation

Preternatural - beyond what is normal in nature

Occult - supernatural or magical

Emotions and States of Mind

Dread - great fear or apprehension

Foreboding - fearful apprehension

Trepidation - fear or anxiety about something that may happen

Anguish - severe mental or physical pain

Despair - complete loss of hope

Melancholia - deep and long-lasting sadness

Hysteria - exaggerated or uncontrollable emotion

Delirium - state of confusion and hallucination

Madness - state of severe mental illness

Obsession - persistent disturbing preoccupation with an idea or feeling

Gothic Settings

Moor - area of open, uncultivated upland

Wasteland - barren or desolate area

Labyrinth - complex maze-like structure

Catacomb - underground cemetery

Dungeon - dark underground prison

Mausoleum - building housing a tomb or tombs

Sepulcher - small room or monument where a dead person is laid

Necropolis - large cemetery, especially an ancient one

Citadel - fortress that commands a city

Monastery - building occupied by a community of monks

Weather and Natural Phenomena

Tempest - violent windy storm

Miasma - unpleasant or unhealthy smell or vapor

Fog - thick cloud of tiny water droplets

Mist - cloud of tiny water droplets in the air near ground level

Gloom - partial or total darkness

Twilight - soft glowing light from the sky when the sun is below the horizon

Umbra - the fully shaded inner region of a shadow

Penumbra - the partially shaded outer region of a shadow

Crepuscular - resembling twilight; dim

Tenebrous - dark, shadowy, or obscure

Literary Devices and Narrative Elements

Foreshadowing - warning or indication of a future event

Omen - event regarded as a portent of good or evil

Portent - sign or warning that a momentous or calamitous event is likely to happen

Harbinger - person or thing that announces or signals the approach of another

Presage - sign or warning that something will happen

Doppelganger - look-alike or double of a living person

Grotesque - comically or repulsively ugly or distorted

Gothic double - character representing the duality of human nature

Unreliable narrator - narrator whose credibility is compromised

Frame narrative - story within a story

Liminal Spaces and Concepts

Threshold - strip of wood or stone forming the bottom of a doorway

Liminal - occupying a position at, or on both sides of, a boundary or threshold

Betwixt - in between

Interstitial - of, forming, or occupying interstices (small spaces between things)

Twilight zone - undefined or intermediate area between two distinct states

Purgatory - place or state of temporary suffering or expiation

Netherworld - imaginary subterranean world of the dead

Abyss - deep or seemingly bottomless chasm

Void - completely empty space

Chthonic - concerning, belonging to, or inhabiting the underworld

Miscellaneous Gothic Terms

Sublime - of such excellence, grandeur, or beauty as to inspire awe

Ineffable - too great or extreme to be expressed or described in words

Eldritch - weird and sinister or ghostly

Atavistic - relating to or characterized by reversion to something ancient or ancestral

Numinous - having a strong religious or spiritual quality; indicating the presence of a divinity

Happy writing, and Happy October! 📜🕯️- Rin T.

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venusbyline · 2 months ago

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Reddish ࿐ྂ Kinktober. 11, oct.

— pairing: Emily Prentiss x girlfriend!reader x Jennifer "JJ" Jareau

— type: smut, Kinktober (Criminal Minds Edition)

— kink: threesome FFF

— summary: You and JJ accidentally woke up Emily during the night and both of you have to apologize to her properly.

— word count: 2.1k

— tags/warnings: kinktober 11th day, female!reader, Jemily!married couple, threesome (female/female/female), throuple, scissoring/tribadism, fingering, oral (female receiving), overstimulation, face-sitting, praise kink, light degradation, squirting, hair-pulling, finger sucking, nipple play, breast worship, butt worship, curse words, argument, safeword (no use), age gap (older women/younger woman), mommy kink, voyeurism, grumpy x sunshine x sunshine, canon divergence, Mistress!Prentiss, Mommy!JJ, dom!Prentiss, switch!JJ, sub!reader. no use of y/n. english is not my first language.

— tagging list: @thatredlipped-classic @purplehaze206 @ehedrick012110 @hotchsmutrecs @slutcakes00 @emma-e-a @helo1281917

— crossposting: AO3

Emily was sleeping soundly after a stressful case. Her body tense under the covers, her sleep disturbed with random nightmares. Random victims. Random Unsubs. Anything that was bizarre enough for a BAU agent.

She was trying to hold on to her sleep despite the macabre dreams. Bad sleep was still better than nothing. A peaceful night was a gift she had not felt in a long time, and she did not plan on letting it go.

At least not until she heard the soft moans that sounded from the other bed in the hotel room.

Emily huffed, turning to her side and placing the pillow over her face with a failed attempt to remain focused on simply lying down and sleeping. She was not in the mood to listen to you and JJ having fun when she was so tense, when her body was disturbing her due so much stress.

As selfish as it was, Emily wanted the two of you to just shut up so she could go back to sleep, which was impossible when she started hearing the slick sounds of your pussy rubbing together with JJ's. "You guys are so fucking annoying, you know that?" The older agent grunted, gripping the pillow tighter, finding it increasingly impossible to muffle the sounds when the other two women seemed so focused on climaxing.

"S-sorry, Mistress..." You managed to whimper, feeling a little bad for waking Emily, but your hands remained on JJ's hips as the blonde spread her legs a little wider to have more flexibility to move herself.

