#is this where he finds out it was him who held the knife that killed the GitB

[s0dium]

𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑!!!

𝐒𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫!𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨 𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮 𝐱 𝐒𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

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

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

Until you find yourself locked in a cage.

For three days.

No AC.

With a body you carved up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Holy shit.

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

Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

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

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

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

"Well what happened here?" He chuckles.

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

You can't deal with this shit.

"Self defense." You say.

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

"And how would you know that?"

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

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

And of course, just your luck, he is stunning

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, what the hell.

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

"Wha-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I-"

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

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

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

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

"The Crucifer?"

You shake your head.

"The cross maker?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fine by me."

~

The Mute Collector.

Geto Suguru is sitting across from the fucking Mute Collector.

And god you are beautiful.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No bra.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Touché."

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

No bra.

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

"Why am I here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fucking hell."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"And what do we get if we win?"

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Are you gonna do it?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

“What’s got your panties in a twist?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suguru: Oh, I'm thrilled

Y/n: Shut up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Suguru: Can’t it be both? 

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

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

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

Suguru: Really?

Suguru: Not even a little bit princess 🥺?

Y/n: *One attachment*

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

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

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

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

“Trouble?” Suguru asks.

“Trouble.” Gojo repeats.

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

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

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

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

~

You can't believe you are doing this. 

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

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

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

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

“Hiya.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~

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

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

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

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

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

No bra.

The sight makes his mouth go dry.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You cave. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don't have to tell him twice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[dontbesoweirdkira]

I propose an idea! Romantic Yandere Mark Grayson with batsib mc….oh I can feel the chaos that these two worlds would bring😂

A/N: "BIYVjhKDjshuguj" was my inital reaction to this requests because this is tew good. If you've seen my Mark Grayson post then you know exactly how insane this mf is.

Warnings: Pure crack to be honest? Like this is not even a serious post. I was laughing the entire time. Don’t even know where I was going with this but…I had fun

Requests? always open!

Masterlist

Two black haired, attention whore yanderes with the same last name, walk into a room with their darling in it...who's winning?

I mean technically their meeting is not too far fetched. Mortal Kombat and DC had a crossover..and Invincible is also apart of Mortal Kombat which means- nvm, you didn't ask for that.

Here's the thing, everyone in the family dislikes Mark but yan! Mark and Dick HATE each other the most but because they are low key so similar. Mark is obviously way more extreme but i digress. He brings out the absolutely worse out of Dick.

Like Dick has picked up a Knife and contemplated murder.

Mark and Dick's interactions are hilarious though?? Like they both have the exact same fake smile and passive (heavy on the aggressive) behaviors.

"Ahhh, Mark, we're always pleased to host you since y'know your parents obviously need some sort of break from an irritant, such as yourself."

"Thanks, Dick! But regardless of how much of an irritant i am to them, least i still have two biological parents to care for me. Maybe it's because they're not patrons of the circus....?"

*backhands him*

Jason isn't subtle and has whipped out his guns, ready to blast that mf. He's been the closet to causing Mark to blow up the mansion. It was a whole thing and you dumped Mark over it but of course he gaslighted you.

I think the family doesn't like the fact you're dating someone who can easily take advantage of you. (ironic) Mark is clearly dangerous, he's half viltrumite and they may not know everything his people are capable of but they know he can cause a lot of havoc. Mark is not only a threat to you but to them as well. He puts them in a state of constant high alert. They're always staring him down, searching for any signs of danger. I'm sure Batman has a fail safe plan all ready to go. They are eager for the moment they can take this mf down. Do you think they have the supers on speed dial just in case? Ugh even uncle Clark is disapproving of this too.

Your sisters try endlessly to have heart to hearts with you because WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING????? MARK?! They'd rather you date poke-a-dot man or something because why????

Mark isn't a dumbass, he knows they hate him. He also knows just how scared they are of him and it gives him some sort of sick pleasure knowing he could truly have you all to himself if he really wanted to. But there's really no point in that yet, you're wrapped around his fingers. He totally has thought about going back to his planet with you and keeping your pretty self locked up where your family won't ever find you. That'd really stick it to em'

The cocky, manipulation is just oozing off him every time he's around. The way he shoots threatening looks towards your siblings when they try to get your attention or "playfully" insulting them. There's never a moment where his head isn't held high, looking down at your siblings as if they were beneath him...He runs this place when he's over. Which is all the time because Bruce is like okay, if you won't leave him, you have to be supervised.

Can you imagine combined family dinners with Mark's family and yours??? First, there is definitely a fight of who is sitting next to who. I'll say your brothers win this and are sitting on either side while Mark is fuming as he's across from you. The tension is so freaking high. It's rather silent around the table but everyone is looking at each other either like "I'm ready to kill him when you are" or "i'm going to kill you, mark...". I headcanon that even Bruce has beef with Nolan. They clash rather constantly on their differences of how to handle villains. Nolan is a stone cold killer to Bruce, who is rather set in his ways. It's no wonder Mark is his son. You aren't going to be with this kid for long. "So, Bruce? How's things on your side of town? Still letting your boyfriend out of jail so you can keep playing tag?" "The Joker isn't my boyfriend, i'm just not into murder, unlike some "heros" are. I like to set an example for my kids." "Ah, is that why Jason threatened to kill my son at gun point last month?"

You and Debbie are the only ones who like are trying to be civil and are sort of ignorant to everything going on.

"Um, so i made brownies with Mark's mother for everyone! Anyone want a piece?"

"Of course, love. You know your brownies are my favorite, i've been waiting all day."

Your siblings act like savages and eat the entire pan, stuffing it in their mouths so Mark cannot get any. Bruce doesn't do anything to correct his children out of spite.

Bruce is also debating on just handling them right here. He could have Kal-el over in matters of minutes and this could all be over with.

(Okay but Mark and Damien beating each other’s asses???? Damien cannot bite his tongue and Mark is trying to be nice because he’s a kid but he then Damien call him a "little bitch boy" and it pushes him over the edge. Mark just jumps over the table lollllll???? Sad thing is, Damien gets in tons of cuts with the butterknife he was just using for his sweetroll heheh))) "I though you were invincible...guess i was right in calling you a little bi-" "OH YOU'RE DYING TONIGHT"

[moomuzan]

B⃣   U⃣   Z⃣   Z⃣   K⃣   I⃣   L⃣   L⃣

ੈ INFO — you’re their affair but the mafia wants your head!

༘⋆ PAIRING — pm! dazai, chuuya & akutagawa x gn! reader

༉‧ TAGS — angst, mentions of killing & death

➶ ˚ A/N — please let me write a part two

Mori’s words cut through the haze of DAZAI ‘s thoughts like a knife. “Get rid of them.”

Dazai’s expression remained unreadable, but inside, the world had stopped turning. His eyes flickered to the desk, where a glass of whiskey sat untouched. “Get rid of them,” Mori had said. So simple. So final. So damn easy.

But Dazai had always been good at lying. To others, and especially to himself. He didn't expect to feel this conflict, this gnawing sense of betrayal, not when it came to the Mafia—not when it came to this. But the moment Mori had delivered the order, Dazai had known. He had known exactly who the target was.

It’s you. It’s always been you.

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as his mind raced. The affair, the stolen moments of tenderness, the way they both pretended it was nothing more than fleeting… He never thought it would come to this. But here it was. The consequences of living a double life, of finding solace in someone who could never belong to him.

Dazai’s lips curled into a faint smile, as though mocking himself.

Did Mori know? Did he know that the one person he’d ordered to be eliminated was the one person Dazai had secretly allowed himself to care about?

Dazai wasn’t so naive to believe his mentor wouldn’t play both sides, wouldn’t force him into this situation for his own amusement.

The mafia executive wasn’t sure if he could live with the idea of losing you... or if he could carry out the hit, knowing it would destroy him.

His fingers hovered over his phone, the screen showing your contact. If I call... if I tell you... could we run away? The idea of abandoning the Mafia made him laugh bitterly. The thought of betrayal, of leaving behind everything he’d built... but it wasn’t the Mafia he feared losing. It was you.

Yet, when the moment came—he would do it. He would bury everything, including the feeling you had given him. Because that’s what he did. He always did what was expected.

CHUUYA sat in the dimly lit room, the weight of the letter in his hand heavier than anything he’d ever held before. Mori’s voice echoed in his mind.

“Get rid of them.”

“Them?”

Chuuya was used to the cold indifference of orders. He’d executed people for less. He had done it with no hesitation, no second thoughts. But this—this was different.

The person Mori was speaking of wasn’t just someone. It was you. You, who had filled the hollow space in his life, who had shown him a side of himself he had long buried. He never expected this to happen—not with you. He never let anyone close enough to matter before. But you had broken through that wall with nothing but a smile and understanding.

He ran a hand through his messy hair, fighting the tightness in his chest.

Could he do it? Could he actually carry out the hit on you?

He stood up, walking to the window, staring out at the city below. The light of the streetlamps blurred as his anger and confusion boiled over.

Did Mori know? Did he know about the late-night meetings? The stolen kisses in dark corners?

Chuuya gritted his teeth. He wasn’t that naive. Mori had eyes everywhere, and nothing escaped his notice. The question wasn’t whether Mori knew—it was whether Mori was playing a sick game. Did Mori want to test his loyalty, push him over the edge?

“I won’t do it,” he muttered to himself, his voice shaking with the weight of his decision. But then, the cold truth hit him.

If he didn’t do it... what would Mori do to you?

AKUTAGAWA stood in front of the mirror, staring at his reflection. His jaw was clenched, his eyes cold. But his mind was anything but calm.

“Get rid of them,” Mori had ordered.

The word felt like a punch to the gut. You. The one person who had wormed your way into his life without his consent, and yet, now, you were all he thought about.

It’s a mission, he told himself, a simple task. Nothing personal.

But it was personal. Everything about this was personal. He had never intended to care, but he did. His mind flickered to the stolen moments, the rare smiles you’d shared, the quiet understanding between you two. You were a weakness he’d allowed himself to indulge in, and now it was all crashing down.

Did Mori know? Did Mori know that Akutagawa had let himself fall in love with someone he should have never even thought of?

The possibility gnawed at him, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was the task at hand. He had a duty, a responsibility to the Port Mafia. Loyalty was everything. And yet, there was this one painful truth that sat at the back of his mind: If he killed you, he would be killing the part of himself that wasn’t just a weapon.

His fingers flexed as he gripped his coat tighter, the faintest tremble in his hand betraying the turmoil inside him.

“Damn it,” he muttered to himself, his voice low and venomous. “I can’t do this.”

But he had no choice.

He turned away from the mirror, eyes filled with a mixture of anger, pain, and uncertainty. You had made him feel human—had made him feel something that had terrified him. And now, for the sake of the Mafia, for the sake of his loyalty, he would have to bury all of that.

[brucewaynehater101]

Warning: Dark, Suicidal Tim, etc. Also small spoilers for the Injustice movie

Had a random thought, slightly inspired by the Injustice movie: what if Tim, in a mental health slump, decided to teach the bats a final lesson? Every time he defends himself against Damian’s attacks, he’s criticized for it. So one day, he just doesn’t.

Damian gets angry and decides to take it out on the person he won’t be criticized for attacking. After Tim doesn’t respond to his taunts, he gets physical, and throws a knife or slashes his sword, expecting Tim to get out of the out of the way or block the blow, and Tim doesn’t. The sound of a blade parting flesh and a body falling to the ground gets the other bats attention, and they turn to see Damian standing there with blood on his blade and Tim’s body on the ground.

(Inspired by the scene in the Injustice movie where Damian kills Dick by throwing a baton (escrima stick? IDK) at him, expecting him to catch it (which, earlier in the movie, he did), and Dick, being distracted, doesn’t, and it hits him directly on the temple. Accident, sure, but caused by recklessness)

Basically Damian needs to learn that attacking other people because you are angry is NOT OKAY. Seriously, if you’re pissed, go beat up a training dummy or scream into a pillow.

Does Damian learn the lesson? Or not? What about B and Dick and the others? How do they react?

[Thank you for the TWs! WARNING: This is bad batfam. I love them, but we're chucking them under the angst crack bus for this]

Tw: Dark/Suicidal Tim, domestic abuse, psychological warfare, manipulation, mentions of suicide attempt

Tim is tired of constantly fighting back and defending himself. He's tired of Damian and Jason attacking him. He's tired of Dick and Bruce pushing his boundaries.

If Tim just allows Damian to stab him, *he'll* be the one to get lectured for not dodging. It will become Tim's fault, as a trained vigilante, for not preventing himself from being injured.

What does he decide to do?

Resist with extreme psychological warfare no matter the damage to himself.

He starts small.

He curates cases/stories of sibling abuse and starts to leave them in places Dick will find (hacking/messing with Dick's fyp, newspapers around the Manor, files on the batcomputer, a case Babs is informed about, etc). They aren't reflective of Tim's experiences, not yet, but they show common patterns: adult figures not stepping in, siblings being pushed to compete, escalation, negative behaviors transferring to people/things outside of the siblings, etc.

For Bruce, Tim tricks the man into reading an intimate relationships psychology textbook by stating it was necessary for a case. He then keeps tricking the man into reading gentle parenting, boundaries, and other such information.

Jason is much easier. Tim just leaves books of various siblings relationships within the man's safehouses (healthy ones, distant, cruel, enemies, abusive, recent siblings [like adoption], etc). Jason doesn't know Tim is the one leaving those books, but he is intrigued by the "recommendations." A lot of them have other lessons Tim has prepared mixed in as well [which, if Jason finds out Tim is the one who recommended the books after he starts getting along with him, then they can have book clubs ^^].

Tim sends a ton of empathy animal related movies/shows Dick's way so that the older one ropes Damian into watching them.

This takes months, but at no point does Tim relate the lessons to Tim himself yet.

He then starts pouring in warnings. When Damian tries to hurt him again, Tim asks Dick, "What if I was too tired to dodge it?" This is the only time he asks. Dick waves it off cause Damian "knows better" now. I

Tim almost gave up the game right there and then to prove a point. He held back, though.

For Jason, Tim throws in shock-value trauma dump phrases when they meet up to prevent the older one from attacking.

Jason: *pulls out a gun*

Tim: "Damn. You'd think after threatening to kill myself to prevent my future from occurring that I'd be okay with guns. For some reason, they still make me nauseous."

Jason: *holsters gun* "What the fuck?"

Tim: *nods and then disappears*

It kind of trains Jason from attacking Tim unless he wants to hear really fucked up shit that will have his mind spiraling for days.

For Bruce, Tim just points out how and when the man crosses other people's boundaries (but doesn't point out Tim's). He doesn't put any expectation or remedy out. He just indicates it to start Bruce's thought process of "Did I just cross someone's boundary?"

Then Tim feels that it's ready. He won't get blamed for not dodging Damian's attack.

So, he lets himself be seriously stabbed.

This cues Damian into having a mental breakdown. Dick and Bruce oscillate between blaming everyone else and then themselves. Jason, after seeing the shitshow of these reactions, assigns himself (without telling the others) to suicide watch Tim [those trauma dump phrases are working against Tim here].

Once Tim awakens and realizes the mess he's created, he fucking regrets it all. He doesn't want to have to clean it all up and manipulate them into being better. He's also kind of pissed at Damian for not aiming for his heart or something. Damn.

[bluerosefox]

Taking a Chance

I want more TaliaxDanny stuff so how about this AU. Its mostly HEAVILY hinted though.

[Side note: Danny is in his 20s, maybe mid 20s btw, also enjoy my actual writing style, haven't done this in a while besides some small snippets I write]

Talia discovers the future plans Ra's has for her baby, her heir, her child. She is hurt and enraged because "How dare he! How dare he raise my son to be a sacrificial lamb just to extend his own life!" And the fact he had no plans to truly step down from being the Demon Head. (Basically the timeline where Ra's planned to overtake Damain's body)

-x-x-

Talia stared, her green eyes almost glowing toward the sleeping form of her son on her bed. Her eyes roamed his tiny face, the way he lightly dozed the day away unknowingly of the danger that had set in stone for him. Yes, being not just her son but the son of the Bat and the grandson of the Demon Head he was always going to be in danger but never had she really thought the danger would come from the very person who just declared him his heir. At least not in the way its been presented.

Talia had just discovered the fate her father, Ra's al Ghul, the same man that had held Damian not even a day ago and spoke of the future he could see Damian bring to the League once he was of age and would lead it, had actually planned for her son.

He planned on using her son, raising him to be the perfect heir.... to... to...

Use him as a vessel in the end.

He planned to leave his old decaying body, a body that was beginning to no longer respond to the Lazarus Pits as of late, and basically jump ship to a younger and better body...

The body of her son. The son she created and craved to have and raise. The son she made with her beloved's blood running in his veins.

Despite how enraged she is' Talia knows she can't confront her father. He would kill her... no he would torture her by hurting her baby to the point death would be a mercy if she tried. She also knows she can't go running to Bruce, she had burned the bridge to him ages ago when she refused to leave her father and his teachings and knows he would rip Damian away from her should she tell him what she did. He would, under the guise of protecting their child gain sole custody from Talia, set up next to nothing visitation rights for her to follow. He would say it would be to protect Damian from Ra's but Talia knows Bruce, knows he would use it as a half-excuse just to keep her away... but Talia wants to be in her child's life. Wants to raise him. Wants to be his mother, despite knowing next to nothing on how to be an actual normal mother, she wanted to try. She needed to try.

Running away was also out of the question, especially since Damian had been declared her father 'heir'. He would hunt them down and there was no where in this world she could hide that her father could not find them...

And-

Talia barely gives any warning when she flings the knife behind her. She waited for only a second, either to hear the ting of metal being blocked or the sound of it burying itself onto the wooden door she knew was in its pathway.

Instead she heard neither of those things and instead heard the ticking of a grandfather clock and a deep chuckle.

"As expected from the daughter of the Demon. Sharp and deadly with no hesitation in sight."

"Who are you." It was not a question but a demand. She slowly turned her head and was meet with an odd sight that even the daughter of the Demon has never seen before.

"At most.. an ally to have. At worst, merely a passing stranger with an offer."

The ticking never stopped.

Everything else outside the room though did.

