synopsis : Gojo Satoru can be called many derogatory words for various reasons : unhinged, insane, selfish, weird. Each one is affirmed by different groups of people. Your answer to these statements would be more personal, intimate, to a point of unsettling proximity that only you share with him in the present, and for years, since the deflecting of Geto Suguru. Through your eyes, that's your demise.
The Victorian-style house looked a bit creepy, but rather cute. Very pinkish. Perfectly serene for your remote job and longing for silence. And everything would be wonderful if not for this little weird doll that looks like you and a small door in the living room, leading to... nowhere? And what about those two guys who lived here sixty years ago?
˖𖦹 ݁˖ pairing: Satosugu x F!Reader
˖𖦹 ݁˖ content/warnigs: ꒰ Coraline AU :: yandere :: stalking :: Satoru and Suguru have buttons for eyes :: they desperately want you to stay :: horror :: hope it will be a bit creepy :: obsessive behaviours :: possessive behaviour :: dark romance :: heavy smut :: manipulation :: death :: demons :: use of some Coraline conspiracy theories ꒱
˖𖦹 ݁˖ notes: The first chapter will be posted on June 22! And on that day I will also post my main summerween, slasher collection <3
Taglist for this mini series is open! Just let me know in the comments ˖𖦹 ݁˖
My dearest townsfolk! You have no idea how excited I am for this series! It is a part of my Summerween collection, but since my main collection focuses on slashers, I decided to post the Coraline separately!
art by by K05062688 - twitter
button divider by @saradika-graphics
Why do toxic fanfics keep popping up on my fyp, like no I don't want Gojo cheating on me, fucking me as an apology and me actually FORGIVING him???. I need a man who is OBSESSED with me and wouldn't even think of looking at another woman. The only fanfics that truly still my hunger are yander fics.
the damage @tojioffline2 caused to this community needs to be talked about.
At this point, this @tojioffline2 seriously needs to realize the difference between accountability and straight up harassment.
People joined this app to write, create, and have fun, not to constantly worry about being publicly targeted, mass hated, or sent anonymous threats. Watching writers delete their accounts, panic over hate, and feel unsafe should’ve been enough for everyone to realize this stopped being “calling people out” a long time ago.
Even if @tojioffline2 arent personally sending death threats, rape threats, or doxx threats, they KNOW the kind of audience and behavior they encourage. You cannot build entire platforms around negativity and public humiliation and then act surprised when the community becomes toxic, and even then if you were truly against it you should stop it, not ignore it.
And the fact that people saw how much damage @tojioffline caused and she STILL decided to remake it is honestly insane. Especially now that minors are getting targeted too.
At this point it’s not “protecting the community” anymore. It’s become bullying. People are being treated like entertainment and targets instead of actual human beings.
If someone is genuinely problematic, there are mature ways to handle it privately or through reporting. But dedicating entire accounts to spreading negativity and sending thousands of people after creators is weird, unhealthy, and clearly damaging the community more than helping it.
This community used to be about creativity and writing. Now people are scared they’ll be the next person publicly attacked over what they want to write. SO many amazing writers that were big and small have quitted because of one pathetic, immature person that dosent know how to deal with stuff.
Even the original creators wanted it to end, yet @tojioffline2 still chose to remake the account and continue the same cycle of harassment, only worse. That alone should tell you how out of control this has become.
What makes this even worse is that even the original tojioffline account at least had some limits like never harming or including minors and intended for it to end once the account got banned. The fact that you saw all the damage, harassment, and fear that account already caused and still decided to create @tojioffline2 anyway says a lot.
I genuinely hope one day you realize the kind of environment you’re continuing to create. Even if you aren’t personally sending rape threats, death threats, or doxx threats, you know your account encourages people to harass others. There’s a huge difference between holding someone accountable and creating a space to bully people and send anonymous attacks.
If someone is truly problematic, there are mature ways to handle it privately or through proper reporting. And if you simply dislike someone’s writing, blocking them would genuinely bring you more peace instead of dedicating your time to this.
People came into this community to write, create, and have fun, not to fear being publicly targeted or driven off the app. Watching writers delete their accounts, panic over anonymous hate, and feel unsafe should’ve been the moment you realized this stopped being “callout culture” and became cruelty.
You may not see the damage directly, but that damage is real, and this platform helped fuel it. You cannot keep rebuilding a platform that repeatedly causes harm and then act shocked when the audience it attracts becomes crueler each time. The original account ending should’ve been the point where everyone realized enough was enough. Choosing to revive it anyway is not helping the community, it’s harming it even more.
This new account clearly does not care about consequences anymore, especially now that minors are being targeted too. That is beyond disgusting. You watched a community become toxic, watched writers get threatened and bullied off the app, and instead of learning from it, you chose to continue it and make it worse.
You cannot claim this is about “protecting the community” when the account itself has become one of the biggest sources of harm in it. At this point, it’s not calling creators out anymore, it’s harassment. People are being treated like targets instead of human beings, and the fact that this continues after seeing the damage the first account caused is honestly disturbing.
I do hope you genuinely reflect on this instead of dismissing it. At the end of the day, whatever these people write, do, or act like does not affect your real life nearly as much as you think it does. I honestly think you’d be happier if you let this account go instead of continuing to spread negativity in a community that used to be built around creativity.
I hope one day you choose to become a better person than this.
