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parkerslatte · 7 days ago

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One Year

Thanos/Choi Su-bong x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: usual squid game stuff. blood and gore. injury. mentions of suicide. mentions of addiction. drugs. soft thanos. slight canon divergence.

Summary: After an argument about money and debts, Y/N left Thanos. A year later she meets him again in the games yet he does his best to ignore her. During the game of Mingle, Y/N gets thrown out of her room and Thanos comes to her rescue.

Squid Game Masterlist

“Are you being serious?” Y/N asked, sitting down on the chair in disbelief.

Su-bong paced in front of her exasperated. “It was meant to make us more money! You can’t blame me for trying.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I told you when you first told me about it that it was a stupid idea. Not only did you ignore me, but you invested more than you said you were going to. And not just your own money, you took some of mine too!”

Su-bong rolled his eyes and Y/N chuckled. How he could be annoyed with her was beyond her. “I can’t believe this. I really can’t.”

“I can do something,” Su-bong said, a hint of desperation in his tone that he was clearly trying to hide. “I can start writing songs again. I can–”

“Don’t lie to me or yourself,” Y/N snapped. “You have been saying that for the past year.”

Su-bong scoffed. “You try to do something like that again when you are turned into a laughing stock!”

“And who’s fault was that?” Y/N said. “I was the one who advised you to not take those pills before the performance and you did it anyway. You have no one to blame but yourself.”

“Aren’t you meant to be my girlfriend? Isn’t it your job to support me?” Su-bong questioned.

“I do support you, but I know when to draw the line,” Y/N replied. “I don’t support you basically gambling your entire life savings and mine all on what was clearly a scam from the start. I don’t support you going out every night getting high using pills you bought with my money. And as far as I know, you are supposed to support me too.”

“I do support you,” Su-bong defended, clearly offended.

“Give me one example where you supported me over the past year,” Y/N said. Su-bong remained silent, giving Y/N the answer she needed. “The fact that you can’t even name one explains it all,” Y/N said. “You weren’t there for me when I was fired from my job. When my father was sick. When I broke my leg and could barely get around.”

“I can support you,” Su-bong said, grasping Y/N’s hands. “I can get us money. I can get it back–”

“No,” Y/N said and pulled her hands from his. Despite how she felt in the situation, she couldn’t help but miss the warmth of them. But she knew that what she was about to do was the right decision for her. “I can’t do this anymore. Not only did you continuously lie to me, but you stole money from me dragging me down with you.”

“Y/N, please,” Su-bong begged. “Don’t do this.”

Y/N pressed her lips into a thin line. There was a time when they had had this conversation before. Then she had stayed and Y/N was coming to realise that it was a stupid decision. Despite it all, she did still love him. But she couldn’t forgive him–not this time. “Are you begging me only because you have nowhere else to go or because you still love me?”

There was a brief moment of hesitation. It was at most a few seconds but those few seconds were arguably the most important. “Of course I love you!”

Slowly, Y/N nodded. “I see.”

“Y/N, please,” Su-bong begged. “I’ll get a job. Fuck, I’ll get two jobs. I can fix this.”

“You are over one billion won in debt!” Y/N exclaimed. “Do you really think a few shitty jobs are going to fix that anytime soon? At least my job pays a decent wage but it is still nowhere near to pay off my own debts which you forced me into. No, I’m done this time,” Y/N said, keeping a steady tone despite the way she wanted to cry out and forgive him instantly. “Please leave. I’ll have your things sent to you.”

“You can’t kick me out!” Su-bong exclaimed.

“You don’t rent this apartment, I do,” Y/N said, avoiding his gaze. “Please leave Su-bong. You’re making this harder than it needs to be.”

He scoffed. “I can’t believe I ever loved you.”

Y/N’s gaze remained fixated on the table before her until his footsteps grew distant and the front door was opened and slammed shut, plummeting the apartment into silence. The moment she knew she was actually alone, Y/N allowed the tears to flow. She knew that this decision was for the best, after all their relationship over the past year had been far from a whirlwind romance. Y/N couldn’t remember the last time they had even slept in the same bed.

But somehow she already had the urge to run out and tell him to come back and that they could work everything out together. Y/N’s hands gripped the arms of the chair, grounding herself. She couldn’t do that. Leaving him was for the best– even if she didn’t believe it just yet.

***

The platform began to move, the number of players in the room was considerably less compared to the first round. She was standing on her own as she looked at the puddles of blood on the floor. There had yet to be someone Y/N had become allies with, the group she was with for the pentathlon were already a small alliance of four and she only joined them because they needed a fifth person. Everyone else already seemed to have their own group apart from her.

It wasn’t that Y/N hadn’t tried. The moment she had seen her ex-boyfriend run up to that voting button and confidently chose to continue the game, she had tried her best to speak with him. Despite the fact that she was the one who broke up with him, it was nice and comforting to see a familiar face, even if that familiar face was high out of his mind every single time she tried to speak with him.

Four different times Y/N had tried to speak to Su-bong and each time he wouldn’t give her the time of day. It irritated her more than she cared to admit though deep down she couldn’t blame him. After all she was the one who had kicked him out.

She glanced at him from across the platform and noticed him already staring at her. Upon noticing this, he quickly looked away from her. If she made it through this round, she would make him speak to her whether he wanted to or not.

“Two players,” the voice called out.

There was no hesitation as Y/N grabbed the person closest to her and began to drag them to the yellow room right before her eyes. The round was carnage as people pushed and shoved and fought each other to get to a room in time. There were 126 players left, only 100 would be able to make it through the round.

Just as the person she dragged opened the door, Y/N spared a glace in the direction Su-bong ran and found him and Player 124 dragging people out of the way of the door before running into it themselves. Y/N turned back to her room and slammed the door behind her just as Su-bong looked in her direction before he slammed his door closed.

Once the door was closed, Y/N allowed herself to breathe and finally relax for a moment. She looked at the person she had dragged. “Are you okay? I didn’t hurt you when I dragged you, did I?”

Before the woman could even muster a response, the door was forcibly pushed open and a firm grip squeezed Y/N’s arm, pulling her out of the room as an older man forced his way inside.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Y/N yelled, kicking and hitting the man as he tried to push her out of the room.

“I’m not dying today!” the man hissed.

Y/N pulled her arm from the man’s grasp and before he knew it, a fist was flying at her face, her vision blurring immediately. A force pushed Y/N outside of the room and she fell to the floor.

“Fuck you!” Y/N yelled at the man inside.

Y/N glanced around at the clock and panic instantly rose within her. There were ten seconds left on the countdown and all hope left her body. There was no possible way she was going to find a partner and a room in time. Y/N slowly stood to her feet, already accepting her fate.

There were a few people still on the platform either hurt from someone or accepting their fate. Others were still trying to force their way inside rooms and fight for them. Slowly, Y/N closed her eyes. At least in her final moments she wouldn’t have to see the carnage surrounding her.

Before Y/N knew it, she was quite literally swept off her feet. Her eyes opened and immediately recognised the mop of purple hair and she let out a small noise of surprise. Without a moment of hesitation, Su-bong ran into a blue room and slammed the door behind him just as the door locked, breathing heavily.

As the gunshots sounded out, his grip tightened on her as he slumped down to the floor, Y/N still in his arms.

“Su-bong?” Y/N muttered, still in disbelief that he had saved her. She stood from his hold and shakily got to her feet.

“Why were you just standing there?” Su-bong asked, raising his voice. “Do you want to die?”

“I was thrown out of the room,” Y/N said. “There wasn’t enough time to find someone else and find a room.”

Su-bong stood to his feet, his eyes wide. “Why wouldn’t you at least try?”

“Why would you care?” Y/N said. “Evidently from the way you have refused to even speak to me here, you wouldn’t care whether I lived or died.”

“Of course I care!” he exclaimed.

“Then why haven’t you spoken to me since we’ve been here?” Y/N questioned. “I have tried so many times to speak with you, thankful to see a familiar face, and you have shut me down every single time! Is it about the drugs you’ve been taking? I know that I don’t like it when you take them but honestly right now I don’t care. All I have wanted to do is speak with you.”

Su-bong scoffed. “Now you want to speak to me? What about the past year? You never wanted to speak to me when I reached out.”

“The circumstances were different and you know it,” Y/N snapped.

“How?” He asked. “I’m just doing exactly what you’ve been doing to me.”

Y/N sighed, forcing herself not to roll her eyes. “For once, imagine being in my place. Imagine supporting your partner for a year after their career took a plummet, you start paying for everything. Food, clothes, sometimes even their drugs when they begged you.”

