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gojodarling · 11 months

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after hours ⤑ gojo satoru | m.

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: ❝ thanks to the missions assigned by the higher-ups, you've not seen your boyfriend in two weeks. thus, when he asks you to meet him in his office, at two am no less, there's little you can do to refuse him. ❞ established relationship. pwp.

❥ pairing: gojo x f!reader ❥ genre: fluff ∴ smut ❥ word count: 14.7k don't look at me

⤑ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: hard dom!gojo, bratty sub!reader, big cock!gojo, bdsm themes, office sex, teasing, hickeys, marking, fingering, degradation, dirty talk, finger sucking, spanking, pain kink, thigh riding, masturbation, praise, grinding, thigh spanking, choking, nipple play, nipple torture, bondage, anal play, gojo is mean, orgasm control, orgasm denial, cum eating, excessive rubbing/grinding of genitals, wet & messy, self exhibitionism & voyeurism, unprotected sex, riding, rough sex, crying, begging, overstimulation, objectification kink (i.e. she wants to be used as a cocksleeve), deep dicking, hair pulling, once again gojo is fucking mean, spit as lube, anal fingering, multiple creampies, multiple orgasms, forced orgasm, squirting, brief cum play

➵ 𝑎/𝑛: nothing but gojo brain rot for the rest of the gowhores out there because i am v much obsessed with this man. 12/10 would sell my soul for 1 [one] lick of his dick

― read it on AO3 here

It’s a Tuesday night when your phone buzzes from under your pillow. Considering it’s way past midnight, and you’re attempting to fall asleep—though to no avail, sleep generally didn’t come to you until the early hours of night—you decide to ignore it. Whoever it is, can wait till the morning. After you’ve had some well deserved rest.

At least, that’s what you tell yourself at first.

That is, until your phone buzzes again after a couple of moments. Then again, and again, and again. Until the buzzing sound drives you insane and you have no choice but to answer whoever was messaging you. Whoever it is, it better be a life or death situation—if it’s anything short of mass curses terrorising midtown Tokyo and slaughtering everyone, you’ll be the one committing a series of murders. Especially if it’s the higher-ups sending you on another mission.

When your phone buzzes again, this time with a slew of vibrations, you groan and blindly reach under your pillow to grab it, your eyes squinting at the harsh light when you see multiple notifications from your boyfriend. Curiosity speckling your being, you unlock your phone and open his messages.

asshole💖: u up? asshole💖: baby? asshole💖: baabbbbyyy asshole💖: come on wakey wakey sweet angel asshole💖: its not even 3am i know ur not asleep asshole💖: honey? asshole💖: sweetheart? asshole💖: pretty girl? asshole💖: princess? asshole💖: little dove? you: no, i am asleep asshole💖: haha, knew you weren’t :) asshole💖: where r u rn? you: ? you: in bed you: where else would i be??? asshole💖: which bed, mine or urs you: mine obviously you: ur luxury penthouse is 2 big n bougie for me to stay in it comfortably without u you: all that space to myself is… disconcerting asshole💖: u deserve luxury n bougie baby asshole💖: nothing but the best for my girl

That has you pausing, a warm fuzziness settling within your stomach. You pull your lower lip between your teeth and gnaw at the flesh, your eyes roving across the text over and over again. Satoru spoils you like no one else would, like no one else could. Lavish dates at fancy, completely booked out, reservation only restaurants, extravagant holidays and cruises to beautiful countries across the world, expensive gifts from luxury brands with far more zeros than it’s worth on the price tag.

But none of that compares to the way Satoru is completely and utterly enamoured with you; nor the way he claims you as his. My girl. Something about the honeyed possessiveness in his words blooms butterflies within the pits of your abdomen. And if you close your eyes, you can envision the carnal lust in his eyes as his gaze roves over your body, feel the greedy hunger in his touch as his imaginary fingers skim over your flesh, setting it afire with need. You’ve never felt as loved, or desired, in your life as you have with Satoru.

A smile curls at your lips involuntarily and you begin typing again.

you: ok that’s sweet you: but also it’s fine, i like my room asshole💖: ok so ur at the school then, yeah? come meet me at my office you: what you: ??????? you: no you: its 2am you: some of us are trying to sleep asshole💖: without me? unfortunate. asshole💖: and also unacceptable you: not my fault you’re on a mission

You pause, your exhausted brain slowly parsing his words as you reach over his previous texts once again. In your tiredness, you’d somehow missed the fact that he’d asked you to meet in his office—an office that was definitely in Tokyo, Japan and not London, England where he’d been sent on a mission. As soon as it clicks, you shoot up in bed, the covers falling to your waist. The warmth you’d enveloped yourself disappears, your flesh prickling with goosebumps as a shiver runs up your spine at the sudden drop in temperature. Ignoring the sudden chill, your fingers hastily glide over your phone screen as you reply to him.

you: wait. did u say meet u at ur office???? you: satoru r u back??? asshole💖: lol yeah asshole💖: also not my fault i was on a mission either :(((( asshole💖: blame the higher ups asshole💖: maybe i should kill all of them <3 asshole💖: if it weren’t for them, i would never have to leave u you: 🙄 you: you’ve been saying that ur gonna kill them all for years and yet… here we r, so either follow thru or move on 🙄🙄🙄 you: but also gojo… when tf did u get back 🤨 asshole💖: gojo?! asshole💖: who tf is gojo you: ??? u lmao asshole💖: no tf i’m not asshole💖: it’s satoru, or toru, or baby, or love of my life, or my one and only, or the best dick game ever to u asshole💖: not gojo you: ur literally so annoying asshole💖: you love me you: right now? debatable. i am TRYING to sleep asshole💖: but u can’t sleep can u? you: well, i could if SOMEONE stops blowing up my phone with texts 😐 asshole💖: hahaha asshole💖: ur so funny you: oh my god. WHAT do u want??????? asshole💖: i literally told you. meet me in my office lol you: ? yeah u mentioned you: but why? you: can’t we just see each other tomorrow morning you: u know you: at a more reasonable time asshole💖: no i have something to show u you: what? asshole💖: a surprise :) you: i literally hate you. its 2 ! AM ! asshole💖: yeah but i just got back asshole💖: and i missed u you: … you: i missed you too toru asshole💖: okay good. so you’ll meet me in my office then? you: that is not what i said asshole💖: come ooonnn baby. i really, really missed you :( asshole💖: and that pretty pussy you: you dick!!!! surprise my ass you: this is just about u getting ur dick wet!!!!! asshole💖: hahahaha u got me asshole💖: but no i srsly have a surprise asshole💖: so my office, yeah? you: satoru, it’s so late you: i rly am trying to sleep

Despite your blatant refusal, you find yourself complying. It wasn’t very often that you could truly deny Satoru. More than that, you have missed him, and in spite of the late hour, you couldn’t wait to see him. Throwing the covers off of yourself completely, you slip your feet into your sliders and walk across your room to your closet.

asshole💖: i know u can’t sleep till u get this gojick you: wtf is a gojick asshole💖: gojo dick 🍆💦🍆💦🍆💦 you: 😐 you: yes i can. watch me do it rn you; 🥱😴💤

It only takes you a brief few seconds to type out the messages, before you open your wardrobe and begin looking for some clothes to wear. It’s the middle of winter, and considering the school’s location high in the mountains, on the far outskirts of Tokyo, you would not be able to get away crossing the campus from your accommodation to Satoru’s office—no matter how short the walk—in just your scant pyjamas. Not without you first freezing your tits off at least.

asshole💖: hahaha come on u know u want ur gojogasms asshole💖: so come to my office you: you ! are ! so ! annoying !!!!!! you: also why ur office? you: you can literally warp here and it’s be easier. hell u could even walk. the office isn’t far from my room asshole💖: yeah but where’s the fun in that lol asshole💖: office because i’m doing paperwork you: haha what a joke. u never do paperwork asshole💖: well SOMEONE said im too mean to ijichi. so now i’m doing my own paperwork asshole💖: but it’s boring. and i want u asshole💖: i promise i’ll make it worth ur while you: …. asshole💖: come on angel you: ugh fine you: this surprise better be worth it too asshole💖: ur gonna love it you: if the surprise is just ur dick i’m going to be so mad asshole💖: 😈 asshole💖: alsoooooooo asshole💖: wear something sexy

Flicking your eyes from the message on your phone screen, you look at the pair of sweatpants and thick jumper you’d rifled from your closet. Warm but definitely not sexy. You haphazardly throw them back into your cupboard before texting your boyfriend back.

you: fuck u asshole💖: don’t worry sweetheart, gonna fuck u so good

Twenty minutes later, you’re walking through the empty corridors of Tokyo Jujutsu High. Thick shafts of moonlight filter through the glass windows, the hoary effulgence your only source of light as you navigate through the school. The wintry air is crisp against your skin, the brittle wind seeping through the cracks of the window and nipping your naked flesh. Limbs trembling, you pull your boyfriend’s jacket closer to you—the article one of many he’d left in your room in the year you’ve been together—it’s warmth your only reprieve from the cold.

Other than Satoru’s jacket, you’re not wearing much else—just a skimpy lingerie set— and though his coat is warm, and oversized enough to cover you to mid-thigh, your outfit does little to shield you from the frigid weather. Nonetheless, with how you’re practically running across the campus grounds, you’ve built up enough heat to keep you warm. As thrilling as it is to walk around the deserted school grounds practically naked for a rendezvous with your boyfriend, you’d really rather not have one of your fellow faculty members—or god forbid, a student—catch you in your current state of dress.

It’s clear you’re not here to complete paperwork. More than that, no one in their right mind would be caught dead out and about in an outfit like this in the middle of winter. Sexy, but definitely not warm.

Thankfully, within moments, you arrive at the door to Satoru’s office and, with a brief knock, you enter. The second you do, however, you halt, a frown forming on your lips. Your boyfriend is nowhere to be seen. Eyebrows furrowed, your expression coloured with confusion, you approach his desk. The lights are dimmed low, a soft amber glow cast over the space. Your gaze flickers around and from the abandoned papers sprawled on Satoru’s desk, along with his jacket slung over the back of the chair, you know he has been here.

So where the fuck is he now?

Just as you move for your phone, you hear heavy footsteps echo across the hallway. Cocking your head to the side, you watch as Satoru enters his office, only to pause when he sees you. Your boyfriend seems to have abandoned his blindfold, lambent eyes of cerulean on display as they rake over you, a hum of appreciation rumbling through his chest as he takes in your outfit.

“Satoru,” you breathe heavily.

The sound of your voice has him moving once again, your breath hitching as he closes the distance, until he’s standing right in front of you.

“Satoru—” you choke out a second time, your throat tightening at the sight of his blown out pupils, the inky wells dilated with lust and obscuring the ethereal blue of his irises.

Your boyfriend simply hums again, the rich timbre of the sound reverberating through the air and straight to your core. Inadvertently, your thighs clench, molten desire pooling within the pits of your abdomen.

“So pretty in my clothing,” he murmurs, dark possessiveness overshadowing the lust in his eyes. His hand wraps around you, a gasp falling from your lips as he pulls your chest flush against his own, only to lift you up and perch you on the edge of his desk. In a smooth motion, he steps between your legs, your thighs instinctively spreading to make room for him.

You stare at him through the thick of your eyelashes and swallow thickly— an attempt to soothe your dry throat. “W-Where’s my surprise?” you finally ask, grimacing internally at the stutter in your voice.

It’s been a little over two weeks since you’ve seen Satoru—both of you passing each other like ships in the night. Whenever you were back from a mission, it’d seem like Satoru was scheduled on one, and vice versa. You have no idea if the higher-ups had purposely done it, but if you had to bet money on it, you’d bet that they had. The animosity between Satoru and them was no secret, and you wouldn’t put it past them to take out their frustration with him on your relationship.

Two weeks may seem like a short time, but you couldn’t deny just how much you missed him in those days, and reunited now, it was even more evident in the way your body ached for him, the way your pussy wept to be filled by him.

Running his glossy lips along the column of your throat, “You’ll have to wait for it,” Satoru murmurs before lightly nipping your flesh. A gasp of surprise slips through your mouth, your head falling to his shoulder before lolling to the side as you grant him further access. The heat between your thighs intensifies—your arousal dripping out of you and onto your thighs.

“I—I want it now,” you somehow manage to force out, your eyes fluttering as Satoru blooms bruises into your skin—his lips suckling and his teeth scraping your flesh. The hand around your waist drops to your hip and, gripping it, he pulls you further into him. Feeling the hard outline of his throbbing shaft, you let out a small moan; Satoru lowly chuckles.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he responds, his voice heavily laced with a taunt. The pet name drips from his lips, thick like honey and as sweet as sin. “You want it now?” he mimics. As he speaks, his hips buck forward, your mouth parting in a loud groan when his cock presses further against your core. Your pussy clenches at the sensation, your hands moving to grip Satoru’s shirt.

“T-Toru,” his name spills from your lips in a needy whimper, your hips thrusting forward to push against him. Your actions cause Satoru to laugh, the sound low and dark against your neck.

“Tell me, what is it you want?” Satoru taunts, a knowing lilt to his voice. You can’t see his face from the way it's buried into the delicate column of your throat. But you don’t need to see it, you can feel the shit-eating, teasing grin that paints his plump lips—in more ways than one.

A ripple of annoyance flutters through you at his cockiness. He has you exactly how he always does—wanton and desperate for him—and he knows it, feels it in the way you squirm under him. Hell, he could probably smell it, your arousal dripping out of you and onto your thighs, his desk, his crotch. You’d be damned if he had you this easy, he’d never let you live it down. Thus, gathering as much of your willpower, you allow a teasing smile to curl at your lips.

“I want my surprise, Gojo,” you purr out your demand, drawing out the syllables of his name in a sultry tone. When your voice comes out steady, you internally cheer. Instantly, Satoru lifts his head before harshly biting the soft flesh of your earlobe. The action tears a soft cry from your lips, Satoru’s fingers digging into the soft flesh at your hips, so hard you’re sure he’ll bruise his fingerprints into your skin.

“What did you just call me?” he questions, eyeing you with his unimpressed gaze.

“Gojo,” you goad once again. You stare at him with wide eyes, the faux innocence belied by a mischievous twinkle.

“You’ll regret that, baby,” Satoru sneers.

His long fingers move to push the hem of his jacket further up your thighs, uncovering more and more of your skin. With each inch of flesh revealed to his gaze, Satoru devours you, his grandidierite eyes following the movement of his hands up your legs. With a final push, Satoru bunches the hem of his coat around your hips, his hand slipping underneath the material. A guttural moan emanates from your throat when you feel his warm palm pressing hard against your abdomen.

Immediately, his hand begins trailing down until his fingers reach the waistband of your lace panties. He doesn’t bother divesting the coat from your body. Instead, he watches your face as his fingers dip under the elastic.

“Spread,” comes his command; his deep voice cutting sharply through the air.

You don’t have to be asked twice, your thighs immediately parting as you grant him better access to your folds, your pussy desperately aching for his touch.

“Someone’s being good,” Satoru chuckles.

Before you can retort, however, his hand darts further into your underwear, his fingers slipping between your folds and causing you to hiss at the sudden contact. Completely ignoring your clit, Satoru’s fingers begin softly massaging your soaked, puffy lips—the pads of his middle and pointer finger rubbing against either fold of your sex.

“S’toru,” you gasp, your eyes fluttering as you feel him play with your folds.

“Aww, is my baby all swollen and needy? Have you missed my cock in you, princess?” Satoru jeers, a lopsided smirk on his face.

Your nose wrinkles at the taunt. “F-Fuck you,” you stammer.

In a flash, Satoru’s hand moves, his pointer finger and thumb swiftly pinching your swollen clit. The sudden pain, mixed with pleasure, has you crying out, your hand shooting to grip his arm as you dig your nails into its flesh.

“Such a fucking brat, aren’t you, sweetheart,” Satoru practically spits out the endearment. “But it’s all for show, isn’t it? I know how much you want me, know how much of a desperate little cockslut you really are for me,” he continues with a hiss. Thighs trembling, you mew out your disagreement, though the high-pitched, needy inclination of your voice gives you away in an instant.

In indolent movements, Satoru circles the outline of your clit with his fingertip, lightly rolling it under his touch. Whining at the action, you feel your pussy clench around nothing; a gush of wetness floods out of you and down your thighs.

Moving his fingers through your slit, Satoru smirks. His gaze firmly locked on yours, he runs his long, nimble fingers through your cunt, gathering as much of your wetness onto them as he can. Then, travelling further down, he comes into contact with your rippling entrance. Satoru lets out a soft coo when he feels the slick, heated hole.

“God, you’re already so wet. Bet I could slide my cock into this tight little hole right now if I wanted to, bet you’d take it all like a well-trained whore,” he derisively sneers.

Reflexively, your pussy begins to pulsate, twitching around his fingers. The pads of his pointer and middle finger press against your entrance—just enough pressure to draw your attention to it, but not enough to press into you. No matter how much you buck into his hand.

“Oh? I can feel this pretty cunt twitch, baby. Is that what you want? To feel my fat cock slide into this little hole and fuck it open?” Satoru jeers, emphasising his words by sliding two fingers into you.

Pliant in your state of lust, the walls of your cunt easily spread open around his digits, the ringed muscles contracting and sucking him deeper into your velvet depths. Your forehead drops to rest on his chest in response, a low keen escaping your chest when you feel his fingers thrust inside you. Unrelenting, Satoru pushes them deeper and deeper—the motion incredibly slow and deliberate, making you feel every centimetre of his fingers, until he’s pushed them hilt-deep.

“P-please,” you stutter out, your hips grinding into his hand as you try to get him to move.

“Look at me, baby. I want to see how fucked out you are just for my fingers,” Satoru commands.

Unable to disobey, you shift your head and look up at him through the thick of your eyelashes. Gaze locked onto your own, Satoru groans at the turbulent, heady lust clearly visible in your eyes. Pleased by your obedience, he begins leisurely thrusting his fingers into you, the digits wriggling inside you with every plunge. Soft whimpers fall from your lips, your fingers curling around Satoru’s arm tighter as you moan in pleasure.

“Shit—Look at you. Look at the way you’re fucking into my hand. Needy bitch,” Satoru laughs lowly. And sure enough, you grind against his palm, your ass rocking onto his fingers. Swivelling your hips, you thrust into him harder—your cunt walls pulsating as your pussy tries to swallow his fingers deeper. However, all of a sudden, Satoru’s pulling his hand out of your panties, his fingers pulling out of your cunt and leaving you feeling empty all of a sudden.

“No!” you sob, your hips bucking wildly in an attempt to chase his fingers. Softly, Satoru hushes you, pressing soothing kisses against your neck—even as he keeps his hand between your thighs—his fingers rubbing your nether lips and wiping your slick onto them. Pulling away from your sex, he brings his fingers to your lips.

“Awww baby, it’s okay. I’ll ruin that sweet little cunt soon. Fuck you so good, you’ll be crying on my cock,” Satoru cajoles.

“Toru—Toru, please,” you whine, your hips squirming over his desk. You should feel ashamed, you know you should, with the way your pussy is leaking all over his desk. Yet, you can’t find it in yourself to care. Not when the emptiness in your cunt aches to be filled up.

“Yeah, baby? Want me to fill you up nice and tight with my cock? Want me to cum inside till you’re leaking?” he taunts. The sinfulness of his words has you releasing another gush of arousal, the walls of your pussy tightening around nothing as you feel the dull ache return with a vengeance. Brushing his fingers against your lips, he paints them in your own essence.

“Suck,” Satoru orders as he pushes the digits into your mouth and onto your tongue. Reflexively, you wrap your mouth around the appendages, licking off your own arousal—the heady flavour heavy on your tongue. Satoru hums in approval. Then, he’s stepping away, his fingers slipping from your mouth.

With laboured breaths, you watch as he steps away from you and towards his chair. Eyes glued to his figure, you watch as he takes a seat, his thighs spreading out to accommodate his lengthy legs. In his new position, you can clearly see the way his trousers tent—his indurated cock straining within the confines of his jeans. Staring at you with lust-filled eyes, Satoru beckons you over to him with a crook of his fingers, and on wobbly legs, you walk over to him. When you’re a few feet in front of him, Satoru raises his palm—stopping you in your tracks.

Hand falling down to his side, “Take off my coat,” he orders.

Obediently, you comply. Your fingers move to unfasten the buttons of his jacket, hastily undoing each one before you clasp the material in your hands and shrug it off. The moment your figure comes into view, Satoru’s jaw clenches—the corner muscles flexing.

“Fuck,” Satoru breathes out.

Deliberately, his dark gaze wanders over you—practically feasting on your figure as he drinks you in. Pale blue and black lace cling to your skin; the skimpy material doing nothing to shield you from his predatory glower.

“Come here, pretty girl,” your boyfriend calls out to you. You hop off the desk and close the short distance, stopping when you’re between Satoru’s thick, spread thighs.

“Fuck, baby. Is this a new set? I’ve never seen it before,” he asks, his eyes trailing over your body.

With a teasing smirk, you look down at him. He’s asked you to dress sexy, so you have. Thankfully, you’d had this little piece hidden away, bought after one of your recent missions in Ginza. It was also one of the few pieces you hadn’t shown Satoru yet, something you were grateful for now. It’s a pretty set—made of a mix of delicate lace and soft satin. Of course, it had cost a small fortune—but it’d been worth every yen.

The cups are made of see-through baby blue lace—clearly revealing your hardened nipples as they poke against the material—while the thin straps are made of black satin, each wrapping around your rib cage and breasts like a harness, while a thicker one reaches from between your breasts to wrap around your neck like a choker. The panties are designed in a similar manner—thin, barely-there lace covering your sex while multiple black satin straps sit on your upper hips—just under your waist. You completed the look with a pair of black garters and stockings, the black suspenders clinging onto the lace tops of your thigh highs.

Definitely sexy, just like he’d asked.

“Mhm, do you like it?” you ask before twirling.

All of a sudden, with your back turned towards him, you feel Satoru’s hands grip your hips—halting you in your movements. Lips curling into a devious glint, you know your boyfriend’s seen the best part of this set. You’re glad he was more preoccupied with the way your cunt had felt against his fingers earlier—otherwise, you’re sure he would have realised sooner.

“Fuck are these—” Satoru breathes out, his voice a little strained as he stares at your ass. Turning around and looking at him over your shoulder, your eyes flash with playful delight.

“Crotchless? Mhm,” you hum in response. Satoru sucks in a sharp breath, and instantly, he’s pressing against the lower curve of your spine, pushing you to bend over in front of him.

The movement causes your ass to spread slightly, the thick bands of lace resting against fleshy cheeks pulling apart in tandem. Hissing at the sight, Satoru’s hands grip your ass before his thumbs press against the lower part of your cheeks: spreading the globes and further revealing your sex to him. A strangled moan slips from his throat, his eyes trailing from your ass to your slit, watching as the two thick pieces of fabric turn narrow, resting in the junction of either of your thighs before attaching to the thicker material that he knows covers your mons pubis.