I made this into a post because she wouldn't reply to my anonymous asks (or maybe she did and since I have a life I just didn't see it)
synopsis: you’d think giving someone eternity would be enough, yet Sukuna still found himself spending the last century tearing apart every corner of the world in search of the wretched brat that begged him to turn her because she couldn’t live without him. well apparently you could, and you have, which is even more of a reason for him to rip you to shreds for lying to him and then leaving him like that.
just when he thinks that maybe it might just be time for him to give up, he sees you casually walking down the lively streets of tokyo, as if you hadn’t managed to piss off one of the world's oldest vampires.
cw: smut & angst w/ a happy ending, profanity, blood and violence, sukuna’s so mad, klaus coded sukuna, he’s been around for literally forever and he’s too old to be chasing down his wife like this, more to be added
prologue one two
three four five
six seven epilogue
a/n: not sure if i'm doing an actual kinktober event, but i've had this idea in my head for a couple months now and with september just around the corner, i figured it was the perfect time to get started on this mini series of sukuna spending the last hundred years annoyed about having to wake up alone 🙂↕️
a collection of my favorite geto suguru fics i’ve read over the years that i want to spotlight, consisting of pieces that include fluff, angst, smut, and more. fics are divided by series/oneshots/drabbles. please heed all warnings & give all included authors their very much deserved flowers! shamelessly plugging my own geto fics as well :p i’ve marked superscript next to authors to indicate if they’ve been included multiple times in this post!
series:
best friend!geto (ongoing?) by @fricks ; i’ve reread all of the entries in this series so many times that i could beam this shit onto the back of my eyelids and reread them all over again just like that. i adoreeee geto’s characterization here (fricks is a geto expert truly) he’s such a charming little shit and the witty convos between him and reader are just tew good. i can’t decide on a favorite part cos they’re all amazing IM SERIOUS. THIS IS MY LIBRARY OF ALEXANDRIA PLEASE DONT BURN IT DOWN!!!!
dishonorable (complete) on ao3 ; regency/bridgerton aus are always divine and this fic is no exception. duke geto and reader’s chemistry is too good 🚬 love how they want to strangle each other yet they flirt with each other in the same breath. duke geto take it out its hurtingggguuuhhhh
six degrees of separation (complete) by @starmapz ² ; i read this yeaaaars ago so imagine my surprise when i dug this fic up again and realized trish wrote it 😭 the angst in this has stuck with me for YEARS . geto loves so hard and that facet really shines in this fic. the entire thing is incredibly true to his character as a whole and serves as an amazing analysis of his character. how am i even allowed to read this masterpiece without a price? like wdym this is FREE?
strangers (ongoing) by @yenayaps ; this fic will hit you hard cos jfc this is a truck of ANGST. i’ve never wanted eternal happiness and peace for two people so badly in my life. geto and reader have grown distant after a miscarriage and are in the process of learning & choosing to love each other again, and it makes me wanna bawllll. their arguments and thoughts are so grounded and feel incredibly real, making this fic all the more immersive and making the angst pack a few extra punches. i think about the diabolical restaurant scene once a month at least 😭
no. one party anthem (ongoing) by @indiewritesxoxo ⁴ ; this rockstar suguru right here is one i would suck right off the bone like hes a box of chicken wings. girl dad? charmer of the year n hes slick wit it too? THE PINING THE CHASING THE GROVELING THE TRYING TO BE BETTER FOR READER??? top tier truly. indie always shows out with her various geto series and this has gottaaaaa be one of the best. the angst and smut here are unparalleled. that hotel sex scene STAYS living in my head (gif of the duck smoking and shaking its head with a satisfied smirk). im forever rooting for geto in this fic IDGAF!!!!
meow or never (complete) on ao3 ; geto’s little shit of a cat (aptly named gojo) gets reader’s cat pregnant and chaos ensues. geto wants reader’s cookie so bad lmfaoooo just like gojo with reader’s cat… this whole fic is genuinely SO hilarious. super domestic, fluffy, and very slice-of-life too!
fwb!suguru (ongoing?) by @eraserbread ² ; elly’s prose is to die for and her word choice is so unique too so her works are always a treat to the soul. the way she writes geto.. mm… truly a five course meal. need geto and reader to communicate and stop trying to win the nonchalant-off (they’re both failing to be nonchalant). i’m shaking them. god i wanna smash these two together like barbie dolls 😢 (😏). let me get my wallet because it must be illegal to read this piece of art for FREEEEE?
lazy sunday morning and whispers in the library (complete) on ao3 ; going from domestic intimacy and first times in the first fic to some freaky exhibition shit in the second fic… yeaaaah this is my bread and butter. geto is SO romantic and sweet in these installments, especially the first part 😪 this geto needs to be in my bed by yesterday or i’m hanging myself by the ears on the nearest tower
smoking with stoner!getou suguru (complete) on ao3 ; been a while since i’ve read this but geto is slick and sexy ass motherfucker in this fic. his dialogue had me cheesinggggg I WANT HIM BAD BRAH! the exposition here is so lively and perfectly immersive, idk how to explain it but its SUCH a vibe. gojo and toji are total clowns in this fic lmfao the shit they were pulling in the background had me ctfuuuu. this fic is a certified fave
the roommate part 1 & part 2 (ongoing?) by @kenzieluvsnanami ; call this puth british with the way roommate geto is innittttt 🇬🇧 the way geto is written in these makes me nut untouched and on the spot… this man is a sexy ass fiend and ykw i like them crazy just like this. ESPECIALLY when it’s geto. love his cheekiness and tomfoolery here lmfaooo he’s entertaining asf
sometimes i peep on the handsome dad next door (complete) on ao3 ; the dilf suguru to beat all sugurus 🙂↔️ every time there was so much of a mention of either 1. his gray streaks or 2. how he interacts with nanako and mimiko, i started shaking like a little rabid dog on steroids. reader is such a freak in this LMFAOOJTKWHR just like me fr… i too would wake up at 5am just to watch geto get dressed 🤤 he’s so hot and assured and confident in this fic and it makes me wanna jump his bonessss. his and reader’s relationship and build-up is something you don’t wanna miss out on!