Taking a deep breath, Emily removed the pillow from her face and turned to look at both of you, having a perfect view of JJ smirking to her while holding your leg open, her breasts bouncing as she moved. Emily could not observe you very clearly in that position, but she knew you were lying down and also naked, your hands grabbing JJ's hips and encouraging her to go faster. "You're being too soft on her. I bet she was the one who woke you up just because she couldn't sleep." Emily declared to JJ, who let out a little chuckle, knowing that her wife was right.

"Oh, you know our little girl... always so needy." JJ purred, stopping moving and watching your eyes widen at the break in expectation. You were so close to cum and she just denied you that out of nowhere.

"NO!" You sobbed, trying to rub against her but not being able to get it right underneath her. "Please, Mommy! Please!"

JJ reassured you, stroking the top of your head as she got off of you, your swollen and soaked pussy being quite a sight. She knew how much you needed that orgasm, but she also knew that annoying Emily was not very smart. "You already came once this night, little girl."

Emily rolled her eyes when you whimpered at JJ's argument. "A greedy whore." She grumbled, sitting on the bed and crossing her arms. "You're spoiling her too much. That's why she's like that. Always like a bitch in heat." She did not seem to mind when you lifted your head back, a sad pout on your reddened lips. "Don't give me that look. I was trying to sleep and you woke me up with your pathetic moans."

JJ watched the slight argument between his wife and their girlfriend with some amusement. The blonde stroked your hair for a moment longer before looking at Emily. "You're tense." She argued and Emily snorted, but remained silent, looking away at the room windows. "Now that you're awake, maybe we both should apologize to you for disturbing your sleep."

An excited look appeared on your face as Emily raised an eyebrow, considering the situation for a few seconds before sighing, patting the bed. "Okay, come here."

You got up from JJ's bed quickly, making the blonde laugh as you approached Emily's bed, your body naked, cheeks flushed and hair disheveled. Not even Emily could hide her smile as she caressed your face when you sat down in front of her.

You leaned closer to her hand, pouting sadly when she let go of your face and gestured for JJ to come closer, which her wife did without blinking. When the two of you were already sitting in front of Emily. She pulled JJ by her long hair, grabbing the blonde strands tightly and bringing her wife's lips to hers. You watched it all, rubbing your thighs together as Emily used her other hand to press JJ's breast, the soft skin squeezing and leaving a brief palm-shaped rosy mark.

When Emily left the blonde to look at her again, you let out a sigh when you saw the thread of saliva that connected their lips. "You ate her out." Emily tsked at JJ when she noticed your pussy's taste during the kiss, then turned to you. "Is that how you came the first time, little girl? With Jennifer's pretty lips on that greedy little pussy of yours?"

She said with a mocking tone and you nodded pathetically, opening your legs so the two women could get a view of your pussy, your own fingers beginning to trace circles on your clit to tease Emily further.

"Spoiled cunt..." She growled, hearing your giggle as she grabbed you by the hair too, before ordering. "I want you to eat me out while I taste Jennifer." She warned beforehand and you nodded in anticipation. You do not worry about the possibility of not cumming for the second time that night. You knew Emily too well to know that even if she was annoyed that you had disturbed her sleep, she was not going to deny you an extra orgasm. Emily Prentiss was not as heartless as she pretended to be.

You settled between her legs, pulling her pajama down, smirking at both the lack of panties and the sight of her dark pubic hair glistening with her arousal. Emily lay down and straightened up better, spreading her legs so you could be more comfortable, while JJ stayed next to her for a while, taking off Emily's shirt and kissing her lips for the second time.

You smiled when JJ's fingers connected with Emily's nipples, her breasts fuller than JJ's but with less pointed nipples. When Emily moaned as soon as JJ started caressing her soft mounds, you took that as good encouragement to begin your task. You left soft kisses on Emily's thighs, her skin shivering due the contrast of your mouth on her thigh and the rougher way JJ caressed her.

"Be a good girl and don't tease me..." Emily scolded you with a sigh, grabbing your hair once again so you could get closer to her already wet pussy.

"Did you get horny like that just listening to us scissoring?" You teased, earning a low growl from Emily and a giggle from JJ.

"Don't tease our Mistress." The blonde said, leaning down enough so she could take Emily's pink nipple into her mouth, licking it and looking at her with amused eyes as the older woman sighed with pleasure.

Your tongue teased Emily's wet folds, savoring the sweet taste of her juices that were dripping while JJ sucked Emily's breasts, her face buried there like a starving woman. You ran your lips through the dark hairs, licking up the drippings there before returning to the folds, now focusing on her clit. The little bud was already so swollen that Emily moaned loudly when your lips closed around it, sucking lightly. "Holy shit..." She arched her back upwards, growling when JJ took the opportunity to nibble on her sensitive breast. “You fucking whore.” Emily gripped JJ's long blonde hair, and you watched JJ's teasing actions weaken while you sucked Emily's clit.

"Sorry, Mistress." She whispered hushedly, her mouth now kissing Emily's collarbone apologetically, a more submissive version that only Emily could get out of her.

Instead of answer to her first, Emily turned to you, stroking your hair as you batted your eyelashes, your little mouth now reddish from sucking her clit. "Use your fingers, princess."

The soft pet name made you smile and nodded, resting your lips for a few moments and using your thumb to apply gentle circles there. Emily bit her lip, and played with your hair as if you were her loyal puppy. "Good girl..." She whispered, sticking her fingers inside your mouth so you could close your eyes and suck them for a few minutes, but without losing focus on your goal. With your thumb still rubbing her clit, you stuck two fingers inside Emily's hole, not daring to go gently, because you knew how much she liked rough sex.

"Damn, little girl... You're so good for me..." Emily moaned, looking at JJ with a little smirk. "Come here..."