-x-x-

Danny stared, his currently green eyes burning even more brightly than they normally do. Many emotions passed through them, anger, frustration, pain, sadness, regret, heartbreak, and hopelessness to name a few.

He stared at the tiny sleeping face within the healing pod in front of him and closed his eyes as memories of spending time with the one sleeping filled his mind.

"My King." A voice began, Danny's sharp pointed ears twitch for a moment and he turned his head slightly but it was all the speaker needed to know that they had his attention even if he didn't give them his full attention.

"I bring the updated reports from Chief Frostbite you requested." The young yeti ghost said, this had Danny finally turning around and looking upwards and towards the young yeti, who was smaller than Frostbite but none the less bigger than Danny. Danny held his hand out and took the stack of papers in their hands.

Once the papers were in his hands he gave a curt wave of his fingers as if to say 'go on' without actually saying the words and turned his attention to the words on the papers. The young yeti, Icewinds took the signal and began.

"Princess Danielle's core has remained the same since the last check up. No major sign of deteriorating or destabilizing... However that also means there have been no signs of improvement or healing as well..." Icewinds stopped for a moment, allowing their King to register the words being spoken "We will continue to monitor her as best as we can but... My King..."

Icewinds took a deep breath and delivered the news everyone already knew "Without a female donor to complete her Ecto-DNA, should the Princess suffers from another Fading even a minor one, I fear it might be too much for her core and with her current body form it will not be able to withstand the stress... I'm truly sorry My King."

The room fell silent, the only real sounds being the monitors in the room and sound of rustling papers in Danny's hands, who was staring blankly at the words written on them but not really taking them in.

After a moment, Icewinds shifting uncomfortably for a second, Danny spoke his voice raw but strong and firm "I understand. Please inform Frostbite I am... grateful for his, yours, and everyone's continued support and everything everyone's has done to help her... If you do not mind Icewinds, I would... Like to be alone for a while and think... For a moment."

"O-Of course My King." And with that Icewinds left the room, Danny barely taking not of the door closing and his enhanced hearing picking up the hushed soft words being spoken to the Knights that stood outside the room of Danny's request of being left alone for a while.

Once the talking outside the room faded, Danny tilted his body and head back on the chair he had been sitting in for the last few days and allowed the papers he had his hands to fall out and onto the floor. Danny took in a shaky breath and closed his burning eyes as he tried to keep his core emotions in control, knowing if he lost control the Realms would echo him and would panic or worry his people.

And he couldn't deal with that. Not now.

"Clockwork, whatever timeline you are trying to set in motion, I hope it pans out soon." Danny rasped out as he tried his best to keep himself from falling apart. Losing Danielle, losing the girl that was his clone, his mirror, but also was like a sister... daughter sometimes would break him, harshly and deeply.

He knew his advisor and resident Timekeeper had something in the works, the way the aging spirit had looked at him before he left was telling when the news of Danielle's suffering from another Fading attack and Frostbite having to perform a Core Transform nearly last second, which in turn turned her into a baby from how close she was to fully Fading, had been delivered to Danny and the others.

But despite knowing Clockwork had a plan, Danny knew that smile he had before he had left. It had been Clockwork's 'Have hope, but even I am unsure.' smile, a rare one the Timekeeper would wear when even he didn't know which way the pendulum of chance would swing first.

So he did the only thing he could do for now, and that was to remain in the room with Danielle, keep her stabilized as best as he could with his own ectoplasim flowing, and wait to see if whatever Clockwork had planned would work out.

Waiting, even with all he's done in his life from becoming a Halfa, to defending his home and haunt, from fighting off insane Fruitloops to dismantling government bigots until there was nothing left of them, all the way to fighting a tyrannicidal Ghost King to the point Danny had won the crown by Trail by Combat thus taking up the mantle of Ghost King of the Infinite Realms since his seventeenth birthday and bringing the Infinite Realms into a new age of healing the broken crumbling lands and ruling over all justly but firmly, waiting was all he could do for Danielle.

And the waiting. The stress. Was agonizing.

Because what they needed was...

Was a miracle if Danny was to be honest. They needed a female, a donor in all sense of the words, to complete Danielle's incomplete Ecto-DNA, because of course that damned Fruitloop tried skipping steps in creating a clone of Danny and it was no wonder he had failed so many times with only Danielle the most stable of them all and given the fact she still wasn't was damning, but they couldn't just have any female donate their DNA to her.

No the DNA needed the donor to at least be limenal, thus turning the DNA into Ecto-DNA because Danielle was created to be a halfa... The only problem was that the person in question needed to be Jazz level of limenal Ecto-DNA as well.

Meaning that despite both Sam and Val offering their Ecto-DNA from the years of being exposed to the Realms and Ectoplasim theirs wasn't enough to work with Danielle's. Jazz's Ecto-DNA was off the table seeing as she was his sister and mixing it with Danielle's would just lead to problems.

No they needed someone who was born near or in ectoplasm, breathed it, ate or at least filtered it, grew with it for years like Jazz and Danny did, basically the person in question just needed one odd day of dying and returning to life at the same time to becoming a halfa levels of limenal. Only those high levels could complete and combined with Danielle's.

Which given the fact only Jazz had those levels, finding someone near those levels was like looking for needle in space, because forget the haystack.

"....You've returned." Was the only words Danny said when his ears caught the sound of a ticking clock suddenly in the room, his anxiety raising as both dread and a tiny slimmer of hope both slowly climb up in his emotions, knowing whatever answer Clockwork would give him would outweigh the other.

"On time, as always My King." His cryptic Timekeeper responded "I bring... a chance."

Those words were enough to snap Danny out of his chair, he quickly looked towards where Clockwork's voice had been coming from and floated. His eyes burning with determination for a moment before he caught sight of movement behind Clockwork.

Behind the ever changing being stood a breathtaking woman. Tall and proud from the way she held herself, she looked a few years older than him but Danny could sense she was far older her soul not really matching her body. She was lovely to look at no doubt but deadly, very deadly and that was something else Danny could sense after all he was the Ghost King.

And she wasn't alone for in her arms was a baby, roughly the same age that Danielle had been de-aged to as well.

Danny blinked at them when he noticed something.

She...

She was limenal.

Very limenal. Even more limenal than Jazz.

In fact both of them were.

"I would like you to meet Lady Talia al Ghul and her son Damian, My King." Clockwork said as he gave a tiny bow towards the woman who stepped forward, a frown on her face she took in Danny's features and her eyes darting towards Danielle's healing pod for a moment, Danny could see she was tensed and a little weary from no doubt everything so far.

".... Welcome Lady Talia to the Infinite Realms. I am King Phantom." Danny greeted, his many years of training with other royalties coming forward as second nature now, he wasn't some normal teen from the middle of the Mid-West after all. "Has Clockwork told you the reasoning as to why you have been... chosen?"

He honestly would put it past Clockwork to be cryptic about the reasoning, but he hoped he hadn't because Danny really didn't want to explain the importance of it all and why they needed to hurry. And judging by the roll of his eyes Clockwork knew what Danny had been meaning as well.

"Yes King Phantom" Talia spoke, her voice rich and silky that sent a tiny shiver up Danny's spine from the sound "You need my DNA to help heal your clone. Should it be successful however it will change her from being merely a clone to instead into becoming yours and mine daughter."

"Correct." Was Danny's response, short and to the point. He needed her answer now if they wanted to save even a fragment of Danielle's core.

The room fell silent again, each them of taking a moment to think.

But eventually Talia spoke. Her voice steady and strong.

"I will offer my aid to you and yours... But only if you swear to both me and my son that we will be given sanctuary from my father and any who dares harm us for the blood that runs in our veins."

Danny only had one answer to that as his eyes caught hers.

Because despite being the Ghost King Phantom nowadays. He had once been Danny Phantom whose core started as a protector spirit and could sense the honestly of needing safety in her words.

"Yes."

-x-x-

Clockwork watched and smiled at the two adults in the room as they continued to stare at each other.

He knew he had been cutting it close, waiting for Talia to be at the ends of ropes and needing a chance to finally leave her deadly and abusive father without the toxic strings attached her ex would tie around her under the guise of safety for their son.

Turning his attention away from the two as they began to speak terms, Clockwork cast his gaze towards an window in the room and stared out of it, smile still on his face as glimpses of the rare future he saw slowly rose up more frequently.

Danny and Talia slowly and surely working together to raise not just Danielle, or rather Ellie as they renamed her since she was no longer a clone of Danny, but also Damian together. Passing them off as twins to those outside the Realms or Amity Park.

Talia learning to release the toxic love she had towards Bruce Wayne, and understand if someone truly loved you for you, they would demand sudden change from the only way of life one knows. That since she was no longer the thumb of her father she could finally be free to be herself.

Danny learning that despite being crowned so early in his life, that the weight of the crown didn't need to be carried alone. Sure he had his friends and family but Danny needed someone, someone who understood the weight of the feeling of needing to wear it head held high. And who better to help teach that than the woman who had to carry the name Daughter of the Demon Head herself.

The two growing closer and closer. Until fondness changed and shifted into more. As they raised the two infants with laughter and joy and love.

Ellie getting a kiss from Talia on the forehead when she had a nightmare and seeked her mother out for comfort. Toddler Damian riding Cujo around the castle as he copied Fright Knight after watching him ride off, Danny floating right by him making sure he didn't fall off. Ellie learning how to fight not just from her mother but from her idol Pandora. Damian learning to identify the stars and their names from the man he saw, and later wished was, his father. Ellie and Damian building pillow forts in the library and reading all manners of stories to each other. Danny and Talia holding their tiny hands as they took them to their first day of school within Amity Park their joyful laughter bringing soft smiles on their parents faces.

Danny holding a crying Talia as she explained the things she had been taught and forced to learn by the orders of her father in the dead of night. Doing his best to calm her down as he had been taught by Jazz ages ago.

Talia standing tall and firm when the Observants tried to undermined a order, no a law Danny had set in motion that had upset the eyeballs badly. How she gathered evidence of their attempts to go against it and how they were nothing but traitors towards their King and couldn't weasel themselves out of it this time.

Clockwork smiled warmly when he caught sight of one more glimpse of this future timeline.

Talia dressed beautifully, a crown made of stars and black jewels on her head. Her son dancing with her as firm as he could but his little tongue peeking out of his mouth as he concentrated on his steps and was dressed like a tiny prince complete with a tiny crown of stars on his head as well, Talia's face held a tiny smile of love watching him try his hardest to dance correctly with her. Joyful squeals of laughter rang out as King Phantom twirled with Ellie, who was dressed like a true princess, in his arms.

Around them in the ballroom the citizens of Realms laughed, joyfully danced, sang, ate, or merely watched. For the first time in many, many years the Realms felt... Complete. Whole. Happy.

A true wonderful afterlife that all could enjoy.

Yes.

He knew waiting the last second was a long shot, for a chance that almost wasn't, but the future he saw was well worth it.

A good future. A balanced one. A happy afterlife one.

Now, all he had to do was wait for the seeds of this future to bloom.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Enemies to Lovers (Wolverine)

Description: Enemies to Lovers with Wolverine and Y/N

Author’s note: I had a request for hate sex (which I can still do) but decided to do this for now.

Wade smirked as Y/N walked out in her new outfit that the TVA gave her. She looked really sexy. “Hey beautiful. Don’t you look like you’re ready to get fucked.” 

Y/N gave him a weird look but shrugged it off as Paradox began to tell them that their universe was about to die off. Oh Hell No! 

Wade and her did not like that but when Y/N found out that Logan of all people was the reason why…she was livid. 

The second they find him she punches him in the face. He chuckled and stood up getting ready to face the person that did that. Only to be faced with Y/N. 

He looked down at her, amused by her, “No wonder that punch didn’t hurt so bad.” She went to punch him again but harder. Wade had stopped her before she could. 

“We need him Y/N/N. I sense in the near future you may be under him and not in a fighting way.” He teases. This Logan was a drunk and let down his universe. Y/N wasn’t taking that. 

“Look asshole, you’re coming with us to fix this. Because you’re the reason that it’s happening.” She yelled at him before Wade held the gun to his head. 

He was not taking them seriously at all. He laughed and drank himself to sleep. Y/N gasped as his body hit the ground. “Well this one will do.” Wade said. 

Y/N secretly did a double take at him in the “comic accurate” suit as Wade put it. He did look good but she still hated him. 

She rolled her eyes as Paradox made both of them disappear. “Let’s go.” She said and before she fought Paradox he made her disappear too. 

She ran up to the boys as they were fighting. “Hey.” She kept yelling but they kept fighting. 

She watched and almost came as Logan ran on all fours towards Wade. She stared at him for a good 5 seconds after. 

She snapped out of it and attacked him to the ground. “No time for games, Wolvy.” She said and held her knife up to his throat. 

He would never admit it but he found that super hot. She was super hot but yet she was an asshole. 

When Johnny showed up and started flirting with Y/N. Logan felt a little jealous but he shouldn’t. She laughed at every joke he said while they were tied up together. 

Wade watched as Logan rolled his eyes at the two and instantly knew that he was jealous. “Awww is Wolvy jealous?” He asked, teasing him. 

“Of what?” He asked, annoyed. “Of fire dick flirting with your girl.” Y/N was not his girl. But before he could deny what Wade said, Johnny started talking to all of them about Nova. 

Y/N had never met anyone in the X-men so she never knew Charles or that he had a sister. Wade and Logan didn’t know either. 

“Oh your thoughts were naughty naughty earlier Y/N.” She said to her with a wink. Wade was hella curious but Logan couldn’t give two fucks, thinking it was about Johnny. 

When Nova killed Johnny, Y/N glared at Wade. “Are you fucking kidding me?” She asked him. “You just got him killed!.” Wade was shocked that they were on the same page. 

“Wade, you’re a dick! I can’t believe you did that!” She yelled at Wade after he got Johnny killed. “Boo hoo he got your little boyfriend killed.” Y/N glared at him but Wade had to stop them before they fought.

Nicepool also made an enemy out of Logan after he saw him briefly check her out and drop the biggest bomb ever: “You look just like my wife who just had a baby.” 

Y/N was his wife…well a different Y/N. Wade was shocked by the news as was Logan. “So Y/N you’re married to me in a different universe?” Wade was kind of excited.

Y/N shrugged and walked past them. Logan wasn’t thrilled by the news but why did he care so much? Y/N wasn’t even thrilled by the news. 

The Honda Odyssey where fights and almost fucking happened. 

After Logan’s speech to Wade Y/N did one too but for Logan, “I know you’re not talking Mr. I fucked up in all my universes. Maybe we should have let you drank yourself to death because it’s clear that you aren’t any help anywhere.” 

Ouch that was harsh 

“He lied to me. Oh I’m sorry you guys lied to me.” He yelled back, kinda hurt by her words.

“You’re the reason that our universe is going dickhead! It seems like you’re useless in every universe.”

“Yeah well in my universe you were a whore on the street.” 

Y/N chuckled at that and thus began the fighting. Y/N wanted this no good loser dead but unfortunately that couldn’t happen.  

Waking up to Logan drinking and Wade cuddling her was not what she had in mind. “Thor.” Wade yelled as he woke up. “What the fuck?” Y/N said as she sat up. 

Gambit was another problem for Logan as he also was flirting with Y/N. “Just like in my universe.” Logan groaned as he watched as Y/N flirted with the card guy.

“That girl in there. Do you actually hate her?” Laura asked him. He shrugged, “No but she hates me and it seems like she does in every universe.” 

Y/N and him never got along in his universe and she was still the same here. But they would have to work together to put an end to this. 

A team they made and it was pretty good. Both of them along with the others took down most of the people and Nova…almost 

“What do you mean don’t kill her?” Y/N yelled at him but unlike her Logan knew Charles and this wasn’t what he would want. 

When Nova let him go back to their universe Y/N fell right on Logan. They both groaned and looked at each other. It was almost like the world had stopped before Wade interrupted, “Listen guys you can fuck later. We have a universe to save.” 

Seeing Nicepool again was not a good thing especially when the other deadpools arrived. “Ewww Wade they’re so many of you.” Y/N said and that made Logan laugh. At least they could agree on something. 

The Mask? Oh Y/N felt the hate leave her body while he wore it. It was very sexy and he smirked at her before they fought the pools. 

Once it was over they sighed but unfortunately it wasn’t over and they all got back up. “So only Nicepool could die?” She asked in shock as the others were alive again. 

Peter Pool saved the day and they escaped to Paradox. Y/N felt herself get sick at the thought of losing herself or Wade for this universe. She almost wanted to push for it to be Logan. 

But she cared about him too and also hated that idea. “It has to be toots.” Wade looked at her and held her hands. “Wade, No you can’t.” She said with tears in her eyes. 

“It needs to be me.” Logan said not expecting her to disagree. “It can’t be either of you.” She said which surprised him. “Well it certainly won’t be you.” Wade told her. 

“Why can’t it?” But before he could respond Logan did, “Look I know you hate me and want me dead but I regret us hating each other in my universe. I want you to be happy in this one.” Right there in that moment she fell in love. 

Sobbing at the fact that she would lose one of them until they came out alive and oh boy did she let her jaw drop at Logan’s abs. 

“Like what ya see sweetheart?” He asked with a smirk and she didn’t deny it. “Put on a shirt you slut.” Y/N took the shirt from Wade and shook her head.

Logan chuckled at that and took the shirt from her hands, “You’ll see more of it later sweetheart.” He told her and Wade looked surprised. 

“Oh so now we have enemies to lovers in these films.” Wade said and they looked confused. 

“What?”

[fallrafwe]

,,THE PURGE”

a/n: this was based off a really good request 😝 working on another request too btw

warnings: dark!rafe, manipulation, NONCON/DUBCON, hair pulling, choking, threatening, knife play, carving initial into readers skin, strong language, piv, unprotected sex

summary: the purge happens but you don’t have enough time to find shelter, then rafe comes across you

As the sirens blared, you started freaking out. Your hand travelled to your pocket, pulling out your phone, you had no idea who to call or who to text, everything was going to shit already. The only reason you were outside is because your own family tricked you into going, they said they needed you to grab something, and once you were completely outside, they locked the door.