darling (complete) on ao3 ; the second i saw black reader x musician geto i knew this would be toe-curling. AND IT IS! op did such a lovely job of portraying the hard of hearing reader here. i adore how geto and reader use each other as inspiration for music and for writing, and seeing their arrangement develop into a relationship is so worth the read c:
breathe me in on ao3 ; fwb!suguru in this fic… i gotta light a blunt every time i think of him. i was sold the second he asked reader to come over not for sex but to cuddle and to have someone simply there with him. geto is soooo sensual to his core here like every thing he does and says feels like honey… and he’s SO smooth jfc. so fine. my sweetheart AND my little shit :,) the smut here is toe-curling
the ethics of relationships (complete) by @gojonanami ; i typically don’t read prof/students but this fic is just one of those onessss and if you haven’t read it then you’re missing out 🙂↔️ that’s how yummy this whole five course meal is. i’ve harassed so many friends with the link to this fic LMFAO i just want everyone to read this BAD… i’m due for a reread because it’s been a WHILE but so many scenes in this fic stand out in my memory. super good overall!!
brat (ongoing) by @kunareads ; producer geto and pop star reader you are so very famous to me! reader is such a vibe in this fic and it makes her relationship with geto all the more fun & enticing. their dynamic feels like snorting a line of coke in the best way possible but also i need these fools to communicate asap 😣 the formatting of this fic is SO fun and feels super interactive/immersive!!
vault boy (ongoing) by @indiewritesxoxo ⁴ ; fallout/apocalypse au!! if u havent gotten into fallout, indie makes the universe easy to understand. geto is such a sweetie pie in this fic and his humanity is devastating… MY POOR BABY :( i wanna hide him away in a bunker. speaking of bunkers, give me one to shack up with him in and we’d repopulate the entire world in just a few years TRRRRUST 🤣✌🏽
oneshots:
#INTRO2MUNCH101 by @satorena ; another situation where i read a fic years ago and became mutuals with the author later on (haiii serena). this fic is comedy fawking golddddd no joke but its also hot as hell. serena is too good at building up the chemistry between geto and reader (#welovemeanreadersbtw) and i love how desperate geto is here, he wants that cookie BAD. his fake nonchalant shit had no one fooled and every time reader called him out i was ctfu. the smut had me writhing brah WRITHING (and giggling profusely for many reasons)
rock you up on ao3 ; TA geto and professor reader is an unmatched dynamic brah YALL DONT EVEN GETTTT HOW MUCH I FUCK WITH THEM ANDDD THIS FIC… submissive geto was a very exciting surprise HEHEHEHEEEE i love seeing my man getting his shit rocked <3 the banter here is too mfing good and is something this writer very much excels at!!
why suguru’s wife is the best cook in the world! by @yunamoona ; a super good take on geto and his relationship with food AND the cutest meet cute to ever meet cute… yeah this is a banger. repeating what i said in the comments but when geto ate reader’s cookies i was smiling at my phone like a freak, because sometimes all it takes is just the act of kindness/love to be able to guide you down a path of healing :,) i love this fic sm. it’s one of a kind
what if you’re just someone i want around (i’m falling again) on ao3 ; post-jjk0 fix it fic where reader is assigned to watch over geto 😣💔 < the sound of my heart shattering. you can feel geto’s jadedness and bitterness radiating through the screen due to how vivid and deeply thoughtful each scene is written out. but despite it all, geto is such a sweetheart and lover to his core 😢
i’m afraid that’s just the way the world works (but i think that it could work for you and me) on ao3 ; an au where geto never defected and years later, reader and geto take in nanako and mimiko. such a heartwarming fic all around. i love my miminana forever and ever and they deserve the world
bed chem by @nanamiskentos ; this is sexy AND fucking hilarious, what MORE could you ask for. suguru had me curling my toessss in this fic jhtjwhrjsi his dialogue has me hot and ready like lil caesars. the descriptions here make me wanna lick my screen and digest every single word. best believe i’m cleaning my plate every time i reread this
it’s true i never write, but i would gladly die with you by @summer-oil ; post-defection fics where geto and reader used to be friends always destroy me in the best way possible :,) and ugh the prose here… no words can describe how beautiful and impactful it is. oh geto you yearner…
the haunting by @starmapz ² ; if you like horror fics this is absolutely the fic for you :3 if geto were my ex… shittttt i would crack him again and take him back too. this fic is a perfect blend of hot smut, angst, and unsettling horror. i can’t say much else cos of spoilers but the ending had me GAGGED
it will come back by @hellowoolf ; ballerina au with instructor geto and ballerina reader!! their push and pull in this fic had me reading with my hands (and puth 😣) clenched… the chemistry is SO buzzy and so loud. the smut is mfing fantasticcccc and the build-up to it is EXCELLENT. dialogue is on point toooooo everything geto says makes me giggle