You feel his heavy gaze rest against your ass and, with his hands spreading your cheeks, you know you’re completely on display for his viewing pleasure. Growing wetter against his gaze, you feel him move one of his thumbs from your ass, the other holding you open wider, while he brushes the pad through your soaked slit. A soft moan slips past your throat at the gentle touch, his thumb lightly dipping into your messy hole.

“Sexy enough?” you innocently question. Then, lowering your voice a couple of decibels, “It’s got easy access,” you purr.

Instantly, you feel your boyfriend spank your ass—hard. Heat sears across your skin, a cry tearing through your lips at the sudden strike. Flesh smarting with pain, you feel your boyfriend’s thick lips press against the tender skin: lavishing it with soothing kisses.

“Easy access? God, you’re such a dirty fucking slut. I should spank your pretty ass raw for being such a filthy, depraved whore,” Satoru sneers. His words cause you to clench around his thumb.

“Oh? Do you like that sweetheart? You want me to spank you?” Satoru taunts, pushing his thumb deeper into your dripping hole. Eagerly, you nod, bucking your hips back into him at the prospect. Leaning forward, he presses a tender kiss to the base of your spine, the soft touch making you sigh heavily.

“Oh, I know you do, baby. You’re such a desperate little pain slut,” Satoru says. Then all of a sudden, he’s bringing his hand over your bare ass cheek. Sharp pain flares across your ass, causing you to whimper out his name. When he brings his palm onto your ass, lightly gripping and caressing it soothingly, you let out another deep sigh. “You’ll be good for me, won’t you?” Satoru coos.

Abruptly, he’s pushing you away. Stumbling forward, you manage to catch yourself, your palms bracing against Satoru’s desk—your boyfriend holding onto your hip to steady you, before he turns you around once more so you can watch him. Through lust-fogged eyes—your thighs rubbing against each other in a bid to alleviate the intense ache between them—you follow the way he unbuckles his jeans: a ripple of anticipation thrumming through you. Time passes slowly, and it feels like Satoru can’t move quick enough. Eventually, he pulls his cock out from under his jeans, a low whimper falling from your throat when you see it.

Perhaps it’s just that you haven’t seen it in a while—but, somehow, he looks bigger than usual. With a thick, angry pink head: the bulbous tip leaking precum, and a swollen shaft: long, thick and ridged with dusky-rose veins, you can’t help the way your mouth waters. Eyes fixated on him, you watch as he runs his large hands over his cock, swallowing thickly as it pulses in his hold. When he runs his thumb over his own tip, covering it in his own precum, you let out a pained whimper—your cunt aching to be filled by him.

“Is this what you want, baby?” Satoru asks sweetly whilst lazily palming his cock. Swiftly, you nod, your hand shooting out to grip his member. The moment you move, Satoru tuts and smacks your hand lightly.

“Satoru,” you whine, once again reaching for his cock. Again, Satoru tuts and bats your hand away.

“I didn’t say you could touch, sweetheart,” he reprimands while clicking his tongue. “In fact…” Satoru continues.

The moment he drawls out the words, you feel an inkling of despair, paired with excitement, course through you. Indolently stroking his cock, your eyes following the movement surreptitiously.

“You’re not allowed to touch at all, do you understand me, princess?” he commands, practically purring. Hearing the words, your face immediately falls—petulance etched across your features.

“Noooo, Toru,” you whine, a pout curling onto your lips. Your fingers twitch to touch him. it’s been so long, you want—no, need—to feel it. Hand shooting out, it moves to curl around his thick shaft. However, anticipating the movement, Satoru brings his hand down onto your thigh hard, causing you to mewl in pain.

“I said no,” Satoru hisses, his voice low, and dangerous.

Whimpering, you squirm harder. However, with how slick your thighs are—covered in a light sheen of your own wetness—the movement does nothing to alleviate your wanton neediness. A broken sob falls from your lip; Satoru moves his hands to your hips and pulls you closer. Dipping his head down, he runs his nose along the length of your torso: from just under your breasts, to the top of your mound. He places a tender kiss against the waistband of your underwear—his supple lips causing your flesh to tingle with pleasure.

“I told you to be good for me, baby. Don’t you want to be good for me?” Satoru taunts. An impertinent retort sits at the tip of your tongue, but you bite it down; mainly because you’re desperate to feel his cock in you—or even on you at this point.

“I’ll be good,” you murmur back.

Satoru smiles against your skin, and with a soft kiss, paired with a hum of approval, he pulls away. Then, in one fluid motion, he pushes his thigh between your legs before bringing your hips down onto them. Hissing through your teeth at the movement, your cunt clenches around nothing—the rough, hard fabric of his jeans pressing against your aching pussy. Satoru lets out a soft grunt, his thigh twitching slightly as he feels the heat of your core seep through the denim.

“God—you’re so hot. And so fucking wet…” Satoru murmurs through gritted teeth. The rough denim against your bare, swollen folds has you whimpering, and before he can say anything, you’re already fidgeting over his thighs.

“Depraved little slut. Does it feel good, baby? Hmmm, I bet it does… finally having something other than yourself touch your needy pussy,” Satoru taunts, a wry grin on his face. Eagerly, you nod, your hips moving harder.

Suddenly, he spanks your thigh, making you cry out his name. The flesh blooming with pain from the sharp impact, Satoru soothingly runs his palms up and down your thigh. “Now, I want you to be good, sweetheart. Can you do that?” Satoru asks, his voice coming out in a deep hum.

Hastily nodding, “I’ll be good,” you repeat once again.

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” Satoru chuckles, knowing that your obedient streak would run out sooner or later. “Now, here’s what I want you to do… I want you to ride my thigh,” Satoru commands.

You mewl in pleasure, nodding eagerly once again. You’ll ride his thigh for the rest of the night if it means he finally plays with you. Then, after a brief pause, and with a borderline sadistic smile, “But I want you to keep your hands to yourself,” Satoru finishes.

Despair washes through you at that.

“Satoru, that’s not fair. P-Please. W-Wanna feel you,” you whimper out in protest.

“I know you do, baby. But this is your punishment for behaving like a little brat. How many times did I have to tell you to keep your hands to yourself, hmm? How many times have you called me Gojo, huh baby?” Satoru snarks. The deep baritone of his voice resounds through his office and involuntarily, your stomach twists.

“I’m sooory,” you whine out your apology.

Satoru chuckles darkly. His hand moves to your hip, and dipping it between your thighs, he lazily brushes it against your exposed clit. Crying out, you begin rocking over his thigh—your eyes fluttering open and shut as he continues stroking your clit with featherlight movements.

“Oh, I bet you are, sweetheart. I bet you’re soo sorry,” Satoru coos, and if you didn’t know your boyfriend better, you’d believe the false sympathy in his voice.

However, you do know better, and you’re proven right a few brief seconds after, when that same sympathy disappears. All of a sudden, Satoru flicks your clit hard, his fingernail scraping against the sensitive bud. You cry out, pleasure blurring your vision as your head falls back.

“But I told you you’d regret it, didn’t I?” Satoru laughs wryly, a sardonic smile curling at his glossy lips. “So, now, you’ll ride my thigh and watch me play with myself knowing you can’t touch. I think that’s fair, don’t you, baby?”

It’s not often that anyone would call Satoru sweet, but to you, he is. He’s sweet, and loving, and gives into every single one of your whims. But Satoru’s dominance is not to be tested—and you know that he won’t budge—no matter how much you whine or beg. At least, not until he’s sure you’re at your wit’s end.

Spanking your thigh suddenly, “I asked you a question, princess, I expect an answer,” Satoru hisses.

“Y-Yes, Toru. That’s fair,” you snivel.

It’s not. You know it’s not.

And every part of you wants to rebel, to scream that no, it’s not fair and you want to touch him, need to touch him.

Nevertheless, you know that will only result in Satoru punishing you with something worse. More than that, you’re too caught up in how good the coarse fabric of his jeans feels against your naked, sopping cunt.

“Good girl. Now, ride,” Satoru purrs as he leans back in the leather chair.

Yielding to his dominance, you gyrate your cunt against his thighs, your hands falling to grip your own—your fingers twitching to touch him. Whiny gasps and moans fall from your lips; the abrasiveness of his jeans causes you to cry out in pleasure. His thigh is thick between yours, your clit dragging across the length as you try to press it harder into him. With every movement of your hips, you leave broad trails of slick over his jeans—the thick material covered in a light coating of arousal. Though, with each motion of your hips, the fabric grows wetter.

From his reclined position, Satoru simply watches the way you move: your hips swivelling and your stomach writhing enticingly as you do your best to grind over him. Captivated by your erotic motions, Satoru begins palming at his heavy length. Lazily, he strokes his pulsating member—rhythmically squeezing it whenever you get to his tip. Mushroom tip leaking translucent beads of precum, he swipes at his slit every now and then, coating his thumb in the sticky substance as he wets his dick with his own arousal.

Seeing his movement, you let out a soft whimper; your mouth watering. You’d give anything—anything—to feel his cock. Plagued by the way it pulses in his large hands—how the angry bulbous head leaks all over him—your movements become more feverish: each motion a little faster, or harsher than the previous one.

Meanwhile, Satoru’s lust-darkened gaze trails down your body, stopping when he gets to your chest. Within the confines of your bra, your nipples are twisted hard—the buds straining against the lace mesh of the cup. A large part of him wants to remove the bra and tease your nipples until you’re begging him to cum—but he can’t deny just how undeniably good it looks on you, the sight of the baby blue and black material against your skin causing his cock to throb painfully in his hand. So, instead, he reaches out and lightly brushes his thumb against your covered nipple.

“Fuck,” you cry out, your fingernails digging into your thighs as you shudder over him.

Nonetheless, repeatedly, Satoru begins swiping his thumb over your nipples—dragging them under his pad—while his other hand leisurely strokes his own shaft. Almost painfully tightened to hardness, each of his movements has your sensitive nipples brushing against the coarse material of your bra, the sensation only heightening your pleasure. Briefly, you pause your motions, simply sitting on his thigh as your cunt erratically clenches, while you relish in the way he teases your hardened bud.

God, you desperately need to touch him.

In an instant, Satoru pinches the nipple between his thumb and forefinger, before twisting it painfully. A sharp thrum of stinging pain shoots from your breast and straight to your core: your cunt clenching and releasing a gush of wetness at the pain.

“Did I say you could stop, sweetheart?” Satoru hisses, his pretty features twisted into a domineering sneer.

Despite his words, the pain has you arching into his hold, a moan of ecstasy emanating from your throat as you wordlessly beg for more. Satoru growls, and twists your nipple harder this time; his fingers pulling the hardened peak painfully.

“Don’t be a fucking brat. I told you to move,” he scolds.

Having had enough of your own obedience, petulance rises in your chest, and for a moment, you don’t do anything—simply looking at him, defiance rife within your eyes. Seeing the mischievous spark, Satoru raises a single eyebrow at you.

He trails his hand up your chest, his hand splaying against your sternum before he wraps it around your throat. The thick lace band of the bra’s choker pulls tighter against your throat, Satoru’s warm fingers simultaneously flexing around your neck. With his hand spread over your throat, he tenderly brushes his lips against yours. Then, pulling your lip between his teeth, he nips at the soft petal.

“Do you really want to be a brat now, princess? When you’re so close to cumming?” Satoru’s sweet voice breaks the silence; his breath wafting against your lower face.

He doesn’t say it explicitly, but the warning is there: as clear as day. If you don’t obey him, he won’t let you cum. The threat of your boyfriend edging you has your eyes widening. Usually, you would push him more—loving nothing more than when your boyfriend punishes you by pushing you to your limits. But it’s been so long since you’ve had him that you’re sure if he edges you even once, you’ll go insane, each of your brain cells fried by ravenous lust. You already can’t touch him—the restraint driving you crazy. So, instead of challenging him further, you begin moving on top of him again.

“That’s my good girl,” Satoru praises, his head dropping so he can brush his thick lips against the outline of your collarbone.

The appraising action has you mewling—and unable to help yourself—you drop your head; your nose buries in his thick hair as you breathe him in.

“Come on, sweet girl, don’t you wanna cum?” Satoru asks as he purposely tenses his thigh. His ministration causes his muscle to contract to hardness, the tense flesh pressing against your swollen clit.

The action draws a deep, guttural groan from you and you begin moving over him again. Not having had a decent orgasm in over two weeks—the orgasms you wring from your fingers or your toys nowhere near the blissful intensity of the ones Satoru reaps from you—you can already feel your stomach begin to twist; the dull heat intensifying into a searing vengeance.

Your eyes drop to where Satoru is once again playing with his own cock, palming at the heavy length in long, slow strokes. Mouth drying at the sight, you can’t resist any longer. Hand shooting out, you press your palm against his length and caress it. The moment you feel it—thick and pulsating—under your touch, you whimper needily.

Instantly, Satoru pinches your nipple—twisting and pulling it harshly. Pain flares around your breast, the stinging sensation causing your entrance to quiver and release another gush of wetness onto his jeans.

“What did I say?” Satoru hisses out.

“Please,” you whine, your hand reaching out to stroke him again. However, batting your hand away, Satoru lets out a low growl.

“Hands to yourself or I’ll tie them up,” Satoru warns through grit teeth.

Pausing for a moment, your throat constricts as you imagine being bound and at the mercy of your angry, dominant boyfriend. A thrum of excitement flitting through you, you simply quirk your eyebrow. Then, with a mischievous smile curling on your face, “You have nothing to tie me up with,” you purr out, a challenging twinkle sparkling in your eyes.

“I don’t need something to restrain you, princess,” Satoru spits out.

Then, as if to prove a point, he’s twisting your hands behind your back. Eyes widening at the sudden movement, he leaves you no room to react, one of his strong hands already gripping both your wrists in his hold. Wildly, you thrash against him, trying to release your wrists from his hold. However, Satoru is much stronger than you, the strongest, and his fingers curl around your wrists tightly in a warning.

“Toruuu,” you whine out, and moving your thigh up, you brush your knee against his cock. The unexpected movement has Satoru hissing; his grip around your wrists loosens. Using the opportunity, you break away from his hold before palming at his cock. Swiftly, you run your hand along the entire length, high-pitched keens resounding from your mouth as you relish in the velvet feel of it.

All of a sudden, Satoru spanks your thigh. In a swift motion, he buries his hand into the pocket of his jeans, before pulling out his crumpled blindfold. Your eyes widen at the fabric, and swiftly, Satoru has your hands behind your back—his fingers expertly moving to bind your wrists. Ferociously, you struggle against his hold, doing your best to prevent him from restraining your hands, but Satoru is used to your disobedience, and without much trouble, he has you tied up.

“N-No. No, wanna touch you,” you whimper out, your knee once again rising to brush against his cock. However, anticipating the movement, Satoru brings both his hands onto your thighs—holding them down with his strong grip.

“I said no. Now, I’m willing to let this slide—I know you’re desperate to touch me. But if you disobey me again, I won’t let you cum. Are we clear, princess?” Satoru hisses in a warning.

With your hands bound behind your wrists, you pout. Momentarily, you try struggling again against the binding; however, the knotted material only tightens, making you whimper.

“What did I say, sweetheart? Are you going to try disobeying? Or do you want to cum?” Satoru growls.

You pull your lip between your teeth, gnawing at it as you contemplate your next decision. Again, you want to disobey—you want him to punish you until you can’t take it anymore. However, the overwhelming need to cum overtakes your brattish tendency, and giving in to him, you submit once more.

“I want to cum. I’ll be good,” you mumble out. The corners of his lips pull into a smile, and Satoru leans forward to brush them against yours in appraisal.

“That’s my good girl. See, you do know how to behave,” Satoru hums. Preening under his praise, you nod, your thighs twitching. “Come on, baby, ride me,” Satoru urges, his hands softly massaging the flesh of your thighs.

Wrists flexing around your restraint, you let out a series of short cries and whimpers—your hips moving against him once again. One of your boyfriend’s hands moves to grip your hip, the other wanders up your body to leisurely toy with your nipple—pinching and tugging it through the lace of your bra.

The hand resting on your hip grips you, his fingers digging almost bruisingly into your pelvis as he helps you grind on him. Harder and harder, you rock on top of him: dragging your swollen, aching cunt over the entire length of his thigh as you chase your own pleasure. It’s been so long since you’ve had Satoru play with you like this that even the rough friction of his jeans against your swollen clit is going to have you cumming.

Dark eyes falling to where your thigh clenches his, your cunt moving on him, Satoru lets out a hiss. Fingers tightening on your hips, “That’s it. Good little whore. Get yourself off on my thigh. Look at you, you’re so fucking soaked I can feel you drench my jeans. Desperate fucking cockslut,” Satoru spits out. His words have you whimpering; your pussy involuntarily clenches around nothing—the contraction only serving to emphasise the emptiness of your walls.

Eyes dropping to his cock, you let out a low mew. Left untouched, it stands erect, pressed against his abdomen as it continues leaking into the cotton of his shirt. Imperceptibly, it pulses—the prominent veins pulsing every time blood is pumped to the thick, swollen shaft.

“S’toru, please. P-Please. W-Want your c-cock,” you stammer out as you begin moving in a more frenzied manner.

Humming noncommittally, Satoru presses his thumb against your nipple before rolling it in one tight circle. The ministration has you mewling his name, your spine tingling with pleasure.

“Is that right, sweet girl? Are you already that desperate for my cock? Do you want me to sink into that tight cunt? Feel my cock stretch open that tiny, needy little hole as you cum around me? Is that what you want, baby?” Satoru taunts. His voice is sweet—mellifluous and syrupy. Yet, there’s a darker undercurrent to it, a sinful undertone of dominance that causes your stomach to flip.

“Oh fuck—fuck yes… Toru, I want it. I want it so bad, please,” you beg over him.

Satoru lets out a dark chuckle, his hand moving from your hip to grip your ass. Large palm splaying across the plump flesh, he grips it in his hold before rolling and palming at the muscle.

Satoru hums.

“But I don’t think you can take it, sweetheart. It’s been so long since I’ve fucked that sweet little cunt. Mmmm… that’s right, your tiny pussy is probably too tight to take my fat cock now,” Satoru taunts. Swiftly, you shake your head, your head dropping to his shoulder as you sob out his name.

“I can take it. I can! I want to feel you stretch me out. Toru, please. I want it—want you to ruin my cunt and fuck it open, please,” you wail, pleading with him over and over again; your hips writhing wildly on his thigh.

“Needy fucking whore. God, you’re so fucking desperate,” Satoru hisses

Sitting up in the chair, he pulls your chest against his—both his hands falling to hold your ass—helping you move harder over him. His head dips into the curve of your throat, his nose running up the flesh until his plump lips tease your earlobe.

“Did you miss my cock, baby? Did you miss how good it feels when I slide into that tight little pussy? How I push into that little hole, stretch it open before fucking you hard and deep? I know I did. I missed feeling your dirty little cunt milk my cock,” Satoru groans out.

You let out a shuddering sob, your eyes screwed shut as his deep, melodious, throaty voice reverberates through your eardrum. Nodding against his shoulder, you whine out his name—his words only causing the emptiness of your pussy to intensify.

“You’re already so wet you’ve completely soaked my jeans, you know. I bet you’ll soak my cock just as well—get it nice and wet and messy so I can fuck you hard and fast and rough. Just the way you like—just the way you deserve,” Satoru continues taunting.

Gasping for air, you bury your forehead further into his shoulder, wishing that you could wrap your arms around his shoulders and cling to him.

Between laboured breaths, “S-S’toru… wanna cum… please,” you heave out.

The hands grasping your ass moves to spread your cheeks, his fingers dipping between them. Indolently, he strokes the pads through your wet slit, gathering up your wetness onto them, before trailing up to circle the puckered rim off your ass. Feeling his fingers tease your asshole, you let out a sharp cry, your back arching in pleasure. You push harder against him, shifting your weight so you can grind your clit into the top of his thigh.

The hard material repetitively brushes your throbbing, engorged clit—forcing tingles of heated pleasure to prickle at your skin. Every writhing motion, every time you squirm over him, you climb higher and higher to the brink of your own pleasure. Continuously, Satoru teases your asshole—his slick fingers tauntingly circling the outline of your rim.

When you whine in pleasure, “God, I missed how much of a slut you are for me. Missed how eager you are to take me into any hole,” Satoru admits, his voice thick with torrid hunger. He pushes his finger against the ring of muscles, applying just enough force to tease your asshole, but not enough to push through. The pressure against your ass has the emptiness of your pussy flaring up.

“M-Missed you too. P-Please, Toru… N-Need… Need something,” you force out.

You’re so incredibly close—teetering on the precipice of your orgasm as you ride his thigh. Rocking harder onto him, you grind your clit into his leg, trying to force your own orgasm. Sparks of pleasure jolt across your spine, and you let out a low moan as you feel your end near. However, just before you can fall off of the edge, Satoru lifts you off of him. Swiftly, without any friction against your clit, the intensity of your orgasm fades; the searing heat in your stomach dwindling into a dull ache.

“N-No. You said I could cum! Please! I’m being good!” you sob out in protest, fighting against his strength as you attempt to continue riding his thigh. Tears sting at your eyes, your vision blurring slightly.

Hand coming down onto your thigh sharply, “Not yet. You’ll cum when I say so,” Satoru scolds.

Shaking your head, you scrunch your eyes, a single tear rolling down your cheek, and wail in objection, “But you said! You said I could cum! Satoru, please! I’m being good.”

“Then continue being good and I’ll let you cum. Be patient, princess,” Satoru admonishes. Whimpering as you continue writhing in his hold, Satoru’s strength keeps you from pressing against his thigh again. His hand falls onto his cock, and wrapping around the base, he lifts it up.

He drags his palm over his shaft, till he gets to the weepy tip. Then, swiping his thumb against the head, he coats the pad of his appendage in the sticky wetness of his arousal. Your throat constricts, watching as stringy ropes of precum cling to his thumb. Satoru tears his hand away, and bringing it up to your lips, he swipes it against your lip. Your eyes flutter shut at the movement, Satoru painting your mouth in his essence. Helpless under the action, you poke out your tongue and lick your lips, keening as his heady flavour taints your tongue.

“Filthy cockslut,” Satoru purrs, a praising lilt to his voice. “Do I taste good?” he coos while pressing his thumb between your lips.

Feeling the weight of it on your tongue, his arousal bathing your taste buds, you moan. Instinctively, your tongue roves over his digit, your eyes slipping shut as you relish in his heavy taste. Eventually, Satoru pulls it out, only to swipe at your swollen, precum stained lips.

“That’s my good slut,” your boyfriend praises.

