#besides murdering people. seriously

[supersecretmetalocalypseblog]

I thought maybe I was crazy, but I'm NOT. When Nathan sings or sometimes when he yells, he has a different set of like, mouth models, which I noticed, but didn't think much of. But did you know that they reuse this set for MMA?

I watch this show so much i say shit like "Heyyyy, those teeth look familiar!" but in my defense, I look at every frame of MMA i have every day one million times, and Nathan is the main character (more or less.) How am I not gonna see this eventually?

I guess it makes sense, they both talk in death metal growls and shit.

Alright you get the idea. There's four more below the cut, I just don't want to take up a whole bunch of space on ppl's dash. Also I rant about how MMA is just a Frankenstein's monster of other parts from the show. Because he's basically just a Klokateer with Nathan's mouth.

Despite it being the thing he does for a living, I actually found it hard to find good screenshots of Nathan singing. They do a lot of cool visuals during their shows, and it always shows weird angles of Nathan, which normally i'm all over, but I was so frustrated trying to find him looking forward with no hair in his face and like, the same mouth frame as the ones i know i had of MMA. And it preferred it be from later seasons, because the earlier ones are always so pixelated.

fun fact this face is what tipped me off to them using the same model. At first I thought it was funny that they both pouted like that, but then I started hyper analyzing it and was like "no that. that looks the exact same, actually.... hmmmm"

My favorite frames from metalocalypse are people in the middle of talking, and they do this horrible open mouth face. Charles has a really good one, and i love him a little bit more every time he does it.

THIS one was annoyingly hard to find, I knew Nathan made this face, but when i couldn't remember. Watched about 7 different episodes, scrolling through, looking for it, and then.... there he was, just, jacking off. Thanks Nate, very cool :3

Sort of related rant below.

I've been noticing a lot of weird quirks that I assume came up just because they didn't have a lot of time or maybe money to work with while making the show? When MMA was introduced in season one, it sort of came off like Charles killed him by kicking him into the river. Like, okay, that was fun, and all you nerds at home got to nudge each other and say "hey, that's the guy from the band" but like, that was just some guy, he's not gonna be like, a character.

But we see him later in season two, i think in Dethvengence is the first time he shows back up. So, i can't tell. Was he always going to be reoccurring? Why not try to put even a little more money into making his model? They have a lot of designs sketched up for him (labeled "metal mask assassin", I always thought that was a fandom name but nope, they use MMA on the sketches) and they range from basically how he looks in the show, to "Who is this man in tactical gear and why can I see his eyes?" There are six different sketches for his mask. Just his mask. And then, when the time came for him to be in the show, he's made out klokateer models.

Even when they draw the unique poses, like him fighting Charles in The Church of the Black Klok, we can see like veins on his arms they don't normally draw and stuff, and you can attribute that to trying to keep the model simple, I attribute it to "well, the klokateer arms don't have veins on them so..." Sometimes he has fingerless gloves, even though normally he has regular gloves. I can't tell which things they wanted as part of his design and which things were used because they had them lying around. MMA doesn't even have a looking right (his right, my left???? i think??) model, they just flip his head, which is technically inaccurate to his design, because his face and mask are asymmetrical. and i just wonder, if he's supposed to keep coming back, why can't they ever seem to afford to have him in the show???

I'm not blaming the production team or brendon or anyone else, i'm obviously blaming Adult Swim, like always. SO much of this show feels like "oh if they just had a little more money" that's why the movie is so phenomenal looking, it feels like the kind of shit they maybe always wanted to do with the show, but never could. sucks that MMA died before that could happen. Would've loved to see him in the AOTD style.

anyways, that's. that's my unrelated MMA design rant, i've had that one written out a couple of times just sitting in the drafts, so i figured I'd just shoehorn it into the end of this post. Have a little piece of trivia as a bonus for reading. The model they use for his body is labeled "henchman large" and it's the same one they used for his brother while he was undercover.

Henchman. Venture bros has ruined the word henchman for me, now all I can think about is Gary.

[diamondnokouzai]

song taewon is koreas normalest s-class until you remember 'the protection of an s-class may resemble violence' and his first solo interaction with yoojin was strangling him and then as soon as he realized yoojins value he tried to 'protect' yoojin by making him afraid of all s-classes....

[bluebellhairpin]

told my dad about my nightmare last night (it was a super realistic one where i thought i was home alone sleeping and someone broke in) and he proceeded to talk me though how to deal with it if it happened for real life (there's a filter in out hallway which opens into a small space in the wall which i could fit into, and if i broke though the small board i could get under the house THEN he pointed out where a loose board under the house was so i could get outside)

[cienie-isengardu]

[cleocatrablossy]

I miss the goofy sincerity of 80s movies.

[navybrat817]

Knock You Down a Peg or Two

Pairing: Husband!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Someone learns the hard way that it's a bad idea to upset Bucky's wife.

Word Count: Over 1.5k

Warnings: Established relationship, violent threats (not against the reader), protective vibes, implied sexy times, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: I'm in a mood, lovelies. We can consider this in the same universe as Mr. and Mrs. Barnes and Handsome and Beautiful. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Bucky was no longer the Winter Soldier. He told himself every day he wasn't a cold killer anymore. He did his best to make amends and worked hard to clear his name. From time to time though, people pushed his buttons and got under his skin. You helped him brush it off. Their opinions didn't matter at the end of the day, only yours.

You mattered to him more than anything else. So, if someone bothers him, yeah, he could let it go. Someone upsetting you? He wouldn't stand for it.

Bucky's eyes narrowed as he spotted the little weasel sitting at the table in the break room alone. A few hours ago, you called him to vent about how this guy repeatedly tried to make you look bad in front of your superior during a meeting. It wasn’t the first time either. Your tears of frustration were obvious by your tone on the other end, though you tried to hide them. You worked hard, harder than anyone else he knew, and you took your job seriously.

He saw red when he heard you sniffle and it was the only color he had seen since then.

“Give me his name.”

“Bucky, no,” you had argued. “The guy’s a prick and I just needed to vent, so you don’t-”

“Please, baby,” he whispered, knowing full well you could handle yourself, but you were his wife and someone took joy out of your day. Not just that, they made you cry. He took this personally and he wanted to defend you. “Just give me his name so I can take care of it.”

You softly gave him the name, and he made it a priority to find the asshole. It didn’t take him long. No one even questioned why he was asking. It must’ve been his “murder strut” and glare. You once said it could break even the strongest of people.

He headed toward the empty chair beside the agent, careful not to make a sound. His stealth assisted with that. Once he reached the chair though, he made it a point to scrap the chair across the floor to get the prick's attention. The annoyance in his eyes quickly shifted to fear when he realized who he was looking at.

Good. He hoped he pissed his pants.

He made a show of slipping off his leather jacket before taking a seat, making sure the agent got a good look at his metal arm. He also made a show of getting one of his knives out, one you gifted him. “I think we can skip the introductions since you know who I am and I really don't give a shit who you are,” he began, his voice low as he twirled the knife between his fingers. “But I understand you know my wife and, well, she’s the reason I’m here.”

The guy blinked when Bucky made eye contact, the blade still expertly weaving in his hand. “S-Sure. Everyone knows your wife.”

Bucky smiled softly, taking a second to glance at his wedding band. “I’m usually not one to brag, but I can’t help it when it comes to her. She works hard and deserves all the praise she gets, but she’s still humble. Appreciative. Loyal,” he boasted, still smiling before he glared again. “She’d never throw anyone under the bus, especially in front of a superior.”

The little weasel cleared his throat, sitting up a bit straighter in his chair. He seemed to notice for the first time that they were the only two people there. “Look, I don’t know what your wife said, but-”

Bucky pointed the blade at him. “I would think very carefully about what comes out of your mouth next,” he snarled, his eyes as cold as ice.

There was a beat of silence as the guy squirmed in his seat and averted his gaze. Bucky wished you were there to see it. And Steve and Sam. “I may have run my mouth a bit. I just wanted to knock her down a peg or two, you know? She keeps getting promoted and…” he swallowed when Bucky’s eyes narrowed to slits. If this fucker even thought about implying that you slept your way to get where you were today, he may actually cut his throat. “Please, don't kill me.”

The silence after that statement may have been uncomfortable for some, but Bucky didn’t break a sweat. No, he was just thinking of all the different ways he could put him in the hospital for even thinking he had a right to put you down. Putting the knife away, he slowly got to his feet. “Get up,” he said quietly, flexing his hands in intimidation.

“Fuck.” The man nearly knocked his chair over as he stood. “Listen, I’m sorry,” he blurted out, putting his hands out in front of him. “I’ll apologize to her first thing tomorrow, I swear.”

“You think that makes up for it? And are you sorry for trying to make her look bad or are you sorry that you’re under my radar now?” Bucky’s stare remained steady as he knocked his chair out of the way, the piece of furniture nearly splintering when it hit the wall. “Everyone knows what I'm capable of, but do you know what happens to people who upset. My. Wife?”

Bucky refused to say that you cried. The asshole might take that as a sign of victory and he wouldn’t give him any sort of win. He didn’t deserve it. He didn't deserve to be in the same space as you.

The guy’s mouth parted as he took a few steps back on shaky legs. “I-It won’t happen again! I swear!”

“No, it won't, but how about I cut your tongue out so you can’t run your mouth again? Maybe pull out your teeth, too?” Bucky knocked the table away next as he advanced. “Or how about your eyes so you won’t look at her either. Hell, I’ll settle for taking your arm. We’ll match.”

The man let out what sounded like a whimper, his teeth nearly chattering from his fear. Scaring people had given him nightmares, haunted him, but it fueled his fire when he terrified anyone in your honor. “I won’t bother her ever again! I’ll tell my boss she deserves another promotion! I'll transfer! You have my word! I’m sorry!”

Bucky laughed after a moment, a bitter, chilling sound before he held up a hand. “I’m just fucking with you.”

His eyes were still wide with fear. “W… What?”

“I was just trying to scare you a little. You should see the look on your face,” Bucky chuckled again, lightly smacking the guy’s cheek. “Listen, you don’t have to transfer and I’m not going to torture you. Just apologize to my girl and we’re good, okay?”

“Okay.” He let out a breath and chuckled, too. “You really won’t torture me?”

“No, I won’t,” he grinned, grabbing his shoulders. “But I will knock you down a peg or two.”

The prick didn’t see the headbutt coming, but he felt it before he hit the ground. Bucky knew he’d feel it in the morning, too. He got off lucky.

“You know, after you apologize to my wife, I hope you do stay so you can see her continue to thrive,” Bucky toed the guy’s body with his boot. “And speaking of, I need to go buy her some flowers, chocolate, and wine. She deserves it.”

Grabbing his jacket from the broken chair across the room and brushing it off, he whistled as he left the room. He waited until he was a good distance away to call. You picked up on the second ring.

“Hey.” You sounded much better than you did earlier. “So, what’s the damage?”

“Hey, baby,” he smiled. “I headbutted the prick. And before you ask, my head feels great.”

The former assassin may get suspended for that and damaging the table and chair, but he doubted the asshole would have the balls to speak up about what happened.

“Bucky…” you sighed. You were probably pinching the bridge of your nose. “What am I gonna do with you?”

“You’re gonna let me eat you for dessert when I get home,” he smirked. Not that he needed an excuse to dive between your legs, but he'd take any chance he had. “Figure I'll give you at least two orgasms before dinner.”

“Is that right, Mr. Barnes?”

“That is right, Mrs. Barnes.”

The sound of your giggle spread warmth through his chest. Your happiness was his happiness. “Better not keep me waiting,” you teased, pausing for a beat. “Thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for,” he said. You always stuck up for him without question.

“Love you.”

His heart swelled more. “Love you, too.”

He’d have some more explaining to do once he got home and would probably have to pay for the damage he caused. He was also sure that you were plotting the demise of the man’s career and would tell him that he didn’t need to do anything, but he wanted to. He was no longer the Winter Soldier.

But he was your husband and he’d defend you with his life, no matter what.

Violence isn't the answer, but this is fanfiction and we all deserve a loving Bucky. ❤️ Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[personapeters]

𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐬

— a rafe cameron one shot (2 of 2) part one • part two

✰ you’re at a party with your ‘best friend’, rafe, when things suddenly turned sour, and he’s not afraid to fight for whats his.

rating: sfw — cw: blood, implications of tipsy driving

typically, rafe would send y/n a quick text whenever he went over to her house, alerting her of his arrival so she could let him inside, but this time, he doesn’t. instead, he knocked his sore knuckles against the large oak door with a heavy sigh before attempting to adjust his disheveled appearance. after a minute, he knocked again impatiently, this time with a little more force.

“who is it?” a familiar voice called from inside a few seconds later, to which rafe replied, “it’s me.” instantly, he heard the heavy locks turn as the door began to open. “jesus, rafe, i though you were a murderer or some-,” she began, but abruptly stopped when the man was fully in her view, her eyes wide as she took in his appearance, “what—what the fuck happened?”

“don’t worry about it,” he mumbled, casually stepping forward and through the threshold, causing y/n to subconsciously step backwards as she stared up at him in bewilderment. “wha—‘don’t worry about it’? rafe, you’re bleeding,” she voiced with concern, her eyes scanning over the fresh gash on his mouth and ring of red soaked into his once blue collar.

“really? didn’t notice,” he muttered sarcastically, a small smile pulling at the corners of his lips as he shut the door behind him. “don’t be an ass,” she scolded, softly hitting his muscular arm as he strutted into her kitchen, “seriously, what happened?”

he ignored her questioning as he rinsed his hands under the cold water of the sink, running his damp palms over his face with a deep breath. “rafe, answer me, why are you—,” she prodded while following close on his trail, stopping abruptly a few feet away as a look of realization washed over her face, “you didn’t…”

“i did,” rafe rebutted simply with a shrug as he filled a glass of water, turning around and leaning casually against the counter as he drank it. “oh my god,” y/n breathed out exasperatedly, “you told me you wouldn’t.”

“yeah, well, i lied,” he spoke nonchalantly, staring off blankly into the space before him as though he was deep in thought. “you shouldn’t have done that,” she muttered, standing beside him with her hands resting on the counter. “yeah? and why not?” he snapped suddenly, causing her to jump lightly in her place, which was noticed immediately — he cursed himself for being so erratic.

“look,” he started again with a softer, quieter tone, “people like that, have to learn not to fuck with people like you.” the statement was open ended and rather vague, causing a question to stir inside her. “people like me?” she wondered aloud, to which she received no reply. instead, rafe dropped his cup into the sink with a clink before turning to face her and making a motioning for her to come closer with his fingers. “show me your arm,” he requested, his eyes low as he gazed at her expectantly.

“rafe, your lip is literally bleeding, we should—,” she began, her voice raising slightly in emphasis, but he wasn’t going for any of it. “show me your arm,” he repeated, this time with much more conviction, extending a large hand as he impatiently waited. she sighed, reluctantly holding out her left arm while watching him intently, anticipating the negative reaction.

he encased her smaller wrist within his fingers, using his free hand to slide up her sleeve before softly twisting her arm to reveal the faint, pink remanence of finger marks adoring her bicep. an instant wave of fury flooded his body as his eyes raked up and down her forming bruise. the burning fire in his chest singed at every remaining nerve of self control; if he didn’t know any better, he would have driven right back to where he came and expelled his anger onto the man all over again, this time making sure only one of them was able to walk away. he released her from his grasp as he felt his muscles tighten, his jaw tightly clenched.

“yeah, that’s a bruise,” he gritted out as he nodded to himself in disbelief, and y/n quickly noticed his shift in demeanor. “doesn’t hurt or anything,” she offered as a consolation, hoping it would somehow soothe him as she tugged her sleeve back down. “you put ice on it?” rafe asked, exhaling slowly as he attempted to recompose himself and hopefully redirect his thoughts.

“no, it’s not that bad,” she concluded while ripping a paper towel off it’s roll on the counter, running it under the cold water of the sink. “well, you should,” he mumbled, “helps it heal.” she sighed, squeezing out the excess water before turning to face him once more. “rafe, it’s fine. your face is literally busted open,” she rebutted with a small, reassuring smile, “i promise, i’ll live.”

she reached up to the taller man’s face, gingerly holding his jaw with one hand and lightly dabbing at the corner of his lip with the other, attempting to clean some of the dried blood. “does that hurt?” she questioned, pausing for a moment to meet his eyes. his face was nearly expressionless as he lightly shook his head, his gaze locked down on her while his skin almost burned from her touch, and not because of his injury. she nodded in understanding, her eyebrows slightly furrowed in concentration as she continued cleaning his face, and rafe couldn’t help but gaze down at her with a sense of adoration — she was truly captivating.

no one’s ever cared for rafe the way y/n did — she was always there to (try and) set his head straight, often talking him down whenever he’s angry, keeping him from doing things she says he’ll regret, though he’s never convinced he will. she’s always given him a place to crash whenever things got heated at home, opening her door for him with no ultimatums, no judgement. she was genuine, unwavering and pure — he wasn’t sure if he’d ever meet another quite like her again; in fact, he knew he wouldn’t.

“you didn’t have to do that,” she whispered, feeling a sense of guilt as her eyes raked over his battered face. “i did, y/n,” he replied, stark seriousness in his tone, “and i’d do it again.” she shook her head with a small smile threatening to break through, “i know you would.” she turned to throw away the dirtied paper towel and grabbed another clean one, wetting it before mumbling, “two wrongs don’t make a right, y’know.”

“first of all, that’s corny as fuck,” he stated bluntly, resulting in a laugh abruptly escaping y/n lips, causing a smile to decorate his face, “and second of all, i don’t do ‘wrong’ to make it ‘right’ — s’to make it even,” rafe stated matter-a-factly, lightly wincing when y/n patted directly at his wound. she knew rafe’s mindset differed greatly from her own, though that never stopped her from at least attempting to steer him in the right direction — even if it is ‘corny.’

“you’re gonna need stitches,” she muttered with sympathy laced heavily in her voice, turning to toss the crimson tinted wad into the trash behind her. “mmm, don’t think so,” he replied casually, his blue eyes following her movements before she stopped in her place. “rafe, it’s like a quarter inch deep. you need to go to the hospital, like, now,” she insisted, her brows raised in emphasis, “before it gets infected or something — seriously.”

he knew it wasn’t something y/n was going to let go or ignore, and he also knew it was likely in his best interest to just do as she said; he’d never admit it, but she was typically always right. “okay, alright, if you say so,” he replied defeatedly with a sigh. “i do say so — you’re good to drive, right?” she questioned over her shoulder while scrubbing her hands with soap and hot water in the sink.

“i mean, i got here, didn’t i?” he shrugged with a small smirk, watching as she dried her hands while wholeheartedly knowing she wouldn’t like his answer. “that wasn’t the question,” she mumbled, shooting him an annoyed look. “yes, y/n, i’m good to drive,” he reassured, knowing his continued antics would only stress her further, “only had a shot worth’a liquor ‘nd that was, like, an hour ago — i’m good.”

“promise?” she asked, turning to him with a pointed look as though it would prod the truth out of him. “promise,” he replied, feeling his chest warm lightly as he found her concern over him to be rather endearing. “also,” he continued, “m’gonna have to crash here tonight — shit spreads quick ‘nd the cops are probably at my mine already.”

though y/n didn’t support some of rafe’s choices, she still supported him nonetheless — she swore it would lead to her downfall one day. “yeah… yeah, of course,” she agreed, nodding slightly as she watched him casually head towards the door, following in-suit behind him. “want me to come with?” she offered sweetly as he opened the door and turned swiftly to face her.

“i’m a big boy — think i can handle it,” he quipped with a soft smirk, “you go pick out a movie or somethin’ for later; won’t be long.” she rolled her eyes, shaking her head playfully before saying, “you’re not setting foot in my room until you shower; you’re filthy.”

“yeah?” he smiled devilishly as he leaned in the doorway, causing y/n to groan while holding back a smile. “you have issues,” she laughed out, lightly pushing him backwards by his chest until he stepped out onto the porch. “tell me about it,” he rebutted, the amused look never leaving his face as he stared down at her.