At that statement, Su-bong glanced down at the necklace hanging from his neck.

“Then you find out that they had an amazing idea to invest in crypto that turned out to be a scam,” Y/N continued. “Not only did they stupidly invest their entire life savings, but then you find out that they have been taking small amounts of money from your account too. Now leaving themselves in debt as well as you. In between all of this, imagine them going out early in the morning and either returning high out of their mind where you need to stay up and take care of them all night or they don’t return at all and you spend the whole night worried about where they are and if they are even alive.”

Y/N took a step closer to Su-bong. “Imagine if our positions were switched. You wouldn’t want to speak to me again either. But you have no idea how hard it was for me, because despite it all– somehow I still loved you. You fucked me over and I still loved you.” A shaky breath left Y/N. “So, I’m sorry if I didn’t want to talk to you. I’m sorry if I ignored you for a year. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more to help you, but I needed to put myself first for once.”

The silence in the room was deafening. The gunshots had ceased and the guards were clearing up the bodies. The numbers who hadn’t made it sounded through the speaker but Y/N didn’t listen as she only stared at Su-bong who hadn’t met her eyes the whole time she spoke.

Slowly she took another step towards him and brought her hand up and placed it under his chin and forced him to meet her eyes. “You always did have trouble making eye contact when we were having a serious conversation.” His pupils were blown wide from the pill Y/N had watched him take before the game. “Why did you save me?”

Su-bond blinked once, then twice as if he was confused by the question. “What?”

“I watched you run into a room with your friend, pulling people out of the way for it. You were safe. Why did you risk your life to save me?” Y/N asked.

“You were watching me? Señorita, I’m touched,” Su-bong said, his tone flirtatious. Y/N knew this behaviour all too well, sometimes she used to fall for it.

Y/N frowned. “Be serious for a minute. I don’t want you to be ‘Thanos’. I want you to be Su-bong. My Su-bong.”

Surprise seemed to fill his eyes and he seemed to unconsciously lean into her touch as his eyes flicked to the side. “I watched you run into a room, I thought you were safe so I entered a room. When I looked out and saw you were standing outside, I ran out without thinking.”

“Did you know that there was a room available?” Y/N questioned.

If possible, the room became quieter. “Why did you do it?”

“I couldn’t leave you out there,” he admitted. “I couldn’t leave you to die.”

“But you could have died in the process?” Y/N questioned. “How stupid could you be?”

Su-bong’s eyes met Y/N’s once more. His pupils were still dilated but Y/N could see his true emotions shining through clear as day. Vulnerability.

“Do you know where I was when that man in a suit offered me that card?” Su-bong said, his voice strangely quiet. “I was on a bridge ready to jump and take my life. So I don’t care if I die in these games. But if you died, I couldn’t handle that. When I ran out, I thought that we would either both live or we would both die.”

Su-bong’s hands slowly moved until they held onto Y/N’s waist. The feeling of it so familiar but so foreign. “I tried to convince myself that I didn’t care about you, that if you died, I wouldn’t feel anything. I tried to convince myself that I was angry at you for turning your back on me. But when I saw you standing outside that room prepared to die, I realised that none of that was true. I still love you, baby. Even though I’m pissed that you joined these games.”

“It’s not like I had any choice,” Y/N shrugged as she cupped his face gently, her eyes stinging.

Su-bong glanced down guiltily. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” Y/N said, her thumb brushing along his cheekbone. “Someone who wasn’t sorry wouldn’t risk their life to save their ex-girlfriend who kicked them out with nowhere to go”

A huff of a laugh left Su-bong as he dipped his head down resting his forehead against Y/N’s. “Looking back, I can’t blame you.”

Y/N’s eyes closed as she savoured the feeling of his closeness. If she imagined hard enough, she could pretend that they weren’t trapped in a series of deathly games. They would be in her apartment, her doing her own work while Su-bong worked on a new song, happily sitting side by side. Just how it was for four years before his career blew up and things spiralled from there.

“Vote to leave,” Y/N whispered. “We can get out of here and we can work things out. I know that you said that you…don’t care if you die in these games, but I don’t want to watch that. If we vote to leave, we can pay off our debts together and work things out between us– properly this time.”

Suddenly a warm pressure captured Y/N’s lips. The feeling was one she had missed. Her body fell into his as she wrapped her arms around Su-bong’s neck as she deepened the kiss. His arms wrapped around her waist before he turned their bodies until her back was pressed against the wall.

Y/N pulled away and allowed herself to look into Su-bong’s eyes for a brief moment before she leaned in once more. The kiss held a hint of desperation behind it, as if one of the guards would enter the room and gun them down that very second. Su-bong’s hands slid from her waist to her hips, giving them an experimental squeeze.

A content sigh left Y/N as she threaded her fingers in his hair and Su-bong smiled into the kiss. He pulled away, breath mixing with hers. “Jump, señorita,” he muttered.

“I always hated you calling me that,” Y/N mumbled against his lips.

“You loved it,” Su-bong replied as he picked her up and her legs immediately wrapped around him as he deepened the kiss.

It wasn’t until now when Y/N realised how much she had missed him and how perfectly they fit together. It had been a year since he had last touched her this way and it was as if no time had passed.

“I missed this,” he muttered, lips attaching to her jaw before peppering soft kisses down the side of her neck.

“Me too,” Y/N sighed, tilting her head back as she savoured the feeling of his lips on her skin. She could only wish that they were in her apartment, gradually making their way towards the bed.

Instead Y/N was brought back to her harsh reality.

“Attention players, the game is now over.”

The door clicked and unlocked and Su-bong reluctantly detached his lips from Y/N’s neck. They stared at one another breathlessly. Y/N’s legs were still wrapped around his hips and her fingers were tangled in his hair– only messing the strands up even more.

Slowly, Su-bong set her back on her feet, hands slipping up her body to her waist. The footsteps of the other players broke the two from the daze they were in as Su-bong slowly stepped back, allowing Y/N space to step away from the wall.

“We can get out of here together,” Y/N whispered as she slipped her hand in Su-bong’s. “Please vote to leave.”

The door was opened and a guard stood in the threshold, gun clutched in their hands unafraid to use it. Y/N and Su-bong slowly stepped out of the room and joined all of the other players as they exited the game. Neither of them spoke though their hands remained clutching one another tightly.

“Thanos!” Player 124 said as he nudged Su-bong’s shoulder. “What was that for? If it weren’t for those pricks outside the room, I’d be dead.”

“You’re alive aren’t you?” Su-bong said the tone of his voice shifting to something more distant. A tone he never spoke to Y/N in. A tone that she knew was purely for other people.

Player 124 glanced at Y/N and his eyes trailed down to where her hand was linked with Su-bong’s before his eyes fixated on the red patch stuck to her jacket. A quiet huff of acknowledgement slipped past his lips. “I hope this bitch won’t make you change your mind about playing one more game.”

Su-bong’s head whipped around fast to face Player 124. “Don’t fucking call her that, man.”

Player 124 laughed. “Whatever you say. But remember. One more game.” He slipped back into the crowd of people– significantly smaller than when they had first entered.

“You need to make better friends,” Y/N commented watching Player 124 leave with distaste.

“And you need to make friends,” Su-bong defended as he pulled Y/N along with the rest of the crowd. “I’ve seen you sadly standing around on your own since we’ve been here.”

“Sorry for not wanting to get attached to anyone in a place where I could die,” Y/N replied.

Su-bong huffed a laugh and squeezed her hand. “You have me now.”

“Only until the vote?” Y/N asked, her heart dropping slightly.

There was a brief moment of hesitation as he glanced down at the blue patch on his jacket. After a while he slowly nodded and Y/N let out a soft sigh of relief.

“Only if you promise to not kick me out again,” Su-bong muttered as he threw his arm around Y/N’s shoulders, keeping her pressed to his side.

“I promise,” Y/N replied as he pressed a kiss against the top of her head. “Only if you promise to work things out between us.” Y/N glanced at his necklace. “That includes your addiction. I know it will be hard, but I will be with you every step of the way.”

Su-bong looked at the cross necklace hanging from his neck and let out a long sigh. “Okay, señorita. You have a deal.”

“I told you not to call me that,” Y/N muttered.

“I know that you love it,” Su-bong said. “You always did. Especially when I–”

“Let’s leave that talk for when we are out of this hellhole,” Y/N said, lightly shoving him away from her.