Dropping his hand to his cock, he grips the shaft and holds it up once again. His other hand shoots to your hips and pulls you so you’re straddling both his thighs. With your legs spread open, Satoru drags his cockhead through your puffy folds. Crying out in pleasure, your head falls back; your hips instinctively squirming on top of him.

“Want it, S’toru,” you mumble, your hips swivelling in a circle.

Moving over him, you drag your slit across the velvet head of his cock, trying to position it at your aching entrance. With every second that passes, your walls throb tortuously—the emptiness of them only heightening as Satoru continues to teasingly drag his cockhead through your folds. When his tip catches on your entrance, your cunt rippling around him involuntarily, you both gasp.

His eyes fixated on where his cock strokes through your cunt, Satoru simply watches. Thick, filmy strings of your arousal drip from your pussy—hanging in the air and over his hand and cock in gooey ropes. Each and every time he swipes his head through your slit, you release another gush of wetness, until his entire shaft is coated in your arousal. The stickiness of your sex is only aided further by his own wetness—his precum gathering in thick globs around his slit—and with every drag, he only coats your cunt in his own arousal.

“Fucking shit, you’re so fucking messy. Look down, baby, look at how your needy cunt soaks my cock,” Satoru urges. With a keening moan, your gaze drops to where his cock presses against your pussy.

Gripping his cock harder, he positions it at your clit and—when you feel him press his head against your throbbing, engorged clit—you can’t help but let out a strangled moan. Satoru lets out a low hiss, the hardened bundle of nerves throbbing intoxicatingly against his slit. The surreptitious motion stimulates his cock, causing more of his precum to leak out. Moaning in ecstasy, you feel your throat tighten when his warm arousal drips over your clit, coating the swollen bud in more of his stickiness. Squirming over him, you begin rocking your clit against his tip, dragging it back and forth as you try to stimulate yourself.

“That’s it, be a good cockslut and rub that pretty little cunt over me. Get it nice and wet so I can fuck open your wet pussy,” Satoru orders.

Mewling in pleasure, you do as he says, repeatedly grinding your throbbing bud into his oozing cockhead. Agonisingly, the entrance to your cunt quivers—your entire sex weeping for him to fill you up.

“Fuck me,” you gasp out. Satoru only hums noncommittally, moving both hands to grip at your hips.

“Hmmm, I don’t think you’re ready. I don’t think you want it enough,” Satoru purrs—the low vibrations of his voice shooting straight to your core. Shaky breaths falling from your lips, you squirm harder on top of him.

“I do! I want it so bad. S’toru, please, fuck me. Want to feel your cock in me,” you croon desperately.

Dark chuckles resounding through the air, the sound heavy with dominance, Satoru positions his cock at your entrance. Feeling him press his cock against your entrance—just enough to tease, but not enough to enter you—you cry out in pleasure. Responsively, the tight rings of muscles clench, trying to pull him further into you.

Laughingly lowly, “God, I can feel your tight little cunt clenching. Are you desperate for my cock, pretty girl?” Satoru asks, the inflexion of his voice dripping with taunt.

“Yes. Yes. Want it,” you reply, unhesitant.

Pressing his cock harder against your entrance, Satoru grips your hips tightly, preventing you from sinking his cock into you. Desirous mews and whimpers fall from your lips; tears sting your eyes as your boyfriend continues to tease you. Every passing moment has the heat in your stomach growing wilder and wilder—until wanton desire courses through your bloodstream, overtaking your entire being.

“Are you sure, baby? You want it?” Satoru coos, the taunt heavy in your voice.

He drops his head to your chest, his lips wrapping around your bra-clad nipple. Lazily, your boyfriend laves at the hardened bud—wetting the fabric of your bra as he teases your nipple. His action draws a hoarse cry from deep within your throat; your voice cracks for a moment.

“Yes. Yes. Please. Please, I’ll do anything, Toru, please,” you gasp out, your hips once again squirming on top of him. Satoru chuckles lowly, the sound laced with a sinister inclination.

“Anything? Are you sure, baby?” Satoru questions.

The mischievous intonation of his voice should alarm you, and if your mind wasn’t hazed with desire, if you weren’t so incredibly fucked out and desperate, it would have. But right now, driven to the brink of insanity by Satoru’s teasing, you can’t bring yourself to care. It doesn’t matter what he has in store for you, doesn’t matter what Satoru choose to do, you’ll take anything he gives you and more; especially if it means Satoru fucks you right here, right now.

“Yes. Yes. Please. Anything. Anything, Toru, please just fuck me,” you sob, your dry throat straining to force the words out.

“You have no idea what you’re getting into, do you, sweet girl?” Satoru questions. However, you barely register his words. Instead, pleasure thrums through your breast—the vibrations of Satoru’s words shooting straight to your core.

“Don’t care! Don’t care. Fuck me. Want your cock. Toru, please, just fuck me. Please. Please, please, please,” you repeat over and over again.

Arms struggling behind your back, you futilely tug at the restraints as you try to free yourself. At least if they were free you could hold onto his shoulders and fuck yourself onto his cock. You feel Satoru smirk against your tit, and then suddenly, he’s pushing your hips down. Feeling the intense pressure of his flared cockhead against your entrance, your mouth drops open in a silent scream.

Satoru was right, you weren’t ready for him—because two weeks may not seem like a long time, but it is. It is when he’s huge—ridiculously long and absurdly thick—and you’re far too small to take him when you haven’t felt him stretch you out in days. And it’s been so long that despite how wet you are, how wet his cock is, he still struggles to open you out. Nonetheless, unrelentingly, Satoru presses into you—his hands pushing your hips down onto his cock—and eventually, he pops into you.

The moment his head breaches your walls—you throw your head back and let out a strangled wail. He’s incredibly thick inside you, the ringed muscles that make up your entrance pulled thin around him. Eyes slipping shut, you moan in a mix of pain and pleasure, relishing in the delicious burn of him stretching you out. Ruthlessly, he pushes the rest of him into you, ignoring your cries of ‘Too much’ and ‘Slower’ as the taut flesh of your inner walls is forcibly pulled apart around his hard length. Thich inch by inch, he fucks his cock into you; refusing to stop until he’s buried into the hilt. Then, roughly pulling your hips onto him, he sinks the last few inches into you in one sudden movement—burying himself into your cunt to the hilt.

Wired beyond belief, pleasure consumes you, the veined ridges of his cock hitting every erogenous spot inside your cunt. When the blunt tip of his cockhead hits the back of your supple cervix, a high-pitched wail tears through you. Toes curling, your thighs begin trembling violently as you suddenly cum around his cock. Back contorting violently, your fingers grip your own wrists behind your back as you sob out his name. Orgasm rocketing through you out of the blue, you vehemently convulse over your boyfriend. Over and over again, you cry out his name, twisting and writhing as blinding ecstasy courses through you. It’s been so long since you’ve had a decent orgasm, that the intensity of your first one has your vision blurring, thick tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Fucking cockslut,” Satoru hisses. “Did you just cum from being fucked open on my cock? Fuck—you got so much tighter,” Satoru harshly grunts out.

Then, without waiting any longer, he begins fucking into you from underneath. Gripping at your hips, he rams his cock upward, pulling you down harshly onto him. With each motion, your own orgasm is drawn out—making you cry out his name loud, your eyes rolling back into your skull. Cunt rippling around him, you milk his shaft—Satoru forcing himself into your erratically tightening and untightening walls. Viciously, you convulse as you cum over your boyfriend; Satoru groans when thick rivulets of your cum begin flowing down his cock. The additional wetness adds to the mess between your thighs, and only aids his motions, his cock slippery enough to batter into you.

Through it all, you let the tide of our orgasm wash through you, drifting on its wave of euphoria as it drowns you in nothing but utter, unadulterated ecstasy. Reduced to a sobbing, quivering mess on top of your boyfriend, you heave for air as you try to satiate the burn in your lungs. Ceaselessly, however, Satoru fucks into you—refusing to give you any reprieve from his cock.

Coming down from your high, you whine as you feel the blunt head of Satoru’s cock enter your pussy—over and over again—as he impales you onto his cock. His thrusts are forceful, your body jerking up and down over him. With every movement, you struggle against your restraints harder—wanting to dig your fingers into his shoulder blades as he bounces you onto his cock. Instead, you settle for falling over him, your head resting on your shoulder, and your face pressed into his neck.

All of a sudden, Satoru spanks your ass, causing you to cry out.

“Sit up, I want you to ride my cock,” Satoru commands.

Limply, you pull yourself off of him, Satoru’s head immediately dipping to take one of your nipples into his mouth. Gathering your strength, you plant your feet firmly on the ground before flexing your thighs as you begin to ride him. The both of you hiss; your bodies writhing harder together.

Every time he impales his cock into you, you feel the ridges of his cock drag against your sensitive inner walls, causing you to cry out in pleasure. Sensitivity still grips at your sex, the ache of overstimulation only turning you on more. With a swivel of your hips, you bring yourself down onto his cock harder—both of you gasping when the motion causes his cockhead to slam against the back walls of your pussy. He’s so deep inside you, that there’s an intense, nauseating, pressure inside your stomach, and the back of your cunt throbs, Satoru relentlessly battering your cervix.

“H-Harder. W-want you to f-fuck me, h-harder,” you stutter out.

His pace is already intense, your entire body bouncing on top of him as you take him deep inside you. Still, you voluntarily clench around his cock, purposely tightening your walls against his shaft as you beckon him deeper.

“Harder? You want it harder?” Satoru asks, causing you to hastily nod.

Throat tight, and mind addled with pleasure, you can barely string together a coherent sentence. Rather, you push your hips harder into his, undulating them over his cock. Satoru grunts when you clamp down around him again.

“Fuck. Hold on, princess, I’m going to fucking ruin you,” Satoru breathes out, emphasising each word with a brutal thrust, his cockhead dragging against your sweet spot.

Eyes rolling into the back of your skull, “Please, want it,” you gasp out, white spots already blinding your vision again.

“Oh, I know you do. Love when I fuck you hard and fast like this, don’t you baby. Love when I fuck you dumb; leave you a speechless, quivering mess, don’t you, baby?” Satoru derides. Again, your throat tightens, your toes curling in pleasure as he purposely, vehemently, drags his head against your g-spot before battering it into your cervix.

“Yessssss, want you to use me, please,” you hiss. Satoru grips your hips tighter.

“Is that what you want, my sweet girl? Do you want me to use you as my own personal cocksleeve? Cum inside and fill you up?” Satoru gibes. Fingers flexing behind your back, you whimper out—the walls of your sex clenching around his throbbing shaft.

“Say it, I want you to say it. Tell me what you want,” Satoru hisses out, his hand coming down onto your ass hard. The sharp pain has you wailing out his name, Satoru soothingly rolling the cheek in his palm.

“W-Want you to u-use me as your c-cocks-sleeve, pleeeassse,” you mewl. Again, out of the blue, Satoru spanks you; your back contorting in euphoria.

“Then hold on slut, I’m going to use this tight little cunt however I want. You’re here for my pleasure now,” Satoru whispers against your ear, his words low and gravelly.

“S’toru, wanna cum again,” you slur out. Satoru only chuckles at that.

“You either cum from me fucking you, or you don’t cum at all. Don’t forget, you asked for this. Said I could do anything,” Satoru replies.

Then, one hand gripping your wrists, the other curling around your waist, Satoru pulls you flush against him. Using your weight to brace himself, Satoru increases his pace. Viciously slamming into you from underneath, the thick of his girth spreading your soft, sensitive walls around his cock with each rapid stroke. Immediately, your mouth falls open as you begin wailing out his name.

Blindly, your fingers flex for some sort of purchase, but with them tied up, you find none. Thus, helpless, your body bounces over Satoru—jolted up and down onto his cock—as he uses you in the way you had asked for. Hips surging into you from above, he batters your cunt, the ringed muscles releasing another gush of wetness. Euphoria tingles at your spine, your entire body heating as you feel your second orgasm thrum through you. However, without any stimulation to your clit, you can’t bring yourself to cum.

Instead, you teeter over the edge, your orgasm practically taunting you with every one of Satoru’s deep, hard thrusts. Between the friction of his jeans rubbing against the bottom of your thighs, and the way his cock repeatedly plunges into your silken depths, tears of pleasure sting your eyes. Eyelids screwing shut, the tears gathered in them begin to spill down, and you sob out his name—the ecstatic bliss of euphoria causing you to grow mad with lust.

You’re so close, but you know you can’t cum. Not without his permission, and definitely not without him playing with your clit.

“Toru, wanna c-cum,” you once again croon out. Again, Satoru brings his hand harshly onto your ass, the soft muscle smarting with pain.

“And I told you, you either cum from being used like my cocksleeve, or you don’t cum at all,” Satoru responds. Through it all, his pace doesn’t falter for a single moment.

You feel Satoru’s cock pulsate inside you—the rhythm falling out of place—and when he swells with a throb, you feel despair course through you. You know your boyfriend well enough to know he’s close, and if he cums before you do, you won’t cum at all. Vigour renewed by your realisation, you squirm over him, trying your hardest to grind your clit into his abdomen, or the open zipper of his jeans resting on either side of his cock.

“Fuck—I’m cumming,” Satoru groans as he thrusts into you with reckless abandon. “You’re gonna take it, aren’t you, baby? Gonna lemme fill up this tight, pretty little cunt with my cum? Fuck I know you will. Your cunt always looks so pretty when it’s sloppy with my cum.” His words have you moving in a frenzy, thrashing your hips against his abdomen as you futilely try to stimulate your own clit.

However, it’s all in vain, because swivelling your hips in his hands, Satoru rocks you further onto him. Then, all of a sudden, he pulls you down with one, fluid motion. The action has him burying his cock as deep as he can into you, and you find yourself winded—his blunt cockhead pushing painfully deep against your cervix. Satoru grinds his cock into you, using your cunt to sheath the entirety of his length: from tip to shaft.

“Fuck.” With a low groan, Satoru cums.

His cock pulsates inside you, swelling a little as it releases rope after rope of his cum into you. Feeling his warm seed flood your depths, you wail out his name, desperately needing to cum. Nonetheless, Satoru ignores you. Instead, he continues spilling inside you, thick pools of his cum gathering deep against your cervix, painting your inner walls white. Warmth fills you from the inside, and with the sheer amount he’s cum inside you, you wonder if he, like you, hasn’t had a good orgasm in a while.

“Toru—Toru, please,” you sob dryly.

Frustrated tears flow freely down your face, your words almost garbled and unintelligible as you plead for an orgasm. High-pitched keen slipping from your throat, you writhe against him harder; your thighs flex as you try bouncing your ass on his cock again—urgently chasing your own orgasm. Fingers digging into the flesh of your ass—hard enough that you know he’s bruised you—Satoru halts your motion, using his strength against you.

Satoru pulls away from your neck to look at your face. He takes in the sight of you, your eyelids teary, half-lidded and completely fucked out. He trails over the tear stains over your cheeks, your lips bruised and swollen, the precum he’d swiped on them dried out by now. Leaning up, he gently kisses your cheeks, his tongue swiping up to lick at the salty trails of your tears.

“Beg for it,” Satoru sneers.

“Please,” you breathe out. You look up at him through the thick of your lashes, your doe-like, teary eyes and swollen, precum-stained lips causing Satoru to groan.

“That’s my sweet girl,” Satoru praises.

Immediately, he retreats from your cunt, ignoring your moans of displeasure. Satoru draws up to his full height, easily lifting you up in his arms, before manoeuvring your trembling body so you’re bent over his desk. The side of your head rests on the table, cheek pressed against the wood, and bracing your feet on the ground, you thrust your hips back into him—chasing any form of friction.

Gripping your hips, Satoru holds your ass up and then, in one smooth thrust, he’s completely buried in you. With how rough he’s just fucked you, paired with his cum staining your walls and your own wetness, he should slide in easily. Nonetheless, the abrupt intrusion has you howling out, his girth splitting you apart once more as he leaves you no time to adjust. It’s too much all at once, your hips jerking forward as you try to pull away from him.

Satoru’s fingertips dig into your hips, holding your ass flush against his hips, and you cry out in a mix of pleasure and pain, your walls throbbing around his vascularised length. The uncontrollable clenching of your walls only highlights how incredibly big he is, his length buried so deep inside you, the head of his cock once again sits flat against your cervix. His sudden thrust has his cum spilling out of you, milky white rivulets smearing his cock, dripping down his balls, and onto your thighs.

“Fuck, baby. Always so tight for me like this,” Satoru moans, his hand coming down to spank your ass in tandem. The sharp impact has your hips jerking, a moan tearing from your throat. Satoru’s head falls back, revelling in the way your cunt tightens around him.

“Toru, move,” you urge, your hips squirming under his. Satoru bends over your back, his clothed chest pressing into your bare back.

“Who knew my Kitten was so cock-hungry?” Satoru purrs against your ear, emphasising his words with a deep thrust.

Your thighs shake and you fall further onto the table, your hands splaying on either side as your chest presses flat against the surface. Drawing back up to his height, Satoru begins thrusting hard into you. Over and over, he plunges his cock into you. His pace isn’t fast as before, but with his feet anchored to the ground, his thrusts are somehow more forceful, deeper. With every forward drive of his hips, your entire body jolts, your own hips digging into the edge of the table with how hard he impales you.

“Too—Too much,” comes your strained protest. Nonetheless, Satoru only laughs derisively behind you. One of his hands moves from your hips, caressing up the delicate curve of your spine and up to your neck, only for his fingers to curl into the roots of your hair. Tugging harshly, he forces you to arch your neck, your back bending in unison.

“Isn’t this what you asked for, princess? Begged me to use you as a cocksleeve, said you’d do anything just as long as I fucked you,” Satoru sneers, the derisiveness in his voice causing your skin to flash with heat. A deep, throaty mew is your only response, your brain unable to form words anymore. When you don’t respond, Satoru pulls your hair once again, simultaneously driving his hips forward in a brutal thrust.

“Hnnn—Deep, too deep, S’toru,” you gasp, your words slightly slurred. The pain of his cockhead battering into the walls of your cervix intermingles with the way his veiny cock strokes every nerve ending inside your cunt.

“I told you to be good for me, sweetheart. I asked you a question, I expect an answer” Satoru hisses, his fingers uncurling from your hair to spank your ass instead.

“Yes! I-It’s what I w-wanted,” you choke out, your voice faltering. Satoru caresses your tender cheek, a hum of approval tremoring from deep within his chest as he feels the heat of pain emanate from your flesh. Then, hand trailing down to your thigh, he grips your flesh before manoeuvring it to rest on the desk, your knee bending with the action.

In your new position, Satoru can press deeper into you, your wet, tumescent cunt peeking from between the apex of your thighs. Satoru’s lips curl sardonically before he swivels his hips. The rolling motion shifts the angle of his shaft inside you and you sob out his name once again. His entire length is hot inside you, the shaft throbbing rhythmically—completely different from the way your own walls ripple erratically. With a hard thrust, Satoru angles his cock to brush against your g-spot as he slides in. Instantly, you screech out his name, your thighs quivering violently.

Ruthlessly, he abuses your cunt—his cockhead brushes against your g-spot with every plunge of his cock. Dark eyes roam over your helpless form, Satoru watching as your muscles tremble almost imperceptibly from pleasure. Every time he impales his cock inside you, you jerk forward, only for him to pull you back onto his shaft. Each movement causes your sensitised, lace-clad nipples against the smooth wood—drawing out further sensations of pleasure as you gradually grow delirious.

Satoru’s hands move to drop to your ass, and thumbs pressing into the fleshy cheeks, he spreads them apart. A throaty groan resounds through the air, Satoru’s cerulean eyes fixating immediately onto the way your tumid cunt is stretched thin around his girth, how your wetness—mixed with his cum—leaks out of you and onto his cock, your thighs, his balls, with every thrust; and just above it all, is your tiny little asshole, the puckered rim twitching with pleasure.

Unable to stop himself, Satoru spreads them further apart, only to bend down slightly and spit. Instantly, you feel the warm wetness trail down the seam of your ass and onto your asshole, a small whimper resounding from your throat. Ignoring you, Satoru traces the puckered ring, relishing in the way it trembles under his touch. Then, running his fingers through your soaked slit, he gathers as much of your sticky arousal and his cum onto his middle finger, and with featherlight touches, he circles your asshole before dipping the tip of his finger into you, the muscles reflexively tightening to deny him entrance.

“Ah—Toru,” you hiss, the intrusion causing your stomach to clench.

“Relax, baby. It’s not the first time I’ve used this tight little hole, is it?” Satoru orders. Taking a deep breath, you will yourself to relax, Satoru groans when his finger slides in easily, the intrusion aided by the excessive amount of slick that coats his digit. When he’s buried knuckle deep into your ass he stills, the hot muscles clenching tightly around his appendage. Experimentally, he wiggles his finger inside you and you let out a heavy moan of pleasure.

“That’s it. Only filthy whores like you enjoy having their asses played with, don’t they, princess?” Satoru ribs, his voice mocking as he thrusts his finger deeper into your asshole. Whimpering, you only nod your head—your mind clouded with ecstasy from the feeling of your boyfriend’s finger inside your ass, while the head of his cock is still burrowed in your cunt.

When you don’t reply, Satoru pulls his finger out, only to shove both his middle and pointer finger into you this time. Blissed out, your pliant asshole initially stretches readily to let him in, however, the moment they probe further, the muscles clench involuntarily. Unhindered by the sudden contraction—more than used to loosening up the tight hole for his use—Satoru thrusts both his fingers hilt deep into you, before curling them and stroking the sensitive nerves inside your ass.

“Fuck! Toru,” you cry out, your hips jerking to pull away from him.

“Say it,” he hisses before swivelling his cock, the movement causing him to expertly stroke your sweet spot.

“O-Only filthy whores like me enjoy having their asses played with,” you cry out in pleasure.

Humming in approval behind you, Satoru begins fucking into you once again, his cock thrusting in and out of you, his fingers mimicking the rhythm as he forces them into your ass.

“S’toru—” you whimper.

This time, your voice is incredibly low and nearly inaudible; almost drowned out by the slick sounds of his cock fucking into your cum sodden cunt and the slapping of his skin against yours. Taking pity on you, Satoru leans over and presses a kiss to your shoulder blade. It’s a warming gesture, one meant to comfort you. However, the movement forces him slightly deeper into you making you jerk.

“Toru!” you sob.

“Fuck—cum for me, pretty girl,” Satoru orders.

As he speaks, the hand spreading your ass cheek moves to curl around your body before two fingers press against your clit. A strained sob escapes your lips as the sudden pleasure hurtles you off the edge. Body quaking, you wail out his name, the sound coming out more like a strangled groan as your throat strains under the sound. Satoru hisses, his jaw clenching as he feels you clamp down impossibly tight around his girth. Emboldened by your orgasm, he wildly thrusts both his cock, and his fingers, into you, drawing out the delirious pleasure that ricochets through your body.