JJ returned the smirk and adjusted herself into the necessary position, each of her legs on one side of Emily's head before slowly lowering herself down, a loud sigh escaping when Emily wasted no time and began licking her pink pussy, the nails painted red squeezing and scratching the blonde's breasts.

Unlike you, JJ had not cum yet, but her core was already wet and sensitive from rubbing against yours before Emily woke up. Despite not having reached any orgasm, JJ was stimulated enough that Emily's licks made her start to moan loudly, her hips riding faster, the tip of her wife's nose causing a delightful friction on her clit.

Without stopping the moves of two fingers inside Emily, you lowered yourself to taste her again, enjoying her moans muffled by JJ's pussy. It was quite a sight. From where you were positioned, you could see JJ sitting on Emily's face, her beautiful ass wiggling on top of the brunette.

You held yourself back from squeezing JJ's buttocks, and instead you chose to increase the speed of your hand, the fingering becoming so fast that Emily had to take her mouth off her wife's clit for a few seconds to moan loudly, her walls tightening your fingers before she cums hard while you sucked her bud too.

Not waiting for Emily to recover from her orgasm, you continued tasting her juices, just as JJ pulled her hair to bring her face back between her legs. Emily was a little bewildered by the situation. An orgasm by itself would not make her so exhausted, but she had only recently woken up, so her view was still blurry when she let you and JJ use her practically like a sex doll, the blonde rubbing her own pussy on Emily's face without much care and you fingerfucking her pussy and licked up her release that continued to flow.

Emily would definitely think about a severe punishment for you two later, but at that moment she allowed her girls to do whatever you want. When she noticed that JJ's moans were starting to get louder and her ride started to lose rhythm, Emily gently slapped you on the head, which left you a little confused at the moment, worried that she was trying to signal the safeword, but your fear went away when she raised one knee, the habitual position made you sigh in relief and you placed a soft kiss on her leg before fitting yourself there, your wet pussy meeting hers sensitive and almost sore.

You knew Emily was already very overstimulated, so your movements were gentler, rubbing against her gently and whining, one of your hands holding her hip and the other squeezing your own breasts. It did not take long for JJ to moan Emily's name and cum, squirting on her wife's face and making you cum right away after that view.

Just as you scissoring your clit against Emily's again to prolong your new recently reached orgasm, JJ also pushed her luck, rubbing her soaked pussy all over the brunette's face, panting and laying down next to her right after.

You sighed by the overstimulation and got off of Emily, seeing her cheeks flushed and wet from JJ's squirt and also seeing how reddish her pussy was now. You placed a soft kiss there that made her shiver. "That's enough, princess." JJ scolded you and stroked Emily's damp hair, making you pouted sadly, but nodding and lying down on Emily's other side.

"Thanks, Mommy. Thanks, Mistress." You whispered to both of them, placing a soft kiss on Emily's lips, which she responded with a weak tired smile. "You want me to draw us a bath?"

Emily slowly shook her head, stroking your hair. "Don't. Right now I just wanna rest and sleep next to my two favorite girls." She smiled at you and then at JJ, letting each of you settle in next to her, the smell of sex filling the hotel room, even though neither of you cared. JJ placed Emily's head on her own chest, caressing her black hair and you hugged the brunette's waist, head resting on her shoulder until the three of you fell asleep.

Criminal Minds Edition - Masterlist

HOTD Edition - Masterlist

Venusbyline's Kinktober 2024 - Masterlist

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vmod · 2 years ago

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my bloody blorbo,, my sauciest scrumply dumpling

I’m god’s lil scrimblo, lil murder goblin

#lilaira #not my art #deranged darling dearest #my sleebiest slasher #beloved gorelfriend #macabre mon ami #cutie cut throat criminal

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thebuhonerodazorrow · 2 years ago

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Criminal Macabre: La gran hemorragia (The big bleed out)

#2 de 4

Dark Horse

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happilyhertale · 1 year ago

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The Rogue Prince - Daemon Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: After a stressful day that leaves Daemon in a bit of an angry mood, you decide to give him some relief. But in a different way than you usually do.

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x poc!wife!reader

Warnings: Smut; 18+; NSFW; Minors do not continue reading!

Author’s note: Hey you (: A one-shot Daemon story requested by Anon 🖤 It took me some time but I hope you like it! English is my second language, please forgive me if I made any mistakes (:

Word count: 3.5 k

Other stories of mine

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You didn't have to look up, just the way the door slammed open was enough of a sign for you to know - Daemon was pissed. He entered without knocking, his armour clattering against itself.

In a mixture of snorts and grumbles, your husband strode into your chambers. As you lifted your gaze, your warm hazel eyes met the captivating intensity of his purple eyes, sending a shiver down your spine. Your curious gaze wandered further, discovering the mess of dirt and the almost macabre pattern of dried blood clinging to him. Uncertainly, you put aside the book you were engrossed in and approached Daemon, who was already in the process of freeing himself from the constricting confines of his armour. But before you could approach him, a piece of his armour flew into the far corner of the room.

"It will not improve your mood if you damage your armour," you say gently and help him to open his armour.

He just looks at you and his gaze makes you shiver a little again.

"What do I care about this fucking armour?" he hisses.

You look at him and your hands continue to work on the buckles and remove the chest piece.

"You want to tell me what happened?" you ask quietly.

There is a brief silence in your chambers and you use the time to admire his muscular chest, visible under his shirt. His body does not fail to bring you to ecstasy.

You look into his eyes again as he begins to speak.

"None of these idiots in this council understand the importance of cleansing our city of these filthy criminals! Not one!" he hisses.