A quiet laugh left Su-bong as Y/N looked up at him, a small spark in his eye shone brightly. It was the first time she had seen it in years. Y/N’s lips twitched up as she savoured his touch, hope filling her heart for the first time she had woken up in this god-forsaken place. Y/N linked their fingers together once more as they walked through the colourful staircase for what would hopefully be the final time.

#squid game #squid game x reader #choi su bong #thanos x reader #thanos #choi su bong x reader #player 230 #choi seunghyun #squid game thanos

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milawritess · 23 days ago

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what cannot be said will be wept – gojo satoru

pairing: Gojo Satoru x Reader synopsis: following the events from wherever you go, that's where i'll follow, the reader becomes incredibly sick. Satoru drowns in his guilt and reader struggles to grapple with the loss of her cursed technique. tags/warnings: angst, fem!reader, swearing, depression, guilt, dark thoughts, loss of identity, loss of powers, descriptions of gore/horror, tragedy, mentions of blood, breakdowns, reader is sick, Satoru doing everything he can to keep you afloat word count: 3.3k next entry: ii series mlist

The first few nights were unbearable. You made it—you survived, but you weren’t the same. Not even close. You were a fragmented, splintered hallow. You were nothing but a ghost haunting your own body. The weight of your fragility sat heavily in the corners of your home, creeping into the space where laughter once lived.

At night, you’d become so still, so quiet of breath, that Satoru would have to put his finger under your nose to see if you were still with him. There were nights when your heart betrayed you, skipping several beats or stilling altogether, long enough to drive him to the edges of panic.

Baby, baby, wake up, Satoru would whisper in dread. It was only when you groaned that he sucked in a breath, drawing in the air his lungs were burning for.

What? You would murmur, confused and disoriented. He’d suddenly pull you close, resting his head between your breasts as he listened to the only rhythm that brought him solace.

Satoru found himself waking you up often. Soft kisses graced your face—your eyes, cheeks, and brushes against your lips. Other nights, he’d shake you awake in fear and trepidation. Your heart was too weak. The second sleep found you, it began to give.

He could hear it, see it.

Sleep was lost on him. He couldn’t risk it—could grapple with the chances of waking to find you—his entire world gone. You had come back to him, yet, for weeks, you straddled the line between being alive and moving to a place he couldn’t reach or follow.

He couldn’t grasp, couldn’t fathom that even now, he was on the verge of losing you.

“There are just some things I can’t heal,” Shoko told him one night. She arrived at his estate after he called her in a panic. You were cold as ice, and you struggled to draw breath. “There’s scarring in her frontal lobe… and there’s other damage that looks like it’s been there for a while. Maybe if I had caught this sooner-“

The damage was too great. He knew that’s what Shoko really wanted to say.

There was so much more he needed to say to you, so much more he needed to make up for.

Some nights, he grew bitter. You couldn't leave him—you wouldn’t dare. Not after everything you’ve been through together, not after loving him and making him feel love's perfect ache; not after you stripped him bare as you deprived him of pride and all resolve, rendering him down to nothing but a man on his knees, worshiping at the gates of your light.

You undo him so wholly and completely.

This wasn’t fair. Even with the powers most gods craved, he couldn’t protect you from this. What good was all this power if he couldn’t keep you? The best parts of you, the dark and wretched—all of it, everything—belonged to him. He loved the darkest shades of you, the brightest, and every color in between.

When you were consumed in an unholy flame, one only he could ever reach beyond, he was housed by your warmth—reborn into something more glorious than the last.

When had you fallen so cold?

You had ascended onto him like nightfall, only to ignite and burn his world to ash. Yet, you sparked something within him in the echo of oblivion—a fire born of devotion was marred to his heart.

He wasn’t going to let you off that easy. Death wouldn’t be enough for you to escape him.

”You don’t get to leave me,” he whispers against the shell of your ear. “You’re not going anywhere. Not from me.”

It was a rare moment of wakefulness. Your eyes flutter open, a dopey smile gracing your lips. You say his name. “Satoru,” you murmur. ”what are you talking about?”

He brushes the hair from your neck, kissing your cold skin. “I’m talking about you, sweets,” he moves up, kissing your cheek. “I need you to get better. We’re not out of the woods yet.”

You take in a long, shuddering breath. You couldn’t deny what you said now when you felt it in your bones. “I won’t leave,” you promise him gently, breathing slowly as sleep tugs at the corners of your consciousness. “Where else would I go?”

He takes time off from work shortly after. Well, he more or less just stopped going to work. He kept your condition close like a secret. Outside of the kids, Principal Yaga, and Nanami, no one knew what happened to you, and he would keep it that way. He didn’t need the higher-ups catching wind of this.

It was just a precaution, his way of protecting you when you couldn’t protect yourself. You had enemies just as much as he did. He thinks he’d break the world in two if they ever touched you.

However, Gojo couldn’t just wait and do nothing. He had to keep you comfortable, keep you warm. After cranking up the central heat and lighting a fire, he noticed you responded positively. It was far from comfortable for him, but it wasn’t about him, even if, most nights, sweat beaded on his chest and forehead. It was about your recovery and giving your body what it desperately needed. Heat. A heat, he fears, even as he eases you into a tub of the hottest water he could get from the faucet in his master bathroom, wasn’t enough.

However, this was a start in the right direction. Your eyes fluttered open as your body sank into the steaming water. “This is nice,” you utter. “Really nice…”

“Hm, good,” Satoru says, grabbing the shampoo bottle. “Glad to be of service.”

You hum pleasantly as he starts massaging shampoo into your hair. “How many days has it been, Satoru?”

“Not sure what you mean, sweets.”

“Satoru,” you sigh softly. “How many days since the incident?”

He pauses for a moment before his fingers continue rubbing the suds into your hair. “Fifteen days.”

“And yet, I don’t have a lick of cursed energy…”

“Hey, easy there,” he wipes the subs that threaten to fall into your eyes with his hands before grabbing your face and pinching your cheeks together. Just as you were about to swat him away, he kissed the pout off your face with one long smooch. “Take it easy, grumpypants. You’re still recovering.”

“Yeah, but for how long,” you mumble. “It’s never taken me this long to recover my cursed energy before. I just– I don’t feel the same.” Satoru takes a deep breath, watching as you stare down at the water, your fingers mindlessly fiddling with the necklace around your neck. “You shouldn’t have to be taking care of me like this or taking time off from work. They need you, the kids need you–”

“You need me,” he gently corrects. “The kids are fine, and Nanami has been covering for me.”

“Yeah, but–”

“You act like this isn’t something you’d do for me if I needed you.”

You look at him, eyes misting over. You reach for him, your arms wrapping around his neck. He didn’t care if he got wet as he held you, his hands rubbing softly at your damp back. “I really love you,” you tell him, burying your head into his neck. “I really do. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, silly girl. I’m here. I’m with you.”

Weeks pass, and things only seem to get worse.

You could hear their whispers, see their pitiful glances, and see how they all tiptoed around you. It made you furious. It wasn’t a loud, fiery rage that once fueled you. It was quiet and insidious—burning cold and cutting deeper than any wound you’ve experienced. You hated their pity, their careful steps, and how they looked at you as if you were a ghost.

You had once been a force that could not be ignored or buried away—a wild inferno in a world that always tried to snuff out the smallest of embers. Your power was born of defiance, a testimony of your will, even vengeance.

You weren’t always good. At times, you think Satoru forgets that.

Yet, against all odds, every attempt to diminish and erase you from the annals of time, you remained unbridled, unbroken. You bore no titles and came from no golden lineage; it was your strength alone that helped you carve your place in the world and carve your name into the sun. You were powerful. Unforgiving. You weren’t something to be protected and admired; you were destruction, born of dark weather and chaos.

And yet, you fell.

A part of you wonders if this was the price to be paid for your transgressions—a quiet, unrelenting suffering that hollowed you out from the inside. It was almost poetic in it's cruelty, as if the weight of your sins could only be balanced by the weight in your chest.

Your flames, once roaring and defiant, sputtered and dwindled. For a while, you believed it was exhaustion, but you knew, deep in your bones, you weren’t the same. At first, you told yourself that you had endured far worse. You strappled the line of death more times than you could count. Sometimes, it was fury that had you crawling from your grave. Others, it was vengeance fueled by the fire meant to burn the pyre of your enemies and all those who wronged you.