Your heart was pounding out of your chest, head moving in every direction, eventually towards an alleyway. You sprinted towards it, hiding besides the dumpsters that were against the wall, you were too busy looking over the dumpsters to hear or see somebody approaching you from behind, but eventually you heard them, and turned your head to the side almost immediately. A scream fell from your lips instinctively, but never got out because the person slapped a hand over your mouth and on the back of your head.

He started whispering to you as soon as your voice fell silent, “I’m gonna take my hand off, and you’re not gonna do anything, okay?” you nodded slowly as both of his hands retreated. “You know me, it’s Rafe, m’gonna help you, but you have to trust me.” He reassured you, and it’s not like you had anywhere else to go. You mouthed the word okay, and he took your hand and started leading you somewhere, he was very cautious with his movements, monitoring everywhere you guys walked upon, your ears rang with gunshots, and it disturbed you.

Rafe was taking you to a small house situated near Tanneyhill, you could tell it was freshly built, it was roughly the size of John B’s house. He let your hand go as soon as he reached the door, his hand slipped into his pocket, pulling out a key. The key slipped into the lock on the doors handle, twisting. A click could be heard as he turned the door knob, opening it, the door starting to creek quietly. You both entered, Rafe staying back by the door to close it and lock it. Curiosity filled your head, wondering where the rest of his family was. Your eyes were done searching everywhere, eventually turning your head to him to ask your question.

When you turned your head, you were met with a knife pressed roughly to your throat. “Y’know, you were dumb enough to trust me before this, and you’re still dumb enough to trust me now?” He was towering over you, the knife wanting to cut you.

He tutted as your eyes grew wider, “Now, you can’t do shit. Nobody is gonna help you, and if you try anything, I’ll leave you out there to die, or I’ll kill you myself. Got it?” He questioned, but your response wasn’t fast enough for him, causing him to take his other hand and pull your hair back.

“I’ll slit your throat, don’t think I won’t, so fuckin’ answer me.” You nodded the best you could, his hand restricting your head movements. He let your hair go, causing you to fall back a little, the force disappearing from your neck, you held the spot where the knife was forcefully placed, still getting used to the feeling without it. Rafe grabbed your shoulder and turned you around, then moving his hand to the back of your neck. Every time he stepped, you stepped with him.

You had no idea what to look for, but you realized he was guiding you into a room, presumably a safe room. He shoved you in, then turned around, closing the metal door and locking it. You knew you were naive, but you didn’t know this was how naive you are, your heart was racing, what was he gonna do to you? Was it gonna be bad? Well, obviously it’s gonna be bad, it’s the Purge. You were near the end of a bed when Rafe started slowly approaching you, natural instincts made you back up, eventually reaching the foot of the bed.

His hand rushed to your throat, grasping it tightly. “In what world, made you think I wanted to help you, hm?” He asked, the knife still equipped in his free hand. It was pressing against your leg, sliding against your skin and cutting it, he raised the knife in his hand and looked at it, then going back to you. Your eyes were begging for him to let go, your own hands clawing at his. The metallic object was now tracing over your thin strapped tank top, threatening to cut a strap.

The knife cut the strap with a little more pressure, making the left side of your tank top reveal your bra slightly. Your breathing became more shallow, you could feel yourself giving out, but just in time, Rafe let go of your throat. Since you weren’t used to your whole body weight being put in your own hands for a few minutes, you fell towards Rafe. He put one of his hands on your shoulder, steadying you, then swiftly pushing you on the bed. You fell backwards, a gasp slipping off your tongue, but you quickly caught yourself with your arms.

“Just be quiet, you don’t want anybody else to hear us, or else it’ll be them doing things to you, yeah?” He whispered to you, unbuckling his belt and throwing it on the floor. Tears welled up in your eyes, dropping down every once in a while, the bed dipped down with weight as he grabbed your legs and pulled your towards him, his bulge pressing against. The sudden pressure on your clit made you moan quietly, making Rafe smirk. He hooked his fingers under the waistband of your shorts and pulled them down, eventually pulling them all the way off once they made their way to your ankles.

Your white lacy panties were then revealed, a slight dark gray spot showing, stained with your arousal. Rafe traced his thumb on your clit, making you groan in pleasure, “Shit, wet f’me in a life or death situation?” he laughed lowly. He pulled his pants and boxers down, just enough to reveal his twitching cock, leaking with pre-cum. His hand traced the sides of your panties, making you whine in a moment of neediness. He put them to the side to reveal your aching pussy, dripping in your natural wetness. The occasional screaming and crashing outside distracting you.

He took his dick in one hand and traced it up and down your cunt, his other hand occupied with the knife. After deciding it was enough, he slid inside you, your pussy was tightening around his cock, making him groan at your pulsating walls. You moaned a bit loud, making Rafe shove his fingers in your mouth, a gag coming from you. “Be fuckin’ quiet, if people come in here, you’re the first one coming out that door.” He said, glaring down at you. Your hand came to his, your mouth swirling around his fingers. He groaned at the sight, thrusting inside of you, speeding up the pace. Your legs spread wider, a way for him to gain more access.

Rafe smirked at the sight of you under him, just begging with your body language for more. Eventually, he got the best angle, and you loved it, his tip kissed your g-spot, making you hum against his fingers to suppress your moans. Even though you were forced into doing this, it made you feel filthy even if it seemed like you like it, you were getting dicked down by Rafe, during the Purge, and you hated it even though it made you feel so good.

The knife started tracing the skin of your stomach, making you flinch in surprise, the knife cutting your skin in a straight line. You let out little ah sounds as Rafe continued, the mix of pleasure and pain was about to send you over the edge. The cut on your leg was done bleeding, but you were about to deal with two more. After he was done with the line, he moved on to drawing a curved shape right next to the beginning of the line, both combined it was formed to be the letter R, for Rafe.

Moans turned into muffled pleads, but your own mind didn’t know what you were begging for. It must’ve been because you were so close, and the pain just brought you closer to an orgasm, “Yeah, you like that?” he whispered. The sounds of skin colliding over and over again filled the room, even with desperate attempts to quiet it down. There was no windows in the room, so you were guessing you guys were safe, even though you, in general, weren’t.

You finally let yourself reach the edge, trying to hold yourself from biting Rafe’s fingers, the only reason was so you could suppress your moans easier. He could feel your tight cunt squeezing around him, pulling him in more and more, “Shit, gonna make me fuckin’ cum by the way your pussy feels.” he groaned, picking up his pace and making more rushed, rough thrusts. He dropped the knife and put both his arms by your chest, his head dipping next to your neck, his grunts and quiet groans filled your ears. Your hands were brought to his neck, wrapping around as your legs did the same but to his waist, allowing him to pound into you, the overstimulating sense filling your body.

His thrusts got sloppier, eventually slowing down and doing brief, deep thrusts instead. You could feel him twitch against your walls, his seed filling you up, his hot breath up against your neck. After he was done catching his breath, he lifted his head up, looking down at you. Your eyes were squeezed shut as your chest moved up and down, catching yourself from your own orgasm. He got off of you and pulled his boxers and pants all the way up, grabbing his belt and holding it in his hand, then sliding it through the loops situated on his pants.

Your hand traced over your stomach, feeling the wound Rafe created. You got up and grabbed your shorts, pulling them up your legs and putting them on, you got off the bed and looked at Rafe, blood evident on your abdomen and leg. The feeling of Rafe’s cum slowly dripping down from your cunt made you cringe. He looked at you, walking towards you, when he reached you, he grabbed your wrist, “I’m not done with you after this.” he said. You didn’t know what to say to that, except just try to pull your wrist away from his hand. His words made you scared, and that’s exactly how he wanted you to feel. After this day, nothing will be the same.

[leonstoenailunderhisbed]

My Friend, the Zombie

Summary: Leon is a zombie and reader finds him slumped in a dark alleyway. But unbeknownst to reader… he’s a needy zombie?

Warning: smut. mentions of blood and periods. cunnilingis.

A/N: sorry I haven’t posted any ff but I’ve been fighting my university nonstop😒 anyways, I didn’t know whether to turn this into a smut or a fluff but I ended up going with smut because I’m horny.

Leon S. Kennedy. A well known agent in the DSO, former rookie cop turned into a government weapon. He’s built this reputation around him that made him become respectable around his colleagues. No one would’ve guess that the Leon Kennedy would soon come to an end.

-

Months passed after the outbreak happening in the city. You were out with your friends hanging out at some Target parking lot when all of a sudden, a group of undead rose from the nearby forest just on the other side of the road.

Sometimes you wondered how you ended up in this mess. Now you were roaming the streets with your backpack full of looted items and your combat knife that you stole from the body of a military soldier you stumbled upon. Why was this happening to you? You wondered and wondered but you never came to an answer.

The town was dead. A literal ghost town—well—zombie town to be exact. Somehow, you’ve managed to survive this long. Of course life wasn’t simple. You ate less to conserve as much food as possible for the next day. You haven’t taken a shower since the power had gone out. But that was the least of your concerns. It wasn’t like you were going to bump into someone at this point in life.

You almost believed you were the only human left on earth.

Dumpster diving became a hobby for you. The amount of things people used to throw away were too precious to leave in the dumpsters.

“Jackpot,” you muttered under your breath when you stumbled upon a dark alleyway with three dumpsters. It wasn’t New York but you almost convinced yourself it was.

Your footsteps were quiet against the wet concrete under your boots. It had been raining nonstop the past following days, storms were rampant and almost everything was destroyed.

As you rummaged through the dumpster, there was groaning from the corner of the alley. Your movements still as you looked up from the trash and towards the direction where the sound came from.

You weren’t a rookie when it came to killing zombies. Surviving meant killing so it was natural that you unsheathed your combat knife and held it at the ready firmly in your hand as you took cautious steps.

It was dark, maybe a little too dark for your liking but it wasn’t like anything you haven’t experienced before.

“Hungry…” you heard someone say. It was the voice of a man, deep and guttural. At first, you thought it might’ve been a human so you quickly put your knife away and ran towards the person.

But as you got closer, you saw you were completely wrong. There against the wall sat a man who had been bitten and infected. Your heart hammered inside your chest as you looked down at him slumped figure.

His skin was pale and his veins were dark blue and black. His eyes were bloodshot red but you can still see the blue in them. His blonde hair was disbelieved, it seemed as if he had been fighting. His clothes were bloodied and there was blood around the walls and floor.

Questions and concerns circled around your mind as you looked around him. He looked weak but he also looked like he was ready to pounce on you at any minute.

“Hungry…” he said again, this time his voice becoming raspier and hoarser than before. It amazed you how this infected man still had the ability to communicate with words. Most zombies you’ve encountered were mindless monsters ready to eat humans as if it was their last dinner.

“You can talk?” You asked the man, looking down at him with an analytical eye. The man looked up at you and a groaned scoff escaped from his bloodied lips.

He cocked his head to the side, his direction being pointed towards the body of a zombie whose legs had been cut off. It didn’t worry you though. That zombie couldn’t even move, it just snarled at you both.

“Here,” you fished into your pockets and retrieved a granola bar. Great, dinner for you was gone now. The man eyed you for a minute longer before he slowly brought his hand out and took the bar from you.

He unwrapped it and almost immediately munched on the snack. He hummed and closed his eyes as he felt some food finally enter his system, he finished the bar rather quickly. But it wasn’t enough to satisfy his hunger.

You, as unimpressed as you were, couldn’t help but notice his attire. He looked like some kind of character that was like an agent or something. His black shirt had rips and it was stained with blood. His cargo pants contained holsters for what you assumed were guns and knives but he didn’t have them.

“What happened to you?” You asked as you sat in front of him. He raised an eyebrow at you, almost perplexed at why you even sat in front of him while he was still very clearly infected.

He didn’t answer to your question, he was still wary of you but there was a certain gaze in his eyes.

Hunger.

His eyes remained on your neck but then he stood up and took slow and staggering steps towards you.

“You smell…” he started. So he can talk. He just chooses not to. He narrowed his eyes at you as he tried to put your scent into words.

And then, without warning, he quickly pulled your wrists and pressed your body against his. He stuffed his face on your neck and took a heavy sniff on your skin, he groaned as the scent infiltrated his nose.

“Smells good,” he whispered. He dragged his tongue around the pulse point of your neck. You tried to fight him but something told you that he wasn’t all that dangerous. He seemed human. A little too human.

He pulled back and gave your body a once over, something else caught his nose. His nose flared as his eyes narrowed at you.

“Blood,” he whispered as he eyes you suspiciously, “you’re bleeding…” I croaked out in a raspy voice. You looked at him confused.

Bleeding? You clearly weren’t injured so what—oh.

He could smell that you were bleeding from your period. You mentally cursed yourself, is that why that hoard of zombies were following you earlier today? No wonder.

He took a step towards you, almost as if wanted to smell you again. But this time, you didn’t fight it. You were almost amused as to see what he was going to do.

At first, you thought he was going to lunge at you and bite you. But it took you by surprise when all of a sudden, he leaned down and grabbed your ankles. He then pulled on them, causing you to fall on your back. You looked at him perplexed, was this a new of attacking someone?

“I want to taste,” he voiced in a hoarse tone. His voice was deeper and almost needy. He wanted—no, he needed to taste you.

He was a starved man and you were the perfect oasis he could feast on. He got on his knees and settled between your legs but he didn’t do anything yet.

He may be infected but he was still a gentleman.

“Please,” he begged as he looked at you with pleading eyes. His mouth was watering, he could practically taste the metallic blood on his tongue and it was driving his primal instincts crazy.

“Please let me taste you,” he whispered again as his hands traveled along your thighs. You were almost tempted to say no and kill him on the spot. But he was handsome and he seemed smart. Maybe you’d keep him for your journeys.

With a slight nod of your head, he didn’t waste time on taking off your pants and panties in one swift motion.

His tongue darted out and he licked his lips upon seeing the sight of your bloody cunt in front of him. It was like a buffet for him. He slowly eased himself further on the floor as his face neared your entrance. The strong coppery smell of your blood made him act like a whole different man.

He went from needy and pleading to one that wasted no time in ravaging you. He traced his tongue along the slit of your entrance, tasting your blood that had caused his body to shiver. He groaned a guttural groan and waiting no time in darting his tongue inside your cunt to lap at the blood, making sure to suck and clean you off.

You were shocked but when you felt his tongue, the sensation made you throw your head back and grip his hair tightly in your hand. You pulled his head closer as he continued his ministrations with his tongue. He flicked and licked everywhere he could.

His hands gripped at your hips as your moans filled the air and it was enough for him to just keep going. For a moment, all he could think about was quenching his devilish hunger. To finally be able to feast on such sweet and addictive blood was like a miracle.

He knew you were getting aroused and although this was something new for you, you couldn’t help but feel attracted to it. To this.

You’ve only ever heard of men eating women out on their period but to actually experience it made you feel blessed. Maybe not all men were bad. But was he even considered a human? You didn’t know and you didn’t care. His mouth on your cunt felt good.

Slick and blood dripped down his face and for a moment you wondered if he could breathe. He hasn’t pulled back at all to catch his breath, he was a possessed man. Starved and munching on you.

The coil in your stomach started to stretch as he kept eating you as if you were a five star restaurant. He didn’t stop, he only went faster. His lips were firmly pressed against your cunt as his tongue swirled inside you, licking and tasting each ounce of blood that came from within you.

“I’m gonna—“ you said as you gripped his hair tightly. He only grunted in response and dragged his tongue along your slit until he found your clit, he flicked it with his tongue before he sucked on it. But the smell of blood was intoxicating and he couldn’t help but dive back into your bloody pussy.

He felt your walls pulsate and around him as you grinded your hips along his face. He didn’t fight against you, in fact, he encouraged you.

Your body arched as you came around his face and he licked off any remnant of blood and cum that came out of you.

He looked up at you as he watched your chest heave up and down from coming down from your high. His lips pressed one final kiss on your cunt before he pulled back and wiped the juices off his face with the back of his hand—before he licked the back of his hand.

“You taste even better than I imagined,” he whispered and stood up. He took your clothes from the floor and held them to you.

He watched as you got dressed but he didn’t attack. For a zombie, he seemed rather nice and friendly. For now at least.

“Let’s make a deal,” you said after you caught your breath, “You help me and in return I’ll let you do this again.”

His eyes narrowed in suspicious. It seemed like a good deal. Almost too good, “How do I know you won’t lie?”

“You’ll just have to trust me,” you said as you smirked at him and patted his cheek, “Come now. We’ve got places to explore and loot.”

As you began to walk ahead, he couldn’t help but scoff at your assertive nature. He thought you were crazy for wanting him to join you but he also couldn’t pass the chance of eating out your blood again. So, he followed behind you.

“By the way,” you started as he walked next to you, “You didn’t answer my question. What happened to you and how can you talk?”

He looked at you with a raised brow and a smirk, “I got the vaccine years ago but I still got ambushed.”

“Okay… but how do I also know you won’t do that to me?” You asked with skepticism.

He maintained that smug smirk on his and he stopped walking as he stared down at you, “You’ll just have to trust me.”

He began to walk ahead as you remained shocked, he just gave you your own words. A dry scoff escaped your lips and you quickly ran behind him.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[lis-likes-fics]

Convince Me

Pairing: Stu Macher x gf!Reader Word Count: 6.6k words Warnings: NSFW, smut, knife play, blood kink, mentions of killing, cutting, switch!Reader, switch!Stu, marking, scratching, oral (f!receiving), they're constantly trying to kill each other, established relationship, kinktober... A/N: Hello, everyone! Here I am posting for Stu Macher again for a holiday. I can't help it, he's an idiot. But I won't say he's the only Ghostface you should be looking forward to this month. Stay tuned. Enjoy and Happy Halloween!

You definitely should have reacted differently.

Stu always knew you were a little fucked up. He could just tell—in your jokes, your words, the way you smiled. Maybe it was a little harder for people to see sometimes, but it was easy for him. You're not right.

Of course, he doesn't mind. He's also a little fucked up (which is a vast understatement, but it's funnier that way).

But you definitely should have reacted differently.

He hadn't heard you coming up the steps. He hadn't heard you open the door. All he knew was that you climbed up the side of his house and into his bedroom through his window, like a fucking psychopath. (He taught you that.)