You nod at him and try to concentrate on his words and not let his body distract you.

Your hands continue to work on the buckles of his armour.

"The city is full of disgusting creatures. They steal, they kill, they rape and none of those cunts at that council table give a shit!" he continues to hiss.

"But you do," you say softly and his eyes meet yours.

"I will teach these people to fear the golden cloaks again," he says in his deep voice.

You smile slightly and take off the last piece of his armour. Your fingers begin to take off his shirt.

"First we have to clean you up," you say gently.

Daemon's soft chuckle, markedly different from his previous behaviour, resounds through the air as he spreads his arms and asks you to release him from his shirt. His shimmering silver lengths fall over his shoulders, framing the network of scars etched into the skin of his neck and nape. These battle-scarred marks, created by victories and fire, are revealed in all their glory.

Your fingertips run tenderly over these well-deserved scars, your soft olive hue a striking contrast to his pale skin. You relish these imprints of his commanding prowess on the battlefield, each scar telling its own story, a testament to his unwavering leadership qualities. Daemon watches the movements of your fingers and notices how your gaze is fixed on his chest, unable to avert your gaze.

"Are you sure you just want to bathe me?" he murmurs, and your gaze jumps to his eyes.

You smile slightly, "Yes, I do," you say seriously and take his hand, leading him into the adjoining bathroom. Daemon grunts in disappointment, but lets himself be led along. The bath is quickly prepared and warm steam rises from the tub.

Daemon stands next to the tub of hot water and begins to open his trousers. As they slide down, you can see his already hardening arousal, but you avert your gaze and go to a small dresser in the corner of the bathroom.

Daemon watches you, a grin on his lips.

"Oh come on... You can't ignore my needs like that..." he says, but you interrupt him.

"Into the warm water with you," is all you say as you look through small bottles on the dresser to find the right one. You have these little vials from your home in Dorne, filled with different elixirs, and this time you want to put him in the right, stimulating mood.

Daemon grumbles something unintelligible, but obeys and gets into the tub. His gaze is fixed firmly on your back.

"Will you at least keep me company?" he asks, and you can hear in his voice that he is getting impatient.

You turn to him and smile, "No... at least not in the water," you say softly.

With two bottles in your hand, you stride to the bathtub. In the soft, flickering light created by candles, Daemon's gaze fixes on you and you can see an unspoken desire in the depths of his eyes to just grab you. But instead of giving in to temptation, his hands grip the edge of the tub. He leans back slightly and lets you pleasure him, a sign of trust he has only in you.

You kneel behind him, set the vials aside and carefully remove the hair ribbon from its silken lengths. As the ribbon gives up its hold, his hair falls gracefully over his shoulders. The once shining silver strands, now clouded with dirt and sweat, literally crave your touch. You gently begin to work water into the lengths, and the soothing rhythm elicits a contented murmur from Daemon as his eyes are gently closed.

Your hand wanders to a vial, its lid giving way with a soft, melodic pop at your careful touch. At this slight disturbance, Daemon's eyes flicker open to take in the unexpected intrusion.

"What's that?" he murmurs. You smile slightly, "Lavender oil... I like it when your hair smells fresh," you say soflty.

Daemon reflects your soft smile, "All right... If my Dornish princess wants me to smell like a silly bush from the garden, I don't think I could refuse," he mutters. With a smile, you apply a few drops of oil to his shiny silver locks and enjoy the feel of his long strands gliding through your fingers as the accumulated dirt runs effortlessly down.

After pampering him with your grooming, you rise and hand Daemon a towel. With a synchronised movement, he accepts the towel, and as he dries himself, you return to the bedroom with the other vial of elixir. Daemon follows you silently, his shapely form wrapped in the loosely hanging towel.

"Now you're going to take care of my needs?" he says to you, a cheeky smile around his lips. And at that moment you notice the bulge under the towel. You smile, "Lie down on the bed," you say.

Daemon's smile widens, like that of a child who finds an unexpected, delicious treat. He complies with your request and lies down in your marital sanctuary - the very bed where he makes you squirm and beg every night. But this night it will be different.

With an expectant gaze, Daemon watches your every move. How you slowly take off your dress and walk towards the bed. You crawl onto the bed and his hands reach out longingly to pull you close.

But you push them away, "Hands by your side," you say and move to sit astride him. Daemon looks irritated, but he obeys. You take the bottle and open it while Daemon watches you closely.

"More lavender oil?" he asks, "You know I'll have trouble commanding my men if my whole body smells like a flower bouquet" he says.

With a soft chuckle, you murmur, "Not a hint of lavender..." as the delicate scents of osmanthus and patchouli dance around you, washing you with their stimulating embrace as you place a few drops of the oil on your warm palm. Daemon's eyes remain fixed, transfixed by your hands as you set about the task of massaging the oil into his powerful chest.

"And I don't think you'll have any problems commanding your men.... No matter how you smell..." you say softly.

Daemon can only growl slightly as he slowly feels the effect of the scents and his arousal presses harder against you. You can feel a slight movement of his hips as he tries to grind against you. You stare into his eyes as your hands continue to glide over his skin.

"Don't move," you say to him. Daemon grunts, but he obeys - again.

You hear his breathing become more irregular as your hand turns to his belly. Slowly you massage the oil into the muscles of his belly, but your hands are unstoppable. You sit up a little and release him from the towel and his hot length springs free. It twitches wildly as you begin to rub his pubic hair with the oil. It twitches even more wildly as your hands turn to the shaft of his cock, which almost invites you to let yourself sink onto it. Daemon grunts impatiently, wanting to move his hips again, to somehow get close to your cunt.