top of the class on ao3 ; if my TA was as pretty (and pathetic) as geto in this fic, i’d crack tf out of them too 🤭 love the switch-up in the power dynamic here and how reader sooo effortlessly has geto wrapped around her finger
ghostface pussy killer by @saintkaylaa ; one thing about me is i loveeee a good fic where one chases the other and then they fuck nasty 😣 the aphrodisiacs being involved makes the stakes sm more intense (and hotter 😏). i’m obligated to reread this everyyyy october because this fic is peak
the best kind of remedy by @reignpage ; santa can i please get herbalist geto under my tree for christmas 🙏🏽 preferably naked and already oiled up 🙏🏽 stoner geto is absolutely and 100% my kryptonite everyyyy time and he’s extra sexy asl in this fic. DREAMY SIGH. the smut is so buzzyyyyy
a guide to hooking up by @thedivinegeneral ² ; this is a certified hood classic iykwim. every time this fic pops up on my dash or in my memory, i just HAVE to reread it. jade is really and truly the god of managing to make fics perfectly fluffy, hilarious, and smutty like whewwwww… geto and reader here are so special to me I LOVE THEM DEARLY 😣😋
how to baby trap marry your best friend! by @indiewritesxoxo ⁴ ; FUCK MY BABY DAD ALRIGHT!!! i love idiot best friends in love bro like just put the crush in the bag and pop the questionnnnn, the yearning in this kills me in the best way possible! the first time they have sex and take pictures of each other is forever branded in my head cos its tooooo hot 🚬
lessons in love on ao3 ; oh to fall in love with dilf geto and to retire with him… whimsical sigh. such a comforting slice of life fic. if my future partner isn’t this sweet and devoted and understanding, i don’t want em! geto here is really the perfect husband 😋
cry for me by @bunnieeteeth ; coach geto and figure skater reader! really cannot say much about this fic for the sake of spoilers, but also because i genuinely have no words for how this fic makes me feel. just wow. trust me when i say that this fic will have you sitting up in your seat and staring at your phone in shock. i want geto and reader to get together so bad but at what cost 💔
the torture of small talk with someone you used to know by @betterinvienna ; rockstar geto (and your ex) and photographer reader how you’ve both moved me and changed me irreversibly. geto is a first class yearner with a ticket straight to piningville because ohhhh my goddddd he wants reader back so mfing bad . he’s losing the nonchalant war #chalantking and i’m happy about it! such a good angst & hurt/comfort fic. i love exes fics. EVERY SINGLE SONG IS ABOUT YOU… WAH…. 😢😢😢🥺🥺🥺🥺
the practice of kissing by @lovelivision ; we all cheer for kissing practice fics!!! geto is such a mouthwatering tease in this fic ughhtksjrns i have got to fuck him . he’s such a cocky little shit but also sososo sweet with reader and so accommodating… his duality is unmatched!
praisekink4praisekink by @cherrys-wrld ; cherry always excels with writing familiar and cozy domesticity even during intimacy… dreamy sigh. geto is such a romantic WHY ISNT HE REALLLL (edit: i will update the link when this gets reposted!)
golden brown by @sixxels ; princess reader and knight geto you will be my undoing… the forbidden love here really packs a punch because they’re so desperate to be with each other and so in love, but they have to comply with the system :( i teared up while reading this fic. please never hurt me like this again (DO IT.)
ghost of you by @suguruss1ut ³ ; this fic is my 13th reason ☹️ post-defection geto and reader who still love each other despite geto’s actions/ideals is lethal. so lethal. this fic had me rolling around in bed thinking about it for dayssss after finishing it… it’s so heartbreaking UGHHHH 💔
#THE PARTY AND THE AFTER PARTY by @screampied ; lock me in a room with stripper!geto for about an hour (please trap us together longer though.) and he’s walking out pregnant god willing. whole fic had me twirling my hair and checking my wallet for extra cash to toss geto’s way
you & me by @getosurya ; perfect perfect perfect hurt/comfort after an argument between geto and reader. despite everything, they love each other sm and it bleeds through each and every action of theirs… this fic is so tender and reassuring that it makes me melt :,)
geto’s bride by @thedivinegeneral ² ; the effect that this fic has had on me actually needs to be studied because why am i so charmed by chucky doll geto to the point that i’ve sent this fic to multiple friends individually 😭😭 this shit had me CRYINGGGGG cos of how fucking funny it is alllll the way through lmfaooohtkwhrj and imagining certain scenes had me cracking up. i am such a sucker for sub geto in this fic… MAKE HIM WHIMPER!!!!
simply ear-resistible! by @indiewritesxoxo ⁴ ; bunny geto is the cutest fucking thing to ever existtttt 🥺😭 even if he has a massive attitude LMFAO. him retaining a few bunny traits/habits after returning to his original form actually makes me want to chew on his cheek. reader and geto are TOOOO cute here and i want the best for them :]
maw on ao3 ; there are no words to describe this fic or how it makes me feel without my description/thoughts majorly falling flat. i simply cannot do this fic justice… PLEASE READ IT.