But, your fire hadn’t just dimmed and weakened. It was gone. The power, once flowing through your veins like lava and liquid gold, was replaced by a cold and suffocating emptiness. Even if the taste of ash lingered and the scent of black smoke permeated your nostrils, you weren’t the same.

You were only six when your cursed technique appeared. You’re incapable of remembering what led to such depravity, such evil, or maybe you couldn’t bring yourself to remember why the people of your village tried killing you. You didn’t remember much of your childhood, but you remember those laughs that still haunted you in your dreams—the same laughs you heard as you were thrown into a ditch your small hands and feet couldn’t have hoped to crawl out of.

They doused you in rum and lit a match. When the fire ignited, you were left to burn into nothingness. You remembered the feeling of each nerve ending igniting, the excruciating pain that consumed you. You remembered how your scream became a soundless cry as your vocal cords were scorched. You remembered the smell of your burning hair and flesh, the way flames licked at your eyeballs until you were blind. You remembered the end coming suddenly, but not quick enough. You remembered crying for a mother you couldn’t remember, a father that never protected you.

Then, you remembered how suddenly the word came back. The flames became nothing but a gentle sting. Your flesh mended, and when you drew breath, a black smoke filtered into your lungs, giving you strength. You could taste the ash, and the blood in your veins began to boil. You were born again amongst the flames that once brought you so much agony. You ruled them—fire incarnate: destructive, yet devastatingly alive.

You hadn’t just lost your technique. You were stripped away of everything you had ever been. Perhaps what stung the most was how the world kept spilling. You were a woman of no renown, no legacy to speak of. And now, you had no fire to prove you had ever been worth anything at all.

You wonder—had you ever been as strong as you truly thought? Or were you a flame burning on borrowed time, destined to extinguish into nothing?

You wanted to be forgotten. You wanted to disappear, to return to your flames. You had once despised them; you thought they cursed you with the wickedness they were born from. But, even so, it had been yours. Even if the world always thought you were more of a monster than a sorcerer, perhaps one more terrifying than the curses conjured from the worst parts of mankind, they were yours. And yet, you were lost without them.

You had survived because you had felt the touch of love, came to learn to accept it, and nurtured it with a darkened heart and two hands. Love yanked you back to the surface, yet a bitter and selfish part of you wondered at what cost?

You wondered if he thought of you differently, if his love was slowly fading along with you, but you were too afraid to look. He had already told you once that you weren’t nearly as strong as you thought. He was right. You were a failure.

You still loved him. You don’t think you could ever stop loving him, but that love became so twisted—tangling with your hurt, your pride, and your inability to forgive everything but yourself. His kindness became suffocating; his attempts at assurance only ever reminded you of what you lost. Every look of concern or sympathy—real or imagined—was a dagger to the chest. He would leave eventually. He’d grow tired of your ups and downs and how your sweetness could so quickly transform into bitterness.

Even as your strength slowly returned—enough to move without sleep constantly tugging at your consciousness or being teethed to IV drips—the hallowed absence of your cursed energy remained. It had become stagnant, hitting an invisible barrier you couldn’t push or break, no matter how hard you tried.

“Baby?” Satoru whispers out for you one night. You don’t respond, but he knows you can hear him. “Can I come in?”

You make no effort to move or stand. You were frozen, lost in a grief you don’t think you could ever escape. You were on your bathroom floor, heaving over a toilet with a hand pressed to your chest as if it were the only thing keeping it from caving in. He wonders if you still have the ability to sense his presence—if you could sense that he was there waiting for you.

“Go away,” you told him. You didn’t want him to see you like this, not with blood poring from your nose and dripping from your lips. You were sick. You were scared, angry, and so fucking confused. You didn’t know what was happening to you or how to make it stop it.

“You know I can’t do that…”

He wouldn’t leave you—not when you needed him; not when the love remained, even if it was buried under mounds of hurt and pain. It would be the greatest betrayal, even if you begged for it.

However, he wouldn’t push you. So, he lies on the cold wooden floor, his back pressed against the door. Even with five feet between you two, he felt as if you were going somewhere far, somewhere he couldn’t reach. Again.

He goes silent for a moment, searching for the right words that seem so out of reach. He doesn’t think there is anything he could say to make this better, but he could try.

“I used to think for a while that my life had no happy ending,” he says, voice low and steady. “But, then, I met you. Your power drew me in, yeah. But do you know what else did? Those rare smiles. I wanted to be responsible for them—all of them.” Even as you remained silent, there’s no shying away from the emotions his words sturs. There's no escaping him.

“It was how you demanded a whole room with just your presence. I admired how you loved and hated in equal measure. I loved your wickedness and cunning wit. You dared to challenge the world, and I–” His voice dips lower. It's only to you that he reveals these fragile, intimate parts of himself. “... You made me believe in something more than myself.”

“I’m not the same,” you swallow hard, throat tightening as tears threaten to spill once again. “I’m not… I’m nothing like the woman you met.”

“Good,” he says simply, voice firm. “Because I don’t need her. I need you. Even when you’re angry and hurting or think you’ve lost everything, I’ll still need you.”

You turn your head to the door, his words settling over you like a blanket, heavy and warm. Your gaze falls to the floor, finding the faint shadow of him waiting for you.

“I’ve hated myself for so long for not being able to stop what happened to you. I feel like I failed you—failed you in every way that mattered.” His head falls back, thumping against the door. He loved you. He knew he did because he could feel it in the way his heart ached for you—in the way your pain became his pain. You’re still the woman he admired; you were still the woman he longed for. You’ve never needed power to rule over him, yet he doesn’t know how to make you believe that. All he has is his heart, which he bears to you with two trembling hands. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.”

And finally, as tears gather in your eyes, you realize he wasn’t here because he pitied you. Satoru wasn’t conditional—he didn’t know how to love in halves. You had always felt it, the lingering truths caught between two hearts. But now, he was here, baring it all—leaving no room for doubt or space for denial.

He loves you.

“Your fire isn’t just in your technique—it's in everything you do, angel. It's in the way you look at the world, how you fight for what you believe in, and even the way you love… it used to scare me,” he chuckles gravely. There wasn’t ever a moment, he thinks, that he wasn’t enraptured with you. He can’t recall a time when he hadn't been caught in your obit and seized in the invisible weight of your gravity.

Your eyes fluttered close, your breath catching as his words settled over you. For the first time in a long while, you feel something other than the crushing burden of loss. You feel him, steady and unwavering. You don’t know if you should cry or let yourself fall into him entirely.

“Satoru,” you trembled. “What’s happening to me?”

One thing Satoru could never do was lie to you. Not even about this, as his heart nearly fails him. “You're displacing more cursed energy than you’re retaining. It’s making you sick.”

A shuddering cry slips past your lips. “... Am I dying?”

You hear him move behind the door. His voice, steady but tense, cuts through your panic. “I��m coming in.”

“No, don’t–”

But it was too late. A locked door wasn’t enough to stop him. The knob crumbles under the force of his grip, a deafening crunch filling the room. Yet, despite the raw display of his strength, he pushes the door open with a gentleness that makes your chest ache.

You were terrified, your hand pinching harder against your nose that refused to stop dripping blood. It was everywhere—soaking your shirt, trickling down your arm, dripping to the floor, and piling between the cracks of the tiles. You tried to clean it up, but it just wouldn't stop.

His eyes are a bit wide as he takes you in, but he doesn’t reveal much. His expression is unreadable as he drops to his knees. You crawl backward until your back meets the tub. “No, no, no, stop–” but it was futile.

Blood stains his shirt, his hands, and smears across his cheek as he drags you into his arms. He doesn’t seem to notice—or maybe he doesn’t care.

“Satoru–”

“I don’t care,” he says sharply. His hands cup the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair as he presses you to his body. “I don’t care about that. Just… stay still. Breath,” he murmurs. “In and out. That’s all you have to do right now.”

You cry with such an unalloyed and raw pain that robs you of breath. It starts low, guttural, crawling from the deepest parts of you. It carries jagged edges, and swells into a sound so consuming, it drowns out everything else. Shaking, shuddering, choking—you fall apart, gasping for air between waves of anguish.

Satoru loses track of time suspended in the purgatory of your suffering.