“i could but we don’t have all night… now go,” she replied warmly, enjoying the comforting feeling growing inside her at the light banter. “ouch,” he laughed, holding a hand to his chest with a faux grimace, “might be the worst pain i’ve felt all day.”

“you’re ridiculous,” she smiled, her eyes resting on him for a few moments before her voice softened significantly, saying, “drive safe, okay? text me when you’re there.” rafe nodded wordlessly, his gaze lingering on her for just a few moments as though it was a silent ‘goodbye’ before turning to step off the porch.

before he even made it down the first step, he was stopped. “wait,” y/n called out, instantly cursing herself for starting something she may regret. rafe paused and turned to face her, a questioning look on his face as a singular brow was slightly raised. “yeah?” he asked, waiting expectantly. without much of a second thought, she padded her bare feet out of the house and into the chill air of the night, stopping abruptly before him.

she reached up and lightly cupped his face with a ginger hand, turning his head ever-so-slightly before pressing a warm, soft kiss onto the bare corner of his lips. rafe was taken aback, but the burning sensation that shot throughout his entire being brought him back to reality immediately. it was a touch so sweet — so tender, one he’s never felt before; it almost made his knees weak.

she pulled away with a hand still rested flush to his jaw as her eyes flickered back and forth between his blue ones. “thank you,” she whispered, her words soaked with sincerity and gratitude as she spoke. it took rafe a moment to fully gather his thoughts and process his reality, but in the midst of the overwhelming rush, he managed to murmur, “y-yeah… always.”

with that, y/n slid her hand from his face, leaving him with a soft, closed-lipped smile before spinning on her heels and re-entering her home, closing the door without a second glance. rafe stood in his place staring at the closed door before him, the tingling in his lips numbing any of the pain he once felt.

rafe didn’t know too much about the night’s events as a whole, it all being a mix of many emotions and feelings, but what he did know was that he’d take a thousand busted, bloody lips, over and oven and over again if it meant that y/n would be there to kiss them better.

 personapeters 2024 — all rights reserved • masterlist

[marvelwitchergilmore]

Trust In Battle Scars

Summary: Joel Miller x Fe!Reader -> Even if you haven't always liked Joel, you've trusted him. And he's trusted you.

Disclaimer: Heavy smut, mentions of battle scars, blood, being buried alive, torture and murder (Joel hurts bad guys), swearing throughout. This is an 18+ so MDNI. Angst and fluff spread throughout. Joel takes care of Reader, maybe unlikely friends-to-lovers. Long fic. Not Proof Read.

Joel kicked the door open once more with his foot as he helped you inside, Tommy already inside throwing things away from the sofa to let you sit down. 

“Joel, I’m fine. Honestly.”

“You’re hurt and bleeding. You’re fine, my ass.”

He helped you onto the sofa before he stood back, propped his gun up by the wall and started to take off his jacket. “Ellie, go and get the-”

She appeared by his side, the first aid kit already in hand. “Here.”

“Hot water from the kettle.”

“On it!”

You held onto your side, feeling the blood slowly soaked your clothes. “I’m fine. You don’t need to make a fuss. I’ve survived through worse.”

But Joel was already on his knees, rolling up his sleeves and opening up the kit beside him on the floor. 

“If I let you out of my sight, you’d just let this fester until you collapsed.”

You shook your head. “No I wouldn’t. I’d clean it myself.”

Through the front door, Tommy, Maria and a couple of others who had been there to see you get hurt came through the door just as Ellie came back inside with a large bowl of hot water before running upstairs to go and get fresh towels. 

Joel reached out for the hem of your top but you recoiled back. “No…I’m okay.”

Looking around, Maria was asking her husband a thousand questions and the others were staring at where the blood was soaking your shirt and hands. 

He looked between you and everyone else before yelling; “Everyone out!”

“Towels.” Ellie placed them by his side. 

“Ellie, get everyone out.”

She took what Joel asked seriously. Turning on her heel, she started ushering people outside. 

“Ellie?”

She looked back from the door. 

“Keep ‘em out.”

She gave Joel a mock salute before closing the front door behind her and Joel sat back on his heels, his hands on his hips. His voice sounded less hurried when he spoke again. 

“They’re gone. They can’t see from here.”

You were weary but slowly started to remove your jacket, Joel helping pull it from your arms before reaching for the hem of your top. 

“Think I’m gonna need your help.” Joel just nodded and helped you anyway. Lifting the t-shirt over your head, he took in your body. Under any other context the thoughts at the back of his head would be at the front. But he was too concerned with the hole in your abdomen to think about much else. 

Across your body there were different sized scars. A couple bullet wounds that had healed over the last couple of months, if not years. Gashes – some were deeper than others but they’d healed over. There were a couple of fresh grazes on your stomach from where you’d fallen afterwards, but they’d heal on their own. 

“This is gonna hurt.” He couldn’t lie to you. 

You nodded in understanding. “I know. But I trust you.”

But I trust you.

That was something you’d been telling him since you met him. Even if you hadn’t gotten along the best, you’d always trusted him. When you first got shot, you hadn’t told anyone. You’d kept it to yourself all day, but Joel had noticed you twitching and hissing each time you hiked your pack higher on your back. So, by the time night fell and the others said you’d gone to bed, he’d gone looking for you. 

He found you by the river bed, biting on your lip to keep yourself from crying out in pain. The bullet was still there. 

You’d flinched when you heard his boots on the rocks of the riverbank, but he held his hands up. “Relax, it’s just me.” 

He didn’t say anything else for a while, just walked closer to you before sitting on a rock beside you and holding up a light. 

“Hold this.” He told you before taking a look for himself. You and Joel, at that point, had probably shared two sentences at most since first meeting. 

“Yeah, it’s still there. You able to stay still?” 

You nodded nervously. 

Joel just nodded. “Okay. This is gonna hurt so…take a breath.”

You did so and the next two minutes were the most painful you’d ever experienced outside of being sung the Happy Birthday song. 

Joel pulled it out and pressed a bound cloth to your shoulder before reaching down into the small pack he’d brought with him. Holding up a small needle and thread, he went to stitch you up but then faltered. 

You just nodded. “I trust you.”

He took that as enough confirmation to continue. By the time he finished, he leaned forward and snapped away the rest of the thread with his teeth before washing the cloth in the river and cleaning away the blood from his hands and your shoulder. From there, he moved the strap of your top back up to help hold the gauze and tape in place. 

After that day, watching Joel walk back up the stones and towards the smaller camp, you and him talked a little more. Until eventually you became friends. And out of everyone, you trusted him the most. 

And you figured he felt the same about you considering you were the only one he’d let touch him after he got cut. He’d assured Tommy he was okay, he’d yelled at Tess telling her he was fine, and everyone else had been warned away with a look. 

But that didn’t work with you. He wished it did, but it didn’t. 

You’d opened his apartment door, finding Tess and Tommy stood outside. Tess was growing more and more annoyed and Tommy was looking like he’d been punched in the gut. 

You didn’t have to ask them what happened, you just walked inside and for as much as they wanted to follow you inside, they didn’t. The door closed behind you and you found Joel standing inside the bathroom in front of the mirror trying to clean up his wound. 

“What the hell happened?” 

Joel found you looking at him through the mirror. “Nothin’.”

“Sure as hell doesn’t look like nothin’.” You marched into the bathroom to get a better look as he tried to swat you away. “You need stitches.”

“I can do it myself.”

“Go and sit down. I’ll do ‘em.”

You watched as Joel went to open his mouth to say something, so you took the cloth out of his hands and stood back. “Joel Miller, so help me god, you go and sit your ass on that sofa before I kick you into next week.”

It took him a moment, but he sighed. Anyone else would have backed down when he maintained their eye contact, but not you. 

“You know, I’m meant to be the patient here. Aren’t nurses meant to have a nice bedside manner?” He asked you as he walked into the living room and sat down on the sofa. 

You laughed as you ran the tap to clear the blood from the cloth before marching across the apartment and into the kitchen towards the kettle to boil some water. 

“Luckily for you, I’m not your nurse.”

You kept looking over your shoulder to Joel on the sofa who lay back and closed his eyes, trying his best to breath through the pain. Once the kettle finally finished, you poured the water into a bowl before carrying it over to the coffee table. 

“Lie down.”

Opening one of his eyes, Joel looked at you as you sat on the coffee table. You weren’t gonna budge. 

“Lie down,” you repeated. And with a heavy sigh, he did as he was told. 

From there, you lifted his top as far as you could get it before ringing out the cloth and shaking your hand to stop the burning. 

You hesitated. “This might hurt so…take a deep breath.”

He did so as you pressed the cloth to his wound. A deep grunt came from his chest as his hand shot out and gripped onto your wrist. “Take it easy.”

Looking from his face, to his wound, you gave a small smirk. “The man everyone fears in Boston and yet he can’t take a little hot water.”

“Are you always this heavy handed?” 

“You’re just sensitive to pain.”

“Why don’t we swap positions and see if it’s just me being sensitive to pain.” 

You chuckled. “Alright, alright. I’ll be lighter.”

You dabbed at his wound once more and he finally lay his head back and closed his eyes. “Happy?”

Joel just let out a noise from the back of his throat so you continued the way you were. “What the hell even happened?”

“Some bastard came out of nowhere and took a swing at Tess.” Joel grunted through his explanation as you continued to clean his wound before sterilising the needle. “I shot at him but he seemed to get there before me.”

“You’re gonna have to apologise to her, by the way. She’s probably still pacing outside that door.”

“I know,” Joel admitted. “I’ve heard her since she slammed the door.”

“She’s your girlfriend, Joel.” He looked at you. “Or whatever the hell you want to call it. Look, just apologise. She’ll forgive you.” Then you gave him a small smile. “You got stabbed for her. She can’t stay mad at you.”

Joel let out a small scoff in a laugh. “Yeah, I suppose so.”

“I’d say look away, but you’re gonna feel this anyway. So, countdown from ten?”

Joel nearly shot up. “From ten?”

But then you stuck the needle into him and he grabbed your wrist again, throwing his head back. “What happened to ten?”

“Surprise, I guess.”

“Surprise, she says. As if she’s not sticking a fucking needle into my skin.”

You rolled your eyes. “Quit whining. I didn’t complain this much when you did it.”

Joel grunted again and squeezed your wrist. “Just…take it easy.”

You did so and eventually you finished, wrapping the thread around your finger and pulling until it snapped. You cleaned the wound once more before shocking him and pouring a little alcohol over the top. 

He shot up when you did that and found a smile on your face as you screwed the cap back onto the bottle. “Now apologise to Tess.”

You stood and made your way towards the door. 

“Y/n.”

You looked back before opening the door. “Thank you,”

You nodded with a small smile. “Anytime, Miller.”

Opening the door, you told Tess he’d live before heading back to work. 

There were more moments like that over the years, but the more scars you gathered, the more questions that would get asked by those closest to you. But out of everyone, you trusted Joel. He never asked questions. Frankly, he already knew the stories to each of your scars having been the one to patch them up in the first place. 

So when you said you trusted Joel, you meant it. 

Kneeling up, he warned you before he pressed the cloth to your side where you groaned and gripped onto his shoulder, squeezing your eyes shut. 

“I know, I’m sorry.”

You shook your head. “It’s okay. I’m okay. I trust you.”

Joel just nodded and continued what he was doing. Every now and again he’d feel your nails dig into his shirt as he cleaned your wound before he had to stitch it up. 

“Just a little longer.” 

You forced a hum to let him know you heard him. 

“Wanna lie down?”

You shook your head. “No. I don’t wanna move.”

“Can you lean back for me?”

It took you a moment, but you nodded. 

“Okay.” Joel guided you back carefully, his eyes on you as yours remained shut tight. “Take it easy. That’s it. This is gonna hurt.”

You shook your head. “Just do it. I trust you.”

Joel nodded even though you couldn’t see him. So, guiding your hand back to his arm, he held it down firmly. “When it hurts, just squeeze.”

“Joel, it’s a needle. It’s gonna hurt.”

“You trust me?” You listened to his question before nodding. “Then just squeeze. This is a deep one. It’s gonna take me a while.”

“Okay.”

As Joel inserted the needle, your body reacted, pushing up and gripping onto his shoulder. You tried your best to take deep breaths, listening to Joel’s voice as he told you where he was at, how close he was to finishing. 

“Just one more, okay?”

“Okay.”

Leaning over, Joel cut the threat with this teeth once more before leaning back, keeping his eyes on you to make sure yours were still closed before he poured out a little alcohol onto a dry cloth. 

“Take a deep breath.”

“Why?”

Joel pressed it to your wound and you sat up, your eyes going wide before shutting. Leaning forward into him, your hand gripped his shoulder tightly. He was sure to have bruises on his arm later on but if it meant you got through your pain, he’d live with them happily. 

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. Please tell me it’s done.”

Joel nodded. “All done. But you’re gonna need a shower. Think you’ve dragged half of the forest back with you.” There was a lightness in Joel's tone, you only wished you could feel it in yourself more. 

Standing up, Joel threw everything into a pile before holding his hands out. “Come on, let’s go.”

It took ten minutes but eventually Joel got you to the bathroom and started the shower for you. 

“Think you’ll be okay?”

You nodded. “Should be. Thank you.”

Joel made his way out of the door, leaving it open a crack. “I’ll be outside the door if you need me, so just…call out.”

You nodded, thanking him once more before getting undressed and stepping into the shower. You watched as the water went from clear to filled with old blood, new blood, mud, dirt, a few leaves from inside your hair and eventually back to clear after you got completely clean. 

Once you’d towel dried your hair, you wrapped another around your body, you stepped out of the bathroom after standing in the middle of it for a moment, so many thoughts running around your head, none of them were clear enough to remember. 

Then you found Joel. He’d been sitting on the top step outside the bathroom door. He stood quickly and took a breath. He didn’t say anything; he didn’t have to. But when you took a step closer to him, you were mere seconds away from him stepping towards you and wrapping you in his arms. 

A hand in your wet hair, he pressed a kiss to the side of your head whilst his other hand held you against his body. “Thank you for helping me.”

“I’ll always help you.”

After a moment, you stepped back and nodded, wiping your eyes before he could see. But he’d already caught them. Extending his hand out to you, he brushed his thumb under your eye. 

“Come on, I left you some clothes in the spare room.”

You followed Joel towards the spare bedroom where he left you to get dressed. And once you were, you walked downstairs where you found Joel heating up some soup in the kitchen. 

“Ellie’s gonna stay at Tommy’s tonight.” Joel told you. “And you’re gonna stay here.”

“There’s enough room for Ellie to be here, too, Joel.”

He nodded as he placed a bowl of soup in front of you. “I know. But she’s an eavesdropper and I want the truth. This way, it stays between me and you.”

You knew it was a shit lie when you told him as much when you’d all met back up at the bottom of the hill. If it had been just the others, you could have hidden it well enough so they wouldn’t have noticed. But not with Joel. 

He was right through you. And he saw right through the lie. 

“It’s nothing, Joel.”

“Bullshit.”

“Can we at least eat before you start the interrogation?”

Joel eventually agreed. And so you ate in silence. Until you couldn’t take it anymore and hoped to distract him for a while. So, you asked about Ellie. About her school and her homework. You asked about his jobs working down by the gardens digging up new space for some more allotments. 

Before you knew it, the sun had long been set and you and Joel were sitting on the sofa just talking. Until finally a silence settled over you both and Joel’s hand came to your leg. 

“You’re gonna have to tell me sooner or later. Unless you really want to know how loud Ellie snores?”

“I really do.”

“Y/n.”

You took in a breath and sighed before sitting up straight. “Okay. But, you have to make a deal with me.”

Joel smiled a little. “I have to make a deal with you?”

You were being serious. “Yes. You can’t fly off the handle and it can’t leave this room between me and you. Promise me you won’t do anything.”

Joel got worried and then silent. 

“Promise me,” you pressed. 

“I promise.”

With a sigh, you started to explain. “It’s stupid really. It was before I met you and the others. I was travelling with this group towards Cincinnati. I’d met one of the guys one night and we…got close.”

“Got close?”

You rolled your eyes. “We were fucking, Joel. It wasn’t anything serious. Just a way to let off some steam. In fact it had been his idea to keep things casual. Anyway, one night a few of his friends wanted to raid this place. I had a bad feeling about it but…I went anyway. Turns out the place was FEDRA owned. So, I told them what I thought and walked away. I didn’t want to be another casualty for them. Pretty sure the only reason I’d lived so long is because I was someone’s girl.”

“What was his name? The guy you were…”

“Fucking?” 

Joel nodded his head. “Trevor, or Travis. Something like that. We didn’t exactly do much talking and this was over ten years ago. Anyway, that night I walked. Packed up what I had to my name, and left. A couple months later, I found an old farmhouse. It was in the middle of nowhere. No infected. For a while, I thought I’d been followed but when no windows busted in the middle of the night, I finally relaxed.”

 “Except, when I woke up in the morning, I heard footsteps. I had been followed, just not by infected. His friends, they’d spotted me by pure fucking chance outside another town and followed me. Guess it got too dark to continue following so they pitched out in the woods for the night.”

Joel sat up. “What did they want?”

“Apparently after I left them, Trevor, or Travis – he’d followed after me. Said he’d make me see sense. Only, he got chased by an infected somewhere outside the city. They blamed me for his death. Wanted revenge.”

“Did they…”

You shook your head but stood up and lifted the hem of your t-shirt which just so happened to Joel’s, before pushing down the band of your shorts. Carefully, Joel reached out and kept your shorts out of the way so you didn’t hurt yourself any more than you already had. 

His fingers were warm against your skin. 

“No, but they did get two slugs into me before I sent them limping away with their own bullets in their legs.”

Joel looked up at you before he dropped his hand, and you sat back down. 

“What does this have to do with today?”

“Remember your promise to me?”

Joel nodded. 

“Two of his friends are here in town.”

Joel went to stand but you kept your hand on his arm. “Joel. Don’t. It wasn’t them. They’ve got nothing to do with this. At least, nothing I can prove, anyway.”

“What’s that supposed-”

“Someone’s set up trip wires around my grid. I usually go further than we’re meant to on patrol. No-one else covers my grid, so someone has been watching me. At the very least, they’ve been asking questions. Must have tripped a wire and it threw out a knife.”

Joel took a breath. “Does anyone else know? About before Boston?”

You shook your head. “It was a long time ago. And to be honest, when I saw them, they didn’t seem to recognise me.”

“You can’t just go off that.”

“I know, but I have to take my chances.”

“What if they-”

You shook your head. “They won’t. I made sure of that. Once I hit the ground, I found all of their wires. Easier to see, I guess when you’re laid faced to the ground.”

You chuckled a little at that, remembering army crawling through the forest to pull all the wires and watching the blades fall flat to the floor. But that was a bad idea. 

“Take it easy. You probably need new bandages.”

Joel stood and walked towards the desk drawer before pulling out some fresh ones. 

“I’ll stand.”

Joel sat down on the sofa as you stood between his legs, lifting your t-shirt so he could unravel the old one. 

You hissed and he apologised. He was meticulous in unwrapping your bandages, being careful to not aggravate your wounds anymore than they already had been. And for a moment, his hand ghosted over your belly, his thumb tracing back and forth before he gripped onto your hip securely. 

“Joel…”

Looking up at you, Joel watched as you leaned into his touch and closed your eyes. He continued watching you as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your stomach, before pressing a few more to each wound, graze and finally the healing one on your side. 

You let out a shaking breath, your hand coming to the nape of his neck, your fingers running through the strands of his hair. 

Leaning back, his thumb brushed back and forth on your hip where he could feel the goosebumps popping up across your skin. 

Leaning down, leaving his hand on the back of your thigh to hold you still, he reached for the fresh bandage. 

“Lift your top.”

You did as he instructed and felt his fingers dance across your skin as he slowly wrapped the new bandage around your middle, being sure to keep it crossed over each other until finally he tucked it securely into place. 

His fingers wrapping around your hands, he let you lower your top as he stood, his body mere inches from you. You could see his chest getting tighter as he tried to control his breathing. Then you felt one of his hands trail up your body, your arm and finally settle at your neck, his fingers digging into the nape of your neck, whilst his other hand pulled you closer by your waist. 