He hadn't even changed yet. His mask is sitting on the bed, covered in blood. He sits at the edge with a hand over his arm where he'd been nicked by the last screamer he slashed. The red is bright against the white of his skin. It's hard to miss.

Stu hesitates as he stares at you staring at him, your eyes wide but full of an emotion he can't place. He's quick to swipe his blade from the bed, gripping it tight as he stands.

“Wait!”

You hold your hands out, bracing for the pain but finding none. That was so quick. It's almost like he didn't even have to think about it.

Stu doesn't want to kill you. He thinks you're hot shit, and he thinks you're so beautiful, and he wants to eat you whole.

You don't want Stu to kill you. You think he's funny and weird and you want to eat him whole.

You look at him, your hands shaking as you keep them held out. You swallow thickly. Your mouth is suddenly dry. He stares at you, and it almost seems like he's begging you to give him a reason not to kill you.

“You're… You're the killer? You're Ghostface.”

Your voice is small, but the underlying fear is too underlied. Something is off.

He doesn't answer you. Instead, he watches the way your eyes look him up and down, dragging your gaze down from the knife to his face to the black robes adorning him.

He could kill you right now.

When you begin to move, he expects you to shrink out of the window and try to run away. But you don't. You climb the rest of the way through and close it quietly behind you, like you're afraid his parents (who aren't even home) will hear.

You clear your throat quietly, staring still. “You…killed all those people? Our friends?”

It's still for a moment. You almost don't react when he approaches you quickly. He shoves you into the wall, boxing you in with one hand pressed to the wall. You hit your head, closing your eyes and groaning lightly. When you open them again, he's inches away from your face with the sharp point of his knife barely touching the underside of your jaw.

He seems conflicted for a long moment before he speaks, his voice a little wobbly but otherwise the same chipper tone he's used to having.

“Killing you isn’t part of the plan,” he says, not quite confident enough to crack a grin. “Give me a reason why I shouldn’t.”

You hold your breath, staring at the craze in his eyes and finding it hard to look away. His pupils are blown so wide that the light blue of his eyes appears almost like sapphire. You’re shaking, even as you reach a hand out and place it at his cheek.

His gaze doesn’t falter as the warmth of your palm brushes the cold of his face, though a light sigh passes through his lips.

You keep looking into his eyes. They’re wide with adrenaline, dark with his intent. When he presses the knife a little closer, you tilt your chin up higher and let out a shuddering breath. You know he’s pierced the skin. You can feel the slightest slip of blood pooling from the spot. “Tell me why I shouldn’t,” he says again, his voice a little weaker this time.

“Stu.” Your voice is almost a whisper. He’s confused. You’re not having the right reaction. You’ve got your hand on his cheek, your eyes are dry, and although you tremble, it’s not the pleading tremble he’s used to seeing in his victims. You look…calm.

You raise a hand to the knife, which has become unsteady with his own slight shake. You wrap your fingers gently around his wrist and guide his hand away. He lets you. His hand swings at his side

You drop your hand down to his waist, and he just watches you, thoroughly confused and slowly losing his distress in the way you touch him. Your hand on his cheek shifts and wraps around the back of his neck. His eyes dart between your own, searching for your intent because he is genuinely so confused about the way you’re behaving.

You should be begging for your life, spewing incoherent ramblings about all the reasons he should spare you. Of course, none of them would work. You’ve seen him now. You know it’s him. If he lets you go, you could go run and tell the cops. You could ruin everything. Even if he does let you go, and you don’t say anything, Billy would be pissed. He would handle it himself.

Stu doesn’t want to let anybody else kill you. If you are going to die, he’s going to be the one to hold the knife.

He shakes his head, gripping his knife in hs fist as his nerves begin to fray. You keep staring at him, flicking your eyes from one side to the other. You look like you’re anticipating something. “What are you–?”

He can’t finish his sentence before you’re cutting him off with your lips on his. It’s an aggressive kiss. Your teeth clash, and you’re pretty sure you’ve cut his lip by the taste of blood on your tongue. You lick his lip, tasting the metal and sighing into his mouth. It’s hot and messy. Your mouths keep slipping off one another.

Stu has never been strong against stuff like this. When you’re kissing him like you’re trying to consume him, it gets cloudy in his head and he loses focus. The knife in his grip clatters to the floor, and he presses his body flush against yours, pushing you into the wall as he groans into your mouth.

You pull him down more, attacking his mouth with an intensity that should have been fear, not passion. One of his hands wraps around your throat, squeezing lightly and pulling a moan from your lips.

You don't know what's wrong with you, but you know there's something wrong. You know the curling in your stomach is a feeling that is likely better left ignored, but you're already here.

Stu tastes like hard candy, the kind that will crack your teeth if you bite too hard (and you've been known to bite). His edge is like lava, and his kisses always cut like a knife. You're certain it's the reason you've wanted him for so long, the reason you were drawn in the first place. It was set in stone when he first kissed you, when he first fucked you.

The boys you've been with were warm bodies sticky with sweetness or bitter with their crass. You sucked on them too hard, and they lost their flavor in moments, dissolved by the acidity of your spit-slicked tongue.

Stu leaves you cuts and bruises, scorch marks and scars on the private parts that no one sees. You've always known you liked them, you just never realized why.

Maybe you're sick. You need to be taken and locked away so you can't hurt anybody, or lose yourself in twisted arousal when someone else gets hurt. You don't know. Whatever the case…Stu likes it, and it's nice to be liked.

You bite down hard on his lip, breaking the skin as he pulls away with it still stuck between your teeth. He laughs, raising his free hand to wag his finger at you. “You're fuckin’ sick.”

You smile, licking his blood from your lips. “So are you.”

You close the distance again, letting rough hands slide from his head to his neck to his chest as you begin to push him back with heavy steps.

You shove him onto the bed. He falls back without a protest, smirking devilishly at you. You stand there, watching him with a rising and falling chest as you bend down to pick the knife up from the floor.

Stu’s grin falls slightly, and he watches you like a hawk as you slowly walk toward him. You stand in front of him, looking down at the knife as it glints in the soft light of his bedside lamp.

“There's something wrong with me,” you say, running the blunt side of the blade over the pad of your thumb before twirling the end carefully at the point. It breaks skin, and a bead of blood pools at your thumb.

When you finally look back up at him, he's grinning. “I coulda told you that.”

You point the knife at him. Some of his amusement dies down, but not because he's threatened. If you try to kill him, he will kill you. He doesn't want to kill you.

“You killed our friends,” you accuse.

“Technically, I killed some of our friends,” he shrugs. “Billy killed the rest.”

You tilt your head. “You slashed them.”

“Like pigs.”

He has no shame. No remorse. You clench your tension slicked thighs.

“No,” you shake your head. “Pigs are slaughtered. Slaughter is systematic, it's unfeeling.” You walk closer, pressing your knee into the foot of the bed and leaning forward until you're looming over him with the knife pointed at his throat, just as he'd had you moments before. “You're not unfeeling. Whatever you did was sadistic. You enjoyed every bit of it.”

His eyes keep going between your own and your lips, parted and swollen with his biting hunger. “Guilty as charged.”

You shake your head. It's a little scary, the desire in you telling you to fuck him. It's the same desire telling you to maim him, to slit his throat or drive the knife through his heart.

You don't want to kill Stu. But there would be satisfaction in doing so.

You brush the tip of the knife along the underside of his jaw. “Then tell me why I’m so wet.”

He knew he loved you. You capture his lips again, careful not to nick him as you do. His hands grip your waist, keeping you where you are.

Your lips stray from his mouth in favor of sliding down his neck, biting and sucking on his throat as he leans his head back and grunts. “So do you normally wear dresses while I'm not looking?”

His hands rub up and down your side, slipping underneath the waist of your jeans. “Not a dress,” he says. A smile curls his lips, “And you like it.”

His long middle finger strokes the seam of your cunt, smearing the arousal that's gathered there over his finger, over your folds. You hum lightly, “Maybe I do.”

You wrap a hand around his neck, forcing his chin up to bare his full throat to you. He grunts as you sink your teeth into it, letting your nails dig into his skin as you go. You chuckle in his ear. “But you're not much better.”

He laughs, cut off by your mouth attacking his again. “Why don't you take it off me, if you hate it so much?” he suggests, biting your bottom lip.

“Never said I hated it,” you shrug. “In fact…I don't think I will take it off.”

His hands squeeze your hips, tilting his head as he looks up at you. “Well, what if I make you?”

You slide the edge of the knife down his cheek. His eyes are hooded, darkened partially with lust and partially with sadism. He doesn't want to kill you, but he would love to hurt you. Just enough to see how you bleed.

“You won't be making me do anything tonight.”

He raises an amused brow. “And why is that, sweetheart?”

“You said to give you a reason not to kill me. I'm giving you one.” You smile, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth as you chuckle. “But that means I’m in charge tonight.”

He leans forward. You pull back. He's so close, you could kiss right now. But you don't want to give him the satisfaction.

“What if I don't like that?”

You lean in. Just as he goes to meet you, you pull back again. This makes him laugh, because you seem to already think you're in charge. He goes to kiss you again, but you don't let him.

You smile. “What if I don't care?”

“I could kill you right now.” His hands tighten on your waist as if to emphasize his point.

“And I have a knife to your throat,” you state plainly. “It's mutually assured destruction.”

Stu doesn't think so. He knows there's something wrong with you—it's evident in the way you kiss him with his blood on your lips, a knife at his throat, his mask covered in blood right next to your heads. But he's not fully convinced that you'd be strong enough to kill him.

You would hesitate. Stu wouldn't have that problem.

“If you say so.”

You shush him, letting your lips brush as you do. “Reason number one,” you whisper. “I taste good.” You close the distance, latching onto his mouth as you slide one hand beneath his head. He bites you and grunts into your kiss. Your nails dig into his scalp and his hands slide under your shirt to dig into your waist.

You love the way he kisses you. He doesn’t care about gentleness, he doesn’t care about being sweet. He kisses you like his full intention is to break you. He wants to cut your slips and crack your teeth down to the nerve. He wants to split your tongue in two and suck on it.

You pull away with your hand around his throat. He laughs drunkenly. “I’d like to taste something else.” He licks his lips as if to demonstrate.

A light chuckle bubbles in your chest. “Well, I’m not gonna leave you hanging.” You shrug a shoulder, pulling on an innocent expression as you shift off of him. “Especially not with my life on the line.”

Stu moves to sit up, but you pull the knife on him quicker than he anticipates. He stops, slowly leaning back down as you guide him away with the tip of his blade. “No,” you tut gently. “You stay right there.”

Stu watches you lean back, moving off his body to stand on your feet. As you bring your hands to the hem of your shirt, he smiles and watches you lift it over your head just to toss it to the ground. And he's definitely happy to watch you dig your thumbs into the waistband of your jeans and push them down your legs. Your bra doesn't match your underwear. It's pink and blue, and it looks good on you either way.

You place your hand on his chest to balance, pushing your panties down to the floor before straddling his hips again. The fabric of his robes are soft against your skin, and his hands on your thighs are burning hot. You bend down to kiss him once, moving up the length of his body until your spread legs are hovering over his head.

“Be a good boy?” you tilt your head, bracing your hands on the headboard of his bed. Stu scoffs like the notion is ridiculous, but when you lower yourself on him, his mouth attacks your cunt with a vicious hunger.

He’s in no way gentle or soft. He has no care for it. His hands clasp around your thighs so tightly that you think you may lose blood flow. His mouth sucks and his tongue laps at your folds, which are soaked with your immoral arousal. You’re glad no one is home. It just means you don’t have to be quiet as you let your head fall back and ride his face.

When one hand reaches up to squeeze your breasts, you sigh as you pull your shirt over your head. You thrust up and down the length of his mouth, enjoying every slide and suck and smack as his tongue circles your clit. You curse, the undeniable pleasure of his mouth an undeniable thing. As you let your head shift to the side and see the bloodied mask, the face of a ghost that almost seems as though it weeps with tears of joy at the indiscretions it commits.

When Stu sucks hard on your clit, you brace your teeth into the flesh of your arm, biting down hard as you allow a muffled moan to make its way up your throat.

This is wrong. You shouldn’t be letting him do this. He’s a murderer. He’s killed people—people you knew, people you were close with—and he’s done it with no remorse. You should be running and screaming, begging on your knees for him to spare your life. But instead, you ride his face under the pretense of self-preservation.

And, on some level, it is. He needs you to prove to him why he should spare you (though you’re sure he’s convinced by now that you won’t tell anybody).

You grip a fistful of his hair in your fist, rolling your hips over his face as your pleasure begins to rise in your belly. Your legs begin to tremble so slightly as his tongue flicks and sucks on your clit, coaxing it from you with a cruel sort of need.

Your hips jerk when his teeth lightly scrape your folds, startling more than hurting you. “Stu,” you sigh heavily. “Right there. Almost there.”

You feel him try to pull away, make you suffer for his amusement. But you don't let him. You lock your hands around his head and roll your hips over his mouth, a strenuous back and forth that brings you closer and closer until you're shaking.

You curse in the middle of your gasp. It's this backwards sound that outlines your lust, craven and enthused with no regard to any moral or some kind of calamity. Your orgasm rises in your belly and scours the rest of your body. You yank his hair and listen to him moan.

Once the high runs down, you lift up from his face to pull him off of you, shifting back to straddle his waist as you slouch over his body with unsteady breath. “You like me on top,” you comment, smirking slyly at him as he laves his tongue over his pink lips.

You press your hands to his chest, bending down to kiss him and sink your teeth into his bottom lip in the process. He winces, returning the favor with his own biting Jaws.

You gasp into his mouth when he wraps an arm around you and flips you onto your back. You're disoriented as you catch your bearings, looking back at him to see the knife held at your throat.

You stare at him, your eyes wide with shock. Bring your leg up his side, you lean in slowly. His lip quirks, following your movements with a tightened grip on his blade.

The pain shoots up his arm when you sink your teeth into the meat of his palm, just as your lips had begun to brush. The knife slips from his hand, and you wrap your legs around him to toss him off of you. He falls to the ground with a thump. You snatch the blade, moving to join him as you straddle his waist again.

But Stu is already anticipating this. You're smaller than him, so the only real advantage you have is to be on top. He rolls you both a second time until he's caging you in underneath him, snatching the knife and holding at your throat once more as his other hand pins your wrists above your head.

You're entirely vulnerable and completely naked. He's got the upper hand.

Stu watches you, the knife braced against your skin as he teases you with the freezing metal. You stare at him with wide eyes, and he has trouble deciding what he sees in them. You're like a deer in headlights, not afraid of the danger hurling towards you, but so mesmerized that you cannot find it in you to save yourself.

Stu bends down to capture your lips in his teeth, joining you in a biting kiss as he keeps the knife steady at your chest. You arch your back and hiss when the blade cuts into your skin, reveling the dizzying feeling in your brain.

Stu pulls back to see you, looking down at where a trickle of blood is staining your skin. You look up at him, your eyes unfocused as he examines your cut. It's shallow, but he's sure it'll scar.

He looks at your face, and your eyes are hooded with what he thinks is lust. And he thinks you're crazy for it.

His opinion worsens as you arch your back into his knife again and wince loudly when you're cut again. The blood falls a little easier down the side of your chest, two crossed lines forming an X between your breasts that he admires.

He's got a wicked smile on his face as he watches your chest heave with the feeling of the sting in your skin. When his mouth closes around your nipple, you writhe like crazy as he sucks.

“Stu,” you breathe, fighting against his hand, but not enough to actually escape. You probably could if you tried hard enough.

Stu rolls you onto your stomach, pulling you up onto your knees as he forces your head down against the floor. The sting of your cuts hurt, but it continues to haze your mind with a strange mixture of your lust.

“You're fuckin’ messed up, you know that?” he questions, laughing giddily as he does.

You laugh meekly, keeping your position even after he's let you go. “I need you, Stu,” you breathe, running a hand through your wet folds as you do.

“Good. Because I got another reason for you.” You hear a ton of rustling, and then a zipper. Stu lines himself up with the seam of your pussy, moaning when he's buried to the hilt inside of you. You purse your lips and let your voice muffle in your arm. “You feel amazing.”

Stu’s long, he sits deep inside of you. A startled moan comes out of you when he pulls all the way back and drives himself back in so hard that it hurts. You bury your face in your arm and whimper in your skin as he fucks into you with no regard to your pleasure.

And it hurts, but God does it feel so good. You want to tell him to slow down, to go easy on you, but you want him to hurt you. You want to quietly exclaim “Ow!” into your arm when he drives in just a little too deep. You want him to mangle you, and you want to be able to blame your pain on him.

And he's happy to let you.

Stu fucks you from behind. He does it roughly, and he does it regardlessly. You grasp uselessly for the floor to hold onto something.

Each thrust is met with a strangled moan, and when Stu’s hands press against your back, you seethe as he runs his dull nails into the skin. It’s all very disarming, the pleasure, the pain, the bite of his nails and the sting of the cuts in your chest. You let it swirl in your head and render you useless.

“I thought you were in charge, huh? You were gonna tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.” He punches hard inside of you, and for a second, you can’t breathe. “But you’re taking it like a little bitch.”

You get your bearings then, bouncing forward just when he’s pulling back. He slips out of you, and a little hiss falls off his tongue. Stu reaches for your hips to put himself back inside, but you’re already on your side. You throw a leg out and jab your foot into his side.

Stu groans loudly at the pain, clasping his hand at his side where you kicked him. A flare of anger rises within him, and he uses it to grab your leg. You use your free leg to push him back by his chest, and he falls back against the floor with a grunt.

You climb on top of him once more, grabbing the knife just as you had done before and bracing it at his stomach instead. “If you move, I’ll gut you,” you threaten just as he’s realizing where you’ve got him. He smiles like you’d just told him the sweetest thing.

Stu lays back. You watch his muscles relax as he sighs. “Whatcha gonna do, huh?” he hums. “Are you gonna hurt me now?” The way he beams at you is nothing but insanity. You slip your hands beneath his robe, which he had pulled up to his waist while he was fucking you. You pull it over his head and make his shirt go with it until he’s half naked beneath you.