ask me to bleed (for you i will) on ao3 ; post-defection geto and non-sorcerer reader who works at a bakery… another fic that is my 13th reason lowkey. this is another fic that i cannot do justice nor summarize my feelings for properly but i am once again urging you all to read this
purrrfect surprise by @suguruss1ut ³ ; do you like men who crawl on all fours while wearing cat ears?? look no further cos this is the fic for YOU!!! i love me some sub geto and this fic is pure peak. need him desperate justttt like this
drabbles:
(i’ve written so many summaries/thoughts already that i won’t be doing so for these fics. titles are all pretty self-explanatory for the most part, and these are all super good short reads!! 🫶🏽)
emo!suguru and his pretty pink princess by @epicderpface
suguru + independent gf by @satoruined
mornings with suguru by @hayajiku
sub!suguru wax play by @bluukive
arcturus beaming by @oporotheca
love, as if it were carved in stone by @go6jo
tutor!geto getting overwhelmed by @eraserbread ²
suguru volunteers to model for your art class and you didn’t expect him to have such a perfect dick by @gojosconsort
afterglow by @feyrinnn
kissing suguru by @sugurusbadhabit
binded bunny by @meowguru
domain expansion: unlimited creampies by @suguruss1ut ³
𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: Half a brutal week of finals, your idea of short recovery is simple: horror games, dim lights, and your boyfriend Sol breathing in your ear through voice chat like he isn’t actively trying to ruin your focus. It was supposed to be just another cursed indie night — you, the monster, and a few well-aimed insults...
...until Sol’s reactions hijack the match entirely. One death screen, one whispered apology, and one desperate Discord call later, and suddenly you’re the one getting hunted — not by pixelated nightmares, but by your very real, very flushed, very wrecked boyfriend begging for your attention like his life depends on it. Turns out, surviving finals was the easy part.
…Surviving him? Yeah, good luck with that.
𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉: soooo, on April 7th, while I was supposed to be studying for my psych and chem midterms, I stumbled across some [ art ] by @bonw0n — and yeah, I was this close to dropping everything to write this immediately. I behaved… mostly. Might’ve snuck a few "study breaks" to get some of it out. I’ve seen others write for this request too, so here’s my take — hope you love it, dearest.
𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓃𝓉 𝓌𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: 18+ NO KIDS (Adults Only) This content contains mature themes unsuitable for children. Please respect the creator's intentions.
𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓈: sol x gn! reader, smut, masturbation, voyeurism, mutual pining, voice kink, begging, desperate sol, one-sided voice chat (at first), tension so thick you could choke on it, accidentally turning him on, slight corruption kink if you squint, dirty thoughts two idiots falling harder than they realize, and sol is down bad and it’s so funny.
April is hell for college students. fucking tell me about...
Anyone who says otherwise has either dropped out, is lying, or majors in something unserious like something dumb—underwater basket weaving.
It’s exam season—a month-long bloodbath where coffee becomes a food group, sleep is theoretical, and your notes look like they were written by a madman mid-breakdown. You’ve been living in libraries, buried in color-coded flashcards and PDF textbooks you don’t even remember downloading. Your backpack weighs more than your will to live, and your playlist? Just sad lo-fi beats and the occasional mental breakdown.
But you did it.
You clawed your way through a few of your finals already, each one more cursed than the last. You turned in essays with hands that felt like claws, circled scantron bubbles like your life depended on it. And when the last “Submit” button was pressed today—you didn’t cry.
You almost did. But instead, you stared at your ceiling for twenty minutes contemplating existence… then decided to not kill yourself with another night of studying.
Tonight? You earned a break. And your poison of choice?
Well, overall, after exams, most people do one of three things:
Talk about the exam like it was a shared war trauma.
Vanish the second time’s up—those lucky bastards just evaporate into thin air.
Crash into bed, possibly start crying because of overthinking. Bonus points if you start crashing out.
Then there’s the rest—out at some crusty frat party, doing keg stands like their brain cells aren’t already on life support. Or sparking up until they’re spiritually ascending, eyes redder than the F they just got in psych stats. But not you.
Oh no, you? You’ve got taste. Elegance.
Horror Video Games.
And not the cute, fluffy kind either. You’re not out here playing some "build your dream town" simulator, collecting adorable animals with quirky little personalities who talk about their feelings. Nope, not you. You're not clicking through endless dialogue trees in a visual novel where every decision leads to either a hug or a heartbroken confession—though, let's be real, you’ve totally dipped your toes in those a couple of times. It's fine. No one's judging.
But nope, you're deep in the muck of horror. The darker, the better.
The more twisted, morally questionable, and "I probably shouldn't be playing this at 2 AM" the story is? That's the kind of game you're downloading like it’s got a bill overdue. You don’t need to sip on some overpriced vodka. You don’t need to hit the vape and pretend you’re too cool for life.
What you need is pure, unfiltered psychological trauma in 1080p.
Forget a chill evening—you want to feel like your mind might short-circuit at any second. You need the cozy glow of your LED lights bleeding across a desk littered with energy drinks and half-functioning headphones. You need your haunted little playlist of indie nightmares and "this game is banned in 12 countries" storylines.
This is your version of therapy. Replacing exam stress with the emotional damage of a pixelated ghost child whispering from behind a locked door.
There’s just something magical about sinking into your chair like a sentient blanket burrito, headset on, game booted up, and letting the real world dissolve into static.
Just you, the dark, and whatever fresh hell is waiting around the next virtual corner to emotionally ruin you. Again.
That was all you could think about during your god-awful fifty-minute-long lectures—well, that and how your professor’s voice sounded like someone chewing chalk while reading a textbook aloud. Especially on your longer days, where it felt like your brain was actively trying to escape through your ears or your eyes get heavy—despite sitting right up front of the class you deadass fall asleep in the middle of lecture…
Still, you powered through. Took notes. Faked interest. Dodged a group project like it owed you money. You even hit the library for a hot minute, pretended to be productive, and then finally dragged yourself back to your dorm like a half-dead NPC on a quest for salvation.
First stop? Food.