Any control you had over your breathing was long gone out of the window. 

“We shouldn’t do this.”

Your voice felt too loud for how close you both stood, even if it did come out as a whisper. But you could still feel Joel’s hands fixed on your body, his palms moulding to each of your curves. 

“No, we shouldn’t.”

You could feel your breathing getting heavier. You forced yourself to catch it before you swallowed, starting to lean up on your toes as you held onto Joel for dear life. 

“One of us needs to walk away.” Joel told you. But you shook your head. 

“Don’t walk away. Don’t walk away.” Then you kissed him. 

Pulling him down, you landed back on your feet, Joel’s mouth hot on yours. Then his palms were under your ass, lifting you before your legs wrapped around his hips. With one hand firm under your ass, his other pushed your hair back from your face before he walked across to the cabinet behind you before he sat you down on it and had both of his hands in your hair, both of you becoming deaf to the back of the dresser that hit the wall.

Once again, Joel’s hands were on your hips pulling you closer until your legs wrapped around him once more. Then his mouth moved. It moved from your own, across your jaw and down your neck. Leaning away, your breathing became ragged as he found your pulse under his tongue. You were pretty sure by morning you’d have a large hickey as a blaring reminder of what pleasure Joel could just give with his mouth on your neck. 

Once Joel seemed satisfied with his work along your neck and jaw, he returned his mouth to yours where he only got a taste for more of you. From there, his hands ran through your hair until they finally got to the end of your shirt. Pulling it from under your ass, he pushed his hands underneath and carefully lifted it up your body before he broke the kiss and moved back to help you take it off. 

His mouth was back on yours in a second and the t-shirt you’d been wearing was thrown somewhere else in the room before you started tearing at the buttons on his shirt. Taking a little too long, Joel moved back and started undoing the bottom ones himself as you worked on the top ones. 

Once they were undone, he pulled the shirt off with your help before joining the t-shirt. His hand was back in your hair, pulling your mouth back to his. Nipping, licking and kissing your skin, he trailed his mouth back down your neck and across your collarbone whilst his hands unhooked your bra from the back. 

“So fucking beautiful,” his deep voice groaned before he pressed a kiss to the bow of your breast and lifted you from the dresser and carried you back to the sofa. 

Joel was careful when he lay you down on the sofa before he climbed above you, his knee slipping in between your legs. With one of your boobs in his palm, his fingers lightly pinched at your nipple as he kissed the corner of your mouth. A gasp left you and Joel smirked before watching you as he lowered himself down your body and wrapped his mouth around it, licking and sucking gently, hearing small moans escape your mouth. 

At the curve of your breast, he nipped at the skin a little before dampening the sting with his tongue and sucking just like he did at your neck. 

“Joel,” you moaned. 

Looking up at you from the bow of your breast, he pressed feather-like kisses. “Like that, baby?”

You swallowed thickly and nodded, feeling his tongue slip over your other nipple whilst his other hand travelled down the length of your body before hiking your thigh up so your leg wrapped around him. 

“Y-yes.”

You moaned again when you felt the hardness of him on your thigh. 

With his tongue trailing back up your chest before his hand cupped your cheek, finally allowing you to kiss him again, his tongue slipping inside of your mouth, tasting everything he could, his knee shifted. 

So grinding down, you took what you could. You could feel Joel smirk against your mouth. That fucker. 

“You want me already, Darlin’?”

Your breath became heavy in your chest and for a moment, Joel took in the sight of you. Plump lips from his kiss, growing hickies along your neck…

“You better plan on fucking me, Miller.”

Joel chuckled. “I plan on more than that, Darlin’.”

The way he looked at you in that moment, his eyes trailing your body, he looked like a man starved. And someone had finally put a meal in front of him. 

Slowly moving down your body, Joel’s hands eventually found your shorts and unfastened them before pulling them down your legs as you lifted your ass. 

Then he sat back, his hands stroking your thighs. “Fuck, baby.”

“Joel, please.”

Even just the thought of what he was about to do was turning you on. If he planned on doing anything like what he already had been doing with his tongue…

You moaned. 

Joel chuckled. “Since you asked so nicely.”

You let out a small squeal as he pulled you a little further down the sofa and pushed your thighs a little wider and further up. Then he took his time. His mouth kissing the inside of your thigh, taking extra time for the gash that rounded your thigh. 

Usually, anyone else who had gotten this far with you took one look at the scar and..stopped. 

But not Joel. 

“Fucking beautiful.”

Then he looked at you and for a moment his eyes softened before he pressed a softer kiss to the scar. It was only for a moment, but for you it felt like the whole world, because after that, he only continued. 

Kissing, sucking, licking, worshipping, loving your body in a way no other man had ever done. The scars didn’t turn him off or make him stop. The grazes didn’t make him falter in his want for you. In fact, he only added to them. But they were a lot more pleasurable to gain than your others. 

Finally, his thumb dipped under your panties, stroking through your slickness. “Fuck, your wet.”

Rushing back towards you, Joel’s mouth was on yours as his thumb parted the lips of your pussy before began circling your clit with a light pressure. 

Your moan was swallowed by his kiss. 

As you began to grind against his hand, Joel chased his own pleasure, too. 

“Fuck, baby.” Joel moaned into your ear. 

“Fuck, Joel.” You chased the feeling of his fingers, your body flexing under his. “Fuck.” You gasped, your hand gripping onto his bicep. 

“You’re so wet.”

Looking down from your shoulder, Joel removed his hand for a moment hearing you whimper but his own joined yours as he buried his face into your hair after seeing your wetness coat his fingers. 

Again, he was moving down your body, slowly pulling each side of your panties down your hips, his tongue tracing where they were. 

“Is this okay?”

“Fuck, yes.”

Then he tasted you. 

The moan he gave as he did so had you chasing the vibrations of his voice. You needed more of him. Bucking your hips, Joel’s tongue traced around your clit. 

“Open wider for me, baby.”

With his help, you opened your thighs wider for him before he sucked at your clit. With a gasp of pleasure, you sat up and your hand fisted at the back of Joel’s hair. His hands were rough under your ass, pulling you closer to him. 

Then his tongue entered you. His nose rubbing against your clit, Joel got a taste for all of you and if he wasn’t hooked before, he was now. 

You moaned his name over and over as you chased the pressure of him against your clit. “Joel. Joel, please. Ah, fuck. Joel. I’m gonna- Joel!”

Feeling the sensation take over your body, Joel drank up every last bit of you. When he finally came back up for air, he licked the last of you from his fingers before he kissed you. You could taste yourself on his tongue. 

“Hope you’re not tired, Darlin’, ‘cause I ain’t done with you yet.”

Pulling him closer to you, you kissed him again before you let him guide you into his lap. With your hands memorising every curve and muscle of him, your fingers started to undo his belt buckle before you finally got his jeans down his legs, as well as his underwear leaving him fully exposed to you. 

Joel just admired you as you straddled his lap once more, his fingers digging into your flesh as you rocked forward against him. 

With one hand already dancing across your skin, his other made its way back down to your core. Your arms over his shoulders, holding onto the back of the sofa, you leaned forward. 

“How many do you want, baby?”

Joel already entered one and you gasped before sighing, rocking against him as his digit curled inside of you. 

“One?”

He added another. “Or two?”

“Two.” A moan escaped you as he slowly pumped them inside of you and curled up. “Def…definitely two.”

As you rode Joel’s fingers, you could feel his cock in the side of your thigh, trying to leave it’s own bruise. 

“Fuck, baby.” 

Leaning down, you whispered into his ear. “Joel, I need more of you. I need you.”

There wasn’t much left for Joel to do other than guide himself into your entrance, his hands resting on your hips as he led you down the length of him inch by inch. 

Joel pushed the hair from your face. “Slow and steady, baby. Otherwise we’re gonna have finished before we’ve started.”

You laughed a little, and so did Joel. “Don’t you mean ‘you’?”

“As far as I’m aware, I’m the only one with self control here, Darlin’.”

You cocked a brow. “Oh really?”

Joel nodded and hummed. So, taking his face in your hand you leaned closer to his lips. 

“Maybe we’ve gotta do something about that.”

Taking a breath as you kissed him, Joel’s arms that had been resting on the back of the sofa started to tangle with your hair before moving to stimulate you in other places. 

“Hold on to the back of the sofa.” Joel told you before one hand slipped between you both and started rounding your clit and the other held the side of your neck before fisting the bottom of your hair. 

Then his mouth was everywhere. Licking, nipping, sucking – all whilst you rode his cock. 

“Shit, you feel so good.” Joel told you as he started to push up and into you more, the sounds of sex filling the room. 

Joel could feel you taking him in, your walls pulling him up as your slickness surrounded you both. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you swore. “Joel. I’m gonna come. Ahh, baby. Please. Fuck.”

Between his cock, his fingers and his mouth, you felt your orgasm building before your walls finally clenched around Joel as he let out his own orgasmic moan. Both of your movements became sloppy as the wave of your orgasm hit and you emptied around Joel as he emptied himself into you. 

You and Joel tried your best to catch your breath as you both remained still, his hand leaving your clit to hold you on him, at your hip. 

“Fuck.”

Leaning down you kissed him once more as his hands snaked around you, holding you against him. You felt his hand travel up your back before rounded down and flicking across your nipples once more. 

Finally he slowed and rested his head against your chest. And you both remained like that for a while until the feeling finally returned back into your legs, leaving a burning sensation in their wake. 

After cleaning up downstairs, Joel met you in the shower where his hands tangled between the wet strands of your hair and your back took on temporary imprints of the shower tile. And by the time you both woke up in the morning, your legs were still tangled with Joel’s from when you’d climbed back into bed after peeing. 

Once Joel finally woke up, you both lay in silence for a while, your nails trailing up and down his chest as his own fingers did the same on your arm. 

“How’s your side?” 

“I think the aching in my legs is distracting me.”

Joel smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to your lips. “Good.”

You kissed him back. “But I think my bandage needs changing.”

Joel nodded. “Grab a shower and I’ll go and grab you some fresh ones. The ones from last night should be dry by now.”

“Okay.” You kissed him. “But feel free to join me.”

Joel smiled and kissed your lips twice. “I plan on it.”

So, after an extra long shower, the feeling of Joel’s cock entering you from behind as he kept your hands pinned against the tile still fresh inside of you, Joel changed your bandage and you both finally got dressed. 

By the time Ellie and Maria came knocking on the back door and entering the kitchen, it was like nothing had changed. Ellie might not have noticed it, but Maria certainly did. 

“I brought you some antiseptic cream. Should help with the healing.”

“Thanks.”

Joel looked towards Ellie. “You had breakfast?”

Maria shook her head. “Tried to, but she wanted to see you as soon as she could.”

Joel nodded before sucking the bacon grease off his thumb. “Grab a plate. Maria, you staying?”

“No, best not. I’ve got a council meeting in twenty minutes.”

“Coffee to go?” You offered. 

Maria nodded, a little confused as she watched the picture play out in front of her. “Uh, yeah. That’d be lovely. Thanks.”

In front of her she saw Joel…happy. His eyes practically followed every movement you made before the eggs spat in the pan and he turned his attention back to his cooking. His hand at your hip as he rounded you to get into another drawer, your hand on his back as you passed him to grab a to-go lid from under the sink. 

The way you both looked at each other…it was the same as before but just…more. 

“Here you go.”

Maria smiled for a few reasons other than the coffee you handed her. “Thanks. See you guys later?”

You and Joel looked at each other, a little confused. “For what?”

Maria’s brows furrowed. Had you literally fucked the brains out of each other?

“It’s movie night.” Ellie told everyone. Joel looked at his daughter, his brain finally kicking into gear. 

“Right. Yeah, yeah. We’ll be there.”

Maria smiled. “Great. Well, I better run. Enjoy breakfast.”

Leaving, you turned back to Joel. “I completely forgot.”

“Same here.” He wiped his hands on a dish towel before transferring breakfast across to three plates. 

The rest of the day ran smoothly. Maria made sure to keep you and Joel at a distance from each other when helping set up. If the morning was anything to go by, both of your functioning brains disappeared when you were together. 

But she didn’t miss the constant eye-fucking across the room you gave to each other. Especially when the other wasn’t looking. 

And it was only when you and Joel passed each other in the supply closet you got a few moments together which each time got interrupted by someone calling for either one of you or someone making their way down the empty hallway towards the supply closet. 

That would be when you and Joel would jump apart and put an entire row of shelved between you both, you making small conversation as Joel turned his back, straightened out his mustache, grabbed the box he’d gone in for, slip past you, his hand patting or pinching your ass despite his eyes being fixed on the floor before he got an easy escape in order to cool down. 

And once you’d gotten back home, he did everything he’d wanted to do to you in the supply closet, at home. At least until Ellie walked through the front door, calling out for him telling him she was home. 

The routine you and Joel had set that night continued for almost a month. In between then, Ellie had worked out something had finally happened between you and Joel, as had Maria and Tommy. 

A few others around town had worked it out, too, though they never had full confirmation. 

Until the day came where you went missing. 

You had meant to pass by the school and walk home with Ellie since it was Joel’s turn to cook dinner. Only, when Ellie walked inside half an hour late and without you, Joel grew a little concerned as well as a little annoyed. 

You were never one to bail a plan, or even be late. So why weren’t you with Ellie?

“She didn’t show.”

“What do you mean she didn’t show?”

Ellie shrugged and dropped her bag by the door. “She didn’t show.”

Joel still fixed you a plate anyway. Maybe your work had run over. Only, the worry in the pit of his stomach seemed to grow more when he saw his brother. 

“Tommy, have you seen Y/n?”

Tommy nodded his head as he wiped down the bar. “Yeah, earlier. She covered Charlotte’s shift on patrol during dinner time.”

Even with taking the extra shift, you still would have finished in time to walk with Ellie. 

“Have you seen her since?”

Tommy shook his head but then called out for someone. A guy dressed in a dark coat walked over. “What can I do for you, Tommy boy?”

“You seen Y/n?”

The guy looked from Tommy, to Joel and Ellie. “Not since the start of patrol. But she should be back by now.”

“Why? What happened?”

The guy shrugged. “One of the fellas said she’d headed back early for something. She wouldn’t say what. They’d finished most of their grid so he finished up on his own and met us back at the bottom of the hill.”

“And you haven’t seen her since?”

The man shook his head. “I’m sorry, Joel. I haven’t.”

“Thanks anyway.”

He nodded. “If I see her, I’ll let her know you’re looking for her.”

“Thanks, Bryan.”

Tipping his hat, he walked away and back to his table. Then Joel grabbed his jacket. “Ellie, stay with Tommy.”

“Where are you going?”

“Check her house. Stay with Tommy,” Joel repeated as he saw Ellie go to stand. She reluctantly sat back down. 

He was outside your home in fifteen minutes. He called out your name but no reply came. Finding the spare key, he let himself in before looking around the place. Nobody. Then he checked his own home. Then the gardens, school, movie theatre and finally the bar again. 

“Find her?”

Joel shook his head. “No.”

But then he heard a laugh, and something dropped in his stomach. Turning around, his eyes made contact with another pair. 

You’d pointed out to Joel the men who you knew from before Boston. And there they sat, with a satisfied look in their eyes. 

“You looking for your woman, Miller? Or is she just fucking you like she fucked Travis?”

Joel was across the floor in five seconds flat, his hands at the collar of one of them. “What the fuck did you do to her?”

But he just laughed. Joel looked back at Tommy who just nodded to a side door. Everyone in the bar had gone silent, but he wasn’t worried about them. Ellie didn’t need to see what he was about to do. 

So dragging the guy with him, he pulled him through the swinging door, meanwhile Tommy and a few others surrounded the other friend before he could make a move to attack Joel. 

“The bitch should still be alive if you can find her in time.”

Mostly the guy just laughed in Joel’s face until Joel had him slumped on the floor and had him screaming with a knife in his knee. 

“You psycho fucker!”

Joel remained calm. “Where is she?”

“Like I’d tell you,” Joel stabbed him once more. “I’m gonna ask you one more time and if you don’t tell me, I’ll pop your fucking knee cap off.”

“Fuck you.”

Joel twisted the knife. “Okay, okay! She’s in the upper grid! She’s in the upper grid!”

Joel searched his eyes, turning the guy’s head from side to side. “If you’re lying-”

“I’m not!” He cried. “I’m not. I swear.”

“Okay.”

The guy calmed down a little. “Okay?”

“Okay.”

“So you’ll let me-” He screamed in pain as Joel shattered his knee. “Ah! Fucker! You promised.”

“I didn’t promise you a fucking thing.”

Joel stood and wiped the knife clean. “You and your friend better be gone before I get back.”

“How?! You’ve just broke my fucking leg!”

“Then crawl. Whilst you can still do that.”

The guy cried in pain. “You crazy fucker! You’ll pay for this! I swear, you’ll pay for this!”

Joel didn’t look back as he walked back through the door. “Call a fucking lawyer.”

The guy's screams of pain died away with the swinging of the door and by the look on the other guy’s face, he was shitting himself. 

Joel grabbed him by the collar. “You know where she is?”

He nodded. “Take me.”

“But-”

Joel shot him in the leg. 

“Alright! Alright!” 

Dragging him by the collar, Joel carried him outside and through the town. Meanwhile, Ellie sat and watched from the cover of the bar before turning to Tommy who came to her side. 

“He’ll find her.”

Tommy nodded. “Hopefully.”

But Ellie was adamant. “He found me. He’ll find her.”

Tommy didn’t know the full story about what happened after his brother and Ellie left Jackson the first time, but going off how he’d reacted to finding you gone and in danger and how he’d been on Outbreak Day with Sarah…Tommy had a feeling someone wasn’t coming back. 

After forty minutes, the guy lifted his hand, “She’s in there.”

The only thing there was a mound of dirt. The guy was already crying. 

“We buried her. She should still be alive-” He didn’t finish his sentence because the blow of the bullet at the base of his skull shut him up. 

And Joel got to work, shovelling piles of dirt as quickly as he could. 

“Joel!”

From the hill, a few others appeared with guns. “We heard a shot-” Then they realised. 

“Grab a shovel! Help me!”

And they did. 

Eventually, they hit a wooden box. 

“Joel, she’s here.” Bryan told him before wiping the thin layer of dirt from the edges where both himself and Joel stabbed at the edges with their shovels, using them as a crowbar until finally the top popped off. 

Seeing more light than before, your lungs seemed to rush with air quicker than you could breathe it in. Sitting up quickly, you felt a pair of hands on you. 

“Get off me! Get off me!”

“Hey, hey, hey. It’s me. Y/n, it’s me. Hey, hey, look at me.”

Holding your face in his hands, your vision cleared to find Joel standing in front of you. “J-Joel?”

“Hey.”

Joel helped you up quickly, pulling you into his arms as his back rested against the side of the grave, your sobs falling against his chest. 

“It’s okay. I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

Bryan laid a hand on Joel’s shoulder. “Take her home. We’ll take care of the rest.”

Joel nodded, his hand at the back of your head. “Come on. I’ll help you out.”

And he did. You were still shaking like a leaf. 

With his jacket over your shoulders, Joel held you into his side as you both walked back to town and towards home. 

“I’m so sorry, Joel.” 

Those were the first words you’d spoken to him since the morning when you’d kissed him goodbye. 

Joel shook his head as he was crouched in front of you, washing your face for you. Despite the shower, there still seemed to be dirt in your eyes. 

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for.”

You nodded but he still had to tell you the same a day later when you woke up in his bed for the second time since he’d woken you up to tell you he’d be back in one hour. When you finally did pull yourself out of bed, you opened up the bedroom door to find Ellie standing to attention. 

Neither of you said anything but in a few moments, she ran towards you and hugged you. It wasn’t long before you both sunk to the floor. 

“I’m so sorry I was late.”

Ellie shook her head. “Are you going to be okay?”

You nodded. “Thanks to Joel.” You tried your best to dry your tears. “Where is he?”