"Don't," you just whisper, and your hands begin to wander up and down. You hear him gasp, see his hands gripping the sheet beneath you tightly. Your hands slide faster as his member literally pulses. Daemon breathes faster and faster as he chases his climax and you can already see the first drops of his release coming from the tip of his cock. You lean down and lick them away and hear him hiss.

"Woman, you will be my death," he whispers breathlessly. You just look up at him, grinning a little, and bite your lip. Your hand slides up and down faster.

It also increasingly excites you that he could just grab you, push you onto the bed and thrust into you, but he does not. He lies there and lets the feelings and actions wash over him.

When suddenly you feel a strong twitch in his member and Daemon spurts his hot seed onto his belly. He grunts loudly and watches you pump the last drops of cum out of his cock. He breathes heavily and closes his eyes briefly. His head falls back on the pillow.

"I think I need to take another bath..." he mumbles.

But you only smile, "I'm not done with you yet," you whisper. Daemon opens his eyes and looks at you in irritation.

You notice how he slowly softens in your hand, but it is not over for you yet. Slowly you slide further down and push his legs apart. You kneel between his legs and your hand gently moves along his shaft again. Daemon hisses slightly as you lean down.

You take his softening member into your mouth and begin to suck. The remnants of his cum unfold their salty taste on your tongue, but you love the way he tastes.

Daemon gasps, "What are you doing?"

But you just grin slightly and push him all the way down your throat.

"Gods...", Daemon gasps, but you notice that he is getting hard again.

But then, with a pop, you release his cock from your mouth. He is breathing heavily and still looks irritated, his cock hard again and standing in all its glory.

Daemon's heavy breath echoes from the walls of your chambers. You move and lie down beside him. You bite your lip gently and lean forward, kissing his neck softly. Your tongue is like pure fire that hits his skin and could cause new scars. A hot, arousing fire. His hips rise again with arousal and his hand reaches for the back of your head to move your head down. But you stop caressing his neck and look at him. You shake your head resolutely and Daemon pulls his hand back grumbling.

His voice fails in his throat and nothing more leaves his mouth as he slowly loses control. A growl sounds from him and his back arches slightly as your hand begins to caress his chest.

A moan escapes him as your nails leave light marks on his skin.

"Stop it, love," he murmurs. "You're driving me crazy" But you see his cock twitch wildly and you know he doesn't want you to stop. His hands reach into the sheet again and you know, that it's taking all his will not to grab you. Gently your lips graze over his neck as your fingers gently move down, teasing him. You feel the remnants of his previous climax and you see him bite his lip as you slide through it. His eyes are closed and you can see him enjoying this. Your fingers gently caress his abdomen, following the light hair to your destination.

A moan escapes him again. His hand suddenly reaches for your arm and you gasp softly, feeling his fingertips dig into your arm, showing you how much you're already teasing him. But you are not finished yet.

Daemon tries to concentrate on staying calm for your sake.

Once again, you can't stop your fingers from stroking his pubic hair as your smile widens. You watch his expression as you caress him.

A sharp intake of breath comes from his throat. He feels nothing but your touch. His fingertips dig further into your arm, but he finds it hard to stay still. You feel his muscles twitch and he just wants to pull you closer to him and take control of the situation so he can use your body as he wants.

But he forces himself to stay still. He forces himself to enjoy the passive role for once.

Your fingers gently graze the tip of his hard manhood. You bite your lip as you feel it twitch. As you close your fingers around the tip and the twitch shoots through your fingers.

"Ops...", you say softly, with an air of innocence, but Daemon knows you are not innocent and it's impossible for him not to react to that – a soft hiss escapes him.

His back arches slightly upwards and he grips your arm even tighter. His head turns towards you. His eyes are still closed, but you feel his lips seek yours. But you let him suffer. Let him feel what it is like to be on the receiving end of something like this.

"Is this what I put you through every night?" he suddenly asks softly, still keeping his eyes closed. You hear a slight breathlessness in his voice.

You smile again, "Yes... Every time you tease me..." you whisper.

You feel at your fingertips how his arousal continues to make itself felt, and the drops wet the tip of his cock.

"You like that, don't you?" you whisper.

He responds with a low growl, as if he's too busy enjoying it to reply with words.

His fingers disengage from your arm and sink to the bed, holding them still. It works up to a point. But you see his fingers clench into fists again and again.

You lean forward again and gently kiss his neck. Lightly you let your teeth sink into the skin. Again you hear a slight growl.

But still your fingers do not touch his hard member. Teasingly you only stroke his tip, refusing to embrace it completely. You feel it twitch violently again and again. Almost desperately it wants you to touch it. And again a moan escapes Daemon's throat.

You notice his breath quickening, and your own smile turns into a wicked little grin.

His fingers clutch the sheets on the bed as his muscles tremble slightly. You can feel the tension building inside him.

"Stop it... stop..," he murmurs, his voice strained by the desire to just grab you.

You continue to nibble on his neck. Your fingers, meanwhile, are stroking his pubic hair again, your caress growing rougher.

"Would you like me to touch you?" you whisper. With this question you have sealed his fate.

You see him contort his face almost painfully, trying to resist his urge. It would be so easy for him to give in, to just turn and take you as he wants. You see the inner struggle in him. The Rogue Prince who never begs, never bows to any command. The dragon who needs control over every situation. But still you see his breathing quicken, his muscles tremble slightly, he moistens his lips.

"Yes..." he whispers after a while, almost defeated.