You threw something questionable-but-edible into the microwave leftover take out you ordered yesterday and stared at it like it held all the answers to your suffering. Greasy, hot, probably taking a year off your life, but comforting in a ‘screw it, I survived today’ kind of way.
Then came homework. Ugh.
You sat down, cracked open your laptop, and forced yourself to speed-run your assignments like you were defusing a bomb. Brain on autopilot. Tabs everywhere. Safari sounded like it was about to take off with your laptop. But you got it done—somehow. Whether your answers make sense? Always, make sure to check everything before you turn in, timestamp and all.
Then finally—finally—you hit the shower.
The hot water came down like it had a personal vendetta, absolutely obliterating your stress, your regrets, and possibly your skin barrier. You just stood there, letting it scald you like a rotisserie chicken, steam turning your bathroom into a sad little sauna with zero luxury but maximum existential crisis.
You hummed. You danced. You nearly slipped. You played that one song—the one you’ve been listening to on loop for days like it’s the soundtrack to your life’s fake documentary. You know, the one that starts off giving you chills and ends up giving you a migraine once your brain decides it’s time to ruin it. Classic move.
Then you stood there longer than you needed to, contemplating your next victim in the horror game queue. Real priorities.
Afterward showering, you did your usual post shower routine then you pulled on your favorite set—something soft and chill but definitely showing more skin than necessary. But who were you trying to impress? No one. You just liked how your blanket felt better that way. Priorities.
Besides, the whole point was to feel the warmth of your blanket better. You wrapped yourself in it, a cozy cocoon, and sank into your gamer chair, legs tucked beneath you, heart already settling into that familiar rhythm.
Your desk was a beautiful kind of chaos—lived-in, deliberate, curated for comfort and carnage. At the center of it all stood your mid-sized monitor, propped on a stack of mismatched textbooks like some sacred relic. It bathed the room in soft, moody colors, its screen already alive with the eerie flicker of the horror game’s menu.
Game boxes were stacked like grim little trophies on your shelves, each one a memory of a night spent half-screaming and half-laughing, usually with Sol on the other end.
Twisted monster figurines stared blankly from their perches, arranged meticulously from “mildly unsettling” to “this one gave me a complex.” And the posters? Cult-classic psychological thrillers and cursed films—tattered at the edges, warped slightly by years of devotion. They stared back at you from the walls, their looming silhouettes shifting every time the screen flashed with static or movement.
Your gamer chair was a throne, worn-in just right—soft, broken in by years of sleepless nights and stress-fueled gaming binges. Draped across it was your oversized blanket, the one that swallowed you whole and made you feel like a cryptid rising from a cocoon. There was something sacred about that chair. It knew things. It had been with you through exam week breakdowns, existential dread marathons, and now, it was your command post.
Your controller was resting on the desk beside you, waiting.
The game was already launched, the lobby open, and your headset nestled comfortably over your ears. The built-in proximity voice chat was activated—just you and Sol in your own little bubble. The room was quiet but not silent. The faint buzz of the monitor, the gentle hum of your fan, the occasional creak of your chair when you shifted—it all became part of the ambiance.
And right on cue… Sol was already online.
His username—pumpkinlover00—pulsed softly in the game lobby like a heartbeat. Waiting. Always waiting. Same time, every night. Like a ritual. Like a promise.
There was no need for a message. No awkward small talk. No fumbling attempts at icebreakers. You two had long since passed that stage. This was muscle memory now—deadass unspoken rhythm built on laggy screams, ill-timed reloading, and the electric hum of shared adrenaline.
You reached for the controller, the soft click of your grip syncing perfectly with the moment his voice crackled through the in-game chat.
“Yo,” Sol murmured, his tone rough and low like he hadn’t spoken all day—maybe he hadn’t.
You grinned, stretching out in your throne of a chair and tugging the blanket tighter around you. “Yo yourself,” you said, thumbing through the loadout menu lazily. “By the way… when were you gonna tell me your gamertag was pumpkinlover00?”
There was a few seconds of silence.
Then, a sigh. The kind that screamed regret.
“It was a dare,” Sol said, as if that explained anything.
You snorted, already grinning as you adjusted in your seat, “Yeah, okay. But pumpkinlover00, though? Be honest. Did you also bake it a pie and whisper sweet nothings to your jack-o-lantern?”
“You keep talking and I will leave you mid-extraction,” he warned, dry as dust.
“Do it. I’ll tell everyone in the dorm that you made a shrine out of pumpkin guts and played Linkin Park while crying.”
“You wouldn’t.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t just tell them,” you said, spinning your controller in hand with flair. “I’d make PowerPoint slides. Full color. Transitions. Soundtrack.”
He groaned, however you heard the little snort of laughter he tried to bury. Then his eyes landed on your own in-game tag floating proudly above your character’s head: DumpsterSnacc_.
“…You named yourself after trash food,” he muttered.
“Excuse me? I named myself after a rare and powerful snack born in the fires of poor life decisions and gas station cuisine. I am the forbidden flavor.”
“Sounds like you were found in the dumpster.”
“Bold talk from a guy whose username sounds like a seasonal candle from fucking grocery store.”
He laughed at that—low, sudden, genuine. “Alright, alright. Let’s see which one of us gets ghost-murdered first.”
The game flickered to life with its usual guttural startup scream, the kind that sounded like it had regrets and 3 unpaid debts. Your mission scrolled across the screen in grim text, paired with a deep voiceover that could narrate your funeral.
You selected your loadout: flashlight, flares and, of course, your unshakable sense of superiority.