“Still with Tommy. They’re still dealing with the guys that…” Ellie skipped over that part. “Everyone is on your side, and Joel’s side, too.”

You just nodded again. “Good.”

Then Ellie leaned forward and hugged you again before you both heard a familiar pair of boots walk up the stairs. “You’re awake.”

“I think so, at least.”

“I’ve got breakfast.”

The morning was mostly spent in silence until Ellie fell asleep tucked into your side of the sofa. Joel went to pick her up to carry her to bed but you stopped him. “Leave her.”

He did so and sat on your otherside, his arm resting around your shoulders whilst his hand brushed the back of Ellie’s sleeping head. 

“I’m so sorry, Joel.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for. It wasn’t your fault. None of it.”

You shook your head. “No matter where I go, I seem to collect scars. And they never let me go.”

Joel pressed a kiss to your head before gently placing his other hand on your thigh. “You should be proud of them. They’re a sign you survived. They’re a sign you’re still alive and here. With us.”

Looking at Joel, all you saw on his face was sincerity. He truly meant it, and truly believed it, too. Leaning up, you let him kiss you gently before you settled your head against his chest. 

Maybe he was right. You knew he was right. You trusted he was right.

Especially when you’d come to learn of all the ways Joel could appreciate your survival, proving to you how you could appreciate it, too. 

[vivwritesfics]

Padawan Learner

Mrs Vettel, ex Williams driver, current McLaren driver, can't drive while pregnant. Although she's contracted until 2026, she can't drive while she's with child. But she can't stay away from racing, and can't help but take the Williams rookie under her wing.

Sebastian Vettel x Reader, (Platonic) Logan Sargeant x Reader

Warnings: Brief description of smut

She wasn't supposed to retire at the same time as her husband. He felt as if he was at the end of his career and there was nothing more he could offer to the sport, so he retired. He'd had his glory years in Red Bull, moved to Ferrari, every racers dream, and ended things in Aston Martin, alongside his wife's old teammate.

She still had more race left in her. She'd been with Williams for years, racing alongside Valteri Bottas, Lance Stroll, George Russell, and, later, Alex Albon. But then she moved to McLaren, a team she felt would help her fight for wins.

Her husband very thoroughly celebrated the beginning of his retirement. She found herself stuffed full of cum almost every day of winter break.

It shouldn't have been a surprise when they got pregnant. But she wanted to murder Sebastian. For all of five seconds she wanted to drown him in their pool. But, after that five seconds passed, she was overjoyed, wrapping her arms around Sebastians neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

She told McLaren and they pulled Oscar Piastri in for the year. That was how he got his first drive in F1. All because Sebastian Vettel was incredibly horny, but he didn't need to know this.

She might not have been able to drive, but she still wanted to be trackside whenever she could. Her old team gave her this opportunity. She didn't hang around the McLaren garage, as she had half expected.

No, it was Williams and the new team Principle, James Vowles, who gave her somewhere to be during the season. Even in preseason testing, she was there, watching the Williams.

It was great to be in the garage with Lily again. She'd always liked Lily, thought she was great for Alex when they first met. After her move to McLaren she rarely got to see Lily, and as much as she hated sitting in the garage, it was nice to be sat in the garage with her.

Alex was a great driver. Any advice a veteran like her could have offered him, he already knew.

But then there was his teammate.

She watched Logan from his very first race weekend. She had known about the rookie for a couple of years now and had watched him succeed in Formula Two.

But now, in the Williams tractor, he was struggling. Week after week after week he was finishing outside of the points, or he wasn't finishing at all. She really felt for him.

"Hey," she said after the Hungarian Grand Prix.

Logan hadn't spoken to anybody since he got out of the car and did all that he needed to do. Clearly he was struggling. He didn't say anything, just looked up.

She stood beside him. At her stage of pregnancy she could have gotten down to the floor to sit with him, but she wouldn't have been able to get up without help. Her hand rested on her bump as she looked down at him.

"I still remember my first season in Formula One," she said as she looked at the retired car. "It was 2013 and Seb was set to win the championship. I was in my first year in Williams and I think I only finished maybe ten races," she said with a laugh.

"Wait, seriously?" Asked Logan as he looked up.

She nodded her head. "I crashed out of most, or the car fell apart on me. Most people wondered why I had a seat for the next year, but Williams saw potential in me. I know they see it in you, too."

Every time Logan didn't finish a race, every time he came dead last, she was there. Nobody could comfort her like she did. Sometimes Seb joked that they might as well adopt him, and Logan agreed. Most up and down paddock called Logan her padawan learner, which was very fitting.

Logan began being the person she spent the most time with when Sebastian wasn't there. He'd looked up to her for many years and having her support meant the world to him. He was there for her too, making sure she had somewhere to sit and something to drink whenever she needed it.

In September, a month before her due date, Sebastian begged her to stop travelling. Just in case he wanted her home with him, where he could take care of her. They still watched every race together and she made sure to send Logan a good luck text before every practice session, qualifying, and race.

When Logan got his first points, nobody celebrated more than Sebastian Vettels wife. She was so proud of him, even if those points were because of two disqualifications. She posted a picture of him and her from a previous race on Instagram like a proud mum. Funnily enough, Logan comments 'thanks mom' on the post.

Just two weeks after this, her water broke. Sebastian got her to the hospital. He stayed by her side, holding her hand through the hours of excruciating labour.

Leon Vettel didn't cry when he was born. He was so quiet, that it actually scared his mother. But the doctors and nurses assured the new parents that he was perfectly healthy.

He was their perfect little man.

She insisted on asking Logan to be Leons godfather. They had grown so close over the last few months that it seemed fitting.

Logan accepted. As soon as the Vettels could, they were taking Leon to races. Or, Sebastian took Leon to races, to watch his mother race. Of course he was wearing a Williams hat and McLaren shirt.

"Papa," Leon said at four years old after watching the Australian Grand Prix qualifying session.

"What is it, my little man?" Asked Sebastian as he sat Leon on his lap.

"I wanna be like mama and Uncle Logan," he said, and Sebastian couldn't stop himself from grinning.

[luveline]

hi queen 😙

could you please do one where the BAU are staying in another state for a case so they have to stay in a hotel and for some reason hotch has to come see reader in the morning or before bed or something so he knocks on the door of her room and she opens and she’s just standing there with like her hair in two braids and like matching pink pyjamas and hotch just has a little laugh because he’s never seen that side of her before?? 💕💕

this would be like season 1 or 2 hotch :D

cw reader has hair that can be put into two braids

He texts you first but you don't answer. Hotch isn't happy to encroach on your space so early but he can't remember what you said last night about the killer's motivations and he needs to know, desperately, in case this missing piece of the puzzle can stop another young man from being murdered. 

"L/N?" he asks, knocking on the door quickly. "Y/N, are you awake?" 

There's a definite sleeping groan. Hotch winces at the sound but what else can he do? You'll have to wake up in an hour anyway. 

"Y/N? I'm sorry to wake you, but I need to ask you about Cory, last night's victim? You said it seemed more like an arsonist than a murderer, what did you mean by–" 

The door swings open. "...that." Hotch stares at you. 

You have your hair braided away from your face, strands rocked free and frizzy. More amusing is the baby pink pyjamas you're wearing; adorable little slips of fabric, pants that stop mid-calf and a camisole with soft lace at the chest. Hotch immediately looks back to your face as he realises his once over, but he can't hold back a laugh. A small chuckle, harmless. 

"Are you laughing at me?" you ask tiredly, voice croaky but threaded with amusement. "You woke me up, okay? This is your fault. Did you bring me coffee, at least?" 

Hotch puts his empty hands up in defeat. 

"Come in, then, before someone else sees me." 

Hotch follows you inside. He doesn't feel any pressure or awkwardness, but he needs to make sure you aren't either, and so he takes a cross-armed position against the wall. You run your hand down a braid and pull out the elastic, absentminded as you shake out your hair. 

"I said it was more like arson because of the mess. Arsons like to ruin things. And I just don't see how it could be solely pleasure based after such a massacre," —you move to the second braid and repeat the process— "the adrenaline runs out eventually, but the blood was– it was everywhere. It would've taken effort. There are photos on my phone if you want to see." 

You gibe him your phone, open to photographs you took last night. Hotch clicks through them in disgust. Like you said, it takes a lot of effort to make a crime scene look like this. 

"We could be looking for someone with an impulse control disorder," Horch guesses. "Our pool of suspects would completely change. We've been looking for people who have untoward desires centred around teenage boys–" 

"But if we're searching for someone who can't control their impulses we could easily be looking at a teenage boy. He'd have reason to be with his victims that wouldn't cause concern." 

Hotch finds it very difficult to take you seriously in your pinks. He laughs again, and you know exactly what it is he's laughing at, waving him away as you bend down by your suitcase under the desk. "Go sharpen up, Hotchner. And get me a coffee, please." You glance at him from over your shoulder. "I'd like to see you in your pyjamas." 

"I'm sure you would, agent." 

Hotch thinks more than he should about you in your thin pyjamas, the way they hugged your thighs and the naked lengths of your arms, your ankles, he's ridiculous, but it's stuff he's not used to seeing. He's usually so focused. 

He brings you a coffee and an apology croissant, which you eat in pleased silence beside him, fully dressed, hair tamed. He can't not see you as you were that morning, eyes puffy with tiredness but a hundred times the professional he'd been. 

"I can feel you looking at me," you murmur. "Laugh again and I'm telling Gideon." 

"Ah, and he'd reprimand me."  

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" you ask, almost monotone as you drink your coffee. "Do you have the case file for Patrick Gorden? I wanna compare the blood splatter on the walls." 

[wisecura]

My Leader

Cult Leader Suguru x f!Reader 4k

an: did anyone ask for this? oh yeah! I did. enjoy my unrequested fantasy. this might be bad but oh well haha

summary: suguru geto was all for the betterment of the world—eradicating the non-sorcerers in society, and collecting people to stand in the new world with him. it's no different when he finds you—an untrained sorcerer, so eager and desperate for validation—a hint at sanity when no one else could see the monsters around you. but what happens if he takes you in only to find himself changing his mind.

warnings: pwp, voyeurism, gore, blood, murder, dark undertones, size kink, smut, you aren't in your right mind either, fingering, marking, manipulation, belittling and teasing, minors DNI

The last thing on your bucket list in life would’ve been joining a cult. 

Seriously, cult life was definitely not where you saw yourself in your early twenties—with all the time in the world still ahead of you. But, well, here you were.

That priest you'd met earlier? He'd been nothing short of a lighthouse for you—a beacon of hope during those endless, stressful days. You know, the ones haunted by those demon-looking creatures lurking just out of sight. And the craziest part? Nobody else seemed to see them. Yeah, you were pretty much alone in this freaky ghost-seeing club.

So, imagine the relief when the fifth priest you consulted turned out to be pure gold—a genuine miracle worker. Not only did he validate your sanity, but he also managed to kick that pesky little demon parasite on your shoulder to the curb. And suddenly, the world felt lighter. Easier.

And when he offered you a spot by his side, it didn't take much to convince you. Especially after he mentioned that those 'curses' were likely to make a comeback. Joining him seemed like a no-brainer.

But six months in with this man, and there was no ignoring the raw sex appeal he radiated. Standing several inches above you, he was large and imposing—hitting all your size-kink checkboxes. His features were sharply handsome, with plush lips that sparked envy and hair that never seemed out of place. His eyes? Absolutely captivating. Really, what did this man not have that wouldn't cause any sane woman to go feral? 

No wife, not even a girlfriend in sight, but he had two adoptive daughters whom he treated with the utmost care. A family man, right?

You hadn't fully realized what you were getting into when you'd first signed on—then again, you hadn't exactly been in your right mind. How else would you find the nerve to talk to such a handsome man without immediately dropping to your knees? 

And you were pretty sure Suguru wasn't all there either. He'd woven tales about jujutsu sorcerers, depicted them as the apex of evolution, even hinting that you had the potential to be one of them.

Something about ‘cursed energy’ or another. But he didn’t seem all that interested in filling you in on the rest. And you didn’t ask. Why bother when he was providing you a cushy life at the temple?

He treated you differently from the other cult members, always keeping you close. You never missed a service, always stationed right beside him. Silently, you'd watched as he delivered his visions of a new world. You tried to be the attentive follower you were supposed to be, but damn, he looked so good when he monologued. You practically swooned.

And he kept you around his girls, a privilege most other members couldn't even fathom—many didn’t even know they existed. You found yourself cooking for them, gradually forging your own little bond. They warmed up to you quickly, and it didn’t exactly come as a shock when they started seeing you as a mother figure.

This setup couldn’t have been better for Suguru, whose plans for you seemed singularly focused—your confinement.

You appeared so willing, so easygoing, so content under his care. 'Confinement' might sound a bit severe—maybe 'ensured stay' fits better? Whatever you chose to call it, Suguru wasn’t planning on letting you go anytime soon.

Just as you saw him as a shining beacon, he saw you as a diamond in the rough—a pretty little thing that happened to stumble into his temple. Desperate for answers, you had long since lost faith in any conventional sanctuary.

So, you found a cult.

A notorious one at that.

He wasn’t sure if you were aware of their more nefarious misdeeds—he was skilled at keeping things under wraps. The money he brought in always came from questionable sources, but you never pried. So he never told.

You meshed nicely with his chosen family, fitting in with everyone and proving quite useful. It felt out of character for him, but he couldn’t help it. The thought of your sweet, motherly image being tainted by the torturous grip of sorcerer politics just didn’t sit right with him.

No—you belonged in his temple. Guided cage ‘n all, well-supported, well-supplied, and nicely kept.

And maybe, when the time was right, he’d formally place his mark on you—maybe with a ring? Or perhaps a few choice bite marks? You always did wear those low-cut pajamas during breakfast, the expanse of your neck tantalizingly on display. You were definitely taunting him, that was for sure. He had plenty of ideas about what to do with you.

“Suguru?” 

Your voice, melodic even this early in the morning, managed to grab his attention—even before the coffee had kicked in. His name coming off your lips was sinful.

"Suguru?" You try again. His expression is dazed, distracted. The girls had already left for their tutoring sessions, leaving you alone with the enigmatic man.

Sometimes, you couldn’t quite figure him out. His moods swung wildly—from passive-aggressive and temperamental to overly dramatic. Charming, sure, but definitely a handful. Then there were moments like now, where he sat at the table, calm and stoic, clearly preoccupied with something on his mind.

“Mhm?” He hummed in response, as you set down another serving of eggs and rice. You didn’t know how to phrase the question, and you didn’t know what made you so nervous about asking. You were a human being, so this shouldn’t be an issue, free will ‘n all. “I was thinking of going out today. Did you...did you need me to pick anything up.” 

He paused at this, his brow raising inquisitively. "...What would you need to go out for?"

"Ah, well, a bit of this and that," you trailed off, looking away shyly. Truthfully, you wanted to pick up something for him as a way to say thanks, and maybe something for the girls too. Your money had been sitting idle, practically rotting in the bank—and you felt an urge to spoil the only people who seemed to care for you in your life. But he didn’t need to know that.

“Mmm, this and that?” He contemplated, his hand trailing back through his hair. “...Are you....that fed up with us?” You glanced over, hoping to find a teasing smile on his lips—only to meet his eyes downcast, locked onto the table. Melancholic.

You felt your heart ache at his words, you hadn’t meant to upset him. "Ah, no! I, uh—actually just wanted to pick up a few things. Why do you think I'd want away from you guys?" Your voice trailed off, a small laugh attempting to lighten the mood, as you made your own plate. "You’re my family now, after all."

His eyes raked down your back, unbeknownst to you. The situation was far from ideal, but he was determined to keep you content enough not to leave. Perhaps he could even scare you into staying? Your name slipped effortlessly from his lips, a breathy utterance that gripped his chest—selling his concern perfectly.

“I’m worried about you, y'know?”

“Worried? Why?” You continued your setup, your back unsuspectingly facing him.

“If anyone outside of here spots you...well, I’m not exactly a celebrated man in the sorcerer community. They could easily take you the second you step out of this temple. And you’re practically a magnet for those curses—that energy you put off is something else.” His voice trailed off as his mind seemed to drift away, even as you peeked over your shoulder at him.

You weren't completely in the dark about his reputation in the community-the fearful stares from one or two of the followers told you that. You weren't even surprised about his growing concern for you. It was nice, in a way, having someone like him show this level of concern for you.

"Really, it means a lot that you're looking out for me, Suguru. I love that you keep me safe—I do, but I also don't want to just take from you all the time," you say, turning fully to face him, the concern evident in your eyes.

He flashes you a reassuring, warming smile, that makes your chest stutter. "I understand, but you're not just taking. You're a part of this family, a crucial part. It's my responsibility to keep you safe, and I take that seriously," he explains, his tone gentle yet firm. "Maybe, for now, online shopping could be a better option. It'll keep you out of sight from those who might not understand our...situation here. You can still have some independence without the risk. How does that sound?"

It wasn't exaclty a questions and more like a rule he's already set in place. His words hang in the air, wrapped in the guise of caring, yet subtly steering you to remain within the confines of the temple, minimizing your contact with the outside world.

Those next few months settled into a routine, and you never left the temple as per Suguru's 'request'. But during his sermons, you couldn't help but notice a strange man in the congregation—an older dude who couldn't seem to take his eyes off you. It was unsettling, creepy even, and every time you caught his gaze, it made you want to leave the room immediately.

And when you were handing out the pamphlets for the evening, his hand managed to pass along your hand just a little too sensually, causing you to jerk back, as if burned. Your polite smile still remained but you couldn't stop the uneasy turning of your stomach.

You tried your best to ignore it, concentrating instead on the magnetic presence of Suguru, the leader whose charisma had always managed to overshadow any discomfort. Focusing on him, with his intense gaze and compelling sermons, you hoped the creepy feelings triggered by that strange man's stares would simply melt away.

For a time, it seemed to work. The incident faded to the back of your mind, barely a blip on your radar—that is, until Suguru himself brought it up.

It was after dinner, during your usual walk back to your room, a routine that had become a comforting part of your daily life under his watch. As you strolled down the quiet corridor, his voice broke the silence, casual yet probing. “Did you know that man?”

His gaze was stern, pinning you under a scrutiny that seemed to see right through you. You could have played dumb, feigned ignorance, and questioned which man he was referring to. Maybe then he would've let it go, attributing it to his own overprotectiveness. Maybe.

But you didn't like the way that man's eyes had roamed over you, as if he was trying to claim you or imagining what lay beneath your clean robes. Maybe Suguru would do something about it? After all, he often dismissively called his followers 'monkeys,' a clear sign he didn't hold them in high regard. “No, I don’t know him,” you responded, a shiver running through you that Suguru didn't miss. “He’s a bit weird, right? I didn’t think you had followers like that.”

His gaze held yours for a moment longer, pausing you both in the hall. The dim moonlight streaming through a nearby window could have given the scene a nearly romantic quality if not for the concern etched deep within his furrowed brow. “Alright,” he finally said, the word hanging in the air before he turned to continue guiding you back to your room.

That was it. No further questions, no reassurances—just a simple acknowledgment and then moving on. It felt anticlimactic, almost dismissive, and a part of you felt almost offended.

But then again, what had you really expected?

That was what you thought before you saw red. 

But it wasn't just the red. It was the heavy, metallic, coppery smell that suddenly choked the air, thick and invasive. The way the splatter violently stained your white robes, soaking into the fabric, marring them beyond recognition. The congealed remnants of what once was a person spread grotesquely across the cold floor, as his lifeless eyes stared back at you. His mouth hung open in a final, silent scream of horror as if he could still hear the words spewing from the priest's mouth. 

“Does anyone else have any issues with this?” The question sliced through the tense silence of what seemed like a routine board meeting, discussing the mundane affairs of the company. Suguru's tone was far too light, disturbingly cavalier, given the blood soaking his front, nonchalantly wiping off a stray drop that had dared to mar his gorgeous face. To your surprise, no one objected, their eyes locked on the decapitated head lying before you. You had seen the curse—the one that had been produced and sent by Suguru. And maybe you were the crazy one for feeling a little flustered by his actions—heart fluttering.