You look down at him, your breath steady. He tries to see what you’re thinking, but your face is unreadable. With a gentle smile, you tighten your grip on the knife before pulling it away from his belly. You tease his chest just as he had done to you, and your grip is surprisingly steady.

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” you smile. “Not too much, at least.”

He tilts his head, only for it to shoot back with grinding teeth as you dig the long end of the blade into the skin below his pec. You watch a line of blood trickle down from the wound, keeping your hand as steady as you can as you begin to carve your initials into his flesh.

You go slow, drawing out every little knick just to see him struggle not to squirm underneath you and ruin your work. You’re already cutting him. Who’s to say you won’t kill him?

You like the way the blade glistens in the lamp light. It’s just a small little gleam, but it makes you feel something. As you look up at Stu, his jaw clenched and his eyes shut. He doesn’t look too much like he’s suffering, but he definitely isn’t comfortable. The blade clatters to the floor by his head.

You pull back to admire your handiwork, wiping uncaringly at the wound with his robe as the blood continues to pool. “Reason number three,” you smile, brushing your thumb over the cuts and admiring the way his stomach tenses. It looks so nice, a mark he’ll bear forever. A tingling feeling nests in your gut, eats away at your fingertips and the very tips of your ears. You lean down to brush your lips against his, your voice a smooth whisper against his mouth as he watches you with hooded eyes. “You’re mine now.”

“Am I?” he asks, his lip twitching with his smirk. You reach up onto the bed, never breaking eye contact as you blindly reach for the mask on his bed. You swipe it up, pulling it over his head as he huffs. The black pits of his Ghostface eyes bore into you. You bend down and kiss the open void of his mouth. If you’d been actually kissing him, he may not have realized you pulling his pants down the rest of the way.

“All mine.” You raise yourself up over his lap, reaching down to line his cock with your pussy as you stare at him. “And I’m gonna show you.”

You sink down on him. You moan at the feeling. It sits in your throat as you slowly guide your hips forward and back, feeling the length of his cock pressing all the way inside. You relish in the feeling for just a moment, but you don’t waste time on it. You brace your hands on his chest, pressing down hard so you can hear his breath strain in his lungs as you begin to ride him.

You ride him fast and hard, with deep strokes and clenching fists. His hands grasp at your waist with a tightness that hurts, and you throw your head back as you continue to ride him with all that you’ve got. Your tits bounce as you do, an up and down motion that his gaze is glued to. You can feel it even through the mask keeping you from watching the way his eyes shut and his mouth hangs open.

“You like when I ride you, Stu,” you breathe, bouncing your ass up and down as you slam yourself on his cock. “You like when I’m on top, fucking myself on you, holding you down and using you how I want.” Your smile is toxic as you chuckle. “You can’t admit how much you like me in charge.”

His voice is muffled through the mask, but you hear every word he says with a clarity that rattles your bones. “I’m gonna fuck you so hard, you cry.”

You roll your hips in just the right angle to hear him moan. When you laugh, your walls tighten around him, and he hisses. “Promise?” you whisper, straightening your back and burying your hands in your hair. When you bounce, your own eyes flutter shut and your mouth drops down to moan freely. “Fuck, Stu, you always reach so—mmh!—so deep.”

You hear him pick up the knife, but you do nothing to stop him. You wince and whine when he braces it at your stomach, letting little paper cuts clip your skin as the shallow cuts send pleasure rushing up your spine. “You gonna mark me now? Like I marked you?” You smile, your head reeling with everything rushing to it. “Then you really can’t kill me, ‘cause everyone will know who did it.”

The knife trails down to your thigh, and you open your eyes to watch him. The look on your face is sultry. You remind him of a demon, and he wants to taste you. You hold him by his shoulders as you continue to bounce on him. The new angle makes him whimper.

“Just like that?” you mutter. “You want more?” You grind your hips, and he’s a goner as his grip loosens once more. You set your hands on his chest and dig your nails into his skin, scraping your nails down the flesh as angry red lines follow in their wake. You wish you could see the way the muscles in his neck flex, but you settle for his arms straining in his skin, his hands grabbing you so hard, you think you’ll lose circulation.

It’s all a lot to take in. Your clit is aching with need, and it’s becoming harder to taunt him with the tightness of your own need. You slip your hand between your thighs and toy with your clit, a deep sigh escaping you just as you do.

Stu hasn’t done much but moan and wince. He usually talks so much that sometimes you have to tell him to shut up, but when he’s on the bottom and you’re staring down at him without those fucked up eyes, he can’t find words to drown you in.

Your shallow breaths are loud, pitchy when you roll your hips just right. You stare at the bleeding cuts under his pec, and that gratifying feeling you’d gotten when you made it fills you again.

“Did it feel good?” You’re not as taunting anymore. There’s a lilt to your voice that makes Stu want to pin you down and cut you open. He tilts his head, and you think for a moment that you’ll cum right then. It shouldn’t be as arousing as it is—his mask is, by no means, terrifying. It’s comical, to say the least.

But, oh, does he look good covered in blood…

“Killing them?” you clarify, losing your gravitas as you brace yourself on his chest and swivel your hips at a spot that makes your brain numb. Stifled moans come out as whimpers as you work that deep, spongey stop inside of you that makes you want to explode. “Did it feel good?”

Stu’s hand reaches up and grabs the back of your neck, pulling down as the other braces at the very top of your thigh to help you move. He doesn’t say anything, but you can hear his unsteady breaths hurling toward the barrier blocking you. You think you’ll cum soon.

But it doesn’t happen. Stu turns you again, pushing you underneath him once more. He hikes your legs up his waist and gathers your wrists in his hand as his other keeps your hips steady. You’re in the middle of licking your lip when he thrusts into you so deep that you cry out.

“How good do you feel right now?” he asks, his voice husky and low with lust. “You like when I thrust into you so deep, your eyes roll?” You nod, your sounds utterly useless otherwise. “You like when I fuck you so hard, it hurts a little and you need me to stop?”

You nod again, feeling just that right as he says it. You embrace the pain. It makes your head dizzy and your legs spasm. “Yes, Stu,” you whimper.

“You like when I pin you down and fuck you like I want?” His voice is frayed at the ends, spent with excitement. “You like dripping for me? And then watching me drip out of you when I cum inside of this pretty little pussy?”

You nod once more, your fingers toying away at your clit and stopping just before you tip off the edge. “Please, Stu.”

He bends down so his mouth is at your ear, the black fabric of his mask caressing your skin. He never stops moving as his body moves with yours. “Killing is like fucking,” he rasps. “It’s raw and it’s hot. Your heart races, your body gets all tingly. The fuckin’ power is enough to drive you crazy.”

You want to wrap your arms around him and pull him in close, but every time you move them, his grasp tightens around your wrists. “When I stab someone, it feels like I’m shoving my dick inside of you. When I choke someone out, I feel like my hands around your throat. When I gutted Casey from side to side and hung her from that tree while her guts spilled out, it felt like I was gutting you. And fuck, did that feel good, baby.”

You’re inconsolable, your breaths shaky and your muscles tensing with every quiver of a faltering release. “D’you wanna kill me, Stu?”

It takes him a moment to respond, caught up in the way your cunt hugs him so tight when the sound of your hips meeting fills the air with wet slaps. “Honest?” You nod. “I don’t know.” Your moan shudders out of you with an “oh” sound, ending with an F that drives out until it’s no longer forming a word. “Killing you would feel fuckin’ amazing…but I can fuck you again and again and again and get the same high. I can only kill you once.”

You smile, and it’s the sickest thing he’s ever seen. He gets drunk off the sight. “Then I guess you’ll have to keep me, huh?”

He doesn’t answer. He laughs, and then he keeps fucking you like he plans for it to be the last time he ever will. He keeps fucking you like he will kill you after. The thought of it should not make you shudder, but you do and you grip him tighter as you beg for a release.

He’s getting close, you can hear it in the way he moans. Beneath the mask, you know his brows are creasing together with that little curve. It makes him look like he’ll cry. You love when he makes that face.

Your release catches you by surprise. You meant to wane off again, but the pleasure was too great. Your back arches and you clench down on him tightly as you let the waves of relief crash down around you violently. It’s like you’re being dunked under water again and again, unable to catch your breath as the water floods your lungs and makes you cough so much, there’s no way you’ll be able to breathe again.

Your skin prickles with goosebumps, and you tremble as the pleasure makes its way through your body. You cry his name, even beg him to do things to you that you probably shouldn’t while he’s so susceptible to killing you.

His thrusts are unsteady now, especially when you suck him in like you’re trying to milk him. Your mind is frayed with the pleasure lingering in every crevice, and you sink into the rhythm of his thrusts with all the excitement of a first orgasm.

“Gonna fuckin’–!” He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. The way you clench around him is sinister, and his whole body is shaking with his release when he spills inside of you. You grunts and whimpers fall freely as he fucks you to his own need, just as he had been before.

His last thrusts are done in quick succession, deep and spurred by dull aftershocks. His breath is so heavy, you can only assume it’s hot and humid underneath that mask. Stu’s muscles twitch as he lets go of your wrists to attack your sides with gripping hands. He lets out a loud huff as he reaches for his mask, pulling it over his head.

He hadn’t seen you pick up the knife again. He’s met with it at his throat, the tip of it grazing his earlobe as you threaten his jugular. You’re smiling the prettiest smile, and Stu thinks he’s a goner. He’d let you spill his blood in a crimson shower all over your face if it meant seeing you smile like that would be the last thing he saw. He doesn’t realize just how much he loves you sometimes. Not until he’s willing to die for you just as much as he’s willing to kill you.

He smiles, and you know that he’s perfect. You’re so happy that you’re just as fucked up as him, your fingers itching to go the extra step and just…sink in.

“Reason number four,” you whisper in the space between you, “I won’t hesitate.” Keeping the blade steady, you wrap your legs around his waist and make him sit up. You lower your voice to the softest thing he’s ever heard. “Killing you would bring me just as much as joy as fucking you.”

You understand him. It feels so nice for someone to understand him. How sad it would be if you were normal…or if he was the one who was normal. What a shame it would be.

“God, I love you.” He smiles, and then he laughs in the way that compels him to stick his tongue out to his chin.

Your nose scrunches with your grin, it worsens when you feel the warmth of his blood sticking to your chest because of how close you are now. “Good,” you say. “Because you belong to me now, Mr. Ghostface.”

He laughs again. “My crazy woman.” He pulls you into a kiss, and finds himself happy that he’s deciding not to kill you. For now, at least.

Stu Macher taglist: @the-nerdy-goddess @queermaxwooo @mamaemoemu @snailss @bubbledtee @anotherblackreader @motopoppp @a-person-in-many-fandoms @laniirackssss @stealthyadversary @electraphyng Tag yourself here...

[motherofdogs1010]

Solar Flare (Feyd-Rautha x Reader)

Summary: Chosen as the bride of na-Baron Feyd-Rautha, Y/N finds herself at the hands of the sadistic na-Baron who seems keen on having his bride on their wedding night...

Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, arranged marriage, DUBCON/ pinv sex, fingering, loss of virginity, brief knife kink, small breeding kink, crude language, forced arranged marriage

A/N: I took inspiration from S1 GoT with Khal Drogo and Daenarys' relationship lol, can you tell I love that show?

Open to further parts in the future

Dividers by @firefly-graphics Banner by @vase-of-lilies

Geidi Prime was so different from her own world, one that was known for its windy, sunny atmosphere where nearly anything thrived in the fertile soil; she looked out the window of the bedroom she was in, seeing how the black sun of the planet truly blotted out any color. She could hear the hum of life within the ship as she awaited for her brother to summon her, to see if her fate would be sealed or not.

She wore a simple satin dress of a lavender shade, her hair loose and held back by two simple braids with some bells that hung from it as it was a fashion trend in her planet. Y/N sucked in a breath as she recalled her reason for being on Geidi Prime, that reason being that her brother was selling her off like a broodmare to the na-Baron of House Harkonnen.

She had heard the rumors of Feyd-Rautha, the sadistic nature of the man and it made her tremble in fear as she thought about it.

Knock. Knock.

Turning her head, Y/N looked at the bedroom door, watching it slid open to reveal her handmaid, Illaria.

"Your brother is calling for you", she said, Y/N felt her hands go sweaty as she knew why he was calling her.

🌑

"Where is he?" her brother asked, inpatient.

They were outside their ship on the landing pad where Houses meet, the bright light from their ship fought back the black-white filter that the black sun gave. She stood slightly behind her brother as he grumbled, she knew he was doing this to gain more Spice, the man was addicted to it.

"The Harkonnens are not known for their puncuality", her brother's advisor, Minos replied.

Minos was an overweight man with a long beard that nearly went past his heavy stomach.

Y/N looked between the two men chatting before seeing the Harkonnens, her heart skipped a beat as Minos joyfully went to greet them; she saw the large, menacing figure of the Baron, how slumped in his floating seat he was. She saw all of their ghastly pale skin and hairless appearance that differed from the beauty standard of long, thick hair on her planet.

And it was then she saw him: Feyd-Rautha, he was similar to his kin with the white skin and bald head, dark eyes that were sinister and she swore she saw black teeth.

"Do you see him?" her brother whispered, gripping her arm. "Feyd-Rautha is the fiercest warrior in the universe, they say he's never been defeated in battle. Of course, he's a Harkonnen and a savage... but you're going to be his na-Baroness."

He chuckled just as Minos called out to her to join him where the House stood.

Slowly, she made her way to where Minos was and she saw Feyd locking eyes with her. When she got to where Minos was, he moved her a little in front of her just as Feyd walked up to her, staring down at her.

He had a lean figure, she noted as he stared at her with his black eyes and she saw his tongue lick his bottom lip as he stared. His skin was practically white from the planet and she saw he had a slightly protruding eyebrow bone but he was a handsome man, a psychotic man but handsome.

She stared into his ink-black eyes, the smell of the polluted air of the planet going into her nose as he stared back into her own E/C eyes. His eyes trailed her full figure, taking in her hair and appearance as they stared at one another for what felt like an eternity before he turned to his uncle and walking away with the others following behind.

Y/N felt herself let out a breath as she lived, he hadn't killed her.

"Wait! Did he like her?" her brother cried out, rushing to where they were.

Y/N blinked at the interaction as Minos said, "he liked her."

"How could you tell?"

"Trust me, Feyd Rautha makes it known when he does not like a woman."

"Well then, when is the wedding?" her brother asked, Minos looked at her.

"Soon", Minos said, Y/N felt dread at his answer.

Soon enough, the wedding to her Harkonnen groom came and it was an event. Fireworks were booming as in one of the many Grand Halls, drums were beat up as the music was loud as she sat near her now husband, who was taking pleasure in watching a fight between two men over a woman commenced. Y/N held back a grimace as she looked around and saw the table where the food was, she prayed that the meats on that table weren't human.

Minos mumbled that if there were no fights during a Harkonnen wedding, then it was not a wedding. The ceremony had been a brief one with the Baron, himself, officiating the ceremony and dark, throaty singing in the background as he talked of how she was now Feyd-Rautha's in body and mind, that her will was now his and her duty to produce heirs.

Feyd, himself, had been dressed in a black leather ceremonial suit that was fitted to his body while Y/N had been forced in an tight, silk dress that had slits on either side of her body, a deep cleavage bearing neck line and the veil she had been given to wear trailed behind her in a long train.

The maids that had gotten her ready had told her that Feyd had found her fuller figure appealing hence the dress and her hair hung down as she was also told her enjoyed that as well.

Y/N saw one of the attendees grab a rather bloody piece of dark meat from the table and she recalled the cannibalistic nature of Geidi Prime; the festivities proceeded before suddenly, Feyd stood up and she swallowed her spit as her breath got caught.

She had hoped he would turn to his concubines for the wedding but it seemed he truly wanted to consummate their marriage and Y/N felt her heart beating faster as the music, as everything stopped.

Feyd was waiting for her down the steps as everyone stared at her, she slowly got up as she felt her eyes want to water. He held a hand out and Y/N slowly walked down the steps, feeling the stares of everyone as she grasped his hand before letting out a small squeal as the man threw her over his shoulder without effort.

The room erupted into laughter and clapping, music picking up as Feyd walked around, carrying her around like she was some prized animal he hunted. The attendees were enjoying the show as Y/N felt a sense of humiliation before it was finally over and he walked them out of the hall.

It was silent with the exception of the fireworks.

"Are you frightened?"

His voice was raspy and Y/N swallowed, "N-No husband."

His footsteps echoed in the hall as his voice teased, "You should be, I could easily feed you to my pets and be done with it, wife."

Y/N blinked rapidly as tears welled up in her eyes, "I believe that would not be in your best interest."

She hadn't even realized they made it inside his bedroom until he tossed her onto a bed, she was surprised by the softness of the bed and the coolness of the sheets.

Feyd smirked at her as he stared down at her before climbing over her, a cold knife slid up against her cheek as she stared into his eyes.

"And why is that, my na-Baroness?"

"Are your pets worthy enough of bearing you a strong heir?"

He slid the knife down until it nicked her skin, a hiss of pain escaped her lips as Feyd stared at her.

"What makes you believe that you can carry my heir, hm?"

His thumb pressed on the cut, making the blood from the cut come out more before he brought his thumb to his mouth, licking it off.

"You'll have to find out", she responded back.

Feyd smirked before crashing his lips on her, her eyes closed as a heat came up on her face as the hunger his kiss conveyed consumed her and she fisted his clothes as he dominated the kiss. She tried her best to kiss back before Feyd pulled away, a thin strand of saliva connecting their mouths as Y/N panted.

"Your brother was right in his bragging, you truly have never had a man."

Feyd seemed proud in his statement as he used the knife to rip the bodice of her dress, exposing her breasts to him and he seemed pleased at their appearance as he brought his mouth down one of her buds, sucking on it harshly and sliding the knife over the other. The coldness of the knife made her nipple harden and the sensation of Feyd's mouth of her breast made her cunt begin to throb in a painful way and she felt a wetness begin.

She watched him toss the knife away as the hand that held the knife dove under her skirts, the Harkonnen man ripping and tear at the skirt with his hand as he fisted her panties before tearing them down her plump thighs.