“Fuck yes, that’s it sweet girl, cum around my cock,” Satoru urges.

All of a sudden, he rips out the fingers in your ass, using the hand instead to press into your back as he ruts his cock into you. The abrupt exit of his digits has you yelping, your slightly gaping hole clenching around nothing as Satoru thrusts into you with reckless abandon. The fingers toying with your clit increase in their vigour, your eyes rolling back in pleasure. Under him, your thighs tremble, your toes curling as he draws out your pleasure.

“Cum again. Fuck, cum again. Wanna feel you milk my cum out my cock,” Satoru commands.

“N-No, c-can’t. Too much,” you refute with a sob, your head shaking as your eyes screw shut. Satoru laughs mockingly at your weeping form.

“You begged me to cum, cried for it like a desperate slut. So cum,” he orders, his fingers rolling and pinching your tumid bundle of nerves. Simultaneously, his cock pierces into you, his bulbous head dragging against the sensitive tissue of your sweet spot.

With an ear-splitting wail, you cry out his name as your body locks. Ecstasy suddenly rockets through you, hurtling you over the precipice and sending you diving head first into your orgasm once more. Drawing into yourself, your body curls and shudders under him as you quietly sob. Your walls contract painfully, Satoru hissing at how you tighten around him.

“Fuck—fuck,” Satoru groans out.

The vehement rippling of your walls milks his shaft as he begins chasing his own high. A lewd squelching fills the air, the sloppy sounds of your cum-filled, dripping pussy loud in the night. Through it all, Satoru continues plunging into you, heightening your climax, and soon, the pain of overstimulation ripples through your over-stimulated sex. Through your desire-clouded mind, you vaguely register the burning ache that passes through you.

“N-No more. S’toru, please, too much, hurts,” you slur from underneath him, unable to articulate a coherent form of thought from the unbridled euphoria that clouds your mind. Relentless in his pursuit of his own pleasure, however, Satoru continues toying with your clit, revelling in the way the messy, wet walls of your cunt erratically tighten around him.

“Fuck, you can do it, sweet girl. Wanna cum deep in you while you milk my cock,” Satoru softly coaxes. When he pinches your clit once more, you scream out his name.

Pleasure blurs your vision, and eyes screwing shut, white-spots blind the darkness of your mind. Abruptly, the knot within your stomach unravels, and feeling the sudden relief spread through your abdomen, you’re forced over the precipice of blissful ecstasy once again. Jaw slackening, your mouth falls open and your throat strains as you force out a silent cry. Without warning, your walls tighten—almost painfully—around Satoru’s cock, the forceful contractions causing pelt after pelt of your cum to gush out of you. When he feels wetness pelt against the material of his slacks, Satoru groans, realising you’ve squirted all over him and his desk.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Satoru hisses.

Satoru’s hands move to grip your ass cheeks, and forces them apart, his eyes dropping to where his girth splits you open. Then, with two stuttered thrusts, he impales his cock as deep as he can into you, his balls tightening. For a second time that night, his thick cum floods inside you, shooting out of his length and straight against your cervix. Through the overstimulated fog of ecstasy, you feel the torrent of his seed pour into you, your womb overwhelmed with his warmth.

While your body uncontrollably spasms—your muscles still reeling with the aftershocks of your orgasm—you slowly come to. Drifting back to reality, the high of your climax ebbs into a post-orgasmic haze. Breath laboured, the two of you heave for air as you stay completely still. Feeling the dryness of your throat, you swallow thickly in a bid to soothe the raw muscles.

As your mind slowly clears, the inescapable warmth of Satoru’s cum within your belly becomes apparent. You whine softly, relishing in the comforting sensation. Behind you, Satoru stays buried deep inside you, hips moving imperceptibly as he rides out the aftershocks of his own climax. When the erratic clenching of your walls becomes too much, Satoru hisses in overstimulation before drawing out.

As he pulls his cock out from your depths, you whimper, his bulbous cockhead stroking against your over-sensitised walls. The head retreats with a slight pop, your hips jerking when your tender walls stretch around his tip once more, before you’re left empty. You lay limply on the table, your entire body trembling. Gasping for air, you try to catch your breath, your muscles involuntarily twitching.

Satoru flops onto his chair, a groan of appreciation emanating from his throat. In your position, bent over his desk, you’re completely bared for him, ass and cunt on display. Your raw, abused sex drips with a mixture of cum, the sloppy essence spilling out of you are your cunt clenches around nothing. Unable to help himself, Satoru caresses your folds, two fingers stroking up your slit and toward your entrance. Gathering up his cum that had spilled out of you onto his digits, he presses them into your gaping entrance, pushing his seed back inside you.

“S’toru, sensitive,” you whine, your hips sluggishly squirming in a bid to pull away from him.

Satoru rolls closer to you, presses a soft kiss to your ass cheek in an apology. Pulling his fingers out, he reaches out for you. Strong arms circle your waist and, gathering you within his embrace, Satoru pulls your boneless form onto his lap. You settle into your boyfriend, your back flush against his chest as your head rests against his shoulder.

“God, I fucking missed you,” Satoru sighs. He nuzzles his face into your neck, lavishing the delicate column with tender kisses.

“Missed you too,” you reply, your voice hoarse. Snuggling further into him, you allow his scent to wash over you and exhale in contentment. After a few short moments, you tilt your head to the side and look up at him.

“So, where’s my surprise?” you question, your eyebrow cocking. Satoru chuckles, the sound reverberating through his chest and into your back.

“It’s inside you right now,” he smirks in response, arrogance dripping in his voice. You frown, confusion painting your features as you attempt to make sense of his words. Then, realisation dawns upon you, your eyes narrowing instantly.

“Gojo Satoru, was my surprise your fucking cum?” you screech, only to wince when your aching, dry throat protests the sound.

“Told you you’d love it,” Satoru grins.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you scowl.

Satoru’s only response is to laugh in that annoying, purposely high-pitched tone of his.

a/n: this is my first fic in a while and i am probably v rusty with my writing but i hope you all enjoyed it :)

m.list

#jjk smut #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk x fem!reader #jjk x you #gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo x female reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x female reader #jjk gojo x reader #jjk gojo x you #gojo smut #gojo fluff #gojo fanfic #mdni #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru smut

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halloweenfrills · 4 months

Text

WARNING: definitely not consensual, drug use, forced oral, water boarding, water sports.

(No title. Only thing I could think of was "Dr. Crane Gets Brain.")

This was your chance to be more, more than Dr. Crane, respected psychologist at Arkam Asylum, well, as respected as you can be in Gotham. It's not like you'll ever be Bruce Wayne but this research will bring you more than the measly life you've gotten by taking care of the local crazies.

The hazy streetlights somehow made her look more fragile, the woman you've decided on as she carries a single pizza alone in the night. Bold, walking alone like that, but you would soon know her fears if the toxin you had created was the right formula, tonight was an experiment to see how the drug worked on a sane person, assuming this woman was sane. Feeling your knuckles turn white around the handle of your briefcase you echoed her footsteps.

Waiting underneath the cover of darkness in an alley across from her apartment building it would seem luck was on your side tonight. There was no sign of The Bat, not even a symbol in the sky as you waited for her lights to dim, only the flicker of TV showing through her bedroom curtains.

There was a rule among the lower Gothamites in the city, a rule to mind your own business and turn a blind eye to crime, so as you kneeled onto the asphalt, feeling the damp soak the knee of your suit pants, the click of your briefcase opening goes unnoticed. Staring up at you, a mess of stitches and brown sackcloth, empty black holes your eyes were about to fill, the mask stared up at you. The crazies called you Scarecrow, the name stuck and you quite liked it. Slipping on the mask, you're no longer Dr. Crane, you're Scarecrow, a worst nightmare brought to life, becoming any fear someone could see. Your fear toxin was loaded, begging to be used to gain you more power in Gotham.

The sound of your heart was in your ears as now you were inside the apartment, from what you could see, as shabby as it looked on the outside she had made this a quaint little home in the middle of this filthy city. You could feel yourself smile underneath the mask, her sleeping form seeming to flicker by the TV light.

"Wakey wakey.", you hummed lowly, stalking to her side and leaning over so when her eyes opened she would see the face of Scarecrow. It was time to get a look inside her head.

It took mere seconds for her sleeping form to go from dazed to instant panic. I'm sure the shock alone from seeing a figure standing over her as she slept was enough to induce fear but more was needed, unleashing the fear toxin with a simple click of a button.

Her screams were almost like gasps, stepping back to watch her flail herself out of bed, seeing pale legs wobbling as if struggling to keep her on her feet. "What do you see?", my distorted voice asks, seeing her whip her head around to gaze at me like a wild animal trapped and knowing its doom. Curious, the gasping screams were different, watching as her hands almost clawed at her throat and chest, leaving red marks dragging along her skin.

It clicked, drowning, she was feeling herself drown and maybe simply seeing a man in a mask and suit. "Fascinating.", the word left my lips, this time reaching out for her. She screamed, finally struggling out two words, "The Batman!" Even her words sounded like they were under water, that pressure crushing down onto her. My hand found her hair, pulling hard on her scalp and I saw tears come to her eyes as I began dragging her towards the bathroom, her wobbling legs almost useless.

The Batman. I've heard plenty of stories but so far I've not seen a sign of him myself.

Flicking on the bathroom light, her fingers were trying to claw at my hand as I forced her to her knees, twisting in my hold, "This will have to do.", I sighed, curiosity getting the best of me, if she seemed to have a fear of drowning then how much could she take?

With two fingers I lifted the lid of the toilet, wrapping her black hair around my hand as she kept gasping, "The Batman isn't coming.", I tell her slowly before plunging her face into the toilet water. She made the obvious mistake of screaming as she went in, water sucking into her mouth and lungs while her knees banged against the floor for mercy, water splashing onto the cuff of my suit. Now she was really drowning, or, at least, drowning under my control.

Deciding she needed a break, I lifted her head from the toilet, and tilted my head, the soulless Scarecrow mask observing her sobbing face, the water dripping down the front of the black silk nightie she wore, "Please-Please!", her voice hoarse, "Can't breathe-"

"Obviously.", I snorted, plunging her back in. The fear toxin must slowly be losing its hold on her mind as she was beginning to form words instead of gasping screams.

Deciding when she had enough, her body tried coughing up the water, watching as her chest heaved, and to my surprise two little points caught my attention, her nipples now hard beneath the wet silk.

"Npt quite the reaction I was expecting.", I whisper to myself, intrigued, my eyes scanning down her trembling form. All that kicking had lifted up the hem of the nightie, revealing gray cotton panties with something that really caught my attention, a little wet patch between her thighs, something that couldn't be mistaken for anything else.

"Oh my God, you're disgusting.", I almost laughed, she was enjoying this despite the fear, "What's going on in that little head of yours?"

Loosening the grip on her hair, only a little, I watched the shame creep up her face, the gasping quiet now as the drowning pressure must be slowly relieving from her chest as her mind was trying to process everything. Kicking her ankles apart more, she flinched but had stilled the fighting, my fingertips running up her leg, her thigh, and eventually pressing against the wet spot.

This time you expected the noise that came from her next, a moan. You smiled behind the mask, wondering if she could see the way your eyes shone with their own excitement of this discovery. "Let's see what else you like.", I hissed, plunging her head back into the toilet before she could beg for The Batman that wouldn't come.

Holding her in place with one hand, it seemed now that her shame was exposed, despite the fear toxin weakening, she didn't have much fight left. With the other hand you reached to unzip the pants of your suit, reaching to free yourself, "Since you don't mind being disgusting..." As a test, you free your hand from her hair, deciding to relieve the pressure and piss right into the toilet her head was in as if that's where she belonged. It gave a certain satisfaction, seeing her peek up, timid, just as the pale yellow stream hit her cheek, a pitiful wail coming from her as she hid her face back down to hide her lower lip quivering from tears.

"What's the matter?", you kicked at her ankles, tilting your head to see that the wet patch had grown, her thighs almost quivering. Either this was a reaction to the drug or she really was disgusting, either way it was fascinating.

Now that you were relieved, shaking off the last remnants, she began to move as you tucked yourself away, your hand pausing as you were going to zip back up. You've used the fear toxin, seen how it reacted on a person that wasn't in Arkam Asylum, but you didn't want to be done with her.

Bending to grab her hair again, she winced as you turned up her face to yours, making her stare into the eyes of The Scarecrow, "You could make for an interesting experiment.", you signed, running your thumb over her lower lip, seeing she had bitten it, smearing the watered down blood across her lips, "Open your mouth."

And on command, she did. Was her mind gone? Did the toxin make her go numb? Or did she think compliance would keep her from getting hurt? Either way, as your thumb slid into her mouth and pressed to her tongue you felt your cock twitch as you stared down into those fear filled eyes.

"Fuck it.", you huffed to yourself, once again freeing yourself from your suit pants, stroking with one hand while the other held her chin, feeling her anxious tongue run over your thumb. She was squirming, no doubt horny from this as well as you let her suffer, seeing you grow harder.

This time your touch was more gentle, taking the back of her head and guiding her to your cock, the tip toying with her lips to take you inside. You rose an eyebrow, an action she couldn't see, as you observed if she would obey.

As you slipped into her mouth, your length gliding onto her tongue to feel the weight of you, your own moans slipped out. She was so warm and wet, her saliva pooling around your cock as you reached to grip her head with both hands, eager to fuck her face.

She's already had her worst fears come to life, drowning, unable to breathe, now as you forced her head up and down, taking the length of your cock back and forth, you were giving her that fear all over again.

And it felt good.

Her palms went to your thighs, begging, praising, you didn't care. Her knees sore on the bathroom tiles as her body wanted to protest to the feeling of your cock in her throat, the quiet gags another warning.

You wanted to come, fuck, she felt too good. But you couldn't leave any DNA behind for Commissioner Gorden and his piggies to find.

Your chest heaving, you forced her to take you completely, holding the back of her head so her nose was pressed to your suit pants, just making her hold your cock. Her palms beat at your thighs, gagging and gasping as drool came from her mouth and dripped down to her chest. Chuckling behind the mask, you let her go, leaving her on the floor to sputter and cough while you grabbed the hand towel, quickly pumping until you felt your own release into the fabric.

The toxin must most definitely be wearing off now, a ragged sob shaking her while you stepped over and back to her bedroom where you left the briefcase, putting the towel inside so there's no evidence left behind.

Unable to stop yourself from taking one last look, she made no move to flinch away as she cried, lifting the nightie to properly see her panties now soaked.

"I've got to get a look inside your head.", you tell her, patting her thigh and standing back up. You hoped to see her at Arkam, such a fascinating experiment.

#halloween frills #batman villains #batman fanfiction #jonathan crane #cillian murphy fanfiction #cillian murphy #batman begins #the dark knight #the dark knight rises #scarecrow #scarecrow fanfic

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ashiemochi · 1 year

Text

anubussy - xiv

✠ Anubussy ↳ sorry, i don't want your touch ↳↳ it's not that i don't want you

➶ pairing: OC x Leon S(exy) Kennedy. ➶ genre: fluff, more angst, gore, longer smut/suggestive themes ➶ word count: no

NOTE: ✠ = time skip ✠✠ = switching povs/characters

AN: this will be the last chapter for a while till I finish writing the epilogue. hopefully ill stop being so lazy and actually get to it as it's already outlined. my brother's wedding is coming up so ya girl is working hard to save up and get her own dress <3

prev -> next

“I’m sorry…”

The faintest kiss then –

The alarm really upped its state by being absolutely annoying. The music never started off soft and gradually grew louder to ease him down from his dreamland, but more so blared and yanked him to reality with a big ‘wakey wakey, eggs and fuck you’.

A drowsy groan left through the DSO agent’s lips, his eyes squeezing shut. He was sleeping on his chest, one arm under the pillow and the other dangling over the edge. The clean duvet was draped over his waist.

He reached out to shut the alarm. His hand tapped the cool nightstand before hitting the ringing clock, returning the silence he appreciated. Exhaling heavily, Leon sleepily turned around, fully expecting to find her to pull her close. Except, the cool empty sheets were there to greet him instead.

That made his eyes peel open to see he was actually alone in bed, and he blinked. Alarms were starting to blare in his slow-processing brain as he lifted his head up to look around the room.

No one.

His body was still rebooting as he sat up, trying to process what was happening. The dead chip was still on the nightstand; he was sure it was deaddead because it did give a little fire show the night before.

“So Ah?” Leon’s fresh-out-of-bed voice called out, incredibly confused as he pushed the duvet off his bare torso, being in only his grey sweatpants.

He didn’t hear her reply.

At first, he thought something had gone wrong. Hurriedly, he swung his legs over the bed but something cold touched his foot. The combat dagger was still there, having been forgotten as Leon was more focused on his wife.

It was too quiet – too eerily quiet.

Leon chose to stick to the safest route, picking up the knife before getting on his feet. He held the handle in an alarmed manner, his training kicking in as he let his focused eyes take in the room.

Her clothes, which were once folded and set on the couch, weren’t there anymore. Adrenaline was beginning to loom over the horizon – she was always concerned about being caught.

What if–

Leon shook his head at the irrational thought, moving carefully but steadily to the bathroom. Last night, he decided to keep the bloodied sheets in the laundry basket so he’d get it cleaned up later – or possibly throw it away before anyone sees it.

The laundry basket was empty.

His chest was starting to heave as he checked on the kitchen next but nada. There was not a single sign that she was ever here, except for the chip. Her clothes and the dirty sheets were gone. Hell, the coffee table still had his glove and the empty glass cup.

There were more signs that Leon was ever the only one in the room rather than his wife. Leon stood in the middle of the room, fingers curling into a tight grip around the marble handle of the dagger. He didn’t want to believe it – he refused to.

Numerous what-ifs ran around his head like a carousel.

What if she was actually discovered and got taken away even when he promised he wouldn’t let them do it again?

She was horribly afraid when she first came into the room; what if she left on purpose and let her anxiety take over?

It doesn’t sound right, but that was what made it worse. Were all those apologies and cries last night just for show? To emotionally use him before she was out on the road once again?

That last thought churned his stomach into itself.

Leon sped to his phone and picked it up before stilling – she didn’t have a number anymore, at least not one he knows of as her previous number would only end up dead. His eyes darted aimlessly; he was lost.

Chris.

Chris would definitely know.

Hastily, Leon scrolled through his contacts and found the number before tapping it. He pressed the phone against his ear and waited. Each ringing sounded longer than the other, tantalizing him as if on purpose. It dragged out more of his anxious thoughts – then a gruff voice answered the call.

“Leon?”

“Chris, is she with you?” Leon asked quickly, worry oozing from his lips like broken tap water.

Chris sounded confused, “Who? Leon, what are you talking about?”

“So Ah, Chris.” Leon snapped, subconsciously pacing as he tried to keep himself calm, “Is So Ah with you? Did she go to you or Nivans?”

“No,” He replied, now growing on edge, “Last we saw her, Piers had dropped her off at the hotel – why? What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Leon stood in the middle of the room, swallowing thickly, “She stayed the night and, the chip…”

His eyes landed on the dried bloodied tracker on the nightstand. He was sure it was busted. He saw it break, self-destructing right in front of him. The safety measure was to take out his wife – those heartless fuckers.

“What about it?” Chris pressed on, hoping that the BSAA hadn’t actually succeeded in rebooting it and actually frying her spine, “Leon, tell me what happened.”

“It’s dead.”

Suddenly, the door clicking open caught his attention, taking it away from the useless device. Then his wife walked in, a plastic bag of what seemed to be food hanging from her wrist whilst she was holding onto a carton tray of two foam cups. The scent of freshly baked croissants and coffee attempted to ease his nerves, yet he was more enthralled by her.

She was in yesterday’s attire but now with an oversized denim blue hoodie with the said hood over her head and a brown scarf covering her lower face – which he recognized as her cardigan acting as such. She must’ve gotten the big hoodie from his suitcase.

Slipping her shoes off, her eyes snapped to his and then crinkled into crescent moons at her smile. She pushed the makeshift scarf down as she made her way joyfully to him.

“You’re up!” So Ah beamed, nearly skipping up to him and she pressed a kiss onto his cheekbone where that faintfaint scar resided, “I wanted to surprise you – breakfast in bed ‘n all, but you were always better at that than me.”

“I got,” She stretched the word out, setting the plastic bag and the tray down on the coffee table and then proceeded to take out the white box from the bag, popping it open, “Croissants!”

“Ah, and the bakery had cinnamon buns, but they didn’t offer a vegan version. I didn’t want to eat one without you, so I got these instead! Just don’t eat these, they’re not dairy-free.”

The girl continued, pointing at the golden pastries as she took off her makeshift scarf, followed by the hoodie; she didn’t seem to be aware of her husband’s silence.

Leon watched her ramble without a care in the world, faintly picking up on Chris calling out for him through the phone. His thumb tapped the red icon to drop the call.

As So Ah folded the clothes and put them on the couch, her eyes darted to the side at something glimmering and glanced at the dagger in his hand. His grip was a little loose but she could see his fingers were twitching around it.

She wasn’t on edge. She trusted him with her whole life and she knew more than anything he wasn’t going to hurt her. Her back straightened up slowly, growing more concerned rather than anxious.

“Leon, are you okay?”

His eyes snapped back to the moment and he looked down at the dagger before tossing it aside, letting it fall on the couch. With his chest feeling constricted, Leon stumbled over his own words.

“Yeah, I was just…” He trailed away, putting his phone back into his pocket, “I… I didn’t know where you were.”

She blinked, looking at the food then back at him, not quite understanding what he meant, “I was getting us breakfast.”

“Oh, right!” Her eyes widened a bit with a small gasp, seemingly remembering something as she turned to the hoodie and dug her hand into its pocket.

“Here you go,” She handed him his credit card with an apologetic smile, “Sorry, again. I took it while you were sleeping – I could’ve used mine but…” She seemed nervous, but kept that sad smile, “They would’ve traced it back to me.”

That soft whisper and kiss long before he woke up – she wasn’t planning on leaving him once again. Still, his relief was shooting sky-high.

“But you’re okay?” He didn’t even look at the card, taking a step close to her and his azuls scanned her for anything that would sound the alarms in his head, “Are you hurt?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” So Ah furrowed her brows, lowering her hand with the card slightly, “Why would I be hurt?”

That was all it took.

His arms were instantly around her, pulling her till there was no space between their bodies as if fearing an inch of such would make her disappear. Leon pushed his face into the crook of her neck, the tip of his nose bumping into her skin and picking up on her oriental scent.

Despite having showered in the hotel with his own shampoo and conditioner, the fabric of her outfit held onto that hint of her usual vanilla smell. His nerves gradually eased down as his fingers dug into her shirt and the other went to the back of her head.