Or should they be called reactions? The so-called necessary consequences he deemed necessary for your safety.

“Suguru.” His eyes shifted back to you, almost expecting to find fear. The sight of blood wasn’t for everyone, and he was fully prepared to sic a curse on you should you attempt to flee. But what he was met with was so unexpected—your flushed face, your grip tight on his sleeve, almost like clinging to your own lifeline. That oh-so-adorable look in your eyes, innocently seeking his attention.

This had been a bit of a test, an evaluation to see how you would respond to his more...abrasive nature. And he just couldn't stand the way that 'monkey' had his eyes locked on you, the way his fingers had dared to trail over your sleeve—as if he had the right to touch.

As you reached over to wipe a lingering trace of blood from his cheek, his reaction was swift, instantly, his hand snaps around your wrist. His eyes rake over you, and the disapproval in his gaze makes you feel a wave of self-consciousness wash over you.

"That filthy monkey blood is all over you now," he remarks, his tone dripping with disdain. After a moment's pause, a small smile curls the corners of his mouth. His grip remains firm on your wrist as he guides you over to his seat at the front of the congregation, giving you a thorough once-over before finally releasing you. 

Nonchalantly, he shrugs the top of his robes down his shoulders, revealing a chest and abs that are absolutely sculpted to impossible perfection.

You'd always known he was handsome, but this? This was something else. He was not just attractive- he was, without a doubt, ripped. Settling down, he effortlessly pulls you into his lap, facing him. You're up close now, close enough to see the way he gazed so affectionately down at you—your heart racing and skipping several beats in response.

If you were blushing before, now you were certain you must look as bright as a tomato. You avert your gaze, only to find yourself face-to-face with his impeccably sculpted chest. Your hands, you realize, are already on him—likely from when he first pulled you onto his lap.

A smug smirk plays across his lips as he scans the crowd, his gaze predatory and possessive. It's a clear message to everyone present: you were off-limits to anyone but him. Held in his strong arms, you feel almost too soft, so compliant and utterly his, as if you belonged nowhere else but here.

His whisper is just for you, a soft murmur that tickles your ear, “Do you like what you see?” His eyes remain fixed on the crowd behind you, and thank god for that—you're practically melting in his lap. You're at a loss for words, and though under different circumstances you might have shot back a flirty retort, the intensity of the moment leaves you speechless.

His gaze locks with yours again, piercing and intense. He scrutinizes your form once again—flushed and trembling, the ugly stains of blood soaked into your clothes. Your clothes.

His hands begin to undo the lace at the front of your robes. In a panic, you reach up to stop him, embarrassed—not necessarily by his attention, but overwhelmingly by the many eyes watching from behind. "Suguru," you hiss, your voice a whisper thick with embarrassment and a plea for some semblance of privacy or restraint.

But his gaze halts you. It's firm, stern—like a mother scolding her child. Overwhelmed by his intense stare, your resistance melts away. You find yourself clinging to his arms, resting your head against his chest as he peels away the robes stained by the blood, liberating your skin from the filth. 

“Did I say you could leave?”

At his words, the shuffling of footsteps behind you to come to an abrupt halt. You can almost sense the veiled fear and shock painting the faces of those behind you, the tension in the air so thick it’s suffocating, uncuttable even with the sharpest blade. As you squirm uncomfortably in his lap, you feel the unmistakable shift of the large bulge beneath you. This fucker was actually turned on by this? 

But were you any better? You buried your face even deeper into his chest, inadvertently drawing his smug attention. "What's wrong, princess? You feelin’ shy?" His tone was taunting, so uncharacteristic of him. You'd never heard anything like that from those lips in all the time you'd known him, and that thought alone made you want to bury your face in a pillow and scream. 

You nod, barely managing to keep your composure, only to feel his hands, which had been supporting his weight behind him, shift up to your thighs, drawing you even closer. The movement causes your panty-clad pussy to rub against the large snake you were saddled on. You hadn't intended to let out that needy whimper, but the accidental friction against your clit had you digging your nails in tighter. 

"Is my sweet girl actually wet?" His tone is laced with mock disbelief. You don’t respond, but that doesn’t deter him, his fingers reaching between your legs, seeking confirmation for himself. You feel this thumb graze that oh so exquisitely sensitive spot, leaving you jolting in his lap, his fat fingers grazing past your clit over to your slick drippy folds.

“Tsk tsk tsk, sweet girl, you’re practically dripping. Are you alright?” His voice drips with obvious mock concern, and the distraction of his thumb pressing back against your button, drawing circles–makes it impossible to form a coherent response.

"You're all worked up—so red. You must've been so upset when that bastard put his hands on you," he murmurs, and your back arches as he picks up the pace, his hand circling your waist to hold you flush against him. His touch is assertive, almost commanding, drawing reactions from you that you'd never gotten from a toy.

"Uh uh, look here," his voice suddenly goes cold, detached. Your eyes snap up to his face, only to find his gaze directed over your shoulder, at the long since forgotten crowd behind you. Oh shit. What were you doing? His next words slice through the thick air, his tone sharp as a knife.

"You monkeys seem to forget your place." The room holds it's breath, and suddenly, you're painfully aware of the many eyes on you, the precarious position you're in—a spectacle for the small crowd. A shudder travels down your spine as his fingers relentlessly continue their exploration. You can't stop the slick trail trailing from you, soaking your underwear further. Your hips buck involuntarily towards his hand, even as his words echo hollowly through the room. "Should I just remind you? None of you should be touching what isn’t yours…"

The word "yours" spins your head, and you shamelessly whimper out. "My naughty girl, do you really enjoy this that much?" His tone is teasing, yet there's an edge of possession that sends another shiver through you. His touch intensifies again, and you tremble beneath him, overwhelmed by his presence.

Pulling away, he finally gives your chest some much-needed attention, slipping the cup of your bra below your rounded tits. His gaze is appreciative as he kneads one into his mouth, sucking greedily. And in an instant you're pinned to the floor beneath him, flat on your back, his bulge still pressing insistently against you. 

The shift is swift, his body covering yours, providing the room an unobstructed view of him devouring you. Yet, your focus remains solely on him—his broad shoulders, the smooth expanse of his chest, and the stiff muscles that hint at hours spent perfecting them. Your eyes finally settle on the large bulge that he keeps grinding into you.

And grind he does, his clothed cock taking over the work of his fingers, each motion stripping your throat of the whimpers and whines that spill forth—sounds that surely only spur him on further.

Caught in this intense, consuming moment, you're hyper-aware of every contact, every movement, and every gaze set on you, heightening every sensation as you lose yourself to the rhythm he dictates. He’s a greedy lover, taking every inch he can get before finally pulling himself free from his robes, his cock springing forth—thick and demanding.

His gaze is hungry as he eyes you, leaning in closer, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers darkly, "You like putting on a show, don't you? Just look at you, so desperate and dripping for me while they all watch. You’re nothing but a little exhibitionist, aren’t you?"

His words are taunting, debauched, as your pussy clenches, a flush of shame and excitement as he pulls your panties down teasingly slow. Straightening to his full height, he sighs at the sight of your pretty pink folds, completely on display for him. He’d be the one to ruin you, of course. No one else was allowed to touch what was his.

He spits on his length, a heavy sheen as he strokes in long and slow passes over his bulbous head. Your eyes are fixated on the curve, every inch of him on display. His eyes remain fixed on the heave of your chest, his words only for you, "You're completely mine, aren't you? Every shiver, every sigh... I want them all." Before you can answer, he has himself positioned at your entrance, sheathing himself completely inside you, filling your clingy pussy entirely in one fluid motion. 

The guttural moan he shares with you is nothing short of primal, as he pulls back and then hammers back into you with a quick, forceful thrusts, your honeyed slickness making it all too easy. The furrow in his brow is ever-present, his gaze locked on you with an intensity that's damn near animalistic. You don't recognize the man filling you so completely.

You reach up to touch him, but one of his meaty hands pins both of yours above your head in a swift, assertive move, his strength incomparable. "Feels so good, princess, so fucking good, aah," his words stutter out, breathlessly, as his hips meet yours again in a relentless, brutal pace.

His cock stretches you perfectly, hitting that sweet spot that always seemed to elude the ex-boyfriends you'd dated. The slaps of his hips meeting your dripping pussy were echoing the room, as your head lolled back you managed to catch sight of a few of the faces of the men watching, and you had half a mind to be embarrassed. You whimpered, trying to hit your face into the crook of your shoulder, only to have his other hand snap onto your chin, his dick continuing the abuse your cervix.

Leaning in close, his breath hot against your ear, he whispers huskily, "C'mon now, don’t play shy." You could hear the grin in his voice, "You aren’t fooling anyone, not with the way this cunt is clenching me—ngh—so fucking—good." His words punctuated by each powerful thrust into your sopping hole, his breathing growing heavier as his fat balls slapped against you. You've never come without your clit being teased before, but you were sure you could squirt all over him from those words and his stretch alone.

"Such a pretty little slut for me," he growled as he drove into you, "lettin’ me stuff you so full." His words came out in low purrs, his hand still firmly clamped on your wrists and chin, ensuring you couldn’t see anyone else but him. "Gonna let me breed you in front of all these pathetic bastards? Show everyone who owns this cunt?" You felt your pussy clamp down tightly on him—earning a sharp hiss from him as he tightened his grip around your neck. You could barely breathe, your vision narrowing as you came hard around his cock, your body stiffening, unable to think straight. 

He continued to fuck you stupid, relentless, "You love being my filthy little fuck toy, don't you?" his breath, hot against your ear. "Just a wet hole for me to use, right in front of everyone." You couldn't even make a sound, your head fuzzy and body already sore. "fucking—ngh—gonna breed this pussy full, baby—gonna—mmgh," His voice was ragged as your walls spasmed around him, his hold on your neck like a predator with limp prey, as he let out the loudest moan yet, "gonna cum, gonna—" and with that, he spilled himself deep inside you, his hot seed mixing with your release.

You felt his hips continue to rut against you, his gaze fierce and possessive—a rabid dog with his treat, heaving, refusing to pull out. He unclenched your neck as you gasped in a deep, burning breath of air, lungs finally refilling. The onlookers were the furthest thing from your mind, until you were abruptly brought back to reality by his commanding voice–leaving no room for argument,

"Now get the fuck out of here." 

As the command left his lips, the onlookers, still frozen from the raw display they had witnessed, hesitated for a moment before scrambling away. All you heard were retreating footsteps. The room quickly emptied, leaving just the echo of their footsteps and the heavy breathing that filled the space between you and him.

Still inside you, he leaned down, his face inches from yours, his eyes still burning with that possessive intensity. "Look at what you do to me," he rasped, voice thick with satisfaction. His fingers trailed lazily over your skin, marking paths where his earlier grip had been.

He pushed back into you slowly, coaxing a whimper from your oversensitive body, "Just look at you, all flushed and beautifully wrecked for me. You took me so well," he praised, his tone heavy with satisfaction. His fingers delicately traced the marks his grip had left on your neck, his mark now visibly etched onto your skin.

"You're mine, remember that. Every inch of you, every gasp, everything—it all belongs to me."

come home

[diejager]

Okay so I have kinda a prompt...and I was wondering if you could work your magic and like make it a story.. please :)

Okay so like, *reader* was at a restaurant waiting for ghost, the first date had gone so well, you were thinking of dating him seriously. However, 20 minutes had gone by and he hadn't shown up, nor was he replying to your texts. You glanced down at your phone trying to call him once more when suddenly a familiar skull mask was placed on the table. So you look up with a smile, expecting it to be ghost but it turns out to be könig, and he sits beside you and places a hand on your thigh before whispering, "I think you should be seeing someone else" or something...

Cw: DARKFIC, stalking, implied murder, implied death, obsession, possessive behaviour, tell me if I missed any.

You’d been doing so well, leaving behind the man who’d broken you, who took and took until all that was left was a dried carcass of what you used to be, a fragile version of who you once were. You cut ties with him, left him in the rubble of a shattered relationship and picked up whatever was left of your as you moved away, another city, another province and another country, as far away as you could from the monster. 

And here, you met a gentle man, as scarred and broken as you, only his were physically present, people would gawk and stare at him when yours were hidden, buried beneath your skin and sinew, chained in a spiraling mind of terror and nightmares, but you understood him and he understood you. It was a mutual understanding that you built on, stacking every moment of sorrow and agony, tearful calls and sobbing voice, making it into a tower of affection that you worked beautifully on.

You called him Simon, and he called you love. 

It was perfect, the first shards of friendship that soon became love, an intimacy you were both afraid to commit, but were willing to try, to dip your toes in shark infested waters and test your luck. It started out with subtle touches, his fingertips brushing against yours in fleeting signs of affection; then the gentle pull of his voice, calling your name whenever you were near; and the small tokens of servitude he gave away to you, spoiling you rotten with the money he has. 

It was perfect, the miracle you had always dreamed of, the beautiful thing that filled our bleak world with vibrant coloursand liveliness. You shared a kiss, your soft ones pressed against his dried ones, feeling the coarseness and curve of his lips when they moved against yours. It was a passionate one, filled with worship and love that you were both tempted with. That led to a date, lost in each other’s eyes while you swooned at him, doe-eyed and hopeful for more than what you were unafraid to give, sipping on tea and coffee for any kind of distraction for falling further into the throes of love and devotion. 

You left feeling happy, a smile shining brightly on your face until you got home and screamed out to your heart’s content, confessing to your plants and the ghosts that lived in your walls. You’d been giddy, excited for the second date, seeing the first one went so well, planning the dates and places the second day, organised half a month in advance because you were high on the pleasure. You were ecstatic, jumping to and from the walls and ceiling, like a puppy promised treats. 

And when the day arrived, you dressed up, dolled yourself up for a man your heart came to love and got to the restaurant early —too early. Seated at the reserved table and encouraging yourself with a quick monologue, unaware of the time, the ticking minutes passing in a blink until you realised Simon was twenty minutes late. You knew he wouldn’t stand you up, he was too soft with you for that, he emphasised too much with you to let you go so abruptly, but he hadn’t sent anything, no message or call. You were left wondering and worried, lost in your thoughts with no one but the screen that showed Simon’s number. You might have to-

Something was rudely dropped before you, a black fabric placed in the middle of the your table, it was familiar, but many things were black. You turned, frowning and brows pinched, ready to question the person who’d trashed your table. 

“What-” you choked back a whimper, eyes cloudy as you stared up at cold eyes, a chilling blue that would have frozen seas, “You-”

Your throat closed on itself, breath stuck at the back of it as you stammered, unable to utter a single word towards the giant in your nightmares. You could see the glee in his eyes, the squinted lids that screamed of a cruel grin, malicious yet jovial. 

“It’s time to come back home, Spotzi,” his tone was low, a deep monotone that portrayed nothing, not even a single crumb for you to decipher how he truly felt, “You’ve had your fun with him, nh?” [Sparrow]

Him? You didn’t understand what he meant. Had he meant Simon? König couldn’t be serious, you’d finally found someone who felt the same and emphasised with you, and König wanted to take it all away like he did with your life? You stared down, away from his piercing blues, the chill that ripped through you whenever you gaze at it, wandering down to his bloodied palm- They were bloody, bruised and battered. It couldn’t be, no, you couldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t dare —he would, he’d always whispered promises about beating other men to a pulp if they got in the way of his affection - obsession - for you.

Your eyes fearfully strayed from his towering form, glancing at the familiar cloth, catching the faded white of a skull dirtied with streaks of red, spotty and ripped. You recognised it, being so, so familiar with the mask as you were with the man who wore it, the soft browns and fluffy blond, the heavy bags and scars. It was Simon’s mask. A tear rolled down your cheek, falling from the fluttering of your lashes, only to be brushed away by the rough thumb of your captor.

“Do not cry, it’d eventually happen,” his attempts of soothing you were flawed, it only made you cry more, lips shaky and breathlessly choking and whimpering, “If not now, then later.”

He crouched to meet your eyes, head tilted up by your chin for König to admire you, roving over your dolled up face and the clothes you decided to wear for a man that was probably dead in an alley. 

“Come, Spotzi. I have your things packed.”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @im-making-an-effort @daisychainsinknots @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @danielle143 @tuttifuckinfruttifriday @notspiders @brokenpieces-72 @petwifed @randominstake @hayleybarnesx @shironasumi @sparky--bunny @bloobewy @cod-z @sweetnanah @aldis-nuts @evolutionarry @kaoyamamegami @cassiecasluciluce

[luvzshy]

hey, can I ask for halloween with reader? the office matching costumes (jim and pam) with reader and fans suspicious about this “friendship”

Office Secrets

Summary: Billie and her not-so-secret “friend” (you) decide to dress as Jim and Pam from The Office for a Halloween party. Fans have already been speculating about your “friendship” for months, but the matching costumes only fuel the fire. The night is filled with playful banter, hidden moments, and just the right amount of tension—leaving fans convinced there’s more between you two than either of you are admitting.

Word Count: ~1,200 words

Warnings: Fluff, teasing tension, a bit of angst under the humor, and suggestive hints.

You tug at the headband on your head, adjusting the black cat ears for what feels like the hundredth time. “Seriously, this is your idea of a costume? I’m basically wearing what I’d wear to bed, but with ears.”

Beside you, Billie smirks, rocking the iconic three-hole punch look from The Office. “Hey, you agreed to it, Pam. Don’t act like I forced you into those cat ears.”

You shoot her a deadpan look, the kind that says “this is the worst idea ever,” but really, you’re just enjoying the way she’s grinning at you. It’s the sort of smile that makes you forget the paparazzi waiting outside and the fans who’ve been tracking your “friendship” like it’s the latest true crime documentary.

As the two of you step into the Halloween party, the energy is electric. Music blares, drinks are being poured, and a few people have gone all out with their costumes—like, full-on movie-level production. But here you are, dressed in what could easily be mistaken for office wear, though the matching costumes with Billie are already catching attention.

“You know, this is basically confirmation for everyone who thinks we’re dating, right?” you murmur as you both sidestep a group of people dancing in ridiculous inflatable dinosaur suits.

Billie leans in, her voice low enough to keep the conversation just between the two of you. “Let them think what they want. Besides, you look cute like that.” Her eyes flick over you, the smirk still playing on her lips, and you roll your eyes even though you can feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Yeah, nothing says ‘cute’ like a tired cat lady, right?” You nudge her with your shoulder, trying to ignore how her laugh makes you want to smile like an idiot.

The night goes on, and while you try to keep it cool, the whole “matching costume” thing doesn’t exactly help. Every time you move through the crowd, it feels like someone’s snapping a photo, capturing you and Billie in one of those perfectly-timed moments where your hands brush, or she’s leaning in a little too close.

You catch a couple of fans whispering as you pass by, their eyes darting between you and Billie like they’re solving a murder mystery. You sigh, leaning in toward Billie. “I think we’re getting investigated over here.”

She raises an eyebrow and glances over, flashing the fans a quick smile that only makes them whisper more fervently. “Let them have their fun,” she says with a shrug. “It’s Halloween. Besides, we do look good together.”

You open your mouth to retort, but the words die on your tongue when she gives you that look—the one that makes you feel like she’s seeing right through your usual sarcasm. You turn away quickly, pretending to be fascinated by a cobweb decoration on the wall. Smooth, you think to yourself. Really smooth.

Later, as you’re both standing by the drink table, Billie casually drapes an arm around your shoulders, her fingers idly playing with the fabric of your “costume” shirt. It’s meant to be casual, but you can’t help the way your heart stumbles a little in your chest.

“Maybe next year we should go as something less obvious,” you suggest, keeping your tone light, even though all you can think about is how close she is. “Like, I don’t know, Batman and Robin. That would definitely throw them off.”

She chuckles softly, but there’s a weight behind it. “Or, we could just be honest and see where that takes us.” Her words hang in the air between you, and for a moment, all you can hear is the thump of the bass and the sound of your own breath catching in your throat.

Before you can respond, another fan approaches, dressed head-to-toe as Dwight Schrute. “Hey, Jim and Pam, right? This is so cute, you two look perfect together!”