Her heart was beating in her chest, she was experiencing so many emotions: fear... confusion... lust.

She felt his cold fingers probe at her cunt, a smirk coming on his face as he pushed her legs open before his swiped a finger through her lips; she felt a odd sensation, a throb of electricity go through her as he pressed a calloused thumb to her swollen clit and pushed two fingers into her hot, slick walls.

Y/N couldn't help but arch her back and her eyes flutter at the sensation of Feyd beginning to literally fuck his fingers into her, rubbing harsh circles on her clit that seemed to light her body on fire.

She clutched his shoulders as she cried out as she felt him massage his fingers into her as he chuckled.

"Such a little whore you are, wife", he rasped, "I haven't even shoved my cock into you and you're already mewling like a whore."

It was true, her toes where curling as she moaned and gasped.

"Wonder how you'll be once you have a cock in you."

🌑

Feyd was determined, Y/N would later conclude towards having her carry his heir was her legs had been thrown over the lean man's shoulders. He was pressing down hard into her, his hips brutally slapping into her as he let out these animalistic growls and groans.

She clung to him, fingers digging into his flesh as the pleasure that rocked through her body overwhelmed her.

The intrusion of his cock when it first entered her in one rough thrust had stung, tears had pricked her eyes for those brief moments of pain, but now it was tears of tears that rang down her round cheeks.

She panted and moaned, back arching, "Feyd!"

"Let everyone hear you", he demanded, "I want them to hear who you belong to."

She squealed as she felt another orgasm come over her, having lost count of the many he had already forced out of her body.

"I want them to hear who's heir is being bred into you."

[princesssarahblog]

jj with his mean girl - headcanons 2

jj maybank x mean girl!reader

warnin: this part is already visible from the reader's face, mini one shots!, reader is not pouge and kook, rudeness on the part of reader, fake killer, practical joke, jealousy on the part of the kie

author notes: happy new year! 🎅

— reader who actually likes jj's compliments

over time, you begin to get used to all his compliments and this nickname of his for you: "princess" your ardor began to subside and you already calmly react to his compliments. with each passing day, you only begin to like his compliments more

— reader who begins to wait for blond's visits to his house

you start to just want to see jay jay again, you started to like his company. being alone was so unpleasant. you liked the way he lay on your bed or your chases after him, you started to appreciate his presence next to you. but you will never tell him that

— reader who gets into trouble with pogues and has to endure a jj who is high

it so happened that the police were chasing the pogues again, and you ended up next to them because of jj. you all started running in twinkie. pope was lagging behind, and jj took some strange and rather strong drugs

"pope you out!" - jj yelled and literally kicked pope in the stomach causing him to fall.

john b was driving and unfortunately didn't hear jj's words and started the twinkie, you and kie looked in shock at the blonde's antics

"stop.. where's pope?" - muttered jj, you saw how he could barely stand on his feet and held his head

"idiot, you kicked him!" - you scream at jj but you are interrupted by his finger touching your lips

"shh.. princess, it doesn't matter. what matters is that.. I had a friend and his name was.." - jj said in his delirium, not understanding what he was talking about.

blond boy fell silent and his eyes widened, for a moment he realized what he had done

"POPE!!" - jj leaned against the door of the twinkie and looked out the window trying to see pope

(the friend that jj was talking about is pope. because of drugs jj thought he lost him)

— reader who has to endure kiara's rudeness and jealousy

whenever you encounter kiara, she always gives you a cold stare and blames you for no reason telling the rest of the pogues that you can't be trusted and you can betray them at any moment. but, jj always stops kie and says the opposite.

once kie even compared you to rafe and gave examples, and.. you all heard it behind the wall

"she is as rude and cold as rafe, even though she never physically harmed us.. someday she will stab us in the back!"

"my money on princess" - says jj handing it to pope watching as kie yells at the guys

— reader who can no longer stand kiara's anger and decides to teach her a lesson

the day you heard kiara's opinion about you, you decided to scare her and teach her a lesson

girl was walking home late alone, she didn't suspect anything. kie held her bag tightly on her shoulder and her gaze was focused on the road. her mother would kill her for coming home late again.

when kie turned the corner to while away her time, suddenly someone pushed her to the ground and she fell with a crash and a scream, dropping her bag

"who's there.." - the brunette said in fear, looking around, she did not find the culprit of her fall.

when suddenly a dark figure came out of the darkness, it was in a black robe and a dark mask.. was there a knife in their hands?

when kie wanted to scream she was interrupted

"relax pogue girl, I'm just playing with you. you have something against me.. talking all sorts of crap about me and I won't keep quiet." - you took off your mask, throwing your hair over your shoulders looking down at girl putting her in the place she deserved for all her words

"this is not a real knife, but someday... someday it might become." - you said calmly and coldly, easily twirling the fake knife in your hand and after... you hid in the darkness as you came from it. you hoped that you taught her a lesson.

kiara looked at you in shock, there was panic on her face. she was afraid.

— reader who is scolding rafe and is in the police office. and jj is sitting next to her

"this rafe cameron broke into my house! he trashed my kitchen and beat him up! and now you're accusing me of something?" you said with anger in your voice and pointed your hand at jj when you mentioned him.

jj was silent and looked at you with admiration

"yeah.. but i mean you knocked out rafe-" policeman said shyly, but you immediately interrupted him

"the police have always been so useless. write it all down on my family's account" - you said coldly, looking at the policeman with contempt and stood up from their place, leaving and telling him to put the fine on your family's account

(this is a continuation of that very moment with rafe)

[tinylilacbun]

Scary Admirer

Pairing: dark!daddy!rafe x kook!little!reader

Warnings: age regression, dark themes, murder, stalking, reader is naive

A/N: not sure if I like this 😭 but omg thank you sm for 4,3k followers 🥹🫶🏻

Rafe laid eyes on you two months ago when he spotted you at a party, admiring you dance and twirl in your pastel colored dress, two small bows decorating your simple hairstyle.

You seemed so soft, such a contrast to his appearance and personality which is the reason he felt so drawn to you in the first place.

In that very night he introduces himself to you, putting on his charming smile as he holds out his hand. "Rafe Cameron, nice to meet you..." He trails off and you tell him your name with an adorable smile, shaking his hand.

He repeats your name in a murmer, testing it on his tongue.

Since then he made it his mission to get to know you more, not that you already share practically everything with him because you feel like you can trust him.

Your friends keep warning you to stay away from him, saying that the kook prince is bad news and that you should be wary of him.

Despite your better judgement you think that they just don't really know him, I mean he's so nice to you since the beginning and there must be a reason he shows that certain side of him to you only.

You like Rafe and you both start getting closer, spending time with each other but you're just friends doing things they normally do, right?

Oh if only you knew his true intentions.

Rafe studies everything you do, your routines, appointments, the people you surround yourself with and he goes furious anytime he sees you talking to a pogue, especially if it's a man, you being your usual bubbly self while that prick keeps staring at your chest shamelessly.

He often has to protect you as he claims, scolding you for being too trusting with everyone and suggest that you should stay near him for your own safety.

When the news of recent killings in Kildare goes around about witnesses who saw a person completely dressed in black and wearing a ghostface mask leaving the crime scenes, you started to not leave your house as much as before, avoiding going out after it gets dark.

The thing that scares you the most is that you have some kind of connection to every person that has been killed.

Since those deaths you've been regressing a lot more due to the fear and stress that comes with anytime you turn on your tv or scroll on your phone because no one can stop talking about it.

It took Rafe three weeks to find out about your age regression, only able to confirm his suspicion after you started inviting him over more often and he got the possibility to go through your room whenever you left to either go to the bathroom or get something.

He went through everything.

Your drawers where he found a certain one that only held more childish clothes with different prints and all in pastel colors.

Under your bed where he found a box decorated with stickers and took a peek of its contents, a smirk forming on his face when he sees a set of pacifiers, coloring books and crayons, stickers, and a bottle.

"Interesting..." He mutters, quickly pushing the box back under your bed when he hears your footsteps approaching the room again.

One evening you lay on your stomach on your plush bed and coloring contently in your hello kitty books with some crayons sprawled around, not knowing about the dark figure looming in your yard and watching you through your window.

Rafe smiles as he sees you reaching under your bed to retrieve a pacifier from your secret box, slipping it into your mouth.

He pulls out his phone, his mask and knife held in his other hand as he snaps a few pictures of you.

You're blissfully unaware of your supposed friend being literally outside, too engrossed in your littlespace.

Outside Rafe sees you getting up from your bed and over to your attached bathroom, closing the door behind you. That was his chance.

Rounding the house to the front door he crouches down for the spare key that he knows is hidden under the mat.

After finishing your night routine in the bathroom you open the door again, yawning as you approach your bed, stopping in your tracks at the printed out pictures laying on your bed.

Taking a better glance at them your heart beats faster when you realize they're all pictures of you...some where you're in your room, others from when you were walking around Kildare or at parties, and what made your stomach drop was the ones where you obviously were in littlespace.

"Nice shots, don't you think?" A sudden low distorted voice from behind you has you freezing and before you could react, a hand clamped over your mouth, a broad chest pressing against your back. "Shh, shh, none of that."

You whimper in fear, instinctively reaching up to grasp onto the arm that was holding you against the stranger.

"I've been watching you for a while now, y'know. Tell me, isn't it tiring to take care of yourself? To know that no one will be good enough to be your daddy?" He asks and you feel tears pricking in your eyes. "All those idiots I got rid of just because they didn't know how to treat someone as special as you..."

Your muffled pleading makes him chuckle, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

"Imma let go of you now, but don't try and think of anything stupid, got it?" He warns you, his hold on you a little firmer and you nod shakily. "Good girl."

He takes off his mask, throwing it on the bed before he pulls his hand away, taking a step back. Even if you wanted you wouldn't get out a single sound, too afraid to even move.

The you so thought stranger places a hand on your shoulder, slowly turning you to face him and your heart drops into the pit of your stomach at who's standing in front of you. "R-Rafe?"

You take a hesitant step back, the back of your knees hitting your bed. "I- I don't understand...wha-"

"I know, but you don't need to worry." He speaks softly, stepping closer and reaching a hand up to trace the side of your face with his fingers, grabbing your chin to tilt your head up slightly to meet his gaze, a smile creeping on his face.

He gently wipes a tear from your cheek with his thumb, leaning down to kiss your forehead, the action meant to be comforting but the words that leave him do the opposite.

"Daddy's here now..."

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @erikasurfer

[antiquarianfics]

Dark and Bloody Ground

So you violently murdered a man? So what? You did it in the name of love.

a/n: This is super loosely inspired by the song "Dark and Bloody Ground" by Ruston Kelly. Great song if you haven't heard it. Anyway, this is super gory and violent, but it's still a little fluffy... Hope you like it.

warning(s): Profanity, gore, extreme violence, sort of a hostage type situation, only kind of proofed.

note: I do not own Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliate characters.

You do not have permission to steal or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

»»———-———-———-———-———-———-———-««

Blood. Blood everywhere. It’s on the ground, on the body, on your hands, on your face. The scene looks as if a toddler was given a box of crayons—all shades of red—and a coloring sheet. It’s horrific. Blood splattered, crayon scribbled—however you look at it.

Your breathing is erratic, heavy breaths shake your body as your lungs struggle to take in air. You’ve over exerted yourself, but you can’t find even a smidgen of a fuck to give.

There’s a dull ache in your knees where you’re sat on them; you lean back to distribute some weight onto your heels. Once your knees are slightly alleviated, you become more aware of the constant ringing in your ears, the ringing that has been constant since the moment you pulled your weapon. Then, you notice the soreness in your fingers and glance down to where your hands are clenched in fists, your knuckles busted and bruised. Looking around, you see a bloodied knife a few feet away: your gun is still in its holster.

You look up at the bloodbath in front of you—the dead men in front of you.

Did I even pull my gun?

The ringing in your ears is deafening, and you can’t focus on anything other than the carnage. Or, you can’t until you hear Bucky call for you. Wait. Bucky.

The moment your brain processes Bucky’s voice, it’s as if someone hits the fast forward button until your brain catches up with what is actively happening around you. The ringing squeals until it doesn’t; your head swivels until your eyes lock on their target.

“Y/N,” Bucky repeats. “Doll.” He slides next to you on his knees slowly, grimacing slightly as he moves.

Bucky’s eyes are filled with worry, his every movement cautious. He takes in your current state, but he saw the whole thing. He saw you kill the man who lay dead before you. He watched as the deceased attempted to fight back, how he got a few minor licks in, and how it was for naught. Still, though, Bucky is cautious as he looks at you--as he tries to make sure you're okay.

"Oh, baby," you say, voice low and hoarse. You smile softly and raise a hand to cup Bucky's cheek. "Oh, how I've missed you."

Bucky smiles sadly, his own hand reaching up to cup your cheek. "I've missed you, too."

"Are you okay?" You ask, concern palpable.

"I am now. You've got me, Doll."

You nod. "Yeah, I've got you."

Bucky looks around the facility he'd been held prisoner in for weeks. The drab appearance had changed quickly in your fury; he'd never seen you like that before.

—

Bucky coughed as the HYDRA operative kicked him in the gut. In most cases, Bucky would have already killed the guy, but he'd been starved and neglected for days, pumped full of a chemical that lessened the effectiveness of the super soldier serum, and his body thus has been struggling to fight off a nasty infection from a three day old stab wound.

"I'll ask again, Winter Soldier. Where is it?" The man in charge, an unassuming man in a pressed gray suit, asks in an even tone.

"I'll tell 'ya again," Bucky spits, "fuck. you."

"Very well. Again." The man waves his hand carelessly in a 'go ahead' motion.

The HYDRA operative kicks Bucky again. That's when the door to the torture chamber opens, and there you stand with a stolen keycard held to the door.

Your eyes land on Bucky on the ground, then they shift to the operative carrying out the torture, and then they settle on the man in the suit. Bucky knows you see red.

Taking a deep breath, you step forward and hit the button to shut the door behind you, stopping an escape. Then, in a flash, you've thrown your knife into the HYDRA operative's head. The operative drops, his body twitching slightly before stilling, and blood slowly begins to pool from his cracked skull.

The moment the knife leaves your hand, you step forward and swing at the man in the suit. The man side steps, lets out a 'Who do you think you are?' before being silenced by your fist to his jaw. You punch the man again and he stumbles backward; he quickly manages to get his footing and takes a swing at you. He lands a punch to your gut and one to your face, but neither deters you. You pivot around him as he lunges forward and then kick him in the back. The man falls to the ground, manages to turn over onto his back, and he is immediately met by another right hook to the face as you jump on him. You straddle the guy as you repeatedly hit him: you feel as the man's jaw cracks, as his cheekbone splinters. You're vaguely aware when each hit feels less solid, when the man beneath you finally stills. You feel weightless, a bit gone, as you slide off of the man onto your knees, sitting back on your heels.

—

"We gotta get out of here," Bucky says, shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts of you murdering for him.

You nod and stand up with a light groan, grasping Bucky's hand and pulling him up with you. You let him wrap his arm around your shoulders, helping him walk as you make your escape.

—

Hours later, you and Bucky have not said much to one another. When you made it back to the jet, you were more worried about patching Bucky up and getting him something to eat than talking. Then, when he tried to say something, you shushed him and told him to get some rest. Now, though, as you're sitting next to his hospital bed in the med bay, and now that you know he's alright, you finally choose to talk about what happened.

"Bucky?" You say quietly, trying not to disturb him if he's asleep. You're hoping, selfishly, that he is.

"Hmm?" He hums, turning his head slightly and opening his tired eyes to look at you.

"I'm sorry. About today. I, uh. I know that was a lot..."

"Sweetheart, it's okay. You saved me. I should be thanking you; you shouldn't be apologizing."

You give him a tense smile.

"It's just. When I saw what they were doing to you... I saw red, Buck. I was so angry at them for hurting you, and I was scared. I just... I didn't think. But they didn't have to do all those awful things to you."

"I know."

"It makes me sick to think about."

"I know."

"You deserve so much better."

"I know."

You raise an eyebrow, disbelievingly.

"You do?"

"Well, I better. My girl violently killed two men because she thinks so."

You giggle. Despite everything, you giggle. Bucky smiles.

"Anyway," Bucky says, a light tone enveloping his words, "you know what they say."

"What's that?"

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," he teases.

"Especially when she has on her killing shoes," you laugh lightly.

"Mhmm. C'mere, Lizzie Borden." He holds out an arm for you as he scoots over to make room. You climb into the small bed with him, tucking yourself away into his embrace.

"I love you," you whisper.

"I love you, too," he replies, pressing a kiss into your hair.

[chvoswxtch]

part six: the final girl

[series masterlist] | [previous part]

pairing: billy russo x fem!reader

summary: you get to choose your own ending.

warnings: swearing, mentions of gore, explicit sexual content (minors dni), knife play, billy infinitely being a cocky lil shit, the mask stays on ;)

word count: 5k

a/n: and that is a wrap on spooky slutty season. I want to once again thank y'all for letting me have fun with this, and for having fun with me. i've always wanted to do something like this, and it warms my spooky slutty heart that y'all liked it. now, without further ado, let's give the people what they came for. ;) as always, feedback is welcomed/appreciated!

“You.”

Billy kept his hands held up in surrender as he watched you grab the bloodied award and rise to your feet, your jaw clenched as you grit that word out with pure hostility. The fire he could see burning in your eyes was exhilarating.

“I can explain-”

“Explain? Explain what? You murdered them-”

“I did it for you.”

Billy’s words caught you off guard. He said it so calmly, and with such conviction. A crease of perplexity settled between your brows, and you stared at him in outrage and disbelief.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I brought him here.”

Billy slowly lowered his hands to his sides, keeping his eyes locked on you. He didn’t make a move to come closer, not yet. Roman’s words from earlier echoed in your head. 

Last week, I got a picture of you with two words. New York.

Billy was the one who sent him the picture. Billy was the one who told Roman where you were. White hot rage bubbled within you once again, and you gripped the award in your hand as you took a step closer, screaming at him.

“Why the fuck would you do that?”