But then his fingers move to your hips, wanting to grab you and force you closer to him. You slap his hand away.

"No, Daemon. Get your hands off me," you whisper warningly in his ear. You underline your momentary power and nibble lightly on his earlobe.

Your fingers now find their way to his balls, your fingernails gently scratching the now taut skin and he hisses again.

It's a struggle for him to take his hands off your hips. He doesn't want to. But he obeys.

You continue the torment, your fingernails almost driving him mad.

"You know you'll pay for this, you little pest," his voice sounds a little hoarse.

But with each word his voice grows softer and is now just a low murmur as his body continues to tremble with desire. You have the power over this moment, and you know it. You smile just slightly, knowing you will pay for this, and a feeling of anticipation spreads through you.

"Please," he murmurs suddenly. His breathing is quick and heavy. Right now he is nothing more than your plaything. The Rogue Prince on the verge of begging.

You bite his neck again, "Please, what, my love?" you whisper as your fingernails continue to tease his balls. He hisses again. His hips jerk a little, desperate for a touch.

His mouth opens and closes as he tries to find words to say what he wants. It's all gasps and moans and deep, animalistic noises now.

"Please... I need more...," he finally murmurs weakly. He can't say much more, he wants you too much. You know it. He knows it. You both know it.

A low grumble escapes his throat as he hisses again. He clenches his teeth as you grab his balls. He tries to take a deep breath to keep his voice low, but he can't stop his voice from shaking. "Touch me...", these are the only words he manages to say.

Your hand continues to grip his balls, squeezing them gently.

You kiss his neck, "My Rogue Prince...", you whisper.

He is silent now, looking at you with half-closed eyes, his breathing heavy.

You continue to kiss and nibble on his neck as your hand holds him tight, enjoying this newfound power over him. "If you keep this up, I swear we won't leave this bed for at least twelve hours. And I will make you suffer,“ he hisses, his last attempt at exuding dominance.

You smile at him, your fingers now slowly stroking along his shaft.

"I wouldn't mind," you whisper.

His hard manhood is dripping with precum. Your hand wanders along his hard manhood. It twitches violently as you rub the pecum over its tip. He gasps and grunts.

"Oh, you like that, don't you?" you whisper as you nibble on his neck again.

"Yes...!" Daemon suddenly groans. You're playing with fire and you know it. Your teasing only drives him closer to his climax without you actually touching him. But you embrace him fully now, and the sudden rough touch makes him grunt loudly. Your hand wanders up and down, your other hand starts massaging his balls again.

"Then come for me, love...", you whisper. You are also breathing harder by now as your hand slides along his hard manhood. He is moaning uncontrollably by now, his manhood twitching. His eyes are closed and his hips are twitching.

His fingers dig deep into the sheet as he makes sounds you didn't think he was capable of. But his moans turn into hisses as your hand works faster.

He pulls your head towards him and kisses you fiercely, almost desperately. He holds nothing back now and you let him.

"My wife. My Dornish princess. My queen. I am yours. Only yours.", Daemon gasps and you feel the twitch move from his balls up into his cock.

And then he comes. Again his seed spurts onto his belly, while your hand does not slacken in its movement. You're still kissing him and he moans and whimpers into your mouth.

Daemon releases the kiss, still breathing heavily, his eyes closed. Softly he whispers your name, smiling.

"You're cruel, you know that? Cruel and beautiful," he whispers.

You giggle softly and watch the movements of his face. After a few deep breaths from him, he suddenly moves. So suddenly that you gasp slightly. Your eyes grow wide as he suddenly hovers over you. You stare into his violet eyes, his cum dripping onto your soft, olive skin, creating a complete contrast. Daemon slides his finger through it as it continues to drip, just as you did on his skin before. A dark grin on his lips.

"I'm going to make you pay even more cruelly for this..." he murmurs and before you can say anything, his lips meet yours and his hand finds its way between your thighs. Your whimpers echo through your chambers as his hand grips your cunt roughly.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

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urdreamydoodles · 1 month ago

Text

Bat-Villains x Reader

You're the new hot and smart underling

Characters: Joker, Harley Quinn, Poison Ivy, Bane, Scarecrow, Two-Face, The Riddler & The Penguin

The Joker

- From the moment you joined the Joker’s ranks, his interest was piqued. Your sharp mind and striking presence stood out amongst the usual riff-raff. “A diamond in the rough!” he declared with a manic grin. Though he initially treated you like any other henchperson, his curious glances and the way he leaned in during conversations hinted at deeper intrigue.

- The Joker quickly made it a point to test your intellect. He threw out riddles mid-conversation, asked for your input on his chaotic plans, and watched with delight as you matched his wit. When you pointed out a flaw in one of his schemes—something no one else dared to do—he clapped his hands and cackled. “I like you,” he said, the words dangerously lighthearted.

- He couldn’t resist pulling you into the spotlight, often assigning you the most high-profile tasks. “Let’s see what you’re really made of!” he’d say with a grin that sent chills down your spine. Success was met with a rare approval, while failure earned a manic lecture or a laugh that felt more threatening than amused.

- Over time, his obsession with you became clear. He’d show up unannounced while you worked, circling you like a predator and commenting on how “refreshingly unpredictable” you were. His attention was both a blessing and a curse, offering protection but also putting you in constant danger of his volatile whims.

- The other henchpeople noticed the Joker’s fixation on you, leading to whispers and jealousy. Some even tried to undermine you, but the Joker put an immediate stop to it. “Nobody touches my little genius,” he’d hiss, his voice icy before switching back to his signature grin.