So Ah was frozen at the sudden gesture, her arms hovering as she was utterly confused and now flat-out concerned. His body was curling over hers, not allowing her to really step on her tippy toes to reach for him.

He was already there for her.

“Leon?” She whispered, trying to look at him but he didn’t release her, and his chest felt searingly hot against her clothed one.

“Just give me a minute, So Ah,” Leon’s low voice was deep, almost raspy with his anxious thoughts having taken over for a good minute, “You damn near gave me a heart attack. I thought you…”

His trailing away was enough to tell her his mind had jumped to the worse possibilities and she frowned deeply.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, threading her finger through his hair and a hitched shaky breath warmed up her skin. Her heart squeezed into itself, and she thought she too was going to start crying for even making him feel this way.

“Oh, Leon…” She muttered, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

What once was a surprise breakfast in bed turned into ‘Hey! You almost indirectly gave your husband a panic attack! Way to go!’

It was bound to reveal itself, anyways. His own wife had been gone and presumed dead for ten long months. Every morning was a struggle to get out of bed, leading to a sleepless night. On the nights his body did succumb to rest, nightmares would plague his head, forcing him to stay up; fatigued.

In some way, it was traumatizing – as if he needed more added to his list.

His grip on her reluctantly loosened when she pulled away to cradle his cheeks. Her heart fell to her stomach at the sight of his glassy eyes, bringing out the ocean blue of those irises. Her thumb caressed that permanent scar on the apple of his cheek as he gazed down at her with such softness.

Tugging him lower as she got on her tippy toes, she left a lingering kiss on his forehead, eliciting a silent exhale from him. When she pulled away, she held a smile on her face that went into a toothy one when she held his hands.

“Come on! Breakfast in bed!” So Ah started leading him to the bed, releasing only one hand, “Go sit!”

Leon couldn’t help but chuckle a little, listening to her, “Okay, okay.”

As he got comfortable on the bed and brought the blanket up to his lap, So Ah practically ran to the kitchen to get a plate. She returned with two plates and went up to the coffee table. Placing a single big croissant on one of them, she carried the plate along with the foam cup to him.

“There you go!” So Ah handed it to him, running off to the coffee table again and Leon felt the heat of the cup in his palm.

Sniffing it once before taking a sip, the black coffee brought warmth to his empty stomach. The Han girl skipped up to the bed with her own coffee, probably a mocha, and her croissant on a plate. She sat down crisscrossed so the cup would between her legs.

As he’d expect–

“Thank you for the meal,” So Ah spoke in her mother tongue and then took a bite, her eyes glowing in glee, “Oh, this is so good!”

Leon gulped a little coffee after eating some of the pastry, brows shooting up slightly, “Better than the cinnamon roll?”

She gave him a look, “Nothing would beat cinnamon rolls.”

He huffed lightly as he shook his head, chewing and looking down at his breakfast. It wasn’t stuffed with anything, but he always liked it plain. The sesame seeds on top of the golden crust were a great touch.

“You know you could’ve gotten a bun if you wanted one,”

“Maybe,” So Ah shrugged, taking a small bite by peeling off the top layer, “But it’s fine, I’m not going to complain now. I’m starving.”

She wasn’t aware of his perceptive eyes boring into her, beaming in surprise at the melted chocolate oozing from the centre of the pastry.

His chewing slowed down when he swallowed, rolling his tongue over his molars. He put down the half-eaten croissant and reached for his cup on the nightstand.

He wasn’t blind, she was slimmer than before. Her face still held that soft appearance to it. He wasn’t a stranger to unwanted weight loss – besides, he did go through something similar in those ten months. He easily replaced the empty space with more muscle, taking his underlying grief out on the punching bag.

In her case, it wasn’t the same – and he still had unanswered questions about how those months treated her; how horrible were they that she’d shed blood.

He would’ve gotten to the bottom of it yesterday night but he was occupied with the immense anger and desire that it slipped his mind. He only wished it showed on her skin.

Resenting the virus was nothing new to him.

“Hey…” Leon set the cup down, starting, “About last night…”

So Ah blinked, taking a sip from her mocha before returning it to its previous spot. A lot of things happened last night; from the argument to stripping her down from any coherent thoughts but him.

“Which part?”

Leon silently ticked his head to the chip on the nightstand.

She flinched at that part; w h y.

“Do we have to talk about it now?” She asked nervously.

Leon furrowed his brows and crossed his arms, raising a brow, “Wanna wait another eight years?”

Okay–

So Ah dropped her eyes down to her plate, poking and picking her croissant as she muttered, “Touche.”

Everything was already so good with having a late nice breakfast in bed with fresh pastries and hot coffee. She knew this was going to be talked about sooner or later – they didn’t do much of it yesterday.

“Sweetheart,” Leon sighed, setting his plate and coffee aside and he leaned down onto his arms so his hands were grasping her wrists, thumb rubbing her skin, “Let me help you.”

“I wanted…” She admitted, hating asking for a hand in anything, “I wanted to help you – help us…”

So Ah had gone through a life where she was spoonfed most of her solutions. From having multiple medicines to her family protecting her during those charity events, the Han girl resented every aid she received. It was nice, sure, for everything to be almost too easy, but it was also the reason why everything had gone to shit.

All those pills she accepted? It was her late doctor’s plan all along to create a dormant virus in her.

The BSAA implanting her with the chip so they’d observe the status of the virus? Nothing but a deadly weapon in case the pathogen gets active.

Leon saving her during the H-Outbreak? It only led to him being severely injured that he was out for three days.

Minji being a part of the outbreak in China? It killed her – and she helped her little sister so much, only for the youngest to fail at saving her.

She wanted to do things on her own for once – clean up her mess. She was afraid of asking for help again; afraid it’d backfire and hurt her close ones again.

Leon pursed his lips into a thin line momentarily at her words before speaking, “Look at you. Tell me, do you really think you’re treating yourself right?”

He continued, trying to convince her to let him take the lead this time, “When it comes to us, we both work on it – it shouldn’t be one-sided.”

So Ah stayed quiet, avoiding his eyes and he picked up on the tremors of her hands. She was scared.

“Listen to me,” Leon pressed on, a gentle look in his eyes, “You’re safe now. That chip is dead, I promise.”

But was it?

What if it was yet another ploy to get her to expose her location?

Her eyes trailed to the tracker, focusing on any twitch the device might show – anything that’d give away that it was actually still alive and functional. She saw it spark up like a lightbulb going out. She knew it was the so-called safety measure.

It was supposed to self-destruct and fry her brain.

What if they were listening to her right now?

Leon tugged her with a firm and determined look on his face, “Don’t look at it, look at me.”

And So Ah hesitantly tore her eyes away from the device.

“Trust me?”

And with little to no second thought, she nodded slowly, “Yeah.”

His gaze softened, trailing his hand to hers, grasping it with such love. A little I’m right here.

“Then tell me everything, right from the start.”

#canon x oc #oc x canon #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil vendetta #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy #resident evil fandom #leon kennedy imagines #leon kennedy fanfic #leon scott kennedy #leon scott kennedy smut #oc x leon kennedy

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antilocaprine · 1 year

Note

For the kiss prompts: 12, in grief for frenrey :3

(Kiss Prompt List)

Ohohoho, you know how I love to write angst. And hey, I didn't write a four-thousand-word behemoth this time! Proud of me.

Please make sure to mind the tags for this one.

12: ...in grief.

This time around, Benrey doesn’t even see Gordon fall.

It’s his fault. It’s always his fault, and he’s growing tired of watching his friends die, even if time keeps getting reset and they all come back just fine. In the moment, every time, it still hurts.

This time, he was attempting to be unpredictable. He’d taken Gordon and split off from the rest of the Science Team, hoping that maybe he could keep Gordon alive if he had fewer distractions. However, he forgot that that also meant having less backup - because as distracting as the Science Team is, they make up for it by being utterly vicious in a fight.

He’s feeling that loss keenly now, as he turns from splattering bootboy brains across the corridor walls to see Gordon in a slumped pile of orange and black, huddled against a closed door a little way up the hall. His eyes are shut, but blood is bubbling sluggishly at the corner of his white-lipped mouth, so he’s still alive.

Benrey slams his pistol into its holster so hard he nearly jams a finger in with it, then stumbles over military corpses until he can drop to his knees next to the HEV suit.

“hey. hey, c’mon, you awake? wakey wakey, eggs and…” Benrey trails off. The flexible black mesh of the HEV suit is torn away on one side, and Benrey can see glistening things that twitch and pulse in a way that should never be exposed to light. He swallows and drags his eyes back up to Gordon’s face, which is slack and pale. His freckles look dark as blood splatter, and the tiny sliver of green Benrey can see beneath one eyelid is glassy and blank.

Benrey sighs. Gordon’s already gone; his body just doesn’t know it yet. There’s no point in trying to fix him. He’s tried before, in previous cycles, when Gordon was hurt less. He dies anyway, eventually. It might as well be now this time around.

“y’know, you’re makin’ this really hard,” Benrey says, leaning against the door jam and letting his shoulder bump up against Gordon’s. “i’m trying t’keep you alive, and you keep just…getting hurt.”

His eyes flick down to Gordon’s hands, one palm-up on the floor, the other loose in his lap. When Benrey decides to avoid the military attack that results in Gordon losing his arm, whatever is causing the time loops seems to react.

Gordon always dies sooner when he keeps both hands.

Benrey breathes in slowly through his nose, then makes a face at the blood-drenched smell of the corridor. He rolls his head against the wall and stares at Gordon’s unresponsive face.

“you wanna, uh…go somewhere else?” He glances around, then tips his head back and clips his face through the door they’re leaned against. A headcrab inside the room immediately lunges for him and he jerks back, thumping his shoulder against Gordon’s, causing Gordon to slouch over even more. Something in his chest makes an awful wet croaking sound, and Benrey hurries to pull him back upright.

He ends up tugging Gordon’s torso over to lean against his chest, tucking Gordon’s head into his own collar. There were some first aid classes that Benrey wandered into ages ago, when he was bored one day and there was a free seminar in one of the conference rooms. He hadn’t paid much attention to the actual lifesaving techniques, though - he was too busy goggling at all the ways that humans could die. Choking on food because their breathing and eating tubes were right next to each other? What the fuck? Whales had that shit figured out before they went back into the ocean!

He wishes he’d paid attention now, when every day for countless days he's had to see some of his friends die, and every day without fail, he sees Gordon die. That’s what resets the time loop, Benrey has decided. Every time Gordon dies, Benrey gets flung back in time to a seemingly arbitrary moment, and he can’t figure out why, let alone what the fuck he’s supposed to do to stop it.

Gordon’s fingers are limp, but Benrey still threads his in between and squeezes their hands together. “m’sorry,” he confesses quietly, trying to ignore the rattling wheezes stuttering out of Gordon’s throat. “i fucked up. we shouldn’t’ve gone this way, should’ve gone…with the others…”

There’s no response, of course. Gordon’s breaths are growing slower, his sides heaving arrhythmically as his body struggles to keep itself alive, even in the absence of enough blood to supply any higher brain function.

Benrey leans his cheek against Gordon’s hair. He’s tired down to his bones. He doesn’t even remember when the loop started, only that he’s been reliving the same day or so for…weeks, it feels like. Months. Maybe years…but maybe only weeks. Still, he’s exhausted, and he’s not used to being exhausted. It sucks and he hates it - almost as much as he hates the feeling of Gordon Freeman dying in his arms, again.

Time loops suck.

Gordon’s chest jerks as he heaves in a handful of rasping breaths; then he goes utterly still, sinking against Benrey’s side. Benrey tightens his grip on Gordon’s hand and leans into him to brace his weight. He never understands how humans seem to gain weight after they die.

Surprisingly, Benrey feels the corners of his mouth tighten involuntarily. The corridor is silent but for the metronome sound of blood still dripping from the gaping wound in Gordon’s side, and Benrey has to squeeze his eyes shut against an unfamiliar burning. He turns his face into Gordon’s head and presses his trembling lips against tangled brown hair.

“m’sorry,” he mumbles against Gordon’s scalp, because he’s supposed to keep them safe, all of them, and they all keep dying. “i don’t know how to - t’fix this.”

Gordon, limp and still in his arms, does not reply.

Benrey heaves in a shuddering breath and holds the body tighter, waiting for the tingling sensation that always precludes the tug where he’s yanked back to the start of the cycle, again and again and again. He almost misses it this time, but when he opens his eyes, he’s standing in a storage room as Bubby and Tommy blast through a pile of crates while Dr. Coomer punches a single crate into splinters.

Orange suddenly takes over his vision, and Benrey steps back and looks up into Gordon’s annoyed glare.

“Hello? Earth to Benrey? Are you even listening to me?”

“huh?” Benrey says, still blinking spots out of his eyes.

“Fucking impossible,” Gordon huffs, then spins on his heel to go pull Dr. Coomer off his crate before he starts punching a hole in the concrete again.

Benrey stands very still, breathing in the smell of broken wood and unwashed bodies to clear his nose of death. He rubs his hands together almost compulsively, knowing they’re no longer saturated in Gordon’s blood but still feeling it on his skin. He thinks he knows what he did wrong - splitting up is obviously never going to work. They have to stay together. He’ll figure something else out as they go.

“Hey! Benrey! Are you coming?”

“Leave the man alone, Gordon - he’s obviously contemplating his place in the universe!” Dr. Coomer scolds. Gordon rolls his eyes, bright green and frustrated and alive, and stomps out of the room.

Benrey ducks his head and follows. What else can he do?

Time loops suck.

#hlvrai #my words #kiss prompts #snippets #askbox #sapphireskeletons #(temporary) character death #time loops #blood #gore #swearing

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roonyxx · 2 years

Text

Locked Chapter 10: Nights Like Thunder

By @roonyxx and @jay-and-dean

Pairings : Dean x reader ?

Summary : The Winchesters brothers are probably the most dangerous and mysterious criminals of the country, cracking them will require a professional.

This is inspired by supernatural episode 12x09, First Blood.

Serie Warnings : Captivity, Smut (please be 18+), Fluff, Angst, Swearing. Mention of physical pain, of torture and murders. Each Chapter will have detailed warnings.

Chapter warnings : angst, action, fluff, smut.

Word counts : 3550

Note : This is a collaboration between both of us. We can’t both edit the same post, so we decided we would post 1 chapter/2 each, like for Firefly.

We both worked as much on this story and it’s the result of both our brains but also both our hearts.

Please, if you want to show love for this story, don’t forget we were together in this.

Locked Masterlist

Want to read more:

Jay’s Masterlist

Roonyxx Masterlist

Text divider by @firefly-graphics

It could have been minutes, hours or days since they threw me in here. I don’t know.

It feels like months…

I am rubbing my hands up and down my arms, trying to heat up but it is no use. My clothes are still wet from when they dunked the bucket of ice cold water over my head.

I know what they are doing, how they work. I used to work with them. I never thought to be on the receiving end of these methods that I have always condemned.

Because the government doesn’t cut or punch or kick. They don’t want to break your body, they want to break your mind. To make you go crazy, to start doubting whether it is all a dream or the cruel reality.

They want you desperate for anything, desperate to make it stop. They want you to submit.

Sleep. I just want to sleep. I am so so tired… I can’t remember the last time I closed my eyes and slept.

The effort of rubbing my arms feels like pushing a hundred kilos.

My body stopped trembling a while ago but the cold, it seeped into my body, into my bones. Every move is agony, my joints are rigid from sitting so still in the same position for a while. My only indication that it has indeed been a while…

The light in this room, blue-white-ish TL lamps are buzzing and flickering above my head. The zooming of it, it is burned into my mind by now. I don’t think I will ever get it out of my head… If I ever get out of here.

My head is leaning against the cold concrete wall and I feel my eyes droop. I can feel the sweet hands of sleep caressing my face, my neck, my back and legs easing out the soreness, those hands that try to fight the cold and give me the sweet release of darkness.

A darkness that I welcome, that I need, that I want so badly.

Sleep I want to sleep.

My eyes close and my breaths start to even out, like falling back into the night, star speckled skies kissing my skin.

“Wakey wakey!” a voice shoots right before I am hit with another bucket of ice water, jolting me out of that soft darkness in the most brutal way..

My body aches with the sudden movement, my heart skips a beat when my muscles cramp painfully, a sharp wind fills the room. My wet clothes setting my body shivering once more.

“No sleeping, Y/n” Camp says from the door.

“F-Fuck y-you” I say between clattering teeth.

“Tell us where they went, and this can stop, then you can sleep.”

It sounds so good, the promise of sleep. But they won’t, they will just kill me and then capture my love. Never, I will never break.

“N-No” I wrap my arms tight around my knees, trying to keep as much warmth as I can with me, like I could keep it trapped against me.

“You’re even more annoying than when you worked here. I didn’t think that was possible” He sighs before he continues. “Doesn’t matter. I have all the time in the world.”

He pushes a button on the little remote in his hand and the wind starts blowing harder and colder.

“You don’t” he says with a smile and closes the heavy metal door again.

I stare at the wall in front of me and hang onto those words, the words he said, the only words that matter.

“I love you.”

“You are under no terms to negotiate, mister Winchester” I hear Sanchez’s voice through the door before it opens and he steps inside, looking at where I am still sitting in the corner of the room.

“I think I am” His voice answers through the walkie talkie, Dean’s voice.

My baby.

I crawl half towards the sound on instinct, my eyes strained on that little device in Sanchez’s hand, as if Dean could come out of it.

Wait… what is he doing, why is he talking to Sanchez when he should be as far away as possible from this place ?

“What do you even want from us ? Do you know how stupid you are in contacting us ?” Sanchez chuckles, looking down at me.

I guess they are letting me hear this to break me, but if it does anything, it’s giving me all the courage in the world.

“The only stupid ones are you. I want Y/n. Let her go and my brother and I will back off” The way my name sounds in his voice makes me glad I am already on the floor, my knees would have buckled at hearing it.

“And what if we don’t ?”

“Then you are making a very, very big mistake. Because I am coming for her and nothing,” his voice deepens to an icy tone that I haven’t heard before from him “Nothing will keep me away from her.”

Sanchez’s eyes land on me, and for just a second I can see the fear in them, in knowing that he could be hunted like prey.

Because Dean is the apex predator. The one who hunts predators. He is my wolf.

The flash disappears as fast as it came and a cocky smirk pulls the corners of Sanchez's mouth upwards.

“It’s gonna be a no, but I can make a trade, you for her.”

“NO !” I scream out. What is he doing ? I’m not worth getting in trouble for. He should be running !

Sanchez lets go of the button too late, Dean heard my scream, I know he heard it because it takes longer than usual for him to answer.

“You’re going to regret saying no to my offer, and if she’s hurt… I will stab your face” another little pause and I thought it was all he was gonna say before another crack sounds through the device, a sign that the channel is now open.

“I’m coming for you baby, hold on.”

Sanchez cuts the sounds too late again, I heard it and I am ready to hold on through any Hell they can give me now.

This time I am the one smiling before I close my exhausted eyes.

The cold water stopped, the freezing wind also stopped. Everything stopped aside from the few small meals I got. Have they forgotten about me ?

I didn’t sleep, I couldn’t.

“Hold on.”

These words keep me awake. The small hope that my wolf is coming for me but also the fear that he will get caught because of me.

Suddenly the lights turn off and I am basked in darkness before a red light turns on together with a heavy horn blaring through the building.

I look at the red lamp and see it flicker seven times followed by a little pause. Protocol seven, meaning there is a breach in the facility.

Don’t get hurt, don’t get hurt, don’t get hurt… Baby don’t risk it all for me.

“Dean” I try to scream to let me know where I am but my voice is weak and hoarse. “Dean…”

The metal door of my cell starts groaning. I scramble back when I see the metal bending before it snaps off its hinges and is hurled aside with a loud bang.

A man with black hair and striking blue eyes looks at me. His head tilted a little to the side, like he was more animal than human.

Considering he just pulled out a metal door like it is nothing, makes me realize he is high likely not human indeed.

A woman with short black hair slips beside him and takes my hands. Jody Miller. The sheriff and hunter. Dean’s friends whom I lied to so often..

“Follow me” she says while hoisting me up.

I groan at the lack of strength in my legs but I cling to her as we run into the hall.

“Can you take us out, Cas ?” Jody asks the strange man.

“No, I am not at full power. We will run to the side entrance and meet them there.”

“Dean.” I gasp. “Is he here ?”

“Yes” she starts and I hear gunshots in the distance. “They are creating a distraction. Hurry Y/n, we don’t have much time.”

I try to follow her as best as I can. We reach the same door where I last saw my baby and I feel my heart cave in. We can’t get past these doors without someone holding the button.

This won’t work…

The gunshots grow louder in the distance, I turn my head towards the sound, just in time to see Dean and Sam running around the corner and towards us.

He’s still wearing the gray overall. Sam too…

They never left ?

Dean and I make eye contact and he is running faster towards me, a soft smile on his face and tears start to pool in his beautiful eyes.

I let Jody go and stumble towards Dean, my love.

A sob breaks through me when his hands wrap around my waist and pulls me close, so close that I can feel his thundering heart against my chest, feel his breath fanning over my face right before he gives me a deep but quick kiss. And his warmth that is making my cold body painfully burn, but also bringing me back to life.

“I told you I was coming for you” he pants.

“Y-you did” I nod and can’t stop the tears from falling.

Heavy footsteps come from down the corridor and I look at the button.

“Dean… the door -” I start but he cuts me off.

“Don’t worry baby” he says and puts me behind him as the guards come closer and points a gun at them.

I didn’t even notice he was holding one.

I fist his gray suit wanting to move in front of him but his arm keeps me safely behind his body.

Metal starts groaning behind me and I look to see Cas breaking one of the doors open while Jody holds the button. Cas slips through the crack he made and is doing the same to the second door, the heavy thud of metal on concrete making the ground tremble, and worsen my already dreadful headache.

What is he ?

“Go” Dean tells me.

“No, not without you” I start walking backwards, pulling on his clothes to make him walk with me while the guards are coming closer.

Jody and Sam slip through the cracks and start running to the army humvee parked right out the door.

“Dean” I say as I pull him further.

We need to hurry before more men arrive. His head turns to the side, towards one of the pipes on the ceiling and smiles.

As quick as lightning he shoots the pipe and burning hot steams explodes from the hole straight onto the guards who jump back at the heat.

He grabs my hand and starts running, pulling me along to the car that is waiting for us. He pushes me in first and jumps in after me. Sam is already driving before the door is even closed.

“Everyone’s alright ?” Sam calls through the vehicle.

Everybody nods but the tension is still high. I want to look out the window to see a sort of gate or fence. I have never seen the outside.

A hand on my face pulls my attention away from the outside and towards the man that holds my heart. I lift my hand to cup his hand on my cheek.