“Alright, Pumpkin Spice,” you said, cracking your knuckles. “Ready to yank some haunted toaster ovens outta Satan’s basement?”
Sol chuckled. “Lead the way, Snaccrifice.”
The screen cut to black. And the horror began. Eveything loaded in with an unholy screech—part static, part radio distortion, part something that sounded like it came from a throat that shouldn’t exist.
You and Sol had just booted up the latest co-op indie horror hit: R.E.P.O. session. A physics-heavy, proximity-voice nightmare where you and a friend sneak into abandoned, rotting buildings to repossess cursed artifacts... all while being stalked by something that learns how you play.
Smart. Fast. Shapeshifting. The kind of monster that knew your patterns better than your therapist. Naturally, you both took it dead seriously. It was so serious, in fact, that your characters were dressed like absolute clowns. Literally.
You had picked grey skin with the bright neon outfit, oversized heart sunglasses, and an inflatable donut ring as a belt. Sol, not to be outdone, went full chaos: Green skin, a banana suit, and ski goggles, paired with bright orange gloves. His character model moved like a confused mall Santa.
“I swear to god,” he muttered through the proximity voice chat, distorted by digital reverb, “if we die looking like this, I’m logging off forever.”
“No you’re not. You're emotionally attached now,” you replied, confidently stomping your ridiculous pink boots toward the first hallway.
You’d already picked your roles.
You were the lead retriever—the brave idiot who runs in, grabs the cursed junk, and throws it back like it’s Black Friday at a pawn shop.
Sol? He was the cart dude—your ever-loyal partner who stayed behind just far enough to avoid immediate death, but close enough to catch whatever hell you flung his way.
He pushed the in-game collection cart behind you with janky, glitchy physics, the wheels squeaking like it was haunted by a grocery store demon. You turned around dramatically, forcing your character model to do a sudden 180.
Because the game used proximity-based voice chat, this also forced your character and Sol’s to make deep, intense eye contact. Eye contact that was only made worse by the exaggerated googly eyes stuck to your sunglasses. “Alright,” you said in your Serious Voice™, stepping forward with authority. “Game plan.”
Sol’s character nodded, “Hit me.”
“We’re hitting the west wing first. Storage room. There's an artifact in there worth at least $1800 in-game bucks. Probably cursed. Probably breathing. I’ll go in, grab it, scream if I die. You stand back, push the cart, and if something runs at you, throw it my way and run.”
There was a pause.
“That’s… that’s your plan?” he asked.
“It’s a working plan.”
“It’s a dumbass plan.”
“It’s our dumbass plan.”
You both stared in silence again, your avatars breathing heavily, noses almost touching on screen. Sol finally sighed. “I hate that I trust you.”
“I hate that I’m the brains of this operation.” You smirked, turned on your flashlight, and marched forward.
The darkness swallowed you both whole.
Behind you, the sound of a cart creaking along… and the soft jingle of a banana suit bouncing into the unknown.
You were just finishing loading a creepy little porcelain baby head into the cart—its painted eyes were scratched out and it laughed when you dropped it, so that was great—when the game's staticy radio pinged.
Incoming call.
Username: Hyugo_WasHere
You froze. So did Sol.
“No,” Sol said immediately, full volume, the word sharp enough to slice the tension. “Do not answer that.” Too late. You were already clicking accept.
The call connected with a loud, cheerful “Yooo! Pumpkin Boy! You in that haunted IKEA game?”
You grinned. “Hyugo, you tryna R.E.P.O some haunted junk with us?”
“Am I?” he said. “Am I ever. I’ve been watching Sol’s stream on Discord on mute for like ten minutes. Sol’s scream when the mannequin fell was a chef’s kiss.”
“It fell from the ceiling,” Sol hissed. “And it grabbed my shoulder. You would’ve screamed too.”
“I would’ve shot it,” Hyugo replied flatly.
Sol groaned, already defeated. “I swear to god, if he logs in—”
“He’s already at the party,” you said casually, watching the character list update.
A second later, a new player spawned in the safe zone, cyan color. And dressed like a goddamn menace. Hyugo’s avatar was in tight metallic leggings, a sparkly vest, and a jester hat with bells that jingled with every movement. His character moved with the swagger of someone who wanted to be shot first.
“Why are you like this?” Sol muttered.
“Stealth is a suggestion,” Hyugo declared, spinning in place.
“You’re going to get us murdered,” Sol added.
But you? You were already laughing. “Let’s go, Yessss, let’s go team. The ghost’s not ready.”
As the mission progressed, the building changed. Literally.
The layout shifted the deeper you went, doors that led to supply closets now opening into winding hallways, entire wings that didn’t exist in the beginning of the match suddenly sprouting up like tumors. The wallpaper pulsed. The ceilings dripped. Somewhere in the distance, something screamed like it had teeth where lungs should be.
You, Sol, and Hyugo pushed on. Slowly, methodically.
You led the charge, grabbing cursed relics and slapping them into the cart with casual violence. Sol stuck close, flashlight flickering, cart wheels creaking, muttering price estimates like a haunted appraiser.
Hyugo, despite all odds, actually helped. He wandered ahead with a scanner, pinging valuable loot and joking in proximity chat about how your footsteps sounded like wet noodles. “$1200 mirror up here,” Hyugo called once, voice crackling. “Probably possessed. Can I make it kiss itself?”
“No,” you and Sol said at the same time.
Still, you were doing fine.
The cart was getting full. The radio said Extraction Ready in 3 Items. You were winning. So, you split up briefly—Sol stayed behind with the cart while you moved into a shadowy side room to grab what looked like a golden antique camera. It was twitching in your hand as you placed it in the cart with a clang.