“I’m not leaving,” he promises, trembling against you slightly. “And neither are you. I already told you before that you’re stuck with me.”

a/n: since my first fic did so well, i decided to make a mini-series depicting readers recovery :) feel free to send requests if you have any. i can either make a small blurb, a headcannon, or even make an entire chapter out of it. also, sorry if there are any typos its getting late lol

on a different note, i sincerely hope you enjoyed this chapter. my goal was to capture the readers suffering and Gojo's guilt, and i truly hope i did it justice. i also added a little bit backstory for the reader! i wanted to add layers and reveal that she's an imperfect character. regardless, i sincerely hope you enjoyed. please let me know your thoughts!! I would love to hear them :)

also, i know the kids weren't in this chapter but don't worry! they'll be around very soon!

lastly, thank you all so much for the overwhelming love and support on my first fic. i'm beyond grateful that so many of you enjoyed my writing. it genuinely means the world to me! your encouragement and kind words warmed my little heart.

as always, likes, comments, and reblogs are always appreciated <3

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storiesoflilies · 3 months ago

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a touch of salt, a taste of flesh

synopsis: in which toji cannot decide whether or not he wants to eat or love the pretty little human he saved from drowning. w.c: 2k.

pairing: merman!toji fushiguro x f!reader.

warnings: mature themes! mentions of gore and blood, mentions of drowning, open ending. sfw but MDNI!

a/n: if you saw me post this yesterday no you didn’t. please don’t let the fic flop this time lol. heavily inspired by this delicious art!

divider / ao3

the ocean loved to keep her secrets.

she coveted every single one of them, for each was a precious pearl of knowledge about her soul. to know even a single one was to be doomed to a life of fear, to be at the mercy of her passing whims, because you could never tell when she would decide to punish you for it and bash you into pieces.

she didn’t think she knew anything at all about the ocean.

but here she was, coughing up salty secrets trapped deep within her lungs.

again.

while a pair of green eyes watched her.

they were always watching her.

“why do you continue to tempt the sea?” he purred, a slight smirk touching his lips. “little human”

little human.

because that is what she was, and what he most certainly wasn't.

it was in the way he smiled at her – cold and dark and cruel as the smothering sea that had tried snuff her out, curling around her throat like tendrils of seaweed.

a dark, shark-like tail rose from the sea as the creature tilted his head, wet strands of his black hair dripping to the side. he winced every time she coughed some more, as if it were far too loud for his liking, and looked down at her like she was a grain of sand stuck between his scales.

she probably was nothing.

especially not to something like him.

“do you really need to know what it’s like when death creeps up on you?” he continued, dismissively waving a clawed, scaly hand at her. “i could always just tell you how it feels.”

she sucked in a shaky, pathetic heaving breath of sea air into her chest, still gasping and sputtering onto the white-washed sand. the coarse grains scratched her palms painfully, and she tried to calm herself, breathing in and out with the rise and fall of the tide.

his eyes narrowed playfully, thin slits of green in the night. “there, there. you’ll be just fine.”

she didn’t feel like she would be.

there was nothing comforting about him at all.

he was a predator.

his teeth were just that little bit longer than they should be – sharper, pearlescent, and flashing dangerously in the silver moonlight. even though this was the third time he has saved her from succumbing to the depths of the sea, she still didn’t know why he had saved her, or why he still continued to.

but it had to be for something.

or else, he wouldn’t have saved her the first time. he would have let her fingers disappear beneath the waves forever, let her sink to the bottom of the darkest ocean. he wouldn’t keep on watching her from the shoreline, circling round and round the island like a shark drawing ever closer to its prey.

waiting to strike, ready to bite.

“why?” was all she could muster in a hoarse voice, sand tickling her throat.

“why?” he repeated, that saccharine smirk playing on his lips again. “why what, little human?”

“why do you keep on singing?”

the green slits widened a fraction, and he started to laugh. her heart hammered against her chest, and she was afraid she might have said the wrong thing.

“is that what you would call it?” he asked incredulously, a sprinkle of offense creeping into his voice. “singing?”

she gulped.

what else would she call it?

that was what it sounded like to her. she would sit beneath a gnarled tree at the cliffs’ edge, where the earth dipped sharply towards the sea, its rocky face curled over the sea like an old man’s wrinkly hand. there, she would listen, trying to make sense of the strange words wafting from his tongue in the salty breeze.

she would’ve started a war for him.

would have shoved her arms into the bodies of the bent and broken, rummage through all their bones to offer him their still-warm, unbeating hearts.

but there was something in his haunting baritone that made her want to cry, to surrender to the sea, naively believing she could somehow help save him from his own restlessness. to block out the echoing memories that, in that moment, were blurred together and she wasn’t sure if they belonged to him or her.

there had to be some kind of magic involved.

because tonight was the third time she had heard his haunting song.

and the third time she had mindlessly wandered into the arms of the ocean and her false welcome, full of promises she had no intention of keeping.

despite knowing full well that she couldn’t even swim.

his laughter died with the wind, a low, lilting hum lingering at the edge of his words. “maybe you shouldn’t be listening so closely,” he murmured, his eyes heavy with something that looked like hunger. “the sea doesn’t sing for humans.”

he drifted a touch closer to where she was lying, slicing through the shallow water like a blade. she sat up straight, digging her heels into the sand to scramble away from him.

“and yet, here you are,” he said, amusement curling his lips. “again.”

she licked the salt from the cracks in her lips, stuttering, “i-i don’t k-know why.”

maybe it was her obvious helplessness, or perhaps he could smell her hopeless desperation like rotting flesh, but his eyes softened.

“it’s the call for my…” he trailed off, smacking his lips as he searched for the word. “heart.”

he said the it disdainfully, like he didn’t really want to believe he had a heart at all. she couldn’t imagine that he had one either, or that it wanted for anything beyond his most base desires.

flesh and blood.

“your heart?” she repeated in disbelief.

he glowered at her, his tail flicking through the water in annoyance. “yes,” he said, adding much more quietly. “and it seems i’ve found it.”

run away, now.

“w-what?” she sputtered, salt-coated sand flying to the back of her throat.

the creature grinned widely, mischievous fangs glinting, “oh, you know, little human.”

she did know; she just didn’t want to admit it.

“i-i never– i don’t understand.”

“no? then why do you keep trying to swim to me?”

she didn’t know what to say to that.

it was silent for a long time, the sweeping sea moving backwards and forwards like the ebb of time between them. she could see more of him too, even though she knew better than to look.

and he was beautiful.

his tail was longer than she thought, silky smooth and gray like a shark’s was, marred with pink scars and rakes as deep and painful as the ocean. it curled high above his head as he lay belly down in the sand.

oh, but his eyes.

they were a chest of shimmering emeralds, locked onto her every minuscule movement. but his pupils were infinite, a black hole of mysteries and knowledge of ancients city that had come and gone, of seas of blood and red misery.

yet, he was here, on this unremarkable beach at the edge of the world, calling for his heart – for her.

and she’d somehow answered.

“what’s your name?” she blurted out.

there was a strange rumble in his chest before he replied with, “toji.”

toji.

it reminded her of the cold kiss of winter, the inevitable conquest of snow over the trees and blooms, covering everything in its white death. he belonged to the ice-covered seas of the north and south, definitely not from places where the sun and joy pierced through the waves.

there was no doubt that toji was king of those icy seas, reigning supreme over the darkness found within the kelp forests of the deep trenches.

“how old are you?”

toji tilted his head curiously, completely silent as he pondered and searched for an answer.

“how long have humans sailed the seas?”

how very lonely.

she knew she shouldn’t feel anything for toji, least of all feel sorry for him. but here she was, itching for him to take her hand and drag her into the depths he called home. maybe that was what his song meant; perhaps all he wanted was someone to share in ruling over the ice and sea.

how ironic that she couldn’t even swim.

he drummed his sharp fingers against a closed fist, slow and irritatingly suspenseful. “you’re bleeding, you know?”

she frowned and looked down at both sides of her palms, between her pruned fingers, and then further down.

oh.

there was a small stream of blood beneath her left foot, trailing toward the sea before being swept away with the tide.

straight towards toji.

that was when she saw the dangerous twitch dancing on his scarred lip, and she realized just how long he had been holding back for.