“I… W-why ? How…” I breathe.

“I couldn’t let you there, Y/n” he begins and I wipe the tears rolling down his face. “I need you.”

His brow touches mine and I take him in, his scent, how he feels and how he looks.

He looks tired and dirty. His overall is ripped in certain places but he is not hurt.

He is here, with me.

“Brace yourselves !” Sam yells and speeds up the car, driving with high speed towards the fence, the closed fence.

Dean and I wrap our arms tight around each other and press our knees into the seat before us. Locking us in place.

Cas, who is seated next to Sam in the passenger seat does nothing, he is not even wearing a seatbelt, I guess he doesn’t need one.

Jody is sitting next to me and holds her arms and legs against Sam’s seat.

The fence bursts open when the car slams through. A shared grunt goes through the vehicle upon impact but the car doesn’t stop. Sam keeps driving.

“Where are we going now ?” I ask.

“Home” Dean smiles. “We’re going home, baby.”

I open my weary eyes and rub them. A heavenly colorful light is filling the car, and a ray of sun is caressing my cheek, making me feel like a treasure.

With the heat of the car, and the safety of Dean’s arms, I fell asleep almost right away, just after they explained what happened.

They had been hiding in the woods for almost three days, using improvised traps in an old cabin, gathering the soldiers’ guns one by one… Once free, the Winchesters can’t be hunted, they are the ones you are trapped with.

Three days, which means, with the night before I made them escape, that I didn’t sleep for around a hundred hours… I reached stage five of sleep deprivation and could have started to have hallucinations and psychosis…

A gentle kiss on my forehead makes me smile through the diffuse, almost comfortable, pain in my body.

“How long did I sleep ?” I mutter barely louder than the calm purring of the engine.

“Around six hours” Dean answers low, close to my face that is nuzzled on his chest. “Cas cleaned you of the drugs they gave you. I’m sorry I couldn’t make it faster.”

His hand is gently stroking my back. I look around to see Sam still driving, focused on the road, Jody turns to smile at me.

“I…” I tell her, without moving from Dean. “I lied to you, I’m sorry.”

“Dean explained who you are, what you had to figure out all by yourself, and what you sacrificed for them” she smiles so kindly. “Y/n, you really have nothing to apologize for. What you did was incredibly brave and fair.”

“You showed great bravery indeed” the man they call Cas says with an almost robotic voice.

I look up at the most beautiful face, the low sun of the end of a sunny day is making his freckled skin look like jewelry in a halo of warm light, his eyes like soft flames.

“You remember I talked about my angel best friend ?” he says softly, running his fingers through my greasy hair.

I look at Cas with wide eyes, letting go of Dean for the first time to sit straighter.

“A-are you an actual angel ?”

“I am” he says, looking in my eyes. “Thank you for what you did. I couldn’t find Sam and Dean myself.”

The shadows of the trees are passing fast on his angelic face, like a dance that reminds me of my brand new freedom.

“Why did you lie to me ?” Dean drops the question and it feels like the louder crash sound in my heavy head.

“There was no way of getting everybody out.”

He takes a deep breath and frowns.

“You knew they would torture you” he states.

I look down. I really didn’t intend to be caught at all, but I can’t say that out loud, I feel like Dean would be crushed just at this idea.

But when I look up, I can see he understood, and not just him, everyone in the car is receiving what I didn’t say crystal clear.

A very heavy silence fills the car and the early evening orange sun suddenly seems a little sadder, but I don’t really mind, because it is still warming my back, and I am free now. And not only from Camp and Sanchez, but from my life too.

“You realize you can’t go back ?” Sam asks, looking at me in the rear-view mirror.

“I don’t want to go back. There is no going back in the dark when you saw the light.”

“Our life is not the light” Dean states.

“You think mine was ?” I look at him.

I know Dean understands a lot of things because we talked about it, about the never-ending demands of life, career, money… Trying to find a purpose, forgetting to eat, losing sleep.

“Those are actual monsters” Jody insists.

“Monsters she can kill” Dean answers perfectly for me. “Monsters that are not human beings, but actual evil.”

I nod, and snuggle against Dean’s chest again, closing my eyes to see the shapes the bright light of low sun makes through my eyelid.

I wrap my tired arm around my wolf’s body and whisper “I love you”, and while Sam, Castiel and Jody start talking about some organization matters, Dean closes our bubble by wrapping both arms around me, putting his lips on my forehead and whispering “and I love you.”

Fresh orange juice, coffee and a plate with pieces of fruits, some bacon, pancakes and a piece of cheese.

Anything is allowed, no boss is waiting for me, there is no skipping meals anymore and life has twice more lazy sundays morning.

I put everything on my tray and stretch my bruised body. The nights are like thunder, fast and violent, sometimes scary, and the days are calm and wrapped in love.

Life is perfect.

Walking to my bedroom I come across Sam in the hallway, his lip is still cut from that werewolf hunt but he looks serene, a soft smile on his face.

“Breakfast in bed again ?” he chuckles. “You’re going to make him fat and lazy.”

“Hey fat and happy is better than fit and sad !”

“Donna called” he says in a calm laugh. “She is on some weird hunt, probably vampires but she has no idea how they lure their victims, always students… We need our monster profiler.”

“Monster profiler” I smile wide at the nickname that the hunter community gave me. “It is…” I check the handy but pretty ugly watch Dean gave me. “Nine am. Deanie and I can be ready to leave in around two hours, is that okay ?”

“Sure, I tell her we’re joining” he nods.

When he leaves, I open the door with my elbow and enter the completely dark room that smells like Dean’s shampoo and sleep. I walk in the dark and put the tray on the nightstand.

A big hand grasps my thigh and a bear grunt resonates in the intimacy of the room.

“Baby” I say low with a smile.

“Mh… that smells delicious” his hoarse voice resonates next to me. “Are you naked ?” his hand travels up, and he groans when he meets the shorts I am wearing. “It’s a scandal.”

“A scandal ?” I chuckle. “Donna needs our help for a vampire hunt.”

“Vampires only come out at night.”

I smile, picking a piece of melon to put it in his mouth, then one for me, and put a knee on the mattress.

“I said we take our time and come after a lazy breakfast and long shower.”

He hums and his fingers explore the front of my pajama, teasing my pussy through the fabric gently.

Big muscular arms wrap around me with the speed of attacking snakes and pull me in the bed, against his naked body.

“Come here, Doc” he states with a deep voice against my neck. “I need you to take care of me.”

Saying that, he pushes my pajama shorts down with one hand, keeping me flush against him with the other, and spreads my legs. I place my thighs around him in a hum, letting his impatient cock gently brush my folds.

He pushes inside right away, but chasing love more than pleasure, and stays still a long moment inside the heat of my body, before he even starts seeking friction.

I moan in his neck, thighs trembling around him, rubbing lazily on the man I love. There is no haste, no one is going to enter this room, no one is keeping us apart or risks to spy on us…

“Dean” I whisper, rolling my hips in a way that presses so deliciously on all the good places, inside and out.

His hands are holding my ass and the growls of the wolf resonate deep in his strong chest. He is guiding me on him, making me grind harder and harder, breathing loudly in the dark room…

My orgasm is not blazing hot lightning like some of them are, it is a series of waves on a beach, calm and enchanting, and I smile through it, letting my walls suck at him while his pulsating cock fills my core with the nectar of my one and only God.

I am a hunter.

I was locked in life and Dean Winchester freed me.

We are free.

#locked #Locked chapter 10: nights like thunder #collab #jay and dean #roonyxx #prisoner!dean #doctor!reader #angst #smut #fluff #first blood #spn #dean winchester #supernatural #spn fanfic #dean x reader #dean angst #dean smut

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iriswords · 1 year

Text

Febuwhump Day 26 - Forced to choose

You can also read this on ao3 and find the rest of my febuwhump fics here

tw: torture, mentions of pit madness, mentions of child trafficking and child prostitution as well as adult trafficking and prostitution, implied fear of sexual assault, watching a loved one being tortured, implied child sexual assault

Fandom: Batman

Words: 4166

“Familial love,” Mask said to himself. “Such a nice thing to play with. I will never get tired of it.”

In a few days, he would be rid of the most important of the Bats. There would still be a few left to take care of, including the terrifying Black Bat, but Mask’s shoulders would be lifted from a hefty burden just by taking down these five Bats. But first, he got to have some fun.

It took five henchmen to pin Batman to the floor and effectively handcuff him. Several dozens lay unconscious on the floor, but Mask had expected the Bats’ skills and had hired nearly sixty henchmen, taking care to mention that no injury sustained during the job would be a source of financial compensation. Paying henchmen to get their injuries treated was one sure way to lose money, and Mask had only made the mistake twice before adding a new clause to his contracts. And if henchmen protested, he had no qualms about killing them.

Mask watched contentedly as his men dragged Batman out of the room and reported his attention to the three other vigilantes struggling against his men. Red Robin and Robin were already cuffed, but Nightwing was posing more problems, even though no less than six men restrained him. One thing Mask had learned and his men never listened to was that Nightwing, despite his cheer, was a strong and slippery bastard, skilled enough to take Batman in a fight if so he wished. But Mask had anticipated all those struggles, and the vigilantes could not escape him now. Not if they wanted their brother to survive.

Mask turned to the Red Hood, who was tied to a chair next to him. He was still unconscious, blood slowly rolling down his temple from the wound that had gotten him captured. He was blissfully ignorant of the half-dozen guns aimed at him. His brothers, who had foolishly come to rescue him and fallen into Mask’s trap, were less so. It had been stupidly easy to get them to surrender once he had threatened to blow out the Red Hood’s brain in front of them.

“Familial love,” he said to himself. “Such a nice thing to play with. I will never get tired of it.”

“Wakey, wakey, birdie,” said a voice, and Jason’s breath caught in his chest, his lungs seizing with panic. The last person who had called him ‘birdie’ had been the Joker. That was not the Joker’s voice, but Jason knew that was no proof.

Jason woke to icy water being thrown at him. He flinched back instinctively and slammed his head against a hard surface.

Spluttering and dreading what he would see, Jason opened his eyes. The light accentuated the throbbing in his skull, but Jason didn’t care about the pain. In front of him stood a man wearing a familiar mask. Jason’s lips pulled into a snarl as he took in his long-time enemy. He tried to take a step forward, but iron cuffed encased his wrists and ankles and kept him chained to the wall.

“I’m honored you’ve decided to join us,” commented Mask.

“Fuck you,” replied Jason and took in the rest of the room. Beyond Mask, similarly chained, stood Batman. His cowl had been taken off, but the domino he wore underneath was still on and covered his eyes. Nevertheless, the rest of his face was tight with anger. Jason wasn’t certain if Mask was its only recipient or if Jason, too, had messed up.

Mask took a step forward, and Jason’s body tensed in anticipation. Roman Sionis was a dangerous and vindictive man. Jason had been very careful not to let himself be caught by him until now; he knew what the man would do to him.

Sionis’s long fingers curled under Jason’s chin and forced him to look up. Fear coiled tight in Jason’s stomach. He knew Mask well, knew of his crimes and his traffic. As a child, when he lived in the streets, he was terrified of being caught by one of Sionis’s men. He has been aware of what happened to children, and what kind of work they were forced to do. Since coming back to Gotham as the Red Hood, Jason had done his best to eradicate the man’s operations and save children from his clutches. He had thought himself relatively safe from the man. The leer in Mask’s eyes told Jason otherwise, and old panic clogged his throat.

The rattle of chains made Mask turn his gaze away from Jason. A second later, he dropped his hand from Jason’s chin, and Jason exhaled shakily. Only then did he notice the source of the noise. To his left, on the far end of the wall, Nightwing strained against his chains, his features twisted by protective wrath. In between Jason and Dick stood Damian and Tim, also bound.

They had been captured. Jason first, and Mask had used him as bait. Whatever happened from now on would be Jason’s fault. For all of his bravado and rebuttal, Jason did not want to see his family be hurt, much less because of him. The Pit had long since faded to the back of his mind, barely present, and all the murder urges it had caused him had disappeared along with it.

“Is there something wrong?” Mask asked a gagged Nightwing. Amusement played on his lips. “It is so good to see you all chained like that, at my utter mercy.” Mercy Jason knew he would not have. Not for anyone, but certainly not for them. “You have been a thorn in my side for too long.” He turned back to Jason and fisted his hand in Jason’s hair. “You, especially. Always countering my plans and dismantling my operations. You call yourself a crime lord but you let your stupid morals rule you, Hood. When will you understand that traffic pays well? That whores pay well?”

Jason tried not to let his fear show. Past and present mixed in his head, but he could not let that get the best of him.

“People are not yours to dispose of,” he snarled. “Especially not kids.”

Sionis’s hand dropped to the back of Jason’s neck. His face was inches away from Jason’s now, and Jason had never been more grateful for his domino mask and how it hid his eyes.

“But kids are so much more pliant. So innocent. They think that if they do what you ask of them, you’ll stop.” Jason could not breathe. He had been like that, too, once. Before the cold reality of the world settled in and he learned not to trust anyone. Thankfully, by the time he had found himself in the streets, he already knew to count on no one else than himself. He did not dare imagine where he would be today if he had been one of those innocent and pliant kids back then.

Mask straightened up abruptly. “But I didn’t bring you here to discuss morals with you. As I was saying, you have all been a spectacular thorn in my side, and it is high time I get rid of you. But first, I need compensation for all the bother you’ve caused me, for all the men you cost me, and all the times you put me in Blackgate. All the injuries you gave me. You vigilantes think yourselves untouchable.” Jason resisted the urge to snort. If vigilantes thought themselves untouchable, villains such as Mask thought themselves gods on earth. “Time for payment has come.”

Mask turned his attention to Batman. Something in Jason loosened. “We don’t have all that much time. I would greatly have enjoyed torturing all of you one by one, keeping you as pets for months on end, until you are begging me to kill you, but I cannot afford this kind of time.” He walked up to Batman. “I will torture one of them only.” Jason’s chest clenched painfully. Something bad was about to come out of Sionis’s mouth, he could feel it.

“And you will choose who.”

And you will choose who.

Bruce’s heart stopped in his chest. Mask’s words rang over and over again in his ears.

Now he understood why he was alone on one wall while his children had all been put on the opposite one. Fear choked him. Mask was asking him to choose which one of his children would be tortured. Bruce could not do this.

“Me,” he said, his voice as firm as he could make it.

Mask burst into laughter. “Nice try, Batsy, but you’re not an option.” He stepped aside and gestured at the four boys chained to the wall. Bruce’s boys. “I want you to choose one of them.” When Bruce stayed silent, his mind struggling to find a way out of this, Sionis added, “Come on, it can’t be that difficult. Just choose which one you love the least.”

Jason made a sound at the back of his throat. He had clearly been shaken by Sionis’s closeness to him earlier and he was still shaking faintly.

Bruce could even less make a choice, now. He could not let any of his sons believe he didn’t love them. It was false, oh so false. He loved them all so much it burned him alive every time he thought them in danger and smothered any other emotion when he knew them happy. Bruce knew he had flaws. He knew he had efforts to make and that he could do and be better. But never would he consciously let any of his children believe he didn’t love them or loved them less than their siblings.

Sionis moved over to Jason again, and Bruce’s second son tensed up. With the domino still on his face, Bruce could not see his eyes, but he could easily imagine the fear swirling in them. Jason’s eyes had always been the part of his body that betrayed his emotions the most. His face was second. Bruce had always believed it was because his heart was too big and too good to hide its true intentions.

“Will it be this one?” asked Sionis. Amusement played on his lips. Bruce let him talk; the more time he took before starting the torture, the more chances there were that someone would come for them before any of Bruce’s sons could be hurt. Sionis looked at Jason contemplatively. “No, probably not. Mr. Hood here is the prodigal son, after all, isn’t he? Or perhaps he isn’t anymore. You’ve had fallouts, if I’m not mistaken.” Sionis leaned towards Jason, who could not suppress his shudder. Bruce strained against his bindings but he could not win against relentless iron. “Does daddy still love you after all the things you’ve done, birdie? We all know Batman’s morals are dead set, while yours are freer. Have you atoned for the wrong you’ve done, or is today the day you pay for your deeds?”

Bruce saw the waver in Jason’s expression, and he knew his son believed Sionis’s words. He longed to drown Mask’s vile words under his screams, to yell at his son how much he loved him.

It didn’t matter what Jason had done in the past. He had apologized a thousand times, and Bruce knew how much the Pit had twisted his mind in those hard months.

Bruce kept his mouth shut, despite the burning of his tongue and his chest. Sionis was unpredictable, and Bruce did not want to risk his son’s safety. He could make sure Jason knew he was loved later; right now, Bruce had to make sure he stayed alive and as unharmed as possible.

Tim did not flinch when Mask stopped a foot away from him and observed him with calculating eyes. Out of the corner of his eyes, Tim could see Jason shaking.

Tim watched as Mask moved onto him. He was not scared of Mask himself. The man, like many villains in Gotham, was an egotistical idiot. He would make a mistake sooner or later, and the rest of the family would come and rescue them. Still, Tim was scared of what the villain would do. He did not want to be tortured, but he would take it over any of his brothers being hurt. But Sionis’s henchmen had gagged him, and he could not offer himself up for torture.

“Will it be this one?” asked Mask. “A genius, but everyone knows geniuses are the most annoying. They’re know-it-alls, always displaying their knowledge and thinking themselves above everyone else. Tell me, birdie, how much patience have you used up in Batman? How long until he gets rid of you anyway?” Tim kept his face neutral even as the words reopened barely-healed wounds. The man was observant, Tim could give him that. Or perhaps he just knew them all that well. “Do you think you are that useful that he will keep you around forever? That you are so smart that he will forgive all your flaws?”

No, Tim didn’t think that. He had never been meant to be anything else than a placeholder until Batman stopped trying to get himself killed or until another, more suitable Robin showed up. Most days, he did not understand how he was still here. His insecurities were wounds that started to heal when Jason came back into the family, before Damian had arrived in Gotham. Then, Bruce died, and no one believed Tim when he said he was still alive.

Being fired from Robin, by the original Robin with that, brutally reopened all of Tim’s wounds. Now, Mask was doing his best to carve them out again, hatching at them until Tim broke.

He knew he was the logical choice. Jason truly was the prodigal son, and Bruce would never voluntarily expose him to such harm. Damian was the youngest, and Tim would never want him to be chosen for torture if there was another option. Dick was the first, he was Bruce’s original sidekick, he was Nightwing. Tim was just… Tim. Sure, he was smart. Sure, he did his job well and he had recovered Bruce from the timeline. But Bruce didn’t owe him anything and Tim was easily replaceable.

No matter how much it hurt, he hoped Bruce would choose him over his brothers.

“Or will it be this one?” asked Mask as he stopped in front of Damian, whose face was set in his trademark scowl. He did not shrink under Mask’s gaze, and Bruce knew Sionis was nothing compared to Ra’s. Still, Bruce hated to see his youngest son—so young that baby fat still clung lovingly to his face and that his hands were tiny enough to be engulfed in Bruce’s—towered by a villain such as Black Mask.

Bruce watched with tears in his eyes as Mask moved onto Damian. He was glad that his domino hid them. Tim’s expression had given nothing as Mask prodded at his insecurities. His poker face was, as always, perfect, and Bruce could not tell whether Sionis’s words had hit their mark or not. He knew Tim battled with his place in the family. But had he managed to shield his mind from Mask? If any of them was capable of it, it was certainly him.

“I know I wouldn’t want him as a child,” continued Mask. “So angry and violent. So snippy, so arrogant. You must be a pain to deal with every day, kid. Let’s hope for your sake that Batsy over there has patience, but we all know it isn’t his forte. You’re young, but if you’re annoying enough, he may very well choose you. Does his love for your brothers overrule his love for you? Are you lovable enough that he won’t want to hurt you?”

Damian muttered something behind his gag. From habit, Bruce knew his son had said something derogatory in Arabic. But he also knew Mask’s words had gotten to Damian, and more tears pooled in his eyes. He loved them all equally, and Bruce was aware his children knew that. At this moment, however, Mask was toying with their mind, and their insecurities flared up.

The worst part was that Bruce would have to choose. He would have to make one of them think that what Mask had said was right, that the son he chose was the one he loved the least.

“Or will it be the Golden Boy?” asked Mask, settling in front of Dick, whose body strained against the chains. Tense as a wire and fury carved into his expression, Dick looked dangerous. More than that, he looked lethal. Bruce noted with satisfaction how Mask stayed a careful foot and a half away from Nightwing.

“You were only the first draft, after all. A tryout to see what would work and what would fail. And look! As soon as you stopped being Robin, Batman replaced you. You were never meant to last, it seems. Why wouldn’t he choose you?”

Bruce clenched his eyes shut. He remembered the many arguments he had gotten into with Dick about Bruce’s love for his son. He knew how hurt Dick had been when Bruce told him Robin was over and then when Bruce told him Jason was Robin. Mask had the uncanny ability to see past all their shields and dig out their most intimate insecurities.

Mask turned to Bruce. “So? Which one will it be?”

Bruce could not do this. He could not choose one of his sons to be tortured. He could not choose the one he loved most because he loved them all equally and he didn’t want to see any of them hurt.

Bruce knew already he would not pick Damian. He was too young and his body too fragile for the violence Bruce knew Mask was capable of. It would be so easy to kill him or injure him permanently.

It did not make his choice easier.

But he had chosen nonetheless.

“Nightwing,” said Batman, and Damian exhaled in relief he did not want to feel. He would never admit it, but Mask’s words had hit closer to home than he liked. Everything the man had said echoed Damian’s own insecurities. And his father had not confirmed them.

If Richard showed a reaction, Damian did not catch it. Mask cackled in delight at Batman’s resigned words and moved towards Nightwing. Damian’s muscles clenched instinctively. He knew what came next, and he hated himself for being relieved he wasn’t going to be the one subjected to it.

Damian did not want to watch his brother being tortured. He didn’t want to have to hear his cries and know his pain. He wanted his brother safe and sound. Still, selfishly, even after everything Richard had given him, Damian could not stifle the relief coursing through his veins.

He would not be tortured today.

Hurt washed over the relief before long. He knew, rationally, that Mask’s words had been a mere mind game. That they were not true and that they were simply aimed to hurt. But Mask had hit all his brothers’ insecurities, and Dick had not escaped the psychological dissection. Dick had been struggling with his place in the family for a long time. He knew his family loved him, but their love languages were so different from his, so much more subtle, that he often doubted the reality of their love.

Dick’s mind went blank for a second when Batman said his name. Relief came as the first wave. He would have chosen himself over his brothers a thousand times over. Had he not been gagged, he would have begged Bruce to choose him.