Billie tightens her grip on your shoulders, leaning into the bit like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Yeah, thought it’d be funny, you know? Just two friends doing a cute, totally platonic costume.” Her eyes flick to yours, and you can see the challenge in them.

The fan’s grin only widens, clearly not buying the “just friends” act. “Well, you two are definitely making a lot of people talk tonight.” They give you a knowing wink before sauntering off to join the dance floor.

You let out a sigh, but there’s a small smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

Billie smirks, her arm still wrapped around you like it belongs there. “But you wouldn’t have it any other way, right?”

And you don’t answer, because for once, the sarcastic remark dies in your throat. Maybe she’s right, maybe you wouldn’t have it any other way. But for now, you’re content to let the night play out, caught between the unspoken tension and the playful smiles, knowing that by morning, the internet will be flooded with theories—and maybe, just maybe, a few of them won’t be that far from the truth.

[fairycrackhead]

𝒃𝒂𝒅 𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒄𝒆 | toxic fuck boy Gojo x toxic reader

pairing: toxic fuck boy.ᐟGojo x toxic.ᐟreader

summary: Halloween night is now engraved in your memory which you can only assume it will be for the rest of your lives. When you two should have been trick or treating as normal 14 year olds would do, you instead opt to take each others virginity’s. Now you two are stuck in an endless cycle of toxic bad romance.

warnings: mention of abuse, drunk people, porn, minors watching porn, minors having sexual Intercourse, slight degradation, having unprotected sex, mentions of pregnancy, hair pulling, mentions of murder, toxic relationship.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: this was a random idea i thought up of when i heard the song ‘bad romance’ by lady gaga on the bus the other day! anyways this is my first fic i hope you sluts enjoy :)

⎜ 11:32 pm My Bitch (y/n) : your seriously a dick yk that?

⎜ 11:37 pm My bitch (y/n): i fuckin despise u

⎜ 11:45 pm Mr. Cock (Gojo): and your telling me again, y?

⎜ 11:47 pm My bitch (y/n): bc your w/ another girl like it’s clockwork, do you not see the problem here, Gojo? i asked you to stop the bullshit.

⎜ 11:49 pm Mr. Cock (Gojo): ur not my gf. im in for pussy that’s it. yk im not a relationship guy

⎜ 11:52 pm Mr. Cock (Gojo): and yet you continue to come back to me. pathetic honestly

⎜ 11:56 pm My bitch (y/n): fuck you

⎜ 12:00 am Mr. Cock (Gojo): already needy? 😂

You should’ve known what kind of man Satoru Gojo was when you lost your virginity to him on Halloween night, 2011. It’s not like it was forced upon you, besides the occasional talk in the middle school hallway that ‘girls who were virgins were prudes’ or ‘how pathetic is it that there’s still virgins in the 8th grade’. Looking back at it now, it sounds really stupid…like really fucking stupid. All those supposed ‘women’ they would call themselves, ‘women’ who just now learned how to correctly put a tampon into the pussy that they just mercilessly shaved, (more like butchered), were all still scrawny, pathetic little girls inside. Of course hearing all the chatter about everyone’s virginity losses, the stories that were so horrific it made you wanna vomit and change schools, made you insecure on the inside. It’s not like you hadn’t thought of sex before, it just wasn’t your current desire to have some undeveloped boy’s dick in one of those…holes down there. Which also brought up another concern for you: how to even do the act. You assumed that the other person would lead (which was a bad guess because Gojo was a fumbling inexperienced idiot as well).

And it was almost nothing like the old pornos your dad had playing on repeat on the old box tv. He’d spend all his off days (which were more than days he actually got his ass up and went to work), drinking, belching, an occasional scratch of his ass, and watching naked women dance around on the grainy tv. You guys never got the money to buy a new one, maybe if he went to his job down the street at the local corner store he could afford more than the crappy ten dollar pizza down the block.

But who knows, you’ve seen those disgusting scenes, at an age way too young to even comprehend, so did you really have any knowledge? You were a curious kid, not a dumb one, you could easily depict whether or not the porn on the screen was realistic or not. Most the time it was the latter. The overdramatized moans and screams made you wince, on more than a few occasions, but it’s not like the paper thin walls separating the living room and yours did much to help. From having no mother figure to really correct your behavior, and a father that couldn’t give a fuck less, it started your one of many issues. Discovering sex at a really young age, not the act itself but any form of porn an eight year old could get their sticky, grubby hands on. The noises from the tv haunted your mind in a chilling way, making you want to stay as far away from it as possible, yet were still so fucking intrigued.

Until it was the start of the 9th grade, and surprisingly the comments the ‘women’ made in the locker rooms were still present in your mind, not surrounding your every thought, but still there deep down in the back of your mind. ‘Girls who are virgins are lame prudes’. If only you knew that those girls were bluffing about the whole virginity loss thing, but it seemed convincing enough at the time. The way they described how their ‘mans’ bent them over countless times over their granite countertops, or on the elementary school playground. It sounds absurd now, but they had big boobs, and horny teenage boys liked big boobs, so it must of been true, right?

And now here you are, at an headache inducing party, or rave, whatever you wanna call it, watching Gojo talk to yet another girl, more like plain on flirting. She seemed like one of those girls that wouldn’t know if a forty pound dumbbell hit her right in the forehead, so just Gojo’s usual fuck of the night. All he did was stare at her boobs which were spilling out the corset of her trashy costume, and make very poor conversation. What a man whore. You could see Gojo’s shit eating smirk on his lips even from far away and in the almost completely pitch black room, only flashing lights that could cause seizures giving you any sort of seeing ability.

His eyes move from her lips to her tits. Lips—tits—lips—tits. You just wanted to knock the red solo cup out of his overly large fingers and put them somewhere useful. (Such as your aching cunt just dripping in anticipation.) You wanted to go to the nearest open bedroom, drag him by is weirdly hot silver chain, and let him have at you. But you hold back your desires, trying not to let into another spiral of emotions with this man, the same cycle that’s been happening forever now.

You practically crush your phone with your bare hand after receiving that last text, but you refrain and shove it back into your bra since your day to day purse didn’t match your outfit. You take a long deep breath, one you often had to take due to Gojo’s infuriating cocky persona. Walking over to the kitchen, a mini bar was set up in this random kids house, which wasn’t even his you assumed by the family pictures propped up on basically every flat surface.

You hated the parties your friends dragged you to, you felt too old to be in the scene of just barely legal adults blacking out and throwing up so much to the point of you having to look around before walking to avoid stepping in someone’s chunky puke. But to your surprise you actually enjoyed the noise, not making it, but watching others create it. It gave you some sort of distraction from your thoughts which seemed to consume and take over your life since the 9th grade. You wouldn’t call it trauma necessarily, it’s not like you knew you had a fucked up home life until you were fresh out of high school. People on the outside saw your drunken father, crappy rundown home, and the rotational three outfits you wore each week to school and saw it has straight abuse. On some level, the lack of care you were given could be seen as abuse by default, but you were a happy kid. Sure, you were exposed to porn by the time you were eight, but it was just normal to you…in some kinda depressing fashion.

Gojo came from a completely different background, whenever you stepped into his gated community it felt like you were in some other world, an insanely futuristic environment. He was rich, but he wasn’t cocky like those spoiled brats you see on those UK television shows like Super Nanny. At least not when you two had met. It wasn’t a close friendship necessarily, but you two enjoyed each other’s company’s to the point of having sex with each other, so maybe you were closer than you originally thought.

⎜12:08 am Mr. Cock (Gojo): don’t forget you made me like this. don’t get pissy abt what u created.

You dig your phone back out of your lace bra and scoff when you see the message, your hand threatening to go find this piece of shit and chuck your phone at his big head instead. You don’t answer, stuffing your phone back where it came from. You gently push other drunks out your way, reaching for a beer from the ice chest. Using your mouth (one Gojo would call very useful and efficacious), popping it open with your canines.

One thing you loathed about Gojo (not to mention the other 52 things written in your notes) was he thought you were the reason for his ‘fuck boy’ qualities. Yes, you both took each other’s virginity’s, it’s not like he didn’t want it, in fact he wanted it more than you, judging the throbbing of his cock when he first showed it to you. It always comes flooding into your mind every night, more so each Halloween. You came to resent the holiday since it only reminded you of that night 13 years ago. Despite it being over a decade ago, you still recall the nervousness and excitement that you felt when he finally came inside you. It makes you laugh when you remember how totally freaked you were, how you thought you’d get pregnant with his baby.

At that moment you repeated over and over again how ‘this was a terrible idea’ and ‘i hate that you let us do this’. It was an all around shit show for a good twenty minutes before Gojo finally snapped and yelled at you to get over it. Besides it not being the most calm way to handle your panic, it worked. Who could blame him, he was scared shitless too. You both ended the night by trick or treating, it was a kinda dud of a night considering typical trick or treating hours ended two hours ago during your private fun. Luckily Gojo spotted a house on your near midnight walk, a load of halloween candy left in a bowl on some old lady’s porch.

“We shouldn’t-“ but of course, he didn’t let you finish, pressing a shy brief kiss on your lips instead. He had a subtle blush on his pale cheeks, a blush you would only see now during your angry make up sex sessions. Grabbing your hand, and practically dragging you to the house. “Just grab the fuckin’ candy, ya scaredy cat.” He laughs, looking around the dark streets before snagging the candy bowl with a big orange pumpkin face plastered on the front, running off.

“Gojo! YOU FUCKIN’ THEIF!” you giggle, suddenly the porch lights flicker on like some horror movie, and your heart drops into your ass. The door swung open to have your neighbor, Mrs. Miller standing there seething, her mini chihuahua perched in her arms like it was her newborn child. Gojo stopped in his tracks, still heavily breathing like some out of shape forty year old.

“Why you little!” Mrs. Miller reached out to grab you, only for you to duck her failed attempt of dragging you back. Gojo jumped up and down with an amused smile on his face, calling out for you to run faster, which you try to comply as best as possible. You run over to Gojo as fast as your legs would carry you, locking arms and running to who knows where, you can’t quite remember each detail. After that point the rest of the night was a blur to you, still thirteen years later. The sound of Mrs. Miller’s feisty chihuahua, later identified as ‘FeFee’ chasing after you being the most exciting part of the whole ordeal. Gojo and you laughing your way home, still heaving from running so fast from the tiny animal, a ‘disgrace’ to the dog community as he called it.

You both promised that after the scare of possibly having to raise a baby at the ripe age of 14, (and almost having bloody ankles due to FeFee) that fucking each other would be a one time thing.

But it wasn’t.

“F-fuck..! mhmph—God!” He continuously rammed into you from the back, his hands gripping your waist so hard it felt like you had broken bones. Your halloween costume was now thrown somewhere in the corner of this bedroom, who’s bedroom? You had no idea, but at the moment you couldn’t give two shits.

“Yeah? You like that baby?” Gojo thrusted harder, making a broken cry fall from your lips like water. “Knew you c-couldnt…resist my cock any longer, bitch.” Possessed grunts come from him at each thrust and movement he makes. Vibrations from the music of the party travel through the walls, Gojo going deeper and faster to the sound of the horrible rave music downstairs.

If it wasn’t a party, people might of thought a murder was going on by the sounds of your wails of pleasure, but it was normal to fuck at a party, no matter the location.

Tears seep into the pillow that the side of your face was squished down onto, mascara running down your face as you sob from a mixture of pain and pleasure. “Gojo!” you sob, the pleasure becoming too much to bare, yet you couldn’t get the established safe word (which you two only made in 10th grade because you overstimulated him by riding his cock to the point of him passing out) to come out. His dick was that fucking good.

The sound of his heavy, cum filled balls coming in contact with your plush ass make you clench around his length, causing an animalistic moan from Gojo. A room echoing SMACK comes in contact with your ass, making you thrust your back into him, fucking him right back. The burning of the stinging sensation leaves you wanting more, the feeling of his hand still lingering on your left cheek.

Gojo begins going at an alarmingly hasty pace, his whole body aching for more of you, all of you, every single cell. The sound of your sloppy pussy squelching each time he pulls in and out, makes the heat in the pit of his stomach rise. By now you can’t see clearly, eyes welled up with tears and the remains of gooey eyelash glue. One of his hands leave your sore hip, grasping into your messy locks, giving it a good tug “MHMP! ….F-f—fuck!” This only causes him to yank your whole head back, you look up through your lashes, which are stuck together with a mixture of glue and sweat.

“Y-yeah,” he huffs, gripping your roots to a point of it being just downright painful. “keep looking at me….yeah mhmph—j-just like that.” The intense eye contact makes his thrusts even quicker and more efficient, his fat, squishy balls hitting your puffy clit over and over. “So fuckin’ tight for me.” Another hard spank wipes itself across both of your cheeks, the jiggle of them causing yet another guttural moan from Gojo’s throat.

Your soppy wet cunt drips all down his cock, his balls picking up the reminisce of your warm, flowing juices. Gojo’s fingers unravel themselves from your now frizzy hair, the thought of having to wash it later tonight makes you internally groan. His fingers make a slow, tantalizing path up and down your back, the contrast evident between his soft, gentle touch and his monstrous rock hard cock going in and out of your folds. Your face plants back down in the tear-drenched pillow case, the bed creaking from the force of your two bodies going at it.

His slow paced, soft finger touches come to an abrupt end when it meets your soft breasts. An aching cry sounding from your lips as his pointer and thumb mesh together around your now hard nipple. “Mhm…look at you…all whiny for m-me.“ He thrusts harder, your cervix feeling almost numb and incredibly bruised. At this point, your slobbering at the mouth like a dog with rabies, eyes rolling to the back of your brain each time his cock hits every delicious spot.

Gojo’s movements start to get sloppy, as well does the kisses he starts to place on your neck, back, and shoulders. The quick erratic pace starts to slow, forearms trembling from the strength he’s used to hold them on the side of your head all night. His thrusts are slow, long, almost like he’s grinding in slow motion, yet it’s not any less effective. Your thighs begin to shake with overwhelming pleasure, the pressure your body is holding in making you wanna scream it all out. “Mhmph g-gonna cum!” You practically scream a moan out, making Gojo’s lips turn upwards in a smug grin. His lips make their way from the left side of your neck to the middle, and then to the right, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses in their wake. Dark red and purple bruised hickeys are now spread all down your body, surely to be left there for weeks to come.

“Nuh uh…not yet,” Gojo grunts as he feels your warm cunt clench around his throbbing cock for the millionth time that night. “This is my pussy…I g-get to tell you when to cum.” You almost wanna roll your eyes at his statement but your too drunk off his cock to care. You attempt to protest, the knot in your stomach becoming too hot to handle, but you get shut up right away when his fingers twist around your sensitive nipple once more, letting out a deep moan from your soul. Your hands grip the silk sheets in desperation, needing to grab something in order to keep you stable. “Mhm, tell me baby…who’s pussy is this?”

You cry into the pillow, pain, pleasure, and the feeling of being absolutely turned on in your whines. After not answering right away, Gojo grabs you by the hair again, yanking your head back, causing your neck to stretch to lengths you didn’t even know you had the flexibility to do so. “I asked, who does…this pussy belong to?” He says through gritted teeth. You feel every 8 inches of his cock in your stretched out pussy, every inch filling you up to as much as you could take. Each vein, the pounding pulse that acts as a second heartbeat, every thick, gurthy inch. When you don’t respond for the second time, too delirious to even understand what’s going on, he throws your head roughly back into the pillow, picking up his pace again.

Everything able to clench on your body does, gripping the pillow with such force that your knuckles turn white. Drops of sweat patter onto your back from Gojo’s forehead, the warm salty liquid making you squirm. Another sudden spank lands on your fat ass cheeks, and you couldn’t help but let loose. “FUCK—GOJO!” Strings of loud breaking moans and screams escape your mouth, sounding like a real murder now.

Gojo throws his head back once he feels your warm, sticky cum surround his palpitating cock. He pumps his dick back into you, pushing your cum back into your dripping wet cunt as far as his cock would let it. He himself finally let’s go, the thin string in his body snaps as his warm liquids mix with yours, in all too familiar feeling. His deep moans rush right to your core, the thrusts becoming inconsistent and sloppy once more. You hear the big analog clock from the entry way downstairs, giving you a slight reminder where the hell you were. Some random persons house, where his parents would probably be any second, and maybe you were even fucking in their bed. You bite your lip, slightly turned on by the fact of possibly getting caught, like you were a teenager back home, sucking Gojo’s cock before his father returned from work.

You whisper moan Gojo’s name over and over like a mantra, in other words, thanking him for finally giving you what your aching pussy had needed. You can tell he’s grateful too, being more gentle as if he had not just fucked your lights out. Caressing your back, like he did the first time this toxic relationship began back in 9th grade. Any memory loss from him talking to that girl just an hour ago was completely thrown out the window, even though you knew deep down you were just like her. One of his play things, the only difference was you weren’t oblivious to his motives. In fact you played into them, driving the toxicity just as much as he did. It made it fun that way. No matter how many guys you fucked, the number of cocks you sucked, the lips you kissed, none of them compared to his, and it made you feel sick in the most pleasurable way possible.

Gojo eventually pulls out, after speaking strange sweet nothings into your ear, which you haven’t heard since he was fifteen. You hated how it made your heart feel so warm, unlike the feeling of the cool air hitting your cunt. The cold air makes you wince, missing his cock already despite still feeling it’s outline in your folds. Fingers leave your hard, tender nipples, bringing them down to your dripping cunt, wiping the access off your thighs.

You start to come back to reality from the moment, the room still filled with humid sticky air caused by the amount of hot breaths and touches made throughout. The only sounds now being your heavy breathing, reminding you of the night you two ran away from FeFee, and slurping from Gojo, licking away at his fingers coated with your sweet salty release. Your folds still leaking with a mixture of your cum, trickling down your painfully sore thighs.

Gojo looks at the syrupy goodness leaking onto the silk sheets, a liquid you would only expect to see on waffles at the local cafe down the street. He finally collapses on top of you, softly massaging your right side, face pressed into the crook of your sweating neck. Placing gentle kisses on your sticky skin, bodies molded into one by your muggy bodies. You savor the moment, knowing deep down in your heart that things would go back to how they were in just a couple hours, fighting, screwing other girls and guys, and all together, a toxic romance.

You sit on the curb, voices from the party still able to be heard as you wait for your cab. You sit there like you’ve been through hell and back, you were if it meant having the best sex you’ve had in a good long while. Sitting on one cheek, the other still too sore to have pressure applied to it, you hear a ding from your phone. You wait a minute, trying to calm your pounding headache from both the alcohol and the amazing sex you just endured. The cool fall air blowing past you as you open the text you received, a small smirk tugged up your chapped lips.

⎜1:34 am Mr. Cock (Gojo): had fun. see u next halloween baby 🫴🏻🍑

[candycandy00]

Come Find Me - A Hawks x Reader x Dabi Horror Fanfic

You’re dating your childhood friend Touya, and things are going well, until you’re kidnapped and drugged by a serial killer named Keigo. 

Smut. 18+. Fem Reader. Dark Content. Noncon/Rape via drugging and Dubcon. Humiliation. Voyeurism. This is a dark, disturbing fic! 

Written for the Halloween challenge in the X Reader Lovers Community! Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more and @benkeibear!

You step out of your parents’ house, closing the door behind you and making sure your phone is crammed into your small purse. As you step off the porch and into the driveway, you hear a familiar voice call your name. You turn to see your next door neighbor and childhood friend Touya crossing over into your yard. 

“Goin’ somewhere?” he asks, glancing at his watch. 

“Yeah, just gotta grab a few things at the store for mom,” you reply. 

He stands there awkwardly for a moment, looking around. “It’s gettin’ pretty dark. Want me to go with you?”

You smile at his concern. The two of you are both in college, but still live in your childhood homes for now. Partly because you’re hesitant to separate. You’ve been in love with him since you were children, and only recently confessed your feelings to him. In true Touya fashion, he’d scoffed, looked away, and blushed before quietly admitting that he felt the same way. 