“i’m sorry,” she whispered breathlessly, and she truly meant it.

toji’s eyes narrowed again, but there was a spark of anger in them this time. “don’t apologize,” he hissed. “never– not for that.”

for that, for bleeding.

would a shark thank her for covering up a wound?

she didn’t think so.

toji asked for her name, and she offered it freely, willingly. he repeated it loudly, the deep baritone of his voice starting to sing her name in an increasingly agitated-sounding tone.

mine, mine, mine.

her name wasn’t her own anymore.

he was looking at her now, like he wanted to slice open her chest, pull out her heart, and play with the strings that made it beat. to shove his fingers into her aorta to say that he had been really inside her – his – heart.

mine, mine, mine.

and then, his cold hand was gripping her ankle, claws lightly digging into her skin.

she let out a yelp as toji dragged her toward him, the sea rushing over her cheeks and into her ears. he was on top of her, the wetness of the sea bleeding into her, his weight heavy and suffocating, pushing every bit of air out of her fragile lungs. his fingers dug deep into her thighs, just about to pierce through the plush skin.

she beat against the hardness of his chest, “t- cough! toji, please, stop.”

but he wasn’t really there, caught somewhere between the whispering blood ocean and the misty memories haunting his soul.

a pearly tear slipped down his cheek.

“i ca-ah! can’t breath.”

the same deep sound rumbled from his chest, and toji lifted himself up from her ever so slightly. she sucked in great gasping breaths, her eyes teary and blurry as she looked at him through lashes laden with salt.

another milky tear fell from his left eye and dripped down onto the curve of her cheek.

“would you slip away?” toji whispered, his voice rolling over her like the tide, but he sounded far, far away. “into the sea, for me.”

she didn’t want to.

but then he started to hum low and sweet, his wet lips pressed to her neck, and she was ready to.

she could see through the mist and blood now, far above the clouds and the sky and the sun breaking through the horizon. her heart was burning with salt and secrets – secrets she didn’t know she possessed.

until now.

that she was one with the sea, and maybe always had been. so, she didn’t mind all that toji was slowly pulling her towards the depths instead of away from them.

a flash of brilliant green lit up the sky.

was it toji’s eyes or a farewell from the sorrowful sun?

she didn’t know; she didn’t care anymore.

she was his to keep now.

ི♡࿐

#toji fushiguro x reader #toji x y/n #toji x you #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji zenin #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #toji fic #jjk oneshot #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen au #jjk au #jjk fanfic

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lukewarmrod · 1 month ago

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Oh man, I am so happy to have holidays cause I didn't draw this much in a very long time! I made a little "Blurr rescues Swerve" comic for the "tf mecha universe AU" I kinda needed a Mecha!Swerve design for it, so I tried to design something, I hope that's okay! He scanned Blurr's mecha so he got some of its trades :D Also, I don't know if the shoulder blasters make sense at all... maybe they are moveable...?

Comic under the cut! Maybe content warning: mild and sketchy gore? Otherwise it's more on the fun side :D

That's it for now! And I tried to make Blurve Naruto-run in the last panel, but I'm not sure if I succeeded. I think a connected Blurr/Swerve brain would Naruro-run everywhere :D (maybe Deadlock will join the naruto-fun if they'll ever meet!) TF mecha Universe by @keferon

#tf mecha universe #swerve #blurr #cw: gore #transformers #it's 3am and i will fall into my bed any second #but i really wanted to finish this today #this was also super cool to learn how to draw faster #blurve #the fullmetal bartenders #the yappers #the gay racers

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namjooningera · 7 months ago

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Ghost face Toji! and his little helper

Characters: Toji, y/n, victims

A/n: hehe. So I read some ghost face JJK ffs and I was just thinking that instead of y/n being the victim what if she helped ghost face instead? 😋 his lil helper. Also first time writing smut so :p

TW: ghost face, death of background characters (by stabbing), lowkey gore, reader is lowkey sociopathic/very much delusional, smutttt, cowgirl, size difference

“Nghhh! Toji! A-ah!” You whined, being bounced on his massive member, trying to claw at anything that would give you some comfort.

“Y-you can take it, yeah? And it’s ghost face, doll.” He gripped your hips and laid below you, as you bounced mercilessly on his cock.

Bodies laid on the floor near you two, blood seeping from them and staining the concrete floors. Beer bottles broken and medr over party supplies littering the floors.

You bounced on his cock around the dead bodies, the knife from your little hand dropping to the floor as you pressed your hands against his chest for leverage.

“Atta girl, that’s it.” He chuckled beneath you, breathlessly, his bloody mask halfway off while he fucked up into you.

You stand at the streets of Shibuya, behind chains led by security, watching as celebrities walk past on the red carpet.

You try to squeeze past, to see your favorite movie actors, singers, models, pass you by on the red carpet. Looking as dazzling as ever. You’d like to be them. You need to be them.

It’s been your only wish since you were a kid. You rush over around the squads of people and paparazzi, trying desperately to get the attention of the famous people.

You watch as their heels click on the red carpet, brushing past like the watchers were nothing but dust. No care in the world but their own fame, and you desperately crave that kind of life.

The cameras, the lights, the people. It’s all you wanted.

Ever since you were a little kid, orphaned young and too early. You’d sneak down in the basement of the orphanage where you lived, where a small tv was, and you’d sit in front of it criss-crossed. You’d watch the actors, musicians, models and famous people on the tv, when they’d walk the red carpet, appear in the gala, make their name and grow fanbases. The way the cameras zoomed on them, and the lights framed their faces. The paparazzi that chased them with cameras, flashing lights and the way the celebrities would pose.

You tried everything to be like them.

Signed model contracts, auditioned for background acting roles, you sang and danced, even uploaded videos on social media.

And nothing.

You didn’t get famous, you didn’t have cameras in your face, and you didn’t end up on tv or the news. Well, except once.

You ended up on the news. Once.

You remember it like it was yesterday. The way the other kids and adults taunted you. Telling you you’d never be famous. At first, they gave you the benefit of the doubt. A cute kid auditioning? You might as well get the part at some point. A commercial or some small acting role, something. But you didn’t. And they laughed. Told you to give up and your little dream would never happen. You knew it wasn’t your fault you didn’t get the role, the people you bypassed you were those with connections and nepo-babies. You didn’t stand a chance.

But their taunting never stopped, they probably would’ve if you gave up on your little dream, but you didn’t. You continued plastering celeb posters on your walls, drawing stick figures of you on the red carpet, and singing in the halls of the orphanage. All because you thought, no, you knew you’d be famous at some point.

So they ripped up your posters, your drawings, and would hit you every time they heard you sing or saw you dance. They all thought you were pathetic, and the adults who ran the orphanage started to as well.

At first they didn’t mind signing up some cute kid for these random positions, auditions. Maybe your fame would bring more money to the orphanage? But the more you asked and failed, the more you tried, they got pissed off.

At one point getting physical with you, after calling you a delusional freak they started to smack you around just like the kids. Telling you to give up, and just try to get adopted like any other kid.

But when the adults came in to adopt, they’d meet with the kids to see if they were allegeable.

They thought nothing could go wrong with a cute kid like you, but when they met with you, they lost patience with you, hearing you go on and on about how famous you were gonna be. Showing them photos of your favorite celebs and explaining that you’d make it farther than them. You were only a kid.

“Umm maybe something more realistic? How about a doctor sweetie? Or maybe a teacher?”

You looked at them weird. “Doctor? Teacher? I’m gonna be famous! Actor! Singer!” You sang. And their smiles dropped.

But soon adults stopped asking for you and you became shadowed. Didn’t matter how many cute faces you made or how mature you acted, they’d never choose you.

You watched as kids got picked by happy families, and you grew older as you were left behind. But this just made your dream grow. You know all the best celebs come from darker backgrounds, so you’d probably end up the most famous, right?

But the taunting never stopped. And as years went by it just got worse. It became the worse when you finally got your hands on a signed celebrity poster. A signed one. Your favorite celebrity. You had snuck out of the orphanage to get it signed, and the woman was so nice to you.

She told you she believed in you. And that was the first time you’d ever heard that.

But when you came back with it, shining, your face glowing and a smile wide and happy. They took your poster and ripped it to shreds.

Ripped your signed poster to shreds.

Told you, you were an idiot, and your favorite celebrity was an idiot, and you’d come to nothing.

And how you ended up on the news for the first time? You set the orphanage to blaze. Set it on fire. Years of taunting and torture, you’d burn it all to the floor. And rise above everyone.

You remember the news truck running to you, one of the only kids left standing. Pointing the mics in your face and camera straight at you, the news lady asking you to give a statement, to tell them what happened, how you feel.

Everyone was looking at you.

Everyone was awestruck.

Your remember that feeling like it was yesterday. And you remember the excellent way you played victim in front of the cameras.

All those auditions, those practices when you’d act by script in your little orphanage room, or you’d watch tapes in the basement on how to improve your acting. They all helped that day, that day where you shined on camera, acted your heart out and made everyone’s eyes tear up in how emotional you were. How you explained that a fire started and took out so many of your friends. That you were just some lonesome orphan, a victim.