And now Bruce had chosen him. Had it been a tactical decision? Dick was the eldest, after all, and though Jason was strongest, all of them had seen how affected he was by Mask. Dick was the most logical choice. But his mind could not stop wondering if Bruce’s choice had been an answer to Mask's question. Which one of them do you love the least? Was Dick the answer?

Despite all his doubts, Dick held his head high as Mask approached him. He would not let his fear and hurt show; that was the least he could do for his family. Mask called for his henchmen, and several men soon rolled in a complete torture panoply. Mask contemplated from his position next to Dick.

“I can’t quite make a choice,” he said conversationally, and Dick wished villains would speak less and act more because he was growing incredibly tired of their constant monologuing. (Though it at least had the merit of buying them precious time.)

“Batsy,” Mask called out. “Burns or electricity?”

Bruce did not answer immediately, and Dick knew he was considering the most tactical choice. Both would hurt, but which one was most likely to cause lasting damage? Which was most likely to hinder Dick’s performance on the field?

“Electricity,” Bruce answered eventually. Dick did not miss the slight waver of his voice, and he felt guilty for the warmth it spurred in Dick’s chest. Maybe he had truly been a tactical choice.

Mask uncaringly tore through Nightwing’s suit to expose his chest, and Dick resisted the urge to growl. It would have been useless since he was gagged, but he really would appreciate it if villains were more careful with vigilantes’ suits.

Once Dick’s chest was exposed enough for Mask’s tastes, he put electrodes on it. Dick’s heart hammered in his chest. Soon, it would be going wild.

At last, Mask yanked the gag out of Dick’s mouth with a twisted smile. “I want to hear your screams, birdie,” he whispered, and Dick could not help the shudder than ran through him.

Mask turned on the device, and Dick threw his head back as fire tore through his nerves. He clenched his teeth hard not to scream, but he could not blink back the tears streaming down his cheeks.

The electricity stopped in a matter of seconds. Dick’s tongue tasted like metal, and his limbs still twitched weakly. He knew the reprieve would not last, and his only comfort was that Mask would not draw out the torture for as long as he could and would not kill him yet.

Electricity seared through him again. Dick stopped thinking.

On the third time, he could not hold back his scream. On the fourth, black spots dotted his vision. After the fifth, his head lolled limply against his chest. His nerves were alight with pain.

“Broken bone or stab wound?” asked Mask

Bruce’s wrists would be raw by the time they got out of there, but he could not care less. He watched in utter helplessness as Mask patted Dick’s cheek mockingly before turning to Bruce again. A wide, wild smile broke his face in two. Bruce wanted to punch it off.

Bruce’s breath stuttered in his chest. He was sick and tired of Mask’s games.

“Do I get to choose the emplacement?” asked Bruce. He could not make a tactical decision without knowing what it would entail, and the least he could do for Dick was spare him the risk of permanent injuries as much as possible.

Mask pondered on Bruce’s question. “I’ll give you a choice between two options,” he decided finally.

It was not as good as what Bruce wanted, but it was something. Mask did not want to kill Dick yet. He would make the torture last as long as possible before killing him, and that excluded wounds that led to a quick death.

“Stab wound,” Bruce answered. Broken bones led to too many risks of healing badly, and Dick would be devastated if a bone healed wrong and stopped him from keeping his work as a vigilante.

Mask’s fingers trailed over the knives laid out on the rolling table his henchmen had brought in. They finally settled on a small dagger, and Bruce exhaled in relief.

“Leg or abdomen?”

The answer was no difficulty. “Abdomen,” Bruce replied and tried to ignore the way his heart shattered when Mask violently stabbed Dick, and his son cried out in pain. Blood immediately welled up from the wound and rolled down Dick’s suit-clad legs, pooling on the already-dirty floor.

Bruce expected Mask to turn back to him. Instead, the villain aimed at Dick again and buried the dagger in his shoulder. Dick screamed brokenly and crumpled. His right shoulder snapped out of its socket under the sudden pressure. Mask laughed and turned away, the dagger still embedded in Dick’s other shoulder.

The room’s door slammed open at this instant, and a dark figure lunged inside. Black Bat took Mask down before any of them could react. When she straightened up, the villain unconscious at her feet, her eyes gleamed with unrestrained fury. Spoiler strolled in a second later, and together they detached the five other vigilantes from the binds.

As soon as he was free, Bruce rushed to Dick’s side. His son barely held on to consciousness, his eyes half-lidded and hazy with pain. He smiled up at Bruce. “I’m glad it’s over.”

@febuwhump

#my writing #creative writing #fanfic #fanfiction #whump #febuwhump2023 #febuwhumpday26 #dc #batman #batfam #hurt dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #bruce wayne #hurt batfamily

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madaboutmunson · 2 years

Text

Creep - Part 11 of 12 - Disorder

TW: Violence, death

Party....ripples....hooded figures...Connie's ring..the coldness of the floor...skull rock...lights.... sirens..... blanket

Moonlit water, an actual body of water, this time gently moving in the darkness, but oddly it feels misplaced in the upper part of your horizon, making craggy rocks and the speckled blanket of the night sky the bottom half. Your brain deduces you must be upside down.

The landscape bobs rhythmically, and you are jostled side to side. In the uncomfortableness of it all, you try to reorientate by lifting your head, but you have no power to do so. Some of the rocks are getting further away, so somehow, you are moving.

You feel pressure under your legs and back...you strain your eyes to look around. You catch a glimpse of red fabric. Could it be? The exact figures from the cold place?

Before you can glean anything else from these figures, the moon is nowhere to be seen, and footsteps begin to crunch and echo.

Lamp lights and darkness interchange as you are carried along until an abrupt stop, and you are dropped onto the cold hard ground. You expect a searing pain where your head should make contact with the ground, but there is nothing.

The nothingness spreads into darkness and darkness into void.

"Wakey, wakey", you hear someone say sinisterly before your eyes are forced open to face the voice, but as you hurriedly look around, there is no one there. You are alone in your bedroom. The safety of your blush striped wallpaper and softness of your bed cover embrace you to security.

You look at the clock and smile. Well, at least you weren't going to be late today.

The next part of the morning goes by in a flash. All you can possibly think of is seeing Eddie again. Everything between the present and being in his arms again is just a nuisance, and the quicker the tasks can be ticked off, the better.

You've got here so early, maybe too early for someone like Eddie. The parking lot is virtually empty. Unfortunately, lack of distraction means you are alone with your own thoughts.

You sit there for a few seconds and wonder what the correct thing to do in these situations is. Should you even be waiting here like this? Is this the definition of too much, too needy? Should you be playing it cooler after yesterday? Why did everything feel more complicated now?

You suddenly feel very uneasy, not now, not already. You roll your eyes at yourself. Surely it's just infatuation, right? It's not like it hadn't gone this far before physically with anyone else, but this was different. He seemed sweet and respectful and gave a damn about what you had to say. Your Dad's voice echoes in your head. He was right. It had only been a matter of days. Anything more than a deep crush was impossible. At least that's what you'd been lead to believe about things like love. This could just be that phase like with the jock, right? A bombardment of niceties before the inevitable cliff drop into cooling off.

You feel annoyed with your own brain. Why could it never let you just enjoy something, be stupid, or get things wrong? Everyone else seemed to be allowed.

You decide you need to busy yourself and get out of your car, and head into your locker.

You take a long look at your music heroes at the back of your locker and wonder if any of them felt so confused as this?

Was there even anything you needed to be confused about, or was this just an over-complication in your mind?

A haphazardly folded piece of paper is just tucked into the side of the locker. You grab at it quickly and unfold it. The disappointment is heavy and instant. It is just a time. You knew this was from the Jock. You feel disgusted, screw it up, and toss it into the nearest trash can.

Was it just this place that made you feel unsure about everything? If the world knew something made you happy, they try to take it from you. You wanted to keep all of this so precious and private they'd never be able to get to it, but to treat Eddie like a secret? You could never do that to him. Urgh, this was all so frustrating, yet nothing seemed more straightforward this past weekend.

You lean against the locker's cool steel and try composing yourself. Unfortunately, it's interrupted by a gentle tapping on the other side of the door. You don your social mask, pushing the door closed to reveal your peace assailant.

It was the ranger from the Hellfire club. You look a little confused, but inside, you feel relieved, "Hi there", you give them a small smile, "You ok?"

They look at you very seriously, "I think we need to talk about something. I didn't want to bring it up before, but I think I have to." They are talking pretty quickly. You are wondering how long they had been planning this discussion with you.

An icicle of panic slips down your spine, and your eyes widen, had something happened? Was Eddie ok?

He looks awkward at first but then steels himself and blurts out quickly, "We just don't think you should come to Hellfire anymore."

The We stings a little, but it still wasn't clear where this was coming from, "But, you all-", you start.

He cuts you off, "Look, Eddie does a lot for us. He's taken us under his wing when we could have been Jock fodder." He looks you in the eyes, "and I know you've felt that first hand."

"Well, I-" you try again.

"Eddie is set to graduate this year, the same as you, except he doesn't have the grades you do, ok? But he could just make it if he's not distracted" he puts heavy emphasis on that last part.

You look at the ground and nod, "I hear you. I don't want to ruin anything for Eddie" Oh, selfish you, so wrapped up in your own feelings and problems, you hadn't even thought about what all this might be doing to Eddie and what his own struggles were.

"And if it even crosses your mind that him flunking isn't enough, know that we are somehow all much higher up on some of the jocks' radar than before. I have no idea what you did to upset them, but they are pissed, one of them in particular." He doesn't have to say anymore. You know exactly who he's talking about.

"It's not like we want you to break up with Eddie. It's more like, give him some space, especially here, before you make the target on his back any bigger. Eddie is a very passionate guy. He gets so absorbed in things sometimes he can't see anything else. He looks tough, and for the most part, he is, but he's also quite fragile," He says earnestly. These guys really cared about Eddie, and you were potentially causing Eddie problems. You could see it in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't realise. I'll speak to Eddie and give him some space."

"No! Do not talk to him about this. He will just try to talk you around. Trust me on this. Just don't turn up or say you've made other plans, ok?"

You nod sadly at him in agreement. Then, as he walks away, you feel the first crack in your heart spread from the surface to the centre, this is how it starts, and this was going to hurt.

Classes were challenging today. Your brain was in a whirlwind of scripts for potential conversations you needed to have with Eddie as you pretended to focus on the teacher.

The lunch bell comes, and you start towards the cafeteria on autopilot. You quickly turn on your heel, grab a few things from the vending machine and head to your car. There was no hiding in the cafeteria, and it could show Hellfire you were really genuine about wanting the best for Eddie.

As you look down to reach for your keys, you notice someone waiting on the other side of your car in your peripheral vision. You scan your eyes up, the white and green jacket, it's him. You intensely glare at him, the repulsion in your face unable to be disguised and the anger in you rises.

"You didn't get my note for meeting up earlier then?" he says in that cocky, self-assured way that says, you couldn't have possibly found it because otherwise, you would have been there, waiting obediently.

"Oh, I found it, alright", your voice dripping with venom, "Once I had found it, I thought immediately of you. Trash!" The sound of your own voice plunges you into instant regret, you had wanted to remain cordial and calm, but there were no resources to do so.

He does a quick scan around, but no one is in earshot. He eyes you slyly, leaning on the roof of your car, "Got a bit of fire in you today, have you? Where has this been hiding? Much more exciting than your usual sorry excuse for a corpse, I get to have my way with."

Your flame-filled eyes bore into his as you feel yourself grip your keys tightly in your fist, the metal pushing into your flesh painfully. You wanted to end this bastard.

"That might have been true once, but not anymore. It's over. It's been over since..."

"Since when? It's over when I say it is."

"It's over," you say through gritted teeth, "now leave me alone. Won't your cronies be wondering where you are? You don't want them to find you out here in conversation with me, do you? Whatever will Cap say?" You strike a nerve. They all did what they were told without arguments, but pointing it out was a little too much for them.

" You know what," he says aggressively, " if it wasn't for me, you probably be dead in that arcade parking lot right now."

You instinctively let out a laugh at the audacity of this guy. "Oh, you saved me, did you? Is that what that was?" You snarl, "not before getting in a few jabs yourself though first though right and standing at the side doing nothing. All you did was see a weak, vulnerable person at their lowest and took advantage of them, and what is worse, I know that, but I let you because dealing with your disgusting hands on my body was a step up from being beaten to a pulp."

He looks furious, but you don't back down an inch, "Well, now it's over. You don't have that luxury anymore, do you." he added sinisterly.

To your left, you hear the rapid crunching of gravel, "Hey, everything ok?" Fuck, it's Eddie. Your furious stance is squashed at the sound of his voice.

You turn to him. He is looking between you and the jock, a little nervous, a little angry. So you say softly, "It's fine, they were just leaving" as soon as the words leave your mouth, you realise your mistake. Your change in demeanour has given the game away.

"Oh my god! Are you serious right now? The Freak and The Creep?!" He starts laughing. "Is this why it's over?" He starts circling your car towards Eddie, "Because of this Freak?" He pokes Eddie in the shoulder.

"No, you know why. It's got nothing to do with Eddie. So why don't you just back off, ok?" You say with a simmering rage.

He grabs Eddie by the collar and is about to say something when you launch yourself at him, keys first. With the element of surprise, you manage to get the jump on him, and he falls to the floor under your weight.

The next part happens in slow motion. Eddie's calls fade into the background and are only replaced by the pounding of your heart. The first hit was to protect Eddie, but all the blows that follow were for every tear he'd made you shed, every time you'd let him violate you, every bit of violence you'd endured at their hands. You cannot stop hitting him. You see her face in your mind, poor Connie. If only you had, had the sense to not trust this guy. She's still be here. Keys still firmly in your grip, you hit him with all your might. You feel wetness on your hand. It's warm. Looking down, you can't tell if the blood is from your own knuckles or his face, but it's enough for you to take pause.

You feel a pull from behind as you sob into your blood-covered hands and scream out for Connie. An arm around your waist is pulling you backwards, a hand in yours desperately trying to get purchase on your keys, the school doors bursting open, a sea of white and green headed your way as you are forced into your car and driven away.

As soon as the scene is out of sight, the world rushes back into your present. Eddie's eyes are trained on the road, as he's probably going way faster than he should.

"Pull over," you say weakly.

"Are you out of your fucking mind? We can't stop now. I know someplace safe ok?"

"You can stop Eddie. This isn't your fault. I caused this whole mess, and now I've dragged you into it. I'm sorry, you should be concentrating on other things before..."

"Before fucking what?" He hits the steering wheel a few times. He is frustrated right now. Still, he's desperately trying not to raise his voice in anger.

"Before what? Before you get yourself killed? Before they lock you away? Before you disappear on me again? Before you break my heart into pieces? It's too late, it's too fucking late, man" you hear his voice break a little, "Don't disappear on me like that, alright? Just don't."

"I didn't disappear..." You protest, even though you know you absolutely tried to, so he would have some space.

"Yes, you fucking did! I swung past your house today. You were already gone. I get to that fucking hellscape of a school. Your car is there, but you are nowhere to be seen. You aren't at the doors, you aren't at your locker, you aren't in the halls, you aren't at lunch, and then you lied to someone saying you didn't want to come back to Hellfire?!" he scoffs.

It's only then your brain tunes into what he's actually saying. He wanted you to be waiting for him, but you weren't, and you weren't in any of the places he thought you might be. So, in his mind, you'd abandoned him. You felt so cruel right now, but your intentions had been good. You had been trying to do the right thing.

"I'm sorry, Eddie, I didn't mean..."

"Then what did you mean, ok? I was confused as fuck, man....and then I came out here, and you were with that guy...Jesus," he says, wiping his eyes with the back of his sleeve, "Oh, and then there was the matter of you, you know, knocking seven shades of shit out of a jock because he just poked me?! I called for you, but you were gone, man. So gone....so go on...go ahead....explain all of that....please...I'm all fucking ears" he punctuates the last bit with several hard taps on the steering wheel. You'd really pushed him to his limits.

"I'm sorry, Eddie," you say sincerely.

"No! No... ok? Not Sorry, Eddie. Tell me what is going on. All of it. I don't care how crazy it is. You tell me, right now." his hands tighten around the steering wheel like he's bracing himself for something, but he can't or won't even look at you.

You feel like the scum of the earth, maybe the town had been right about you all along, and you'd managed to trap poor Eddie in your evil web to bring him down with you.

You could at least give him the truth he asked for. You swallow your pride and proceed to spill your guts.

"I was up early because of a nightmare. Once I was awake, all I could think about this morning was you. Everything else was just in the way." You look over at him, but his stern expression is fixed on the road.

"I thought I'd get here early, so I could wait for you, and it scared me, alright. It scared me because it's been just days, and I feel like this. I felt like....well... I've never felt like this, not ever, and I'm so terrified of saying or doing the wrong thing. I thought it might be that I'd...." you shake your head and shut your eyes in frustration. You were just not brave enough to say it.

"Then I thought it best to not wait, in case that was wrong or it was too much. At my locker, I found a note to meet that guy, which I threw in the trash immediately" you emphasise that so hard, it might leave an imprint in space and time itself, " because I'm not interested in him. Then it occurred to me that the only way what we had could survive that place was for it to be a secret. They wouldn't let me have that happiness. But I'm not that cruel, to make you feel like a secret Eddie, to snatch my hand away from yours before someone notices, push you away when someone walks past, and make weird meetings in the woods. So I thought if I just gave you some breathing room, you wouldn't get targeted and could concentrate on school. I would have called you tonight. That was honestly my intention."

Your words hang in the air. You look over at Eddie. His posture has relaxed a little, his expression still unmoving. So you continue.

"So I told them I'd be skipping hellfire, I went to class, I tried to have lunch in my car, but that oaf was waiting there because I hadn't met him at the earlier time on the note." You look down at your stained hands, "And when he laid his finger on you...I lost it completely...it was all slow motion, and my heart was racing. I wanted him to hurt like I hurt, but I couldn't hit him enough... I couldn't hear you, Eddie. Now I've forced you on the run with me. That's everything."

The car is silent for a few minutes. You look nervously over to him once more, finding it unbearable. His stern expression had softened, as had his grip on the steering wheel, his fingers gently drummed against it.

You want to ask him to talk to you, but after your performance today, you do not get to make those demands on someone processing your absolute bullshit behaviour.

You try not to stare at him to force him into a reply, but it's difficult to not want your eyes to be there when or if he ever looks at you again. So you stare out at autumn. The mush of leaves on the ground, compared to the fiery display in the trees, mirrored your own feelings right now. You had really fucked up.

Eddie takes an audible breath, forcing your eyes to him. He looks thoughtfully out onto the road in front of him and utters gently, "You don't get to tell me what is best for me, ok. No one except for me gets to decide that."

Another lingering pause, just the noise of the engine and the outdoors rushing past you, "If you are unsure of anything to do with me or this", he moves his hand to indicate the both of you, "you ask me. Understood?"

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat and clears his throat, "When anyone gets together with anyone, no one is given the time limit. It could end in hours or decades. They just don't know. We don't know, ok? So trying to predict when something will end or thinking about it ending is a waste of time and energy. You also don't get given a timeline. Sometimes things happen quickly, something's slowly, something's never." He shifts again, his leather jacket creaking against the seats.

"You were with that guy a year, you weren't in love with him, you didn't even really like him, but it crushed you all the same because you lost a safety net, part of your routine if you will. You liked him so very little you rearranged his face" you hear a slight smile.

He does a small cough again, adjusts his posture, and says quietly, "But you can...if you want to...you can love me... I'd.....I'd like that" his lips are tensed together again.

"It doesn't scare you?" You ask carefully.

"Of course it fucking does", he laughs nervously, but the words spill out anyway "handing over your heart to someone you've known a few days or any length of time is scary as fuuuuck, but even more horrifying is when they give you theirs to take care of too. That, my love, is the real terror. Now you're responsible, now you're invested, now it's serious, but if it's something you truly want, well, you strap on that helmet and shield, pick up your sword, flip the universe the bird, and dive in head first. Love is wonderful, but it's also a formidable bastard!" he chuckles.

You digest what he's just said and sit back comfortably, gazing at him for the rest of the journey, you really wanted to reach for his hand, but yours were a bit gross at the moment.

As the car comes to a stop, you lean over and plant a small kiss on his cheek and say, "I love you, Eddie Munson" he looks a little shy, genuinely, maybe for the first time that you've seen, he blushes, and smiles a little to himself.

He takes a deep breath, looks at you from the corner of his eyes, and says adorably, "And I love you".

You try not to make a huge deal out of anything, but your heart just rocketed straight through the atmosphere.

Eddie quietly approaches the door of the house, carefully checking around, and after fiddling with the handle for a bit, he beckons you over.

Inside the house, which, from the smell of it, you were pretty sure was just made of blocks of weed, you manage to get cleaned up and sit at the table opposite, a very deep in thought Eddie.

He grabs at both your hands with his, "This place is a good hiding spot for a while, but let's use it sparingly, so it stays that way." Then, he looks at you seriously, "They are gonna look for us, so we need to be one step ahead, and that's why...now stay with me on this one... I think we should call Hopper."

You try to pull your hands away, but he grips you tightly, "I get it, I do" he moves around to your side of the table so you can't avoid his eye line, "Please, think about this... I haven't actioned anything yet. We're talking about it first, ok? So if we call Hopper, he'll call your folks, and we can all meet up at the station as a safe space. The worst you are gonna get is a slap on the wrist. The jocks are not gonna want to make a big thing about this publicly. One of us, putting one of those orcs on their ass? Coach will be pissed." He nudges you trying to make you laugh, you smile a little, but the worry of the damage you've potentially done and talking to Hopper is too heavy, "What do you say?" You look into his hopeful eyes and nod reluctantly. Eddie kisses your cheek and runs off towards the phone. You knew he was right. It was just the thought of having to actually face it all was trying your stomach in knots.

Sitting in the interview room at the station was terrifying. It made you grateful that all the conversations you had about Connie previously had happened at your home.

Your right leg bounces up and down with nerves. Eddie puts his hand on your thigh and says gently, "I'm right here" you search for his hand under the table and grip it tightly, interlocking your fingers.

The door opens, and Hopper comes in with a file. Slamming the door behind him, you just about make out your mom and Dad's protests. He slams the file along with his hands against the table in front of you, "Speak!"

Eddie squeezes your hand. You take a deep breath and look up at Hopper. "The guy was hovering around my car, I felt afraid, and I attacked him. Eddie saw me, pulled me into my car, drove me away, and called here," it was imperative you made sure Eddie wasn't implicated in anything but trying to remove you from a bad situation.

You see Hopper inhale sharply and poke his tongue around the inside of his cheek, "You're lucky that matches up with the majority of eyewitnesses at the school, for the most part, and if I'm being really honest...you are really fucking lucky he's a bench warmer. They aren't pressing charges. It makes them look weak or some high school bullshit, like that. That doesn't mean you're off the hook with them. Just legally speaking, you're clear," he didn't care for you. Some part of you felt that whenever you had taken a hit from anyone in the past, he'd thought you'd deserved it.