You’re still trying to navigate this new dynamic in your relationship. You’ve only been on a couple of dates so far, and only had your first kiss three days ago as the two of you sat on your bed watching a movie. Despite being adults, you feel like teenagers sneaking around. Touya suggested taking a weekend trip just to have some privacy. You’re excited for what might happen when you’re truly alone together.

“I’ll be fine,” you tell him. “I’m just going to the convenience store down the street.”

He frowns. “Yeah, but with those rumors going around…”

“I’ll take mom’s car, okay? Seriously, I’ll be fine. We used to walk to that store all the time when we were kids, remember?”

You understand his concern. For the past few months, women around your age have been turning up dead, their bodies butchered in horrific ways. Rumors have been going around that they all had one thing in common besides being in their early twenties. 

All of them had high levels of Cupid’s Arrow in their system.

Cupid’s Arrow is a new, very dangerous drug that you had zero interest in until the rumors started. After all, you’ve never tried anything stronger than some cheap weed Touya bought from a friend when you were both teenagers. And Cupid’s Arrow is powerful, with terrifying effects. 

Anyone given Cupid’s Arrow will immediately develop an intense romantic and sexual obsession with the first person they see after taking it. The effect is so strong that the user will do literally anything to please the object of their obsession, even if it results in great harm.

Apparently, some couples who are into more extreme activities like to try using it, and some couples have used it as a way of proving their trust in each other. And of course, like with all things, there are people who use it to abuse others, basically turning people into their own brainwashed sex slaves. 

The idea of these poor women being given the drug, being abused in some disgusting way, and then murdered while still on the drug, disturbs you greatly. The poor things probably laid there and let the killer chop them up, all the while looking at him adoringly. The thought sends shivers down your spine. 

Still, the women were all found near the city, not out in the suburbs where you live. And the store is close by. What kind of life is it if a grown woman can’t go to a store by herself? 

You give Touya a kiss on the cheek and climb into your mom’s car. “I’ll be right back,” you tell him. 

He still looks worried as he watches you pull out of the driveway, throwing his hand up in somewhat awkward wave. 

The drive there is brief and uneventful, and the small store is uncrowded. You quickly gather up the items your mom needed and a couple of snacks for yourself, then start toward the front to check out. That’s when you remember Touya waiting for you, and decide to pick up something for him. 

You head back down the snack aisle again, barely noticing the other person walking down it. You stop and look over the various bags and packages until you spot the strawberry pocky Touya loves. You smile to yourself as you reach out to grab the last pack. Suddenly, another hand is reaching toward the pocky, brushing against your own. 

You draw back, looking at the man standing next to you. He’s just a few inches taller than you, with wavy dark blonde hair and sharp, golden eyes. 

“Oh, sorry!” he says, his face breaking into a friendly smile. He’s very good looking, though you think Touya is much hotter. 

“That’s okay,” you tell him, returning the smile, “you can have it.”

“Oh no, sweetheart, you take it,” he says, flashing a grin. 

You blink at the pet name, but decide to quickly make it clear that you’re taken. “I was just picking them up for my boyfriend. I can get him something else.”

If he’s deterred at all by your comment, he doesn’t show it. Instead he grabs the pack of pocky and casually tosses them into your basket. “Don’t worry about it. I think I’m hungry for something different anyway.”

You’re not sure if he’s being suggestive or nice, so you give him an uneasy smile and nod before walking to the counter to pay, leaving him to continue browsing the snacks. 

When you step out into the cool evening air, you sigh as you hear your phone chime. You hope it’s not a message from your mom, adding another item to the list. You shift your bags to one arm and then dig your phone out of your purse, pausing in the middle of the parking lot to look at the screen. 

You smile. It’s a message from Touya, asking how the shopping trip is going. He really does worry too much. 

“Just leaving the store,” you type back. “See you soon.”

Just as you start to drop your phone back into your purse, you suddenly sense movement behind you. But before you can turn to look back, a white cloth covers your mouth and nose. You smell a strange chemical odor as your body becomes weak. Your bags, phone, and purse drop to the ground. 

A familiar, friendly voice at your ear says, “Sorry, sweetheart, but I’m taking you home with me.”

You want to fight, to struggle, but all strength has left your body. You’ve gone limp in his arms, and now, darkness overtakes you. 

When you wake up, you have no idea how much time has passed, and even less idea of where you are. It looks like the living room of a nice apartment, but it’s entirely unfamiliar to you. 

Blinking rapidly to clear your vision, you begin to notice other things. You’re sitting on a couch, still fully clothed, and your arms are tied behind your back with a very thin rope. You jerk against it, trying to pull free, but the knots are too strong. Your heart is racing and your head is pounding as you try to remember how you got here, to force the grogginess from your mind. 

You remember being at the store, paying for your items, then… someone grabbed you from behind! And now you remember the voice you heard. It was the handsome stranger from the snack aisle! Did he seriously kidnap you? 

As if the thought summoned him, he appears in a doorway, walking into the living room. “Oh, hey, you’re awake,” he says in that same friendly tone, as if he’s still chatting with you about pocky. He’s wearing casual clothes, ripped jeans and a white T-shirt. He looks good in them, and it makes you wonder why someone who looks like him has to resort to kidnapping women. 

Oh yeah, stuff like this is about power. He probably has no interest in girls who want him. 

“Where am I? Why did you bring me here?” you ask, trying to keep your voice calm. If there’s even a slim chance you can convince him to let you go, it’s worth trying. 

He smiles in an easy going way as he leans back against the wall. “Come on, it has to be obvious by now.”

The words, spoken so charmingly, send a jolt of fear through your heart. You look him in the eyes. “Are you going to rape me?”

He gives a dismissive wave of his hand. “That’s such a nasty term. The idea of holding down a struggling woman just doesn’t appeal to me. I want you to enjoy it too.”

You try to keep your voice even, rational. “I can’t enjoy it though. I have a boyfriend, remember?”

He laughs. “Oh don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll forget all about him as soon as I give you this.” 

From his pocket, he pulls a small clear vial of liquid. Then he walks over to a small end table you hadn’t noticed before and picks up a syringe. You feel your heart drop to your feet as a sense of dread washes over you. 

“What is that?” you ask, already suspecting the answer but unable to process the terrible truth until he says it. 

“You’ve heard of Cupid’s Arrow, right?” he asks, still acting so friendly. 

“Please don’t do this!” you cry, jerking on the ropes again. 

He steps closer as he fills the syringe. “It’s okay! Once you take this, you’ll enjoy everything I do to you. You’ll beg for my cock. You’ll want me inside you every minute of every day,” he says, standing over you and looking down with a sultry gaze. “And I’ll make sure I keep you satisfied.”

“No!” you shout, fighting against the ropes, trying to draw back away from him. 

He presses one knee into the couch beside you and holds the syringe in front of your panicked face. “I’ll make you feel so good, I promise.”

You look up at him, tears dripping down your face. “Please… don’t! I don’t want this! I have someone I love,” you plead, your last hope being to appeal to his mercy. “I’m… I’m saving myself for him! So please…”

He pauses, a flicker of surprise on his face. Then he smiles. “In that case, I’ll be real gentle with you the first time. I’ll take good care of you.”

You’re shaking your head as he grips your shoulder, holding you steady. “Please please… don’t do this!”

As you feel the needle pierce your skin and a cold sensation flow into your body, you cry out the name of the person you wish you could see just one more time. “Touya!”

You black out again, slumping over on the couch with your hands still tied behind you. When you wake up the second time, your hands are free, but your arms are sore. You’re still wearing the same clothes you wore to the store. You try to get up from the couch, but a wave of dizziness washes over you, forcing you to sit back down. 

After giving yourself a moment for your head to clear, you slowly stand back up. You have to find a way out of here before he comes back. If you don’t look at him, the drug won’t activate. If you can just find a place to hide until it wears off, you’ll be in the clear! 

Carefully, while keeping your eyes on the floor and only occasionally glancing up at your surroundings, you navigate around the coffee table and out of the living room, to the small foyer and the front door. You try to open it, but it’s locked. Of course it is. You check the knob, but there’s some sort of electric lock device that requires you to input a code. 

Maybe there’s a back door? Or a balcony? If this is an apartment, and it’s on a low enough floor, maybe you could climb over and take your chances with a fall. A broken ankle would be better than whatever this man has planned for you. 

He’s the Cupid’s Arrow killer. You’re sure of it. You still remember the report you read about one of the women they found. She was the same age as you, in college like you. And she’d been completely gutted, all her insides on the outside, her naked, butchered body tossed by the side of a road. 

You head back through the living room, toward the back row of curtains. The balcony must be there! Just before you reach them, you feel a pair of arms wrap around your body and pull you back. 

“Where are you wandering off to?” he asks, his tone as cheerful as ever. He turns you to face him, and you slam your eyes shut. 

“Come on, sweetheart, look at me,” he says, dragging you back toward the couch. 

You shake your head, screaming “I’d rather die!” You struggle and squirm in his arms, desperate to get free, but his grip is strong. 

“Don’t say that,” he says with a light chuckle, as if your battle to escape is amusing. He pushes you down onto the couch, on your back, and you feel him climb on top of you to hold you down with his body. He smells like expensive cologne, the kind of trendy stuff Touya would never wear. 

“Open your eyes,” he says, his voice finally taking on a slightly firm tone. 

You shake your head again. “Never!”

He sighs. “I’m not so bad, right? I’m hot, I’m clean, I’m funny, and I know how to please a woman. I can make you cum until you pass out. I see the way chicks look at me. They want me. You’re pretty lucky!”

Tears are leaking out of your closed eyes. “But you’re not the man I love! I don’t care how hot you are, or any of that other stuff! I just want to be with Touya!”

He goes quiet, not speaking. Is he just waiting for you to give out and open your eyes? Or is he considering your words? Without seeing the expression on his face, you can’t tell. “Why are you even doing this? If women want you, why use the drug?”

There’s a pause, then he answers. “You’ve never seen anyone under the effects of Cupid’s Arrow, have you? Most people haven’t. It’s hard to describe how incredibly hot it is, to have someone be completely devoted to you, obsessed with you, to have someone dedicate their whole life to pleasing you. When a pretty girl is crying her eyes out because she spilled a single drop of my cum out of her cute little mouth, it just does something to me.”

You sob, realizing he’s not going to let you go, and understanding what he’s going to be doing to you. All the things you wanted to experience with Touya, you’re going to be doing them with this stranger.  

You hear him sigh again. “I really hate using force, but you’re leaving me no choice here.”

His fingers are now on your face, prying open your right eyelid. You scream and buck, trying to shake him off you, but it’s no use. He’s too strong. You’re forced to look at his handsome, friendly face. 

The effect is immediate. Your body craves him instantly, powerfully. You stare up at him with both eyes open as he climbs off you and stands up. 

You sit up, your eyes drawn to him. 

“Stand up,” he says, “and take off your clothes.”

Your body obeys, standing up from the couch and peeling off your shirt. As you strip off the rest of your clothing, you realize this nightmare is even more horrific than you thought. 

Because you’re still aware of everything. You know you’ve been drugged, you know you don’t love this man, you know you don’t want to do these things with him. You know you love Touya. 

But your body is seemingly acting on its own. It wants him, wants his touch, wants to make him happy. Even as your mind screams at the humiliation of being stark naked in front of this stranger, your body heats up with excitement. With horror, you realize you’re already dripping wet. It’s a sensation you’ve only ever felt while thinking of Touya, and it makes you feel sick now. 

When he steps closer, every cell in your body wants to reach out to him, to feel his skin. But you remain still, waiting for him to give another command. 

He reaches out one hand and brushes your hair back from your face. Just that subtle touch leaves you breathless. 

“So pretty,” he says, his golden eyes traveling up and down your body. You’ve never been more embarrassed! He takes one of your hands and leads you out of the living room, down a short hall and into a bedroom. 

You know what’s going to happen, and you’re equal parts horrified and aroused. Your mind at war with your body. You open your mouth to speak, to beg him to let you go, but instead of the words you want to say, completely different words flow out of you. 

“Please, take me,” you say, your voice a desperate plea. “I can’t wait any longer!”

He smiles, and your heart skips a beat. He’s so hot, with such beautiful eyes… no! These aren’t your thoughts! The drug is making you think these things!

“Just give me a minute,” he says, “and I’ll make you feel things you’ve never imagined.”

With that, he steps back from you and pulls off his shirt. His body is well toned, his skin smooth but for the thin trail of blonde hair leading from his navel down under the waistband of his jeans. Oh god, you want him so badly! Your juices are dripping down your thighs as you look at him. But it’s just the drug. You know that. 

He pushes you onto the bed, your back against the mattress, then climbs onto the foot of the bed, on his knees. He pushes your knees apart, spreading you open for his gleaming golden eyes to drink in. For once, the two warring sides of you have the same reaction: your heart racing wildly, but for very different reasons. 

“I said I’d make you feel good, right? So just relax,” he tells you, his warm hands sliding under your ass to lift your hips up slightly as he bends forward, licking one stripe up your drenched pussy. 

The pleasure is electric, shooting through your entire body with such a simple motion. It must be the drug. You squirm beneath him, arching your back, wanting more. And he gives you more. 

His tongue pushes in between your slick folds, quickly finding your clit and licking it with the kind of expert precision you’d expect from a guy who bragged about how much he could make you cum. You’re engulfed in pleasure, even down to your curling toes, as his lips surround the delicate nub and suck on it softly, his tongue circling the tiny tip. You’ve never felt anything so amazing in your life. 

And you hate it. Because he’s not Touya. Because he’s doing all this against your will. Because forcing you to enjoy it all with drugs only fucks up your mind even more. 

When you cum, trembling and gasping, you feel ashamed, like you betrayed the man you really love. Tears leak out of your eyes, either from being overwhelmed by pleasure or some remnant of your true feelings. The stranger raises up and brushes them away with his thumb. “It’s okay,” he tells you in a sweet voice. “Just let yourself feel it.”

His kindness makes your heart flutter. This drug is making you fall in love with him! No, that’s unbearable! He’s taking your heart as well as your body! 

He sits back on his knees in the bed, your legs still spread open before him, and unbuttons his jeans. You watch in breathless anticipation as he pulls his cock out. It’s a little longer than you expected, and much thicker. The girthy organ is already hard and glistening at the tip, ready to violate you. 

You try to will your voice to scream, your hands to shove him away, your legs to close. But your body doesn’t belong to you anymore. Cupid’s Arrow saw to that. 

The man pauses, looking down at your flushed, teary face. “Oh that’s right, I haven’t told you my name,” he says. You simultaneously have no interest in it and are dying to know. “It’s Keigo. So you know what to scream out while I’m fucking you.” 

He says the last part with a wink. As if he’s being cute, and not about to rape you. It nauseates you. “Please,” you say, your voice not belonging to you, “fuck me, Keigo!”

His eyes light up with excitement as he pulls your body down the bed, closer to him, lining himself up with your entrance. “I said this before, but I promise I’ll be gentle with you, since it’s your first time.”

You want to sob. This was supposed to happen with Touya! All you can do is close your eyes and try to block this all out as you feel him ease his way into you. As promised, he’s gentle, going very slowly and carefully. The drug is making you love it, making you want all of him inside you, filling you up completely. 

He’s stroking your hair lovingly, kissing your lips as his firm body brushes against yours. He looks so good above you, his hair falling into his eyes as he gazes down at you, his hard cock gradually pushing further into your wet, eager pussy. But you don’t want this! 

Your arms encircle his neck, pulling him closer as he finally bottoms out inside you, the stretch giving just the right amount of pleasant sting. He waits for a moment, looking into your eyes, then kisses you deeply as he begins thrusting. His tongue is in your mouth, invading it, just as his cock is invading you. His thrusts are slow and deep, intimate in a way that horrifies you. 

This isn’t a simple fucking. Even a virgin like you can tell that much. The way he’s taking his time, maintaining eye contact, caressing your body… he’s making love to you. It’s so much worse than if he’d just dragged you into an alley, fucked you, and left you behind. Because this is agonizingly slow, and it’s a violation of everything you are. 

This is going to break your mind. 

Tears are coming out again, despite your moans and cries of pleasure. Keigo pauses and wipes your tears again. “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

The question makes you want to scream. Is he really this delusional? But you smile up at him against your will and say, “No, it just feels so good!”

He smiles. “I’m glad. I want you to feel good,” he murmurs between kissing you, going back to thrusting into you again, this time a bit harder. “I want you to feel nothing but good, forever.”

One of his hands slides down between your bodies, his fingers finding and stroking your swollen clit. Your body twitches, arching against him, your breaths hitching. “Ahhh… Keigo!”

You’ve never felt anything like this, nothing so incredibly powerful. Your pussy clenches around him, desperate for him to cum inside you, your arms are around his neck, clinging to him like a true lover as he draws a second orgasm from your trembling body. 

He stares at your face as you cum, and you’ve never felt more humiliated. A stranger is seeing all these intimate parts of you, when you only ever wanted to show them to Touya. 

Keigo kisses you again, then plunges in deeply and releases his load, filling you up. You want to scream again, repulsed by the possibility of being impregnated by this monster. But your body craves it, hungers for his cum, clamps down on him to milk him completely. 

True to his word, Keigo is gentle with you for the rest of the night, even as he fucks you three more times. It’s only the beginning of your nightmare. 

************************************

Touya sits at his dad’s computer, one hand sweaty on the mouse and the other gripping his own knee strong enough to bruise it. He swallowed his pride and asked his asshole father for help after his girlfriend had been missing for three days. Being the son of the police chief had its advantages. 

His father stands behind him as he clicks play on the video file. It’s security camera footage from the convenience store she went to, on the night she disappeared. Touya watches as she walks out of the store, bags in hand. She pauses and digs her phone out of her purse. Is that when he sent her a text? 

Then a blonde man emerges from the store, goes up behind her, and holds something to her face. She struggles for a few moments, dropping all her stuff, then goes limp. 

Touya feels like he’s just watched a video of his own death. 

Someone took her, the love of his life, the girl he’s adored since he was five years old. For a man to take a woman by force this way, there’s no doubt he intends to harm her. The thought makes Touya’s blood boil. 

“Who is he?” Touya asks, his voice low.  

Touya’s father hesitates for a moment, as if he’s trying to think of the best way to say something terrible. Then he sighs and answers. “We don’t know his name, but we’ve seen him before, in other security footage.”

Touya turns around in the chair to look at his father. “Other footage? He’s been involved in other crimes?”

Again, a moment of hesitation before his father delivers the devastating answer. “He’s been seen grabbing other women this way. They were all found dead later. Touya, he’s the Cupid’s Arrow killer.”

Touya feels his heart stop, feels the entire world fall away as the words sink in. This man has her. He’s pumping her full of a drug that will turn her into his sex slave, which means he’s definitely raping her. Then he’s going to kill her in some grotesque and painful way. Touya can’t think of anything more nightmarish.  

He wants to smash the computer, charge out of his house and track that blonde asshole down. But he takes a few deep breaths and tries to calm himself down. He’ll never find his girlfriend if he lets his rage blind him. She needs him now more than ever. 

He’ll find her. Even if he has to turn the world upside down. 

“No one knows who he is?” Touya asks. 

His father shakes his head. “His face is never visible in the footage. We can’t ID him based on hair and build alone. He clearly knows what he’s doing.”

Touya turns back to the computer, rewinds the footage, and watches it again. It feels like stabbing himself in the heart, but he forces himself to watch it several more times, burning the image of the man into his brain. 

For the next week, Touya sits in the parking lot of the convenience store, watching every person who goes in or out. If the killer came here once, he could come here again.

On the sixth night, Touya is beginning to lose hope when he spots him. A guy who looks just like the man in the footage parks a vehicle near the edge of the parking lot and walk into the store. Touya’s heart pounds as he watches the man come back out, carrying a couple of bags. The man is smiling to himself as he climbs into his car and pulls out onto the road. 

Touya follows him, staying back far enough to avoid detection but close enough to see any turns the car makes. Eventually the bastard pulls into a high end apartment complex just inside the city. Touya parks far away, and watches from a distance as the man gets out of his car. He’s whistling to himself, the sound echoing in the parking garage, as he gets into an elevator. 