That same week you got adopted. Well, basically. You were taken in as a foster child. Turns out one of the firefighters at the orphanage that day heard your little ramble, and their heart was quenched. Took you home to their little family and supported you. That’s when you realized how much you could change everything around you with something as simple as acting.

So you acted normal.

And continued playing house.

Now your an adult, void of any job or networking, really. You had a high school diploma, but it didn’t really mean anything in the kind of jobs you wanted.

You lived in the attic of some dweeb you’ve barely seen, rooming with some girl who’s barely around. All you know is that she’s extremely nerdy, and always at some Internet cafe or in her room coding.

You also, couldn’t care less. As long as you got that lone time to plan out your next move, your next plan on how to become famous, your golden.

But you’re starting to lose hope. Even your roommate who you barely see told you to get a real job, that your government funding for being a former foster kid won’t do you much, long term.

Alas, you continue. After having your fun following the celebs and running after the limos they drove off in, you skip your way home. However, passing by a sketchy alleyway, your pulled in.

“Why shouldn’t I kill your right now?”

A deep very gruffy voice asks you.

“You seem like quite a fan. A first kill being a fan might draw some attention hm?”

You look up at him. “Excuse me?”

A mask covers his face, he’s wearing a cloak that covers his head and hair. But did that muscly hand around your neck, and the other holding you around your torso. You could scream.. for other reasons then just murder.

“So… which one is she?”

It turns out, Ghostface, he calls himself, is quite the noob in celebs and fame, news and all that. But you, are an expert.

It also turns out he’s a hired killer, someone made to kill certain celebrities, someone to… send a message. But being someone so closed off he doesn’t know anything about them, and doesn’t feel like doing his research.

“She’s right there. The one in the grey sweatpants and faking her reps?”

He was puzzled when you told him about your expertise in celeb gossip and knowledge. The way you knew exactly where a celebrity would be at the moment.

“First kill.”

Now, you crouch at the window of some elite gym. Ghost face is extremely lucky of you, you’ve done this before. Stalked them, so you know where the cameras are and where the blind spots are, too.

“Wait here, pretty.” He tells you, and his deep dark voice makes you tingle a bit.

You stay crouching at the window, peeking through as you watch this masked man follow the celebrity into the showers. You hear a cut off scream, as if he had muffled her mouth right away. And then he steps back out with blood covering his cloak.

He jumps right out the window, but instead of greeting you like regular he shoved you against the wall, and puts a cloth over your mouth.

“Sorry, lil’ stalker. Can’t have a witness around. But I’ll keep ya alive, for yer’ help.”

And you pass out.

The next morning you awake in some random motel. You can’t help but think last night was some unfortunate weird dream. But by the drops of blood that aren’t yours that stain your shirt, the headache you have from inhaling those toxins, and the man at the counter that tells you your “boyfriend” had carried you in here. You know it’s real.

Now, you’re at another gala. This time, you made your way in. You pulled some strings, and you were able to make it in as a server, helpers to the caterers.

You still think about what that masked man said, about how he was planted to kill certain celebrities, and make a splash in modern media. Some kind of show he wanted to put on. And honestly he was quite good. His first kill, which you helped with, has scorn the news and surprised journalists and the paparazzi. Everyone was confused and concerned. The first kill being in such a private place it made fans worry of their own favorite celebrities. The police searched for clues and evidence, but due to your help in blind spots of cameras and ways to scoot past security, ghost face was never caught. People all over the internet mourn the celebrity’s death, but don’t expect there to be another kill. However you know the truth. The man’s words. How she wasn’t gonna be the last. His message to media.

But you try to forget, and instead focus on making connections. You know the people here are in the big leagues, and if your able to convince them, maybe you’ll be given a chance.

That’s when you overhear some celebs talking. The extremely famous ones. The ones you’ve seen on billboards and trucks, movie posters and more. Your curious, especially when you hear them talking about an extra exclusive party in the gala, one in a private room.

You need to sneak in. And you do. You find out more about it and realize that only the highest of the servers go to cater that small private event, servers who wear a certain outfit to show they that only serve the best. That’s how you’re gonna get in. So you do the unthinkable. Well, it’s not like there was extra uniforms ying around?

So you find one of these special caterers, and break a bottle over their head. You drag their unconscious but live body into a closet, stealing their collared shirt and tie, and that special brooch that shows your elite. You lock the closet and make your way to the private exclusive room.

This is your chance. Your chance to become elite like them, to get on the news again, to be famous.

But as you open the door to the elite room, you hear screams. ‘Please let elite room for celebrities not mean secret celebrity orgies please.’ You think. But as you peek into the door, you realize it’s so much different than that.

When blood seeps through the carpet and spills, as you hear screams and see a certain familiar masked man slash one of the elite celebrities necks, they fall to the floor as they convulse, holding their neck but the bleeding continues.

They all fall to the floor one by one, and you’re stunned. Before you could leave, leave and pretend this never happened, the door is swung open by one of the celebrities, one who is apparently trying to get away, and immediately they are slashed. The blood splatters onto you, and you hold your hands up trying to stop the blood from continuing its spray onto you.

“Well look who it is.” That familiar husky voice says, holding up the head of the victim he just slashed. The blood oozes from his slashed neck, his eyes bulging out his head, eyes rolled back and almost in its skull.

The masked man drops the victim onto the floor.

“I told you I didn’t want any witnesses.” He grabs you by the throat, pulling you into the elite room before slamming your head to the wall, pinning you there with his huge hand.

“W-wait! Wait don’t do this!” You beg. Your eyes scan the room and you see all the elites littered on the floor. Something in you pulses. Something you hope is fear or empathy, but it’s something different. Almost.. satisfaction. The people who’ve ignored you like the dirt on their shoes, people who you sweared to surpass. Dead, bloody, bodies on the floor like they were simple trash.

You accidentally let out a giggle.

“What was that?”

“Umm nothing, s-sorry.” You stumble, his hands increasing its hold on your neck. “W-wait! You- your doing this as some message to the public right?”

He stops, his hand still tightly around your neck, but he softens almost. “Yeah? So?”

“W-well I want.. I want fame. I can help! Like last time! If you let me live…”

You can’t tell what his expression is, hidden under the mask, but you can tell he’s confused, and a little amused.

“And what can you help with, little dove?”

“W-well I know all their info! Every celeb, really! I can nurse you.. I umm.”

“Nurse me? Info? I don’t need that, naive doll.”

“Wait!” You whine, fighting back. “I’ll spread your word. When they see me.. as the only one standing… the news will be everywhere. Asking questions.. and I’ll answer!” He stays quiet, and you know he’s considering it. “If you kill me- nobody will know it was you… but if I live, I can tell your story! How you killed all those celebrities in cold blood… The cold blooded killer Ghostface… I’ll relay whatever message you need me to say.”

His hand softens around your neck, but he still keeps a hold of you. The tip of his knife makes its way up your torso to your neck, right under his hand, where he pokes your skin.

“And what would you get out of that, little dove?”

“Fame. And my life… but fame. I’ll.. I’ll be on the news.” You sigh, almost of happiness at just the thought. “People will be looking to me.. the last standing victim.” ‘-like last time’ you wanna say.

He huffs. “As a victim, you don’t look very disheveled, do you?”

You look at him weirdly, confused, until he throws you down at the only spotless part of the carpet. You gasp, feeling your back thud against it, about to fight until he lands on top of you, pulling and tugging at your shirt.

“Yer’ sure cute. But look way t’satisfied with yourself to be a victim.”

“L-let me be your victim.” You sigh out, shakily. Hearing that, his hands rip your shirt off, and your arms go up to cover your lacy bra, whining at the intrusion.

He’s growling, obviously extremely satisfied with your little statement, and he’s shoving and tugging your pants down. “You’ll be way to disheveled after this- they’ll know you became my lil’ victim.”

“P-please.” You whine. You don’t know why, but his big muscly fucking body, that hand that had clasped around your neck had made you drip with excitement. He was just so big and so much taller, his biceps and muscles just busting through his cloak- god did it turn you on. He was like a monster. And you knew what was hiding in his pants was no less then terrifying.

He tugs down your lacy bra, bunching up your boobs as it bunches under your chest. He chuckles and tugs at your right nipple, smirking at your little whines and gasps as he continues to tug and twist. It leans down to swirl his tongue around your left nipple, giving it some attention, sucking softly and nibbling down a bit. If he’s this good with your nipples, you wonder how good he’d be with his mouth in other areas. However your getting restless, the biting and nibbling on your nipples becoming too much, as you slightly push him away so you can try and get a sense of what his figure looks like.