Hopper sits down and glares at you coldly, "You missed out a bit though. You called for her again" he flicks through the file, "screamed it apparently. Have anything to say about that."

You and Hopper lock eyes with one another intensely. Eddie puts his other hand on top of the hand he's already holding and says calmly, "Just try to relax. Tell him everything."

You haven't taken your eyes from Hopper's, "I shouted her name because, as you know, he was the one that invited me to the party I shouldn't have gone to. So when I'd hit him for scaring me, and hit him for violating me, and hit him for harassing me daily, I hit him a few times for Connie, too."

You clench your fists under the table and accidentally squeeze Eddie's hand a little harder than you meant to and stop immediately.

"Hey, hey, it's over now, ok", Eddie soothes.

Hopper looks over at Eddie and back at you, "You know Munson, you're getting involved with some deep shit here. I'd be careful if I were you."

"Are you threatening him?" You feel yourself rise out of your seat a little. Eddie grabs on to you before you can.

"Ooof, that bad, huh?" Hopper smirks at you.

You couldn't decide if being infuriated was better than being a stuttering, terrified mess, but it's not like you could do anything about either.

"Just tell him about the things we found out," Eddie says to you, ignoring Hopper.

You compose yourself and try to get back to a level of civility, detailing all the new information you have discovered. Hopper didn't seem convinced until you told him about what happened at Skull Rock, "So you conveniently remember that now, huh?"

Eddie interjects, "Look, I know it sounds weird, alright, but I was there for some of it. It was pretty fucking scary."

"Oh, did they put on one of their Oscar-winning performances for you?" He mocks Eddie, "They've been giving those out for a few years now."

"Hopper, please, I know you don't like or trust me, but please understand I want to find Connie too." You insist as Eddie puts his arm around you

"Oh yeah, so why is this new information just magically appearing after you assault someone."

"Because I wanted to try and get more details so you'd believe me, but then this happened, and I fucked everything up!!" You yell, bursting into tears.

"Come on, man", Eddie pleads with Hopper, who is seemingly still dissatisfied, "We didn't offer the extra information before we found out there were no charges. We can try it again, and you can see for yourself."

"Yes, genius, I sort of worked that one out for myself", he barks sarcastically at Eddie, "let's start with something tangible, shall we? This watch you saw, can you describe it for me?" He begrudgingly starts to take some notes of your description.

"Sparkly? Do you mean like the shine from the metal?" He says, losing his patience.

"No, it was a small single sparkle."

"A small single...." He starts in an annoyed tone, but then you see a glimmer of something. He eyes you suspiciously for a few moments and then abruptly gets up from his desk and runs out of the room.

As the door swings open for Hopper's exit, your mom and Dad quickly rush in, checking you over, asking if you are ok, and hugging you tightly.

"You should see the other guy", Eddie tries to joke.

Mom doesn't laugh, so by proxy Dad doesn't either, but when she's not looking mouths "Really?" at Eddie.

Eddie mouths, "Oh yeah", back to him and nods heavily.

You catch your mom and Dad up with the fight you had at school, excluding any details regarding intimacy with the Jock. You Mom looks a little concerned, "I'm sure Eddie would agree he doesn't need you to start a fight because someone poked him."

"Yeah, it was pretty dumb of me in hindsight, but I was just tired of him wearing me down every day. It wasn't just about Eddie. I just got to my breaking point."

"But honey, you can't-" your Dad starts only to be interrupted by Hopper rushing back in with some paper copies of photographs of watches and spreading them over the table.

"Is it any of these?" He asks, a little out of breath.

You check over each picture carefully, and one keeps drawing your eyes back to it. Your vision seems to liquefy, and it's like your brain is blending the black and white photocopy reality with your technicolour memories.

Something grabs your back, and you plummet to the cold hard ground. The watch glints under a sleeve and the laughter and footsteps fade away. You try to lift your hand, and for the first time, It moves, it's heavy, but it's moving. The pale thing above you comes into focus. You try not to scream, an arm, the hand of which is wearing Connie's ring.

You pull yourself up, feel dizzy from the head rush, and try to focus. Your eyes try to adjust in the darkness, and the moonlight finally helps you focus on the figure on the table.....Connie. You try to pick her up but can't quite grip her, and she is too heavy right now.

It's only when you try to lift her again you realise she is.... wrong...no expression, pale, she's cold, so very cold. You put your fingers against her neck and then her wrist, but nothing. You see a flicker of light, grab the blanket from her body and run into the night.

A cold sweat breaks down your spine, and you feel yourself shaking violently side to side, with pressure on your upper arms, "Hey!!! Hey!! That's enough." It's Eddie. You can hear your mom crying. You push yourself towards the sounds and find yourself sitting on the floor, bolt upright gasping for air. The chair you had been on was thrown to the floor behind you. You immediately scramble to your feet, pushing past them all and grab at the picture that started it, "This....one....".

"Are you sure?" Hopper asks seriously

You force the crumpled piece of paper into his hand, "I've never been more sure of something." He moves away, but you grab his arm, "We're gonna get them, right?" Your voice and lip trembling, "right, Hopper?" You grab hold of his other arm, "right?!"

In that moment, Hopper sees something he recognises in your eyes, a pain, an insurmountable pain. He's still looking at you but speaks to the others. "Connie isn't coming back. She's gone"

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddiemunson #stranger things #eddie the freak munson #eddie x reader #stranger things fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfic #mystery #romance #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #stranger things imagine

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burning-sol · 2 years

Text

The Recurring...

Gillion realises that the Tiefling in his dreams is a look-alike. It gets more troubling from there. (3205 words)

A sequel to this.

.·:*¨༺ ──────────────────── ༻¨*:·.

“Gillion… Gillion? Gillion, can you hear me?”

Gillion’s eyes fluttered open, holding a hand in front of his face to shield it from the light. He squinted, a brilliant glare reflecting off of gold and silver adornments; and in any other situation it would have made for a marvellous display, but currently the languid fish thought it made decor seem obnoxious. Drowsiness clung to him and he couldn’t pay attention for long before a daydream started to lull him back to sleep. He’d managed to catch a few familiar shapes, deeming that all the investigation he needed to conduct before slumping in his chair. With a job well done he threw his arm over his face, nuzzling into the plush seat again. He would have happily nodded off right then and there if the chair wasn’t violently yanked forward, Gillion almost falling off as he righted himself. “HMM? YesSS. GiLLIOn Tidestridey of the Undersea water hero champion…..”

The Tiefling glowered, “I hadn’t realised that my office turned into a nursery…”

“..heroo of the AlBatross birddd…….” Gillion brushed the hair out of his face, yawning out, “..fluidd oF the ocEAn pLACeee………gillion….”

“Fluid of the ocean place…?” Gillion didn’t respond, his head inclining forward. Niklaus shifted the chair to disturb him, Gillion straightening up a second time. “Gillion, if you fall asleep again, I’m going to get upset. You don’t want to see me when I’m upset.”

“Mmmh… Is this really important though…?”

Niklaus was in a stupor, trying to process what the Triton had just said. “I… Yes. Yes, Gillion! Goddamn- YES, this is meant to be important! Freak out! Get angry! Ask me questions; do something!”

Do something… There were many things Gillion could do and he decided the best course of action was to start talking. So he started talking about the first thing that came to mind, “I had a nice dream that I was with Edyn-“

“Please stop.”

“-and Chip and Jay… And Earl-“

“I told you to stop.”

“-and we were killing some demons that’d gotten into the coconuts….”

Gillion got distracted trying to mime what a coconut looked like; Niklaus fighting his impending migraine. “Gillion, do you even know who I am?”

“. . . . . . . . . .” Gillion paused for a concerningly long time. “Santa….?”

Niklaus seethed, blowing his fuse, “Okay! That’s it, I’m done! I’m meant to sit here, be ominous, maybe make you self-conscious; but somehow you’ve messed this up for me, Gillion! You drooled all over my seat, forgot my name..! I don’t even think you’re listening to me right now! Give me your wrist already, I’m going to enjoy ending it this time-“

“Nononono, stop-“ Gillion shook his head, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “I am wakey, what’s shakey?”

“Are you taking this seriously now?”

“Mm…. Go fish.” Gillion nodded, making real eye contact with Niklaus for the first time since he’d woken up. “Oh, it’s you.”

“Yes, Gillion… It’s me.”

Gillion stared at him for a hot minute, Niklaus wondering what ever could be going on in that brain of his. Gillion leaned in, eyeing Niklaus closely. “…did you get a haircut?”

Anticipating a stupid question, Niklaus started to retort, “No, Gillion, I-” Niklaus trailed off. He pondered this observation. “I actually did… Thank you for noticing………Alright, alright, maybe I got too hasty with you. We don’t choose when this happens; I suppose I can’t blame you if you’re… Tired? (How does that work when we’re still in a dream..?) ..Was it a relaxing dream you were having?”

“The coconuts EXPLODED.. With the power of DESTINYY.”

“Destiny you say?”

“YES. It’s like- It was awesome. You should have joined us, you would have loved it.”

“How much do you know about your destiny, Gillion?”

“My destiny? You mean the prophecy? I know it off by heart. A hero born of moonlight, storm and sea. They shall rise or fall to bring unity. They will be tested or bested by evil’s hand. By their choice one will remain: sea or land. I’m not sure if you knew this but I am the hero born of moonlight-“

“Supposedly.”

“What?”

“Nothing, nothing… Continue, please.”

“There isn’t much else to say… The Elders told me I was the Chosen One, they trained me to be the Chosen One, then I… Went out into the world to do Chosen One things…”

The omission stuck out like a sore thumb, but Niklaus didn’t press the issue.

“And that’s it?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Really?”

“Nicolas, you fiend you- I know you’re a bit of a trickster - love the old trickeroo – but I know a trick question when I see one. You’re trying to get me to say no, but the answer is YES. That is just destiny babyyyy… Do you think they should have written that in the prophecy? To be cool, like ‘yeah that’s just destiny baby’ and also have a drawing of a crawfish on a surfboard? Because everyone loves crawfish on surfboards-”

“You know, when I say you’re stupid I’m usually just preying on your insecurities; but I think you may actually be stupid.”

“Yes, yes, I completely agree, Nicolas…”

“Do you know what I just said?”

“No.”

Niklaus questioned what made him believe that this Gillion was salvageable. He produced some wine and a glass from under the desk; pouring himself a drink as he reflected on his poor decision making. “Gillion, I’m going to drink some wine. Don’t talk until I’ve finished my glass, okay? If you do, I might actually just snap your neck.”

“…so you mean, starting from now or-?”

“Hush, darling; I just want to be able to think, alright?”

Gillion’s jaw audibly shut; his words snuffed out. The room was completely mute as Niklaus treated his headache with alcohol, Gillion kicking back and forth his legs to entertain himself. With nothing else distracting him, it didn’t take long for Gillion’s demeanour to change. His gaze was less foggy, his body less rigid; he scanned his surroundings with more care and diligence. The time stretched on for what could have been an eternity or just a couple of seconds (who could really say in a place like this), all the same Gillion eventually turning back to Niklaus. His eyes were intensely focused on Niklaus’ glass; there was undoubtedly a question on the tip of his tongue and he was waiting patiently to be called on. Niklaus pulled away the glass from his lips, examining the empty vessel before waving his hand, granting Gillion permission to speak.

“…Niklaus?”

“Yes, Gillion?”

“You’re not real, are you…”

Niklaus raised an eyebrow. “No. I’m not.”

“But you… You didn’t just come from my imagination… I mean partly but- You’re not entirely ME either…”

The Tiefling was awestruck, setting down his glass, “I’m not.”

“Then what ARE you?”

Niklaus gave him a smile (there was an uneasiness under the surface that he didn’t dare address). “To think you’d ever come this far… I guess progress can come at the most unexpected of times.”

“But… You said I wasn’t asking the right questions-“

“You are now.” Niklaus studied Gillion; watching him take in the information before another question came to visibly stir inside him. Niklaus prompted him, “What’s on your mind?”

“You said something… Something about the nature of dreams… I think you’ve said it a couple of times…”

“I’ve said many things about dreams, you’ll have to be more specific.”

“Specific? I… I don’t know if I can be… You see, it’s more of a feeling-“

“A feeling? What are you feeling?”

Gillion hesitated, the air growing heavier, the anticipation palpable. “Well, it’s like… It’s like several things are happening at once…”

“Hm?”

“Okay, don’t judge me, Nicolas. I-I know this sounds weird because I’m sitting in front of you, but actually I am also over there.” Gillion pointed off to something behind Niklaus, Niklaus’ eyes following Gillion to the bookshelf and the vacant space in front of it. “And I don’t know what I’m reading, but I know that I am reading… But it doesn’t make sense because I’m talking to you. I’m there but I am… Here…? Does that make sense?”

“…well then.” Niklaus’ stole himself a moment to reflect on those words. He kicked his boots up onto the table, leaning back and serving himself another glass of wine. “You know, I was starting to think you Gillions weren’t capable of that sort of thing… Funny that.”

“What sort of thing?”

“You just explained it yourself. You can sense where the others are, what they’re doing… Granted, it took a while, not all of you are made equal I suppose... Must be nice for you to know you’re not alone though.”

“Wait, are you insinuating that…? Actually, I don’t get it; what are you telling me?” Gillion’s eyes lingered on the bookshelf, surveying himself with utmost curiosity.

“He’s real. You’re real. You’re both real.”

Gillion’s eyes widened, a switch flicking on in his head. “Oh.”

“Yes. A big, fat, capitalised Oh Gillion. These are the cards you’re being dealt here. This is the game.”

Gillion attempted to process this but this time the Triton couldn’t manage to pull himself together. He crumbled in his seat, looking away from the bookshelf before he got any more overwhelmed. “Niklaus… My head hurts.”

“I figured as much… This is a bit much for a single Gillion to handle.”

“Am I going to die?”

“Oh, so you care about dying now?” Niklaus only realised what he’d said after the fact, covering his mouth. “Sorry, force of habit. I’m a bit too used to insulting you.”

“It’s okay, I would insult me too…” Gillion sighed. “..crab.”

“I mean, technically you don’t really DIE because you’re all sort of experiencing this together- I don’t know if that helps actually…”

Gillion slowly blinked as something else clicked, steadily sitting up again. “What happens to you?”

“What happens to me? …Nothing really. …at least nothing you should be concerned about..…”

“Niklaus.”

“Yes, Gillion?”

“. . . . .”

Niklaus waited for Gillion to let up but he ended up being the one to cave first, becoming exasperated under Gillion’s scrutiny. He huffed, “Well? What do you expect me to say? I’m being dealt a different hand and that’s all I have to say on the matter.”

“Is there even a way to stop this??”

“Why make a game that can’t be won? Of course there’s a way to stop this. You’ll all figure it out eventually…”

“..but is there a way to win where you get what you want?”

“Oh no… I had an inkling this would happen... I teach you how to ask the right questions and suddenly you think you’re entitled to meddle in things you shouldn’t…”

Gillion’s expression changed, Niklaus becoming gloomier with the realisation of what he’d done. He tipped back his glass, waiting to reap what he’d sown.

“Nicolas, as you probably know I am the Chosen One, Champion of the Undersea, Hero of the Deep, The One, Singer/Songwriter of Gillion and the Tidestriders' hit single ‘The Hole in Your Heart’, Warrior of Rock and Roll, Pigeon Lord, Moisture Master…”

Niklaus deadpanned, “Riveting.”

“…And it is my duty to aid all residents of not only the Undersea but of the Oversea too. And I guess the Dreamsea…? Right. The Undersea, the Oversea AND the Dreamsea.”

“…that’s such a ridiculous name for it….”

“As far as I’m aware, you can think and speak and, even if you’re not the real Nicolas, that’s evidence enough to prove that you are indeed one of the residents I have the duty of protecting! So, Nicolas, I will do whatever it takes to make sure that you can have a fulfilling life like anyone else would! I will-!”

“That’s more than enough, Gillion. It doesn’t really matter to me, you know. Let’s talk about something else, you’re bringing down the mood…”

“This isn’t a joke, Niklaus. This isn’t the life you’re meant to live.”

“Hahah, oooh this is rich… How would you know, Gillion? I mean, are you really going to suggest I try to run away from this? Where would I run to? You haven’t even seen what it’s like outside this room…”

“Outside this room?”

Niklaus was surprised by his own slip up, “Whoops, I wasn’t meant to say that-“

Gillion bolted towards the door while Niklaus was distracted, swinging it open to reveal- “Niklaus- Niklaus, what iS THAT-“

“Oh no…” The door slammed shut in Gillion’s face.

“DID YOU SEE THAT!??”

“I did, I’ve seen it before actually-“

“WHY are you so calm???”

“I don’t know… It’s not like it’s going to harm us-“

“You don’t know that!! Quickly, I’ll go smite it and you can make it relive its worst traumas-!” Niklaus used his magic to force Gillion back into his seat, Gillion’s sense of betrayal deafening him to any reason. “Let me GO Niklaus!”

“This is for your own good Gillion… You’re going to hurt yourself.”

Gillion’s glare was intense; he growled, “I’m trying to HELP you-“

“I’m trying to help YOU Gillion! For once! For once I’m trying to keep you safe, so please, SIT. DOWN.”

The outpour of emotion came as a shock to the both of them. They held their breath. Frozen.

“…how are you so okay with this?”

It almost looked like Niklaus wasn’t going to respond, but he managed to get his bearings. “I…I’ll be honest, I don’t know… I’ve thought about it and the only possibility that makes sense to me is that I was built to be okay with it... I’m not meant to care.”

“But you care about me.” No response. “You can’t tell me that what you just did was predetermined by whatever or whoever made you, you CARE about me-“

“You started to go off script, it’s not the same.”

“Is it?”

“Gillion, you don’t know a thing about anything…”

“Well, it’s starting to sound like you don’t know anything either; so I guess we’re even.”

“. . . . . .”

“You know I’m right.”

“Gillion, you are so idiotic I don’t even know how you remember to breathe...”

The distance they’d closed between them suddenly seemed to stretch a thousand miles wider. It was uncomfortable to be in each other’s presence but there was nowhere else to go, nothing else to do, nowhere to hide from the other much less escape this nightmare. Gillion knew there was one bitter ending ahead of him and he didn’t have the heart to be optimistic. The loneliness inside him consumed him and his will wilted. Was this hell? Was he real? What was Niklaus? Was there any way to stop this? He was crushed under the weight of every bit of horrifying knowledge that’d been imparted on him, something that Niklaus recognised and deeply regretted. It was hard to miss, Gillion looked haunted and the truth was that he probably was haunted as well; he sat in a graveyard of his own bodies. Niklaus questioned his own part in this, whether this was morally neutral anymore.

It didn’t even sound like Gillion anymore. “Niklaus… Be honest with me… Can I do anything at all as I am?”

“No... I’m sorry, Gillion.”

A laugh, Gillion’s confession of his own fallibility. “Hah… No, it’s alright… I mean, it’s probably about time that this ended anyways… It’s… I was just hoping… You know…”

“It’s quite anticlimactic, isn’t it?”

Gillion mourned his own insignificant existence. “I think… I think I’m ready to go.”

“Are you sure? We don’t have to, we can spare a few more minutes-”

Gillion was resolute, offering up his wrist. “No… No, I’m ready. If there’s nothing else to do then there’s no point in delaying it.”

Niklaus reluctantly took Gillion’s forearm. “I am warning you; this does hurt…”

An unpleasant tingle went down Gillion’s spine as he remembered, “I know, but I can take it.”

Niklaus let out a sigh, “Well… It was nice talking to you at least.”

“Niklaus, I’ll figure out a way to change this. I’ll figure out a way to save you. It’s my destiny to do so.”

“You wouldn’t be saving me from anything… But it’s a nice thought.”

With a nod of his head, Gillion signalled Niklaus to go ahead. He silently bid Niklaus goodbye. The Tiefling cringed, Gillion’s failure so bitter he couldn’t help but feel responsible. Oh god. What had he done? Why didn’t he stop this sooner? Was there an iteration that could possibly be worse than this? Maybe these Gillions really did die.

When the nail carved into Gillion’s skin it felt just as revolting as any other time. It HURT. It HURT so bad. It HURT but he was determined not to let it show, he didn’t want Niklaus to see that. He told himself, ‘it hurts less than my heart does’ even when his innards were impaled by spikes of hot pain. He tried to offering Niklaus a warm smile, as if Niklaus had been the one that needed comfort instead of him, as if Niklaus was even worthy of that kindness after the havoc he’d beget. And oh god. Oh god. This wasn’t a dream. He had blood on his hands. He’d really just-

The lights went out.

It was pitch black.

All Gillion could see was the crescent moon in the distance.

It was blinding.

.·:*¨༺ ──────────────────── ༻¨*:·.

Gillion woke up in the bathtub, leaning over the side of the tub with a heart so heavy it weighed him down. There was a chill writhing under his skin, so sure he’d dreamt of something utterly repulsive but what it was, was unclear to him. There was an absence, something missing, an underpinning distress that he couldn’t treat. He stared into nothing, only breaking his line of sight when he felt Pretzel nudging him. It eased him, pulling him back into the living plain. He picked her up and addressed her, “…Pretzel, I keep getting these weird dreams. I don’t know what it is, but I think it’s something important. I’m confused… Do you think there’s anyone that could help us?”

Pretzel didn’t know how to respond.

“…I guess we’ll have to do some investigating on our own.”

Gillion lurched out of the tub, catching the sight of himself in the mirror. It disquieted him. A thought passed in a millisecond that he couldn’t quite grasp, his concern showing on his face. It seemed he couldn’t even trust himself anymore, he’d somehow found a way to keep secrets away from his own prying eyes. He admitted that dealing with this alone was… It was wearing on him. But what could he tell Chip and Jay, that he was gradually slipping because he had some dreams he couldn’t remember?? Gillion tried not to tear up, taking deep breaths to calm himself.

“I’m okay… I can do this… There’s nothing Gillion Tidestrider can’t do…right..? I-I’m the Chosen One…” He tried to affirm himself but he found his words just came out pathetically, pleading the universe for even an ounce of comfort.

Pretzel was worried. Gillion was worried too.

He pulled the plug from the bath, watching the water drain away, hoping this sinking feeling would go with it.

. . . .

. . .

. .

The passing thought.

Maybe we’ve died a hundred times over and we’re still worthless.

#📚 my posts #🖋️ writing #just roll with it #jrwi riptide #gillion tidestrider #niklaus hendrix #this is horrible writing #anyways disclaimer #only hypothetical gillions died in the production of this fic.#purging this horrid projwct from my drafts as if it were a curse #next installment scheduled never. (eventually)

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