- Despite his madness, there were moments where his attention bordered on genuine. He’d hand you a gift—a macabre joke of a trinket—and watch your reaction with keen interest. Yet, his affection always felt like a game, a dangerous dance where losing meant the stakes could turn deadly.

Harleen Quinzel aka. Harley Quinn

- Harley was instantly drawn to you when you joined the gang. “Ooh, fresh meat!” she teased, her Brooklyn accent thick with mischief. It didn’t take long for her to notice your sharp mind and how you carried yourself with confidence. “Smart and hot? You’re a triple threat, sugar!” she exclaimed, clearly intrigued.

- Harley loved testing your limits, throwing you into chaotic situations to see how you handled them. Whether it was a high-speed getaway or negotiating with rival criminals, she’d watch you with sparkling eyes, clapping her hands in glee when you exceeded expectations.

- Her flirtation was constant and shameless. She’d saunter up to you during planning sessions, twirling a strand of her blonde-and-pink hair. “Y’know, if I wasn’t with Mistah J, I’d have to snatch you up,” she’d say with a wink, though you couldn’t always tell how serious she was.

- As your competence became undeniable, Harley began to rely on you more and more. She’d drag you into her schemes, insisting, “You’re my good luck charm!” She’d giggle when things went awry but always trusted you to pull them back together.

- Harley wasn’t above showing off for you, either. During fights or heists, she’d go out of her way to make dramatic, acrobatic moves, casting a playful glance your way afterward. “Betcha didn’t know I could do that, huh?” she’d say, grinning ear to ear.

- Beneath her bubbly exterior, Harley grew genuinely attached to you. She’d seek you out during quiet moments, talking about everything from the stars to her favorite cartoons. “You’re somethin’ special, y’know?” she’d say softly, her tone unusually serious before covering it with a laugh.

Pamela Isley aka. Poison Ivy

- Ivy noticed you the moment you walked in. She had an uncanny way of sensing power, and there was something about your intelligence and charisma that intrigued her. “You’re not like the rest of them,” she said with a sly smile, her green eyes piercing.

- She tested you in subtle ways, asking for your opinion on her environmental crusades or challenging you with complex tasks. When you provided thoughtful, insightful answers, she found herself impressed. “Hmm, perhaps you’re worth keeping around,” she mused, though the glimmer of approval in her gaze said more.

- Ivy quickly took you under her wing, ensuring you worked closely with her. She’d often call you to her greenhouse, watching as you moved carefully among her plants. “You have respect for life,” she’d note, almost to herself. Her approval felt rare and precious, like sunlight through the trees.

- Her fondness for you grew in small but significant ways. She’d casually offer you gifts—rare flowers or herbs—claiming they were “just leftovers.” When you thanked her, she’d wave it off, but the faint smile on her lips betrayed her pleasure.

- Ivy’s protective instincts soon kicked in. If anyone in the organization dared to disrespect you, they’d find themselves tangled in vines before they could blink. “No one touches what’s mine,” she’d declare, her voice cold and commanding, though she never elaborated on the claim.

- Despite her aloof demeanor, Ivy valued your presence deeply. In quiet moments, she’d open up about her dreams of a better world, her voice soft and wistful. “You understand,” she’d say, almost vulnerable. “You see the beauty in the chaos, just like me.”

Bane

- Bane was initially skeptical of you. Beauty and intelligence were rare qualities among his recruits, and he wondered if you were too good to be true. “Prove your worth,” he demanded, his imposing figure casting a shadow over you. His voice was calm but carried the weight of a challenge.

- You quickly earned his respect through your sharp strategies and unflinching determination. Bane valued strength, both physical and mental, and your ability to stay calm under pressure impressed him. “You are more capable than most,” he admitted, a rare compliment from the man who broke the Bat.

- Bane began involving you in higher-level plans, seeking your input and trusting your judgment. “You think like a tactician,” he observed, his dark eyes studying you intently. His approval felt earned, a testament to your hard work and resilience.

- Despite his stoic demeanor, Bane showed his care in subtle ways. He ensured you were well-protected during missions, assigning his most loyal soldiers to watch your back. “Your mind is a valuable asset,” he’d say, though his actions hinted at something more personal.

- Over time, Bane’s respect for you deepened into admiration. He found himself drawn to your unwavering determination and the way you carried yourself with quiet confidence. “You remind me of someone who fights for what they believe in,” he said once, his tone almost reverent.

- Bane’s connection to you became undeniable when he began sharing fragments of his past. “Strength is forged in pain,” he told you one night, his voice low and reflective. “You understand that. It’s why you belong here—with me.” His words carried a rare vulnerability, a glimpse of the man beneath the mask.

Jonathan Crane aka. Scarecrow

- Jonathan’s first impression of you was clinical curiosity. Among the sea of his mindless minions, your sharp intelligence and composed demeanor were a breath of fresh air. He observed you silently for days, cataloging your behavior like a subject in his experiments. “Fascinating,” he murmured to himself when you solved a problem no one else could.

- He wasted no time putting your mind to the test, assigning you tasks meant to break weaker recruits. When you succeeded with ease, he became both intrigued and slightly unnerved. “You’re more resilient than I expected,” he remarked, his tone bordering on admiration, though his calculating eyes betrayed his constant evaluation.

- As you gained his respect, Jonathan began sharing his philosophical musings with you. “Fear,” he’d say, leaning closer, “is the only true motivator.” He watched your reactions intently, searching for a flicker of agreement or defiance. Your willingness to engage in these debates only solidified his growing fascination with you.