You start to claw at his cloak, which makes him chuckle, and he unclasps it to show off his tight shirt tucked into sweatpants. You force him to shrug down the cloak, staying around his elbows, as he pushes down his own pants.

You’re so excited. You’re basically day dreaming as he rubs you through your pink little panties. You just know that there will be thousands of news reporters and journalists wanting to interview you. Know your story, what happened. Then they’ll be the fans of the celebs who’ll look over to you for answers, who’ll go crazy at their favorites being murdered. But you’re there. There to anwser their questions and give false empathy, and hopefully, woo those fans as your own.

You’ll be famous over night.

“Come on doll, focus on me.”

You hadn’t even realized he had shoved your panties to the side, rubbing your clit and smooth tight circles. You whine out, back arching just a bit, you also noticed he had taken off his bloody glove, to touch you with his clean one.

His other hand, smears blood onto the side of your face with his bloody glove. He chuckles at how you grimace, the slimy substance dampening your cheek.

He rips that bloody glove off to rub at your nipples again, while his other hand rubs faster on your little clit, he chuckles watching you start to writhe more and try to push him off.

“Ah. Just wet enough, little dove.” His finger makes its way to your entrance, poking at it, gathering some of your essence before entering you. You whine at the intrusion. His fingers, are fucking big. And just one filled you up nicely. Grithy and tall, poking at your sides and your gummy walls.

“Cmon doll, open up.” He chuckles, starting to twist his finger. You whine and start to kick your legs, your head going to the side to try to avoid his burning stare, which you could feel through his mask.

Your eyes look at the bodies, the dead ones that litter the floors at your left. You look at one, recognizing his face. You remember when you had asked him for a photograph together last year. And you guessed perhaps you had pushed him too much, because he spat at your face and shoved you out the way. You grimace at the memory, but then smile at his dead body. He’s dead. And you’re getting finger fucked close to his corpse.

You cry out as the masked man adds a second finger and scissors it inside you, making room. You can’t help but wince at the thought that he’s making so much room inside you for a reason.

As he scissors you, he accidentally bumps into a spot inside you that makes you convulse.

“Ah? Right here? Little victim?” He stabs at the spot with his thick fingers, a bruising pace starts and you see stars.

“Don’t come. Or I’ll make you suck my cock, then you’ll have to explain to the cameras why there’s cum all over your face.” He chuckles darkly, almost amused at the idea.

“A-ah! P-puh-please!” You whine out, especially when his thumb dips into your wetness and starts to coat your clit, rubbing it softly.

“P-please..!”

You dont know his name. But you want to, you desperately want to, do you can scream his name.

“Toji, doll.”

“Toji!” You cry out, so close, almost there, your body quivering and pussy shaking. He wraps his hand around your throat, constricting your airways, chuckling as you claw at his hand that chokes your throat.

Tears start to leave your eyes at just how good he was making you feel, and at the terrifying feeling of not being able to breathe.

“Atta girl. Nobodies gonna believe you without some tears.”

He finally takes his fingers out of you, slick covering them and a string of your essence connecting his fingers to your entrance.

“So wet for someone who was jus’ begging for their life.” He laughs, but your too busy to focus on breathing then his words when he finally takes his hand of your throat.

He pulls down his pants, and god do you gasp. His cock- no, a monster. Flings out of its confines and dribbles with precum.

“Hah.. I guess you got me a lil’ excited too, doll.”

He pushes the tip to your entrance, you can see the veins circle his cock, the angry tip gushing and the slight way it curves.

“W-wait! It’s not gonna- it’s not gonna fit!” You cry out, almost begging him not to ruin you.

“Shut it. I opened you up enough.” He rubs at your clit with his tip, making you kick at him some more. Which results in him grabbing your leg and pulling you towards him. “Nuh uh uh, no running away little dove.”

He nudged his tip in, sighing in the feeling of your pussy already trapping his cock into your tiny entrance. He slides in some more, you can feel every dip and vein and curve of his cock. You whine and claw at his big chest and biceps.

“T-Toji..” Your pussy is crushing his cock, enveloping it and sucking him in, as if you were milking his cock.

He grumbles and turns the both of you over, lying down as he slams you down on his cock, you straddling his hips. You scream out at the sudden full intrusion, and he chuckles, eyes rolling back.

“Come on doll. I’m exhausted. Be a good girl and break yourself on my cock, yeah?”

You whine out, but agree, moving your small hands to his chest, where you slowly lift yourself up and slide yourself back down on his cock. You both gasp, and you do it again. This time you try to add some rhythm, moaning out as you bounce on his cock.

The harder you bounce, the more his mask starts to slip, and that just adds to your excitement. The more you see it slip, the harder you start to go, crying and writhing as you jump on his cock but you just can’t seem to stop.

Your wet gushing insides pull him in, and he’s in a fucking trance. Watching you bounce up and down, looking for some sort of stability or comfort. He laughs, pushing the bottom of your thighs up before shoving into you some more, bouncing you up and down while also fucking up into you.

“That’s it… that’s it.. the cutest lil’ victim f’me…” He babbled, basically pussy drunk.

None of you want this to stop. However, you both feel that chilly feeling of your insides twisting and convulsing, knowing the both of you aren’t gonna last.

“Cmon doll. Come with me.” He holds your hip and your thigh as he fucks up into you. “You’ll be a good girl and come for me, yeah?” He’s basically babbling now, drool leaving his lips, and you can see that by his mask almost completely tips over.

You whine, clawing at his mask. “P-please.”

He chuckles, moving your hands away from his face.

“Fine, since ya asked so- fuck- nicely. And guess we’re teammates now, h-huh?” He stumbles on his words as he feels you milk his cock.

One hand goes down to your pussy, swiftly pressing down on your clit and rubbing fast, as his other hand shoved his mask off.

You gasp as you see his face. Dark lustful eyes, his lips adorn by a scar, his cheekbones and entire face harmony. The way you know with one look you’d pass away, he could kill you with that dark and sinister, evil look in his eyes. And you come at the sight.

Your body convulsed and you cried out, back arching as he tugged and pinched your clit meanly, following you soon after, pulling out and spilling onto his stomach and yours.

He gasps for air and so do you, you whimper as you fall forward onto his body, shivering and still slightly convulsing. You can feel his heart beat, the way it pounds against his chest and the way he heaves for a breath, a groan leaves his lips.

His hand brushed your hair and pulls you up. “Come on little dove. You’ve got a show to put on.”

He pulls you up, but lays you back down. Your still gasping for air, your eyes barely open and your body trembling. You feel your clothes being put on, even the ripped shirt. He cleans off his cum with what you assume is his cloak.

You open your eyes finally, to see him putting his mask back on, which makes you whine.

He laughs. “Don’t worry doll, you’ll see a lot more of me soon.” He carreses your hair, almost whisking you to slumber, your only half aware that there’s bodies littered around you.

He disappears, or rather, you’re too tired to notice he left.

When you open your eyes however, it’s because of unfamiliar people in your face, you’re still trembling, blood on your cheek that isn’t yours and lights in your face.

You’re on a gurney, being rolled away into an ambulance. Your eyes are a bit blurry but you see almost hundreds of people- and then there are the news reporters everywhere. They surround your gurney, the doctors weilding your not actually wounded body into the ambulance.

“Ma’am? Ma’am! Over here!” A man yells, pushing his camera in your face and lay the doctors, taking photos with flash on.

“Ma’am! What can you tell us about what happened? Ma’am?”

“Ghost… ghost face..” you breathe out, making all the reporters and journalists shiver with fright and widen their eyes.

“Ma’am? Ghost face? Tell us more about this cold blooded killer!”

There’s so many cameras in your faces, people talking, the cameras going off and flashing lights in your face.

“Ma’am! Over here!” A man snaps photos, a woman asks you questions, all the reporters and journalists following you and chasing you in the gurney until your put in the ambulance and the workers shut the truck doors.

The ambulance drives away, the siren rings and your ears and the workers ask if you can hear them, if you can answer some questions.

All you can think about was the lights. The people. The fame. How they all chased you down, like paparazzi.

“Am I.. famous?” You ask, a gasp leaving your lips.

“Well ma’am, you’re all over the news.” The doctor replied.

And you smile.

….

Thinking of doing a second part. But idk.

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