Billy didn’t flinch at your outburst. He didn’t take a step backwards. He didn’t physically react at all.

“Because you needed it.”

All you could do was stare at Billy in convoluted incredulity and anger. He was making the whole thing sound so simple, so logical, like he was looking at it through rose colored glasses. Taking in the look on your face and the fact that you seemed speechless, Billy took a cautious step forward and spoke calmly.

“He’s dead, sweetheart. You never have to worry about lookin’ over your shoulder again. You’re free.”

“Free? You killed Adam. God, you killed Derek and Annie, you almost killed me-”

Billy immediately shook his head no and cut you off.

“No. I was never gonna hurt you. Look, I'm sorry for scarin’ you, and I’m sorry you did get hurt, but I had to convince the police it was him after you. I didn’t see another way to do this. And look at you. Look how strong it’s made you.”

Billy’s dark brown eyes roved over your figure appreciatively, staring at you almost in awe, the ghost of a proud smile gracing the edge of his lips. There was a glint in his gaze when he met your eyes, and you could see a complete lack of remorse for what he’d done. There was no guilt, no shame, nothing.

“You’re psychotic.”

Billy took another step forward, reaching out to take the bloodied award away from you, tossing it onto the floor carelessly. He lifted his hand to brush a strand of your hair that was soaked in blood away from your face, gazing down at you in adoration.

“No sweetheart. I'm in love.”

Narrowing your eyes, you clenched your jaw and raised your chin defiantly, refusing to break eye contact as you cocked your head to the side.

“So in love with me you’re gonna get me sent to prison?”

Hearing the bitterness in your voice, Billy let out a frustrated exhale through his nose, his reverence for you shifting into pure annoyance at your attitude.

“You ain’t goin’ to prison. I made sure of that. Everything is traceable back to him. When the cops go to the motel he was stayin’ at, they’re gonna find everything they need to wrap this case up with a neat fuckin’ bow. The outfit and mask, the knife and the DNA on it, surveillance photos of you, a disposable cell phone, everything. And this-”

Billy loosely gestured with his hand towards Roman’s lifeless body on the floor surrounded by a puddle of blood.

“-this will be clear and cut self defense. I got the best legal team in the world, sweetheart. Roman had motive, and there’s a paper trail, all leadin’ back to him. None of this is comin’ back on you. I’d never let that happen.”

The implications of what Billy was saying slowly started to sink in. He planned this, down to the last meticulous detail. You didn’t know how long he’d planned it, or who he’d leveraged his power and wealth against to make it happen, but he’d directed every moment of this set up. He had carefully crafted a trap that Roman had walked right into. Adam, Derek, Annie, the cops, his own men, you; you’d all been pieces on the game master’s board, unaware you were losing a rigged match that only had one outcome from the beginning.

Billy snapped you out of your thoughts when he took your face in his hands, brushing his thumbs over the splatters of blood on your cheekbones to wipe them away.

“You belong with me. No one else, me. You know that now.”

Staring up at him, there was a soft furrow between your brows as you let out a breathless and humorless laugh.

“Belong with you? You’re a murderer-”

“So are you.”

Billy arched one of his dark brows in challenge, gesturing his head towards the dead body on the floor next to your feet. Pressing your lips together in a firm line, you clenched your jaw seeing the flicker of amusement in Billy’s gaze. Shaking your head slowly, you smacked his hands away from your face and took a step backwards.

“You’re delusional. You are absolutely fucking delusional-”

“Oh c’mon, sweetheart. We had an agreement, yeah? No bullshit. You gonna stand there and tell me you feel bad about this, huh? You gonna look me in the eye and tell me he didn’t deserve it? Because from where I’m standin’, he had it comin’. Hell, he deserved worse if you ask me.”

Billy was staring you down, daring you to open your mouth and correct him. But even as your lips parted to speak, nothing came out. No words of regret, no remorse of your own, no horror at the brutality you’d just learned you were capable of. Even though you knew you should feel guilty and revolted about what you’d just done, you didn’t. You couldn’t come to your own defense. You didn’t have to kill Roman. You could’ve knocked him out and called the police. 

But you didn’t.

You chose to kill him. You wanted to kill him. Because deep down, you knew Billy was right. It was the only way you were going to be free. It had come down to kill, or be killed. Instead of the shackles of guilt and shame dragging you down to the unknown depths of whatever hell was waiting for you for breaking the cosmic rule of taking another life, you felt light as a feather. The fear that had been weighing on your chest your whole life, but especially the last three years, was gone. You could breathe again. You didn’t feel weak or fragile. You felt…powerful.

That moral compass within you was pointing towards relief, and maybe it had always been crooked, you just hadn’t noticed until now. But the moment you watched Roman take his last breath, something changed in you. The false pretense you had existed under abruptly faded away. All at once, the girl you had been trying to lay to rest was finally dead, for good. And it was then that you realized you hadn’t been trying so hard to bury her this entire time because of Roman and out of necessity for your own safety. It was because she was never who you really were.

This was.

Billy could see the initial hesitation on your face that slowly transitioned from denial into a half step away from acceptance. He took a step closer to you, wanting to convince you to take that final leap into embracing the truth he’d always been able to see.

“Think about it. The only time you felt safe was with me. The only time you weren’t tryin’ to be someone else, was with me. Annie didn’t know you, not like I do. Neither did Adam, and neither did this motherfucker.”

Billy pointed towards Roman’s lifeless body as he spit those words out like they were acidic. He took another bold step closer, and this time he wasn’t gentle when he grabbed your face in his hand, half of his fingers wrapping around your throat possessively. 

“I've killed for you, no else can say that. You think you were gonna be happy settlin’ down with a nice guy from Jersey, havin’ to fake who you are for the rest of your life? No way, sweetheart. Face it. It’s you and me.”

Tilting your head back slowly, you looked up at Billy, not an ounce of fear in your eyes. Your face was a blank portrait, but there was a glimmer of challenge in your unwavering stare.

“And if I say no?”

The calmness in your voice sent a thrill through Billy. You were almost there. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and he lowered his voice to a husky whisper, even though you were the only two people in the bedroom. Alive, anyway.

“You ain’t gonna do that, sweetheart. You know why?”

Billy’s question was rhetorical, and it had an undertone of amusement as he looked down at you with mischief twinkling in his eyes. His breath was warm as it ghosted over your lips.

“You know I'm right. You don’t feel a single ounce of guilt about what you just did, and you shouldn’t. He had it comin’, and no one is gonna miss this sorry piece of shit.”

Billy leaned in to nuzzle his nose against your neck, pulling you flush against his body, his other arm wrapping around your waist possessively. You swallowed thickly feeling the coarseness of his facial hair brush against your skin, making you shudder, and your body betrayed your shaky sense of morality, the lingering ache between your thighs from Billy fucking you in this very room earlier suddenly all your brain could focus on.

“You’ve always had a darkness in you, sweetheart. I knew it the night I met you. I felt it. You ain’t gotta hide it, not with me. You ain’t gotta hide period. You can go home again, see your family, your friends. There’s nothin’ holdin’ you back now. You’re not a victim anymore.”

Billy’s smooth words dripping into your ear like raw honey had a soft sigh escaping your lips. The thought of being able to go home, being able to see your mom again, being able to just exist without living in fear…it completely drowned everything else out that you should be feeling. Billy was right, you weren’t a victim anymore. And you were never going to be one again.

He’d done that for you. In his own sick, twisted way that he justified, he’d put a mirror up to you, and you were finally able to see yourself clearly. He’d pushed you to confront everything you tried to run away and hide from. He’d awoken that thing inside you that you’d always known was there, but had been too afraid to acknowledge. He’d forced you to choose between being a helpless ingenue, or a relentless fighter. 

There was no going back.

Your eyes fluttered open when Billy pulled back to look down at you. His dark brown eyes were full of awe and reverence. He stared down into your eyes lovingly, brushing the pad of his thumb along the underside of your jaw as his lips spread into a wicked grin.

“You’re a final girl, baby.”

»»———　　———««

The California sun had been something you missed immensely. New York got sunny, hot even, but it wasn’t the same. Those warm rays didn’t carry with them whispers of salt from the sea that tickled your nose or the breeze of nostalgia that caressed your fonder memories. Woodsboro hadn’t hardly changed at all in the three years you had been gone. It was exactly as you had left it.

So was your mother’s house, and your old childhood bedroom. It had been over ten years since you’d last lived in this house, but your bedroom was like a time capsule of your teenage self. The same white cotton sheets and orchid purple comforter, posters of boy bands peeling at the corners, memories with your mom and friends forever immortalized on a corkboard that were held in place with push pins. It even had the same distinct smell that it had ten years ago.

Laying in the twin size bed, you tried to conjure that teenage girl in your head, the one whose room this had been, but you couldn’t. She was as gone as the woman you had been before. You never expected to be back in this room, to get to see your mother again, but the investigation was done, and you were free to move on. Your mom had been shocked when you showed up at the front door unannounced a few days ago, and even more shocked that you’d brought someone with you, but it only took a matter of minutes before she was eating out of the palm of Billy’s hand.

The charming fucker.

The bathroom door slowly opened, the creaking of the hinges breaking you out of your thoughts, and when you glanced over, an amused laugh left your lips as your brows rose up your forehead.

“Seriously?”

Billy remained silent, his boots heavy against the hardwood floor as he took slow, predatory steps towards the bed you were laying on. Your eyes wandered over the sight of him in the black robes, his handsome face concealed by the ghastly mask. Arching one of your brows, a smirk stretched over your lips.

“What, you wanna play psycho killer?”

Billy nodded silently, taking more calculated steps towards you, building the anticipation. Grazing your top teeth over your bottom lip, you sat up slowly and moved onto your knees, looking up at him in faux innocence as your voice came out in a sultry tease.

“Can I be the helpless victim?”

Once again, Billy nodded, tilting his head to the side slowly. He slipped a knife out of the robe, the glint of the metal twinkling under the light in the room. Your lips parted as he placed the blunt edge of it along the side of your neck, gliding it down slowly, the coolness of the metal against your skin making you shiver. He continued to leisurely drag it down, over your right collarbone, and over the swell of your breasts through your shirt. 

When he reached the hem of it, Billy grasped the shirt in one of his gloved hands while he used the other to flip the knife over, dragging the sharp side of the blade in the opposite direction upwards, slicing right through the thin material. He took his time, the satisfying sound of fabric ripping filling the quiet as the knife glided through your shirt like fresh scissors through silky wrapping paper.

Goosebumps prickled along your skin as he dragged the blade across your collarbone towards the strap of your bra, not using enough pressure to actually hurt you or draw blood, but just enough for you to feel the faint sting of steel against soft flesh. A succession of two snips sounded, and severed straps tumbled down your arms. But Billy didn’t just reach behind you to unhook your bra, that wasn’t part of the fun. Instead, he cut right through the front of it, wire and all, and then your breasts were bouncing slightly as they spilled from the cups.

Billy wrapped his gloved hand around your throat and forced you onto your back, climbing on top of you, bringing his face down closer. The rubber of the mask was stiff as he pressed his forehead to yours, but you could faintly see his eyes through the black cloth covering the holes of the eye openings.

“Billy-”

“Shh.”

He held his index finger up to the mouth of the mask before bringing it down to press against your lips.

“Bite.”

A flicker of confusion passed through your eyes, but you bit down gently on the tip of his finger, and he pulled his hand back, the fabric of the glove remaining between your teeth as he slipped his hand out. Grabbing it from your mouth and tossing it aside, he traced your lips with his index finger before slipping his thumb past your lips and into your mouth, pressing the pad of it against your soft, warm and wet tongue.

“Suck.”

Wrapping your lips around his thumb, you made a soft noise in the back of your throat as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking softly on his digit and swirling your tongue around it slowly, giving the tip a gentle bite. A muffled grunt came from Billy above, and he pushed his hips forward, allowing you to feel the erection straining against his pants poking against your lower stomach.

“You feel how fuckin’ worked up you get me, baby?”

“I wanna feel more.”

Billy’s dark chuckle was muffled by the mask, his deep voice husky and full of amusement. He slipped his thumb out of your mouth, rubbing it over your lips and down your chin, spreading your own saliva over your skin.

“Greedy little thing.”

Dragging the knife between the valley of your breasts and down your stomach, the cold steel made you tense, your stomach muscles clenching slightly. In a flash, Billy had rendered your sleep shorts into shreds of jagged fabric, but he surprised you by setting the knife on the bed beside your head so he could slip your panties down your thighs, leaving them intact.

“Open your mouth.”

Parting your lips and opening your mouth slightly, you watched as Billy balled up the silky red fabric, and your eyes widened slightly when he shoved it into your mouth, gagging you with your own panties. A soft noise was muffled by the makeshift gag, but Billy ignored whatever you were trying to say. He grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head on the mattress.

“Be a good girl and keep these here.”

Your heart was racing with anticipation, and a thrill of excitement had your nerve endings feeling like they’d just been hit with a jolt of lightning. You clenched your hands into fists above your head to keep yourself from reaching for Billy as you watched him drag the robe up to his hips so he could unzip his pants, reaching inside to pull out his hardened cock. He slipped his hand between your thighs, coating his palm and his fingers in the wetness that had your inner thighs slick, and you moaned around the gag, shifting your hips up in need as his thumb brushed lightly over your needy clit.

Billy wrapped his hand around the base of his cock, giving himself a few languid strokes as he coated his length in your natural lubrication. He didn’t have any patience left for teasing or playing his own little game, and neither did you. He pushed his hips forward, a muffled groan of satisfaction sounding from deep within his chest as he sank into your tight welcoming heat. Your back arched slightly and your eyes nearly rolled at the sensation of being stretched and filled with his thick cock.

Grabbing your wrists, Billy kept them pinned to the mattress above your head, and he languidly rolled his hips, the denim of his jeans rubbing against your bare thighs with every deep stroke. You brought your legs up to wrap around his waist, trying to pull him closer, wanting him impossibly deeper. Your moans of pleasure were muffled by your panties in your mouth, and you could hear Billy’s heavy breathing through the mask.

“Such a good little slut for me. You like it when I fuck you like this, don’t you baby?”

Billy chuckled darkly in your ear hearing the incoherent response reduced to a muffled moan from the makeshift gag. 

“I know you do. I can feel it. This pretty pussy was soaked before I even touched you, and it’s grippin’ my cock so tight, takin’ it so well.”

Billy raised up slightly, letting go of one of your wrists so he could wrap his hand around your throat instead, squeezing just a little as he kept fucking you with slow, deep strokes.

“I knew this shit would get you off. You really are as fucked in the head as me, aren’t you pretty girl? You like it when I-”

All of a sudden there was a knock on the bedroom door, and your eyes went wide.

“Sweetie?”

Billy stopped thrusting, twisting his head to look at the door before looking down at you. Grabbing the mouth of the mask, he pulled it over his head, his raven strands messy from being under the mask. His dark brown eyes were wild with lust and had a dangerous glint in them. He quickly pulled your panties out of your mouth, and you swallowed thickly before calling out.

“Yeah?”

“Are you guys hungry? I was thinking about ordering a pizza.”

Billy’s breathing was heavy, but before you could answer your mother, he swiped the knife off the bed beside your head and held it to your throat. Your eyes widened in surprise, a flash of confusion in them, but then Billy rolled his hips forward, and your mouth dropped open. He quickly covered your mouth with his palm before the moan could slip out, and he pressed the blade just a tad harder against your neck to silence you. He leaned in, his nose brushing against yours as he whispered in a husky and rough tone while staring down into your wide eyes.

“Answer her.”

Billy’s hips were flush against your own, and he was flexing them forward, his cock dragging through your tight warm walls in a way that made your brain feel fuzzy.

“Y-Yeah. That…that sounds good.”

“What kind of pizza does Billy like?”

Your hands flew out to grab onto Billy’s biceps, and your eyes fluttered shut as Billy started to fuck you a little harder, but still keeping his thrusts slow and deep. Because he’d just unzipped his pants, the rough denim of his jeans covering his pelvis was rubbing right against your throbbing clit with every move of his hips. It was maddening. 

“Any kind.”

Ever the inquisitive and talkative one, your mother continued to drone on about pizza toppings and the new Italian place in town, rambling about things you didn’t give a single fuck about right now. 

You were trying to keep it out of your voice that you were currently getting fucked into the mattress, but it was getting hard to keep your words from sounding shaky and breathless. Billy watched you from above, his lips spreading into a sinister grin, his dark eyes twinkling with delight. He leaned in and nuzzled his nose along the underside of your jaw, nipping at your sensitive skin, pressing his hips flush against yours and starting to oscillate them. A breath caught in your throat, and you whispered pleadingly.

“Billy-”

“Keep talking or I won’t let you come.”

There was an edge of a warning to his voice, and you gripped onto his arms tighter, forcing down the whine of frustration you wanted to let slip. 

“Mom, really, anything is…f-fine. Billy just…got out of the shower…we’ll…we’ll be down in a minute.”

“Okay, I’ll get both toppings and the breadsticks just in case. No one ever complained about too much pizza.”

You heard your mom’s familiar melodic laughter and the sound of her footsteps retreating, descending the staircase, and you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

“I like your mom.”

Smacking your hand against Billy’s arm, he let out an amused laugh, dropping the knife back onto the bed as he grinned down at you.

“You’re such a dick.”

Billy let out a hum, grabbing your thigh and hiking your leg further up his waist, allowing him to change the angle and thrust even deeper, tearing a surprised moan from your lips. He nuzzled his nose against your neck, nipping at your earlobe as he whispered in a teasing tone.

“Now, is that any way to talk to the man who’s about to make you come?”

Letting out a frustrated whine, you wrapped your arms around his neck tightly and tried to pull him in even closer.

“Billy-”

Grabbing your throat once again, Billy cut you off as he captured your lips in a deep kiss, forcing his tongue past your lips to taste you. He started to snap his hips quickly, and you moaned into the kiss, gripping onto his broad shoulders and digging your nails into the thick fabric of the black robe. The worn frame of your bed began to squeak under the weight of both of you and how roughly Billy was now fucking you into the mattress. Never in a million years did you think you’d be having kinky sex in your childhood bedroom, but Billy had gotten you to do a lot of things you never thought you would.