- Over time, he involved you in his experiments, valuing your input on the effects of his fear toxin. He’d watch you work with a rare, quiet intensity, occasionally breaking the silence to ask your opinion. “Tell me,” he said once, “what do you fear most?” The question lingered in the air, more personal than professional.

- Jonathan’s protectiveness over you grew subtly. If anyone questioned your methods or competence, he’d silence them with a single glare. “This one,” he’d say, his voice cold, “is not to be underestimated.” His approval came sparingly, but when given, it felt like a hard-earned triumph.

- Despite his detached nature, Jonathan found himself drawn to your presence in a way that surprised even him. During his quieter moments, he’d share fragments of his past, his voice tinged with bitterness and vulnerability. “Perhaps,” he said one night, almost to himself, “fear isn’t the only thing that defines us.”

Harvey Dent aka. Two-Face

- Harvey noticed you the moment you joined his organization. Half of him admired your intelligence and poise, while the other half—gruffer, more distrusting—demanded you prove your loyalty. “Let’s see how you handle yourself,” he said, flipping his coin. Heads, you were given a chance; tails, you were thrown into the fire.

- Your quick thinking and unshakable composure soon won over both sides of Harvey. He appreciated your ability to adapt to his volatile moods, navigating his dual nature with surprising ease. “You’re good,” he admitted one day, his scarred side smirking while the unscarred side gave a small nod of approval.

- Harvey began relying on you for more than just grunt work, bringing you into his inner circle. He’d consult you during planning sessions, flipping his coin before agreeing with your suggestions. “You’re smart,” he said, his voice laced with reluctant admiration. “Almost too smart for your own good.”

- Despite his hardened exterior, Harvey showed glimpses of softness around you. On rare occasions, he’d let his guard down, speaking about the struggles of balancing his two selves. “You think it’s easy?” he asked one night, his voice raw. “Living with two voices in your head?” He didn’t expect an answer but seemed comforted by your understanding.

- His dual nature extended to how he treated you. On good days, he’d praise your work and share a drink with you, his charm shining through. On bad days, he’d lash out, only to apologize later. “You shouldn’t stick around someone like me,” he muttered once, his good side conflicted while his bad side growled, “But you will.”

- Over time, Harvey’s admiration for you turned into something deeper. He became fiercely protective, warning anyone who dared to question your loyalty or competence. “This one’s mine,” he’d say, the flip of his coin deciding whether the threat ended there—or escalated further.

Edward Nygma aka. The Riddler

- Edward immediately gravitated toward you when you joined his crew. Your intelligence was obvious, and he couldn’t resist testing it. “Riddle me this,” he said with a smirk, throwing out puzzles and watching with delight as you solved them with ease. “Finally,” he exclaimed, “someone worthy of my brilliance!”

- He quickly made you his personal protégé, dragging you into his elaborate schemes and assigning you tasks that required both wit and precision. “Don’t disappoint me,” he warned, though the gleam in his eye suggested he didn’t expect you to. Your successes only fueled his ego, making him more confident in his choice.

- Edward loved showing off around you, often monologuing about his genius or presenting you with his latest riddles. He craved your approval, though he’d never admit it outright. “You see it, don’t you?” he’d ask, leaning closer. “How much smarter I am than everyone else?”

- As your bond grew, Edward became more possessive of your time and attention. He’d grow irritable if you worked with anyone else, muttering about how “inferior minds” didn’t deserve your talents. “You’re wasted on them,” he’d say, his tone dripping with disdain.

- Despite his arrogance, Edward valued your opinions deeply. He’d often ask for your input during planning sessions, genuinely considering your ideas. When you outsmarted him in a rare moment, he was equal parts annoyed and impressed. “Don’t let it go to your head,” he grumbled, though his smile betrayed his pride in you.

- Beneath his bravado, Edward harbored a genuine fondness for you. In quieter moments, he’d confide in you about his insecurities, his voice softer and more vulnerable than you’d ever heard. “Do you think they’ll ever truly understand me?” he asked once, his question laced with an uncharacteristic hint of doubt.

Oswald Cobblepot aka. The Penguin

- Oswald was skeptical when you first joined his ranks. He’d seen plenty of attractive recruits come and go, and he assumed you’d be no different. But when you demonstrated your sharp mind and ability to navigate his world, he quickly took notice. “Hmm,” he muttered, adjusting his monocle. “You might be more useful than you look.”

- He began assigning you more important tasks, watching closely to see how you handled yourself. When you not only met but exceeded his expectations, he couldn’t help but be impressed. “Well, well,” he said with a smirk. “It seems I’ve underestimated you.”

- Oswald had a flair for theatrics, and he loved dragging you into his schemes. He’d show off his wealth and power, often treating you to luxurious dinners or gifting you extravagant trinkets. “Consider it an investment,” he’d say, though his smug grin suggested otherwise.

- Over time, Oswald’s respect for you grew into admiration. He appreciated your loyalty and competence, valuing you as more than just another underling. “You’ve got potential,” he told you one night, his tone unusually sincere. “Stick with me, and you’ll go far.”

- Despite his ruthless nature, Oswald showed surprising protectiveness over you. If anyone dared to disrespect or threaten you, they’d find themselves at the mercy of his sharp-tipped umbrella. “No one crosses the Penguin,” he growled, his eyes cold. “Especially not someone under my wing.”

- Oswald’s attachment to you became evident in his quieter moments. He’d share stories of his past, his voice tinged with bitterness and longing. “The world never gave me a chance,” he said once, his gaze distant. “But you—you’re different. You’ve got what it takes to survive.”

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