As the doors close, Touya rushes over to see what floor the elevator stops on. Fifth floor! Touya sprints to the stairwell and hurries up the flights of stairs, hoping he’s fast enough to see which apartment the man goes into. He’s panting by the fourth floor, cursing himself for not working out more when his brothers invited him to the gym with them. But he reaches the fifth floor quickly, and carefully opens the door, peeking out around the edge, hoping to see the man without being seen himself. 

To Touya’s surprise, the hall is empty. The man is nowhere to be seen. Was Touya too slow? That would probably mean he’s in one of the apartments closer to the elevator, right? Maybe he could knock on a few doors, pretend he’s looking for a lost pet. 

Touya steps out of the stairwell and begins walking down the hall, passing several apartments and a maintenance room. Just as he gets close to the elevator, a white cloth suddenly closes over his mouth and nose. His mind races, remembering the images from the security footage, understanding that the same thing is happening to him. 

“I don’t know why you’re following me,” a voice says, “but we’ll figure that out when you wake up.”

And then, everything goes dark.

When Touya wakes up, he finds himself in a hardback chair in a living room, his arms tied securely behind his back with thin but sturdy rope. His ankles are tied to the chair legs. He squints his eyes at the brightness of the lighting, trying to force himself to focus on his surroundings. 

Before he’s fully alert, however, the blonde man walks into the room and sits on the couch, relaxing into it as if he’s entertaining a guest. He’s holding something in his hand, and it takes a moment for Touya to realize it’s his own driver’s license. 

The man smiles at him in a friendly way. “So you’re Touya,” he says, as if he’s heard all about him. “It’s nice to meet you. I can guess why you’re here.”

It looks could kill, Touya would have murdered this man in seconds. “Where is she?”

“She?” the man asks, a phony innocent expression on his smug face. 

Touya jerks against the ropes, then glares at the man again. “You know who I’m talking about.”

“Oh, you mean my new pet? She’s in the bedroom, all spread out for me, waiting for me to fuck her pretty little pussy.”

For one brief moment, Touya feels white hot rage fill every inch of his body. He yanks on the ropes so hard, it’s a miracle he doesn’t break his own bones. “Fuck you, you fucking loser! Can’t get a woman to let you fuck her without drugging her, huh?!”

The man laughs. “Before Cupid’s Arrow came along, I was fucking so many women I got bored. I wanted something more.”

“What? You think she loves you?!” Touya yells. 

“To be honest, I don’t care if she actually loves me. All I care about is feeling loved. And she definitely makes me feel loved.”

Touya looks at him with disgust. “You’re fucking sick. Why kill all the others then? Didn’t they make you feel loved?!”

The man’s smile fades. “The problem with Cupid’s Arrow is that it wears off if I don’t keep injecting it. So when I ease them off the drug and they start screaming, well, I don’t feel so loved anymore. But,” he says, his eyes gleaming, “I heard a rumor that certain people, when given the drug long enough, are permanently affected by it. It never wears off even after they stop taking it.”

“So you’re just gonna keep kidnapping and murdering women until you find someone like that?” Touya asks, his patience growing thin. 

The man grins. “Oh, I don’t have to do that anymore. I found her.”

Touya’s eyes widen. “You’re fuckin’ lying.”

“I haven’t given her the drug in three days. It should be out of her system by now, but she’s still completely obsessed with me.”

Touya gives him a murderous stare. “I don’t believe you.”

The man is still grinning. “Why don’t I show you? I’m sure she’s crying by now, thinking I’m neglecting her. She probably doesn’t even remember you at this point, but I’ll let you see her, since I’m such a nice guy.”

He turns his head toward the doorway leading to a short hall. “Sweetheart, come in here! We have a guest!”

Touya’s eyes are glued to the doorway, desperate to see her, to confirm she’s still alive, but terrified to see what’s been done to her. 

She appears like an angel, positively glowing. She’s wearing nothing but frilly pink panties and bra, something she would never choose for herself. Touya grew up with her. Of course he’s seen the plain straps of her sports bra and the occasional glimpse of her striped cotton panties.

As she steps into the room, her eyes fall upon Touya, and she seems to freeze for a moment. Touya sees it, the flicker of recognition in her eyes, the flash of relief to see him again, then the horror she must be feeling to know that he’s going to witness whatever this monster has been doing to her. 

Touya knows, because he researched Cupid’s Arrow extensively after finding out who had taken his girlfriend. He knows that many people reported still being aware of everything while under its influence. That look in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. 

She walks over and sits beside the man on the couch, no longer looking at Touya. “Keigo~” she purrs, “come to bed!”

So his name is Keigo. The sick fucker. He wraps an arm around her. “But I have a guest. Why don’t we put on a little show for him?”

There it is again, a look in her eyes that Touya is sure only he would recognize. Her facial expression is cheery and excited, but her eyes show her true feelings. 

Keigo gives her arm an affectionate squeeze. “Come on, sweetheart. You know what I like when I get home.”

She giggles, and it sounds so different from her normal, genuine laugh that it makes Touya’s stomach churn. Then she slides off the couch and to her knees in front of Keigo. She doesn’t look back at Touya anymore, only focusing on opening Keigo’s pants and pushing her head forward. From this angle, Touya can’t see every detail, but it’s obvious that she’s sucking Keigo off. The wet, slurping sounds fill the room. 

Touya turns his head, unable to watch. 

“Hey,” Keigo says, “she’s working so hard to put on a show for you. It’s rude not to watch!”

“Fuck you!” Touya yells, still not looking. 

Keigo grins. “Maybe later. I have more Cupid’s Arrow on hand.”

Touya feels like gagging. The thought of being forced to be intimate with this asshole disgusts him. Then he remembers that she’s been suffering that exact fate for over a week. 

“If you don’t watch,” Keigo says, “I’ll make her do something gross or painful. If I tell her to, she’ll eat literal shit from the toilet. Or I could make her pluck out one of her own eyes.”

Feeling more enraged than ever, Touya looks at the couple, watching his girlfriend’s head bob on this monster’s cock. His eyes meet Keigo’s. “I’m gonna fuckin’ kill you for this.”

Keigo suddenly grips her hair. “Ahh, just a minute Touya, I’m cumming in your girl’s mouth.”

Touya jerks at the ropes again. This time, it feels like the one on his left wrist is a little looser. 

Keigo is patting her head. “Good girl, you didn’t spill a drop.”

She glances back at Touya, and her eyes are wet, but she doesn’t say anything. 

He looks straight at her. “It’s okay, baby. I know you don’t wanna do this. I know this pathetic asshole drugged you. I’ll get you out of here, I promise!”

Keigo stares at him for a moment, his eerie golden eyes sharp. Then he suddenly claps his hands once as if he just had a great idea. “I think I’ll do you both a favor, since I’m in a good mood! Sweetheart, crawl over there and suck Touya’s cock.”

Touya feels like his blood just froze in his veins. “Don’t make her do this!” he shouts. 

She looks at Touya, and though her eyes look mortified, her lips curve up into a smile. “Of course, Keigo. Anything you want!”

She crawls across the floor to Touya, looking him in the eyes. When she reaches him, her hands slide up his thighs and find his belt, unbuckling it and then opening his pants. 

“I’m sorry,” he tells her. “I’m so sorry for what he’s done to you. But it’s almost over.”

She has no reaction to his words, instead reaching into his pants and pulling out his soft cock. “Aww, it’s not hard yet,” she says. 

Touya thinks this situation is just about the least sexy thing he can imagine, but her soft hands wrap around him and begin gently stroking. This is too cruel. Touya has dreamed of being touched this way by her since he was a teenager, and now it happens in the worst way possible for both of them. 

When she begins licking his tip, his cock starts to stiffen. It’s purely a physical reaction to the stimulation of her touch, but it makes him feel ashamed. He doesn’t want her to think this clear violation of her is actually turning him on. 

She takes him into her mouth, her sweet, pillowy lips gliding up and down him, drenching him in her saliva. He can’t help thinking of that day, sitting on her bed, when she kissed him. He’d wanted to go further, and was sure she did as well, but her parents were downstairs and the thought of them walking in was too awkward. 

His idea had been to plan a weekend getaway for just the two of them. Now he wishes he’d just gone for it, because he hates for this to be their first intimate moment together. 

Regardless, his body is responding to her, even though he’s nowhere near in the mood. And after several minutes, he feels his climax approaching. She must feel it too, because her lips clamp around his base as he cums. She sucks him dry, swallowing every drop, then finally pulls away and stands up, walking back over to Keigo. 

“So who’s cum tasted better?” Keigo asks her. 

She sits down beside him and snuggles up to him. “Yours did of course!”

Touya pulls on the rope again, acting as if he’s just blindly jerking on it out of rage, but the left wrist is getting looser. If he can just work it a bit more…

“Oh, but you haven’t been satisfied yet, have you sweetheart?” Keigo asks. 

Touya knows where that question is leading, and feels his heart sink. He has to get his hand free, and fast! 

Keigo grins right at Touya as he tells her, “Why don’t you ride my cock like you usually do?”

*******************************

If you could kill Keigo, you would. But your body doesn’t belong to you. He’s already made you do suck horrifically embarrassing things in front of Touya, you could die of shame. And now he wants more? 

This is the worst possible scenario you could imagine. To have the love of your life watch you do these things with another man is nothing short of a nightmare. Any joy you felt at seeing him again was replaced with terror. Is Keigo going to kill him? 

Your body stands up and faces Keigo, but he turns you around to face Touya. He clearly wants to torment both of you. He slides your panties down and you step out of them. Touya averts his eyes. 

“Now, now, Touya,” Keigo says, “What did I say about you not watching?”

This monster is using threats to force Touya to watch. Your face burns when Touya’s beautiful blue eyes shift back to you. He has an apologetic expression. Somehow he knows you’re aware of everything. He knows you’re still in here. 

With your beloved boyfriend watching, you ease back into Keigo’s lap. You can feel his erection pressing against you. Despite your shame and horror, you rise up slightly and line him up with your entrance, then sink down onto his cock. 

Keigo’s hands are on your thighs, keeping them spread open so Touya can see his cock plunging into your dripping pussy. Touya looks horrified, but under the drug’s influence, you begin riding Keigo, bouncing up and down on his meaty cock, moaning his name as if you love him. 

Your eyes meet Touya’s, and his expression softens. “I love you,” he says. “Nothing this sick fuck does can ever change that!”

Oh, Touya! How you wish you could tell him how you feel! 

Keigo slides one hand up your thigh and uses his fingers to spread your folds, then begins rubbing circles into your clit. Your back arches as you cry out in pleasure.  

“See, Touya?” Keigo asks. “I can please her better than you ever could. She likes having her clit played with, right sweetheart?”

“Yes!” you scream, riding him harder, your traitorous body chasing its climax. You’re so close! You lock eyes with Touya again as you say, “I’m… I’m…!” Your body wants to say you’re cumming, but for just this moment, staring into the eyes of the man you truly love, your heart wins out. 

“I’m sorry, Touya!” 

The words are forced out through your unwilling mouth as tears drip down your face. Touya’s eyes widen. Keigo pulls you off him and shoves you to the floor, clearly alarmed by your tiny spark of free will. Then, all at once, chaos erupts. 

Touya’s hands snap free from behind him and he lunges across the room, dragging the chair still tied to his ankles along with him. He tackles Keigo to the floor and begins punching him with both fists. Keigo tries to block them with his arms but Touya’s unbridled fury overwhelms him, and soon Keigo’s face is a bloody mess. You watch in stunned silence. The drug is telling you to pull Touya off him, to try to help the man you’ve been forced to adore, while your heart is telling you to help Touya mangle him. 

In the end, you do neither, and Keigo eventually stops moving. You know he’s dead before Touya even stops punching him. 

The effect is immediate. Suddenly, you’re so obsessed with Touya that you want him to take you now, right next to Keigo’s bloody corpse. 

Cupid’s Arrow is still in effect, but with Keigo dead, the target of your obsession is the next person you laid eyes on. 

Touya pants for a few moments after killing Keigo, then flops over onto his ass and begins untying the ropes from his ankles. Every little movement he makes is beautiful to you. 

To be honest, it’s not so different from how you viewed him before. 

He quickly crawls over to you and wraps you in his arms. “It’s over, baby, I’ve got you!”

You look up at him with glistening eyes, then wrap your arms around his neck. “Touya! I love you so much!”

He pulls back slightly and looks at you. “It transferred to me, huh? I read about this. It’s okay, we’ll get you to a hospital and they can pump the drug out of your system! You’ll be okay!”

You try to kiss him, but he blocks you. “Touya,” you whine, “I’ve wanted you for so long! Please…”

“I want you too,” he says, “but not when you’re drugged. We’ll have plenty of time together after you’re better.”

You pout as he stands up and helps you to your feet. “Get dressed,” he tells you, and you follow his command as he searches the apartment for his phone, finding it on the kitchen counter and then calling the police. 

The next few weeks are a blur. Keigo’s death is ruled as self defense, and you go through extensive testing and treatments at the hospital. They determine that you’re one of the rare people who are permanently affected by Cupid’s Arrow after having high doses injected for several days. The doctors say there’s a chance you’ll recover someday, and recommend that you stay near Touya for your own mental health, since the two of you already had a long relationship. 

You’re not too bothered by it. Because you love Touya and you know he loves you. 

But Touya is struggling. He finds it difficult to resist your advances, but he doesn’t want to take advantage of you. Even though you’ve tried telling him you really do want to be with him, he’s afraid it’s the drug talking. For weeks, he doesn’t touch you. 

The first couple of times he wakes up to find you sucking his cock, he gently pushes you away. After seeing your distraught reaction however, he begins letting you continue until he cums in your mouth. He always looks at you with a guilty expression afterward, and it breaks your heart. 

It’s two months after your rescue before he finally eats you out, after you spend days spread out on his bed, tearfully begging him to give you release.

Gradually, his resistance crumbles more and more, until he’s fucking you into the mattress every night, his face buried in your shoulder, murmuring, “I’m sorry!” over and over like a mantra. 

You really do want him, but he doesn’t know it, and that uncertainty has him consumed by guilt. He thinks he’s doing the same thing Keigo did to you, and that haunts him, even as he thrusts into you so deeply that you see stars. Your cries of ecstasy might as well be cries of pain to him, and it eats away at his mind. 

Maybe someday the effects of the drug will wear off, and you can tell Touya how much you love him, how much you want him every day. Until then, you can only watch him spiral into self loathing as your body sings with pleasure. 

[johnpriceslamb]

hihi could u maybe do an arthur morgan x fem!reader??

i was thinkin about the reader being really upset about something and which arthur (being that kinda person) he noticed quickly, they walked to his tent for then the reader to be comforted by arthur morgan (he isnt good at comforting but he tries real hard,, take ur time ofc! we love u-🎀

𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝔀𝓷,

❥ You’re sad. Arthur finds out and comes to comfort you.

𝓑𝓔𝓕𝓞𝓡𝓔 𝓨𝓞𝓤 𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓒𝓔𝓔𝓓 ! ꒰ female ! reader . hyper-feminine ! reader . reader is mentioned 2 be physically shorter than characters mentioned below . crybbie reader sorraiiii . Karen’s a meanie pants but she loves reader . 1.1k wrd count. ꒱

❥ Arthur Morgan x female ! reader

You’re sensitive.

You don’t mean to be, but sometimes you take what people say a bit too seriously.

It’s not a bad thing to be sensitive, but you’re in a gang. A gang filled with murderers, thieves, criminals, whatever. You’re prone to being teased and made fun of- even more likely due to your soft nature and demure figure.

Usually, you spend your time doing chores or assisting Pearson with cooking. What you lacked in strength and courage to be able to hold a gun, you made up with your skills in being able to feed the gang actual food, instead of.. the usual stews Pearson made.

From then on, you gained the honouring title of ‘Pearson’s assistant.’

Then again you’d much prefer being referred to your actual name.

“—‘n I’m just sayin’..” The woman in blonde stirs her spoon in the stew you made, mindlessly blabbering about.

Karen was a sweet girl, she really is. But sometimes, she enjoys talking. A bit too much.

“You ain’t really uh.. fit for all this.” She gestures to camp.

Ouch.

You shrink in the log you sat upon, meekly fiddling with the utensil in your hand. You get where she’s coming from, but nevertheless you still took it to heart.

“Karen!” Mary-Beth softly hits her upper arm, a scolding tone picks on, “C’mon, lay off it.”

She shrugs. “‘M just saying what everyone wants to hear. It’s like seeing a fawn amongst a pack o’ wolves.”

She’s blunt. You’ve known her for a while, considered her as a friend. And you knew well enough that she does not sugar coat things. You’re not sure if you should take what she said as a compliment or not, but regardless you still feel a bit embarrassed at the fact that you didn’t really fit in.

“H—Hey,” You feel yourself crumble at the fact that your tone took on a higher pitch as a defence mechanism and the stuttering which makes her point stand even more bolder, “I’m.. I’m trying, okay?”

Karen looks at you with a demeaning expression. That’s all it takes to shut your pretty little mouth up.

Then, she lets out a soft giggle.

“C’mon girl, y’know I was just jokin’. You just sit there and look pretty for us.”

You take this as an opportunity to leave, going on with your day but with a heavy heart.

You find yourself near the lake which is situated just right beside the camp, staring off at the distance with a long look. You know Karen was just playing around, but you still can’t help that little sharp pang in your heart.

You don’t notice the approaching steps from behind. You hear the sound of fabrics scrunching together as they squat behind you, a warm hand lays gently on your shoulder.

“Hey.”

You tilt your head upwards, eyes landing on the loyal enforcer of the gang.

“Hi,” You whisper back. Unconsciously does your head lay on his chest, and almost immediately do you feel better being in Arthur’s embrace.

His arms wrap around you, a gentle kiss is placed on the side of your head. He lovingly looks at you, cold eyes which softens at the sight of his sweetheart. It falters a bit when they see those pretty eyes glimmer in the light.

“Y’alright?” He asks with a tone of concern. His arms tighten at the sight of your vulnerability.

“Mhm.” You meekly nod, feigning your expression with a soft smile, “I’m fine.”

“Mm.” His upper eyelids cover half of his eyes. His expression was almost lazy, dog-like. “No use lying to me, sweetheart. Yer lips quiver when you do.”

You almost melt at how lovely his voice sounded.

“C’mon,” He gestures for you to stand up. He lends you a hand for you to aid yourself onto your two feet, a hand rests upon the curve of your hip to guide you to his tent.

“Where we goin’?” You ask shyly, leaning into his touch.

“My tent. We’re goin’ to talk.” He replies blankly.

You don’t say anything until you’ve reached his tent. He guided you to the edge of his bed, allowing you to sit. He sizes you up a few times, quietly admiring you for a moment before sitting next to you, knees touching.

“What’s wrong, hm? Why’s gotten my girl so down?” Your hand unconsciously grabs onto his to squeeze, fiddle around with. He wants to chuckle at your puppy-like neediness but forces himself not to.

“..Just some stuff Karen said.” You meekly explain, fiddling with his fingers, “Said ‘m not really fit for.. any of this.”

“She said that?” He says with a frown, scratching at his strong jaw.

“Mm,” You nod.

“‘Reckon she’s right.”

“Eh?” You almost pout at how immediate he was to agree.

“Hey, c’mon. I ain’t even get to finish. I mean, she’s right. You don’t fit in. You’re too good for any of this.” He explains himself, biting his lip to prevent himself from doing anything to you. Your eyes did a lot to him, unbeknownst to you.

“Way too good.” He mumbles, lovingly rubbing circles on your little palm.

“You really think so?” You ask with a shy smile.

“I know so.” He nods, leaning in to press a little kiss on your forehea. He leans back to peer at your face again.

“C’mon, I know you.” He sighs, “Don’t let Karen’s words get to your mind. Even if you don’t really fit in, yer still one of us now. Y’hear?”

You shyly nod. With just one nod down to his lap do you immediately crawl towards him, cuddling up to him like a bug in a leaf.