The moan that tore from the depth of your core was muffled by Billy’s greedy lips, and he tightened his grip on your thigh when you tightened your trembling legs around his waist. Even when he felt your cunt clench around his cock, and the warmth that flooded afterwards, soaking through his jeans, he didn’t stop. He fucked you through your orgasm, and past it. He kept going, determined to force one more wave of pleasure out of you. His kiss was even hungrier, more demanding, and he could faintly feel you clawing at his back through the thick fabric. 

When a second round of ecstasy barreled through you and seeped through his jeans to drench his heated skin beneath, Billy finally let go, allowing your greedy cunt to milk him for all he was worth. The instant gratification was overwhelming, turning his vision white for a split second, making his veins feel like they were flowing with helium instead of blood.

“Wow.”

Billy chuckled hearing the breathlessness of your voice. He peppered kisses along your neck, and you could feel his grin on your skin.

“Wow, ‘I just had sex in my childhood bedroom’, or wow ‘that was the best fuck I’ve ever had’?”

“Both.”

Pulling back to look at you, Billy’s dark eyes wandered over your face, and the hazy grin and fucked out look in your eyes made a smile stretch over his own mouth. He brushed his knuckles along your cheekbone gently, just quietly observing you. After a moment of comfortable silence, he spoke.

“We can stay, you know.”

You knew what Billy was saying. When you’d told him you wanted to return to Woodsboro for the holidays to see your mom again, you’d asked him to come with you, and he’d immediately cleared his schedule to make the trip. There hadn’t been a discussion on whether this was just a visit, or a homecoming, but the look in Billy’s eyes told you everything you needed to know. If you wanted to stay permanently, so would he.

Letting out a deep exhale through your nose, you looked up at him with a soft smile, placing your hand on top of his.

“I don’t belong here. I don’t know if I ever did. It’s nice to come back and visit but…it’s not where I’m meant to be.”

“You’re meant to be whenever you wanna be.”

It was such a strange feeling having a person that would do anything for you. You had never had that before. Even your mother had a history of putting her own needs and wants before your own. But Billy…Billy was willing to do whatever it took to make you happy, and ready to handle anyone or anything that got in the way of that, without hesitation. You were still processing everything that had happened, but when you had woken up on that first morning of November, you finally felt like you could breathe. You finally felt like…you. 

There was no more running. No more pretending. No more living in fear. It was freeing, and empowering. It didn’t feel like there was anything that could be thrown at you that you couldn’t handle, not anymore. And now, you weren’t doing it alone. You never had to be alone again. 

“I know, but I like New York. I wanna be there. The coffee is better.”

Billy smirked and arched one of his dark brows, looking at you with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. 

“That all?”

Pursing your lips, you twisted your features into an expression of mock contemplation, pretending to think it over. 

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Billy rolled his eyes, shaking his head with an amused snort. He leaned in and nipped at your neck, making you laugh.

“Brat.”

Carding his fingers through your hair, Billy tilted his head to the side as he looked at you curiously.

“You thought about that deal?”

Looking at him in confusion, you cocked your own head to the side.

“What deal?”

“About the book.”

Letting out a soft laugh, you rolled your own eyes and shook your head, a faint smirk gracing the edge of your lips as you quirked a brow.

“What, and be the next Gale Weathers?”

“Why not? You got a hell of a story.”

Billy flashed you a wink, a wicked grin splitting his lips. Bringing your hand up to smooth his raven strands back into place, you bit down on your bottom lip, smirking.

“Mhm. And what would I call this story?”

Billy gave a faint shrug of his shoulders, leaning in with a smirk as he brushed his lips against yours, whispering.

“How about a play on the original. If you’re gonna be the next Gale Weathers, you could call it…The Manhattan Murders.”

tags: @thyme-in-a-bubble @ferns-fics @danzer8705 @to-thelakes @simonsgirl @sweetserendipity65 @zomtart @day-dreaming-goddess @caroblogsthings @thomasshelbyswife @snowkestrel @hallowedtangerine @ameliaswife @dreadfulxives18 @ebsmind @lllla717 @slumnit @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @nolita-fairytale @oliviaewl @r1kk @unlikelystarlightcowboy @imperihoe-writes @dumb-fawkin-bitch @merc12-us @moonyinthestars @sweetttart @i-caught-a-pidge @fruityfucker @strangerfromketterdam @whosprettynow @killing-gremlin

»— if you wanna get in the spooky slutty mood, listen here! -> the manhattan murders soundtrack

[thedropsofblood]

Awesome!, can I please request a platonic yandere dad with a serial killer y/n! In which he doesn't mind and is actually encouraging them!

Word count: 6k

Being a full-time serial killer, as cool and amazing as it sounds, is honestly a really shitty job, especially when you're only doing it for the money. Your family was torn apart by a nasty marriage, leaving you with your dad while your brother goes with your mother.

Your father's performance at his job worsened because of it, leading to him being demoted to a fairly bad position, and suddenly you can't afford to attend school anymore.

Something worse than having to say goodbye to your classmates is having to find a job in this economy, who in the world would hire a 16 years old for a full-time job without any degrees or prior work experience? Even if they do, the pay would be so bad that you might start picking up spare coins in the streets instead. You went through sleepless nights extremely conflicted and stressed out just because of it. While at your darkest moment, your mind threw an idea at you that made you question yourself more than expected.

What if you became a serial killer? There's plenty of information on the internet to help with it. And organs sells, doesn't they? Even a kidney or an eye makes a person rich overnight on the right market, and one less person on this earth wouldn't hurt, would it?... You mean, you'll only be targeting junkies and prostitutes anyways, and that'll be fine, right?...

And that's how you committed your first murder, a man high on drugs in the middle of an alleyway at midnight. A clean stab at the back of the throat followed by one to the head. You had to hold back the urge to vomit as you wrapped his body into a plastic bag and into your basement while your dad was asleep.

With a surgical knife and gloves on, you became your "procedure", lungs, heart, liver, wrapped neatly in ziplock bags and placed on ice. You tried not to think back about it when you held the wads of cash in your hand, blood money, as they said. But does blood money really matter if you have enough money to sustain your family for months on end?

You hoped he wouldn't mind you lying about winning a scratch lottery that day. As time goes by, you've long gotten used to the feeling of taking a person's life and repeating the same step over and over again. Kill, down to the basement, dissect, sell and profit. It was a neat little routine, you've even bought a lock for the basement, just in case your father decides to enter it at some point.

But no amount of preparation could've prepared you for this. You opened the door to the house, clicking your tongue at the creak before dragging the bagged body in, making sure to close the door behind you. Your victim for today was a prostitute, normally, it would've been easy to just blindfold them and slice them cleanly in the neck, but this time, you got careless and couldn't finish them in one or two stabs, getting yourself a nasty bruise on the side of your head and injuries on your arms. You still finished your job, of course, what kind of killer would you be if you didn't?

As you dragged the body towards the basement, you were flashbanged by the lights of the hallway turning on. Panic surges through your body, causing you to freeze in your place before snapping your head to look at your father looking back at you in the end of the hallway. You looked at the bagged body and back at your dad, trying to find an excuse.

Your words were caught in your throat, no matter how much you tried to speak up, nothing came out, only a silence filled between you and your dear father.

A sigh escape from your father broke the silence, the eyebags on his face, the exhaustion in his sigh, fuck, he was waiting for you and here you were, coming home at 2 in the morning, dragging a dead body towards god knows where?

You grit your teeth, before you can even speak up and make an excuse to defend yourself, he barks at you with a stern tone. "Sit down. You can explain it to me later, why were you out so late and why are you bleeding?"

You jumped at the mention of your wounds. Right, you completely forgot about that. You decide to bite the inside of your cheek and sit down onto the couch, preparing yourself for an hour lecture or worse, getting kicked out of the house and being left to rot on the streets. Your dad wouldn't do that, right? Sure, you've been a problem child ever since you were a kid, but your dad loves you... Right?...

Your thoughts were cut in half when you felt the sting of alcohol being applied onto the wounds on your arms, causing you to hiss and look up at your father. You wanted to complain like you usually do, yet, you couldn't bring yourself to do so, especially not when your father still had the same worried look in his eyes. Instead, you bit your pride and let your father bandage you up.

He pulled you into a hug, something completely unexpected from somebody like him. You've always seen him as such a strong, superhuman person, the pillar of your family, but you've never seen him feel so... Helpless? Worried? Scared? Ever since the divorce with your mother.

"You worried the hell out of me, kid. You don't even know how many calls and messages I've sent you, I thought you fucking died in a ditch somewhere. And don't even give me the 'I was working overtime' bullshit, I've seen enough, I'm not five, I know what you do."

Your body completely froze in his arms as you looked at him with wide eyes. You hesitantly hugged him back, burying your face into his shoulder. "And you don't hate me because of it?"

Silence filled the room, broken by a sigh from him. "No. You could've just... Chosen a normal job instead of risking your life everyday over a few wads of cash. I don't care what you want to do, as long as you're safe and happy."It felt so weird to have someone finally supporting you after trying to be independent for so long, you tightened your hug around your father before you buried your face into your father's shoulder, tears beginning to build in the corner of your eyes.

As you sobbed quietly, your father's hand patted your back, silently comforting you until you succumbed to sleep. You've already had a long day today, he doesn't want to bother you anymore.

The next night, when you were getting ready to set out, you made sure to put the lunchbox filled with the dinner your father made for you into your backpack on your way out for your 'job'.

A/N: I'm not even gonna lie if I had a dad like this I would be killing people left and right /nsrs

[ara-the-great]

One call away

Tw: slight reference to lores, slight gore (if you squint) fever and delirium, abandonment issues

(here is the request I got for Zayne and Sylus angst. I didn't know what to write so I added my own trauma. I HAVE NOT PROOF READ THIS)

You don't remember most of your childhood. Not that you cared much. The oldest thing in your memory that you could find was screams, the screams staying with your Grandma and Caleb but that too was well into your mid or late teens.

Even then you didn't have many friends, actually you had no one except Caleb. All of them either bullied you or abandoned you, they didn't care about you . You were desperate for any sort of connection as a child and as a adult.

Your dating scene was similar. Though you only had one relationship before you joined the hunters association. Even that was far from a good one. And now when you look back at it you couldn't remember much there either, you had cried so much, so damn much but still he left.

It's only after joining the association that your life started to look up. It was a new start for you. A new environment, new friends do you think they like you? and new opportunities.

You always kept your problems to yourself. You didn't want to make others worry for nothing. It's not like anyone was close enough to tell these problems anyway.

When this mysterious fever started developing you thought you could ignored it, just power though it, right? Wrong.

You could barely stand up. Slipping in and out of consciousness. Your body felt like it was being baked from the inside out. Yet it felt like your limbs were freezing off. You needed help to at least get to the hospital.

Even thinking of the hospital made you feel worse. You could practically smell the antiseptic scent of the sterile rooms. What if something is really wrong with you and you need surgery? Under the harsh flood lights and white coats and screams and they'll kill you this time. They'll hurt you. They will cut you open with a knife.

Sylus

You jolted awake shaking, you can't stop shaking. No one can save you this time. For all you know that kind-hearted boy who helped you is dead. For all you knew his body was stained as red as his eyes.

He answered "look who it is, I didn't think I'd be fortunate enough to get your call today kitten". You weren't sure when you had called Sylus but you already had. You didn't know what to say let alone why you called him. Could he even help? Suddenly you remembered the aether core. Maybe this fever was related to this. Maybe-

"kitten are you alright?" His voice sounded gruff but gave you so much comfort. But you wouldn't want to disturb him. He probably would hate you for it.

"I'm sorry i- I mistakenly called you" you managed to rasp out. Still shaking

"you don't sound well. Are you sick? Where are you?" He spoke cautiously. You weren't sure how he knew. Not sure that you cared because before you could answer a calm swept you into unconsciousness.

You woke up to someone opening your door. Shit shit shit shit shit shit . Someone was here. An intruder was here. You could barely get up and out of bed before stumbling onto the ground, your gun was nowhere to be seen. You kept trying to think where you kept it but you came up blank. You rummaged through your bedside table trying to find something to defend yourself with but your cold shaky hands weren't making it easier. The person outside had started to open your bedroom door when you found a blunt craft scissor which you held up towards whoever was inside. Your sight was blurry and your heart was beating in your ears like a war drum but you could recognize a tall figure approaching. You weren't going to let them take you back. you have to fight. You have to

"DONT COME ANY CLOSER! GET OUT IM NOT GOING BACK I WONT HESITATE TO KILL YOU DON'T YOU DARE TAKE ANOTHER STEP!" You screamed as loud as you possibly could. Tears ran down your face as you shook with what can be only described as pure terror. Scenes from the past kept flashing in your head. You could practically feel every damn cut they cut into you as a child.

You were sobbing and shaking curled up in a corner from fear and yet you kept the knife held up. It tore Sylus's heart apart to see you like this again. In the blink of an eye he was kneeling in front of you cowering form trying to reach out.

"Sweetie, Y/N please it's me. Calm down it's ok you are safe. Look at me. Shh look it's me Sylus. Its ok I won't take you anywhere, I won't hurt you." He held you in his arms even though you were wildly trying to stab him for a second. His normally smooth voice wavered and cracked.

"S-sylus? I- someone is in the house!" You deliriously mumbled from the high fever.

"kitten it was me. I came over because I was worried when you stopped talking over the phone. It seems like I was right to worry. You are burning up what happened?"

"I think I have a fever. It's ok though, I'll be ok" you said calming down. You leaned into his touch as he held you against his chest. His heartbeat was almost as rapid as yours.

"my love, I don't think you will be fine your fever feels well over 105. Why aren't you at a hospital? Why didn't you call anyone? Why didn't you call me sooner?"

"i didn't think you would come"

"all you need to do is say my name and I'll be there for you. Now come, let's get you to the clinic"

You shook your head trying to insist you were fine but the worry in his eyes only made you reconsider your choice

"Can you tell me why you don't want to go?" His eyes and his voice were lulling you to sleep again

"scared" your voice was barely a whisper. You could feel yourself slip into unconsciousness yet again.

When you came to you weren't in your house. Just before you could panic you felt sylus talk. His arms still around you like a shield from everything you were afraid of.

"it's ok you are with me. I'm here. I bought you to the N109 zone. You needed to see a doctor so I called one to my house. So no hospital, don't worry." Sylus explained without you even asking.

"thank you" you said quietly, feeling ashamed of the scene you caused earlier.

"For?" He asked with a brow quirked up.

"For not asking what all that was, and for bringing me here and also for taking care of me."

He laughed softly "You don't need to thank me for taking care of you. I always take care of what's mine." His eyes were ever so soft as he brushed away your hair from your face. "Now sleep. You are still sick"

"but I feel a bit bet-"

"Sleep kitten. I'll take care of everything else" he said softly kissing your forehead.

Zayne

You stared at your phone contemplating whether or not you should call Zayne. Though you were in a relationship you couldn't just disturb him. He was a busy guy. He had surgeries and more serious patients to take care of.

Your phone began ringing. Speak of the devil.

"Y/N? This is zayne. Are you alright? This is the second time you missed your appointment this week." His cool voice sounded across the phone.

"zayne, ah I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. I just have a bit of a fever."

" A fever? That gives you more reasons to come over to the clinic does it not? Do not worry about the appointments. I'm coming to pick you up. Are you at your apartment?"

"Zayne its truly not necessary I don't want to burden yo-"

"Rubbish, I was already headed out. So do not worry about burdening me. Worry about taking care of yourself" he cut the call before you could try to persuade him that you were fine. You were just grateful that someone was there. Even though zayne had abandoned you before. He didn't care about you. It was his job as a doctor to care for his patients.

You didn't realise when you had slipped into the sweet embrace of unconsciousness.

But by the time you had woken up your skin felt like it was burning from the fever. This wasn't normal. Glancing over at the clock you saw it was around 1 am. Zayne wasn't here yet. Why did you expect he would be here? You knew not to trust in what people say so why was your eyes tearing up?

As your fever kept increasing it became harder and harder to move around, it was painful to even sit up. He had abandoned you again. Your ex was right. You were annoying and in the end everyone would leave you. Nobody could ever love you.

The memory of zayne flashed across your mind. He had promised to always look after you. To be there for you.

You gritted your teeth kept mumbling "it's ok. I'll be ok" to yourself like a mantra as you somehow got a coat on your back to head to the hospital. You weren't sure how you'd reach there but the first step was to get out. Every promise that has been made to me has been a lie why would this one not be?

Just as you were about to get out of your room, your door softly swung open, revealing Zayne with an apron and a tray of soup in his hands. He seemed taken abac. But perhaps not as much as you.

"And where are you going? You shouldn't be up with such a high fever." He said as he kept the soup on the table. His cold eyes were filled with worry. Even seeing him had you breaking down into tears.

He scrambled to hold you as you collapsed on the floor crying. "What happened, where does it hurt?" He hurriedly measured your pulse and fever trying to find any sort of answer from your incoherent sobbing.

"Wh-when, when did you get here" you managed to croak out once you had calmed down a bit

"I got here long ago but since you were sleeping I didn't want to wake you. I was in the kitchen making soup for the fever, knowing you, your stomach is empty." He said as he slowly settled you into your bed.

As he turned around to bring the soup he meticulously made for you, you grabbed the back of his finely pressed shirt, "don't leave. Please don't leave, please stay. Please. I would die if you left me." you kept begged in your fever induced delirium. It broke Zaynes once frozen heart to see such fear and pain in your eyes.

He slowly leaned over to kiss you on the forehead "I won't. I'm just getting your soup. You need to eat something if you want to get better. You can't have medicine on an empty stomach"

Throughout the rest of the night Zayne diligently fed you and took care of you. And when you found it hard to sleep he would cradle you in his arms and read out his medical papers to distract you from your thoughts.

"I'm here, I'm here sweetheart, it will be ok. I'm not going to leave even if the gods demand me to" he comforted you every time you jolted awake. He would be whispering words of comfort to you till you fell asleep again and continue telling you how much he would give up for you. This treatment would go on for days, till you recovered. And even though you didn't remember how you begged him to stay, he would reassure you that he'd be there for you whenever he could.