That’s when Sol ran in. Not walked. Not jogged.
He sprinted in like something was directly behind him, eyes wide, headset audio crackling with his panicked breath. “Gun.”
You looked up. “What?”
“Gun!” he barked again.
“Dude, what—?”
“GUN!!” He was just repeating it now, flailing his arms like his in-game model was having a seizure. “BIG—GUN—HE HAS A GUN—”
“Who has a gun?!”
“THE BLIND GUY!!” Sol whisper-shouted. “HE ALMOST SHOT ME!”
You blinked, slowly crouching. “You mean the monster has a gun? Like an actual gun?”
“Yes! A fucking shotgun. Like He’s blind, but he’s got aimbot—he hears you, and just—” Sol mimed a gun recoil. “Pop. Dead. No warning. No build-up. Just excellent ass hearing and bullets.”
You snorted. “So what I’m hearing is: don’t make noise.”
Because the Blind Huntsman was coming.
The cart was half full, sitting between the overturned desks and office rubble. You had all scrambled to hide, moving fast as the soft, dragging footsteps of the Huntsman echoed from the hallway—his boots heavy, and his breath sharp, unfiltered, like someone breathing through shredded cloth.
You dove under a busted-ass metal table in the middle of the room, the thing barely standing on three legs and draped with old-ass hanging wires and paper folders that probably hadn’t been touched since the building caught its first haunting. The light was dim, pulsing like a dying heartbeat from some emergency light in the hall. Dust settled thick on the floor, the smell of old rot and burning metal clinging to the air.
Across from you, Hyugo’s stupid cyan avatar ducked under another table, practically hugging the wall like some horror-movie goblin. He looked so ridiculous in that clown-ass outfit y’all let him pick, and the way he moved just made it worse—jerky, crouched, twitchy, like someone who was definitely going to get caught first.
And then there was Sol. Goddamn Sol. Man had one job—hide. But instead of tucking under a desk like a normal person, he panicked and wedged himself behind the door. Behind. The. Door. Like the Huntsman wasn't gonna swing it open and yeet him into next week.
Earlier, before shit hit the fan, he had said all calm like, “I’m gonna scope the hallway next. The cart’s almost full. Let me just—wait, hold on—” His mic clicked. That dreaded click.
You knew something was wrong. So did Hyugo.
Both of your avatars shifted ever so slightly—tense, alert.
Then Sol said it. “I’m getting a call.”
You silently screamed. Huygo’s shoulders went up like “no way this idiot’s serious.”
You hissed, “Sol, no—”
But he said it. Out loud. “Hello?”
The door didn’t creak open. It detonated—BOOM.
The sound rattled your headset so hard your mic peaked. Splinters flew, chunks of drywall exploded like confetti, and dust swallowed the whole room. The screen shook like a natural disaster, and you actually jumped IRL, heart hammering. Sol’s body got flung back like a ragdoll—slammed straight into a metal filing cabinet, bounced, and crumpled like a puppet with cut strings. It was the worst-looking hit you’d ever seen in-game. Just flopped there, half-folded behind some drawers.
And yet… somehow… the bastard lived.
He slowly sat up, stunned as hell. Twitchy, like he had just experienced every lifetime trauma at once. His mic crackled in all staticky, and he muttered: “…what the fuck.”
You were dying. Not in-game. In reality. Trying so hard not to lose it. Your whole body was trembling from how bad you wanted to laugh. You slapped both hands over your mouth and held them there like a makeshift muzzle, eyes wide, shoulders shaking.
You peeked out at Sol’s avatar.
He was looking dead at you.
And you felt it. The shame. The betrayal. The comedy. Whoever coded that eye tracking in this cursed game deserved an Oscar. Sol just sat there, traumatized, and stared at you like “you saw that, didn’t you?” And yeah. Yeah, you did. And it was the funniest shit you’d seen all week. Then Hyugo’s dumbass peeked out too.
Hyugo peeked out from his hiding spot—real slow, real cautious—and locked eyes with Sol first. Sol’s avatar, still slumped against the cabinet like a traumatized Victorian ghost, stared back. No words. Just… the kind of look that said "Don't you dare."
Then Hyugo turned and looked at you. Your own avatar, tucked safely under the rust-ridden desk, met his gaze with the same energy. A silent pact. Do not make a sound. Not a breath. Not a giggle. Not even a pixel twitch.
And Hyugo? He was trying, man. He really was.
You could see it—his character model shook slightly, his shoulders giving that telltale twitch. Like he was holding in a sneeze. You knew the warning signs. The snort was coming. And then—“Pfft.”
CRACK.
The Blind Huntsman didn’t even hesitate. Didn’t pause. That cursed bastard snapped around the second he heard the slip. One single shot. Pinpoint. Surgical. Hyugo’s head went supernova. Cyan body parts everywhere. His avatar’s body slammed into the edge of the metal table with this sickening clunk, arms flailing once before collapsing in a stiff, horrifying ragdoll motion. His limbs twitched for half a second… then silence.
Just the head left. Rolling.
Like the Huntsman said, “shut the hell up” with extreme prejudice.
Dead. Instant. No revive. No second chances.
The man got deleted like he owed the server money.
You were fully biting down on the sleeve of your hoodie now, hands over your face, trying not to scream with laughter. Shoulders shaking, breath hiccupping through your nose like a possessed hamster. Your eyes were stinging from how hard you were crying—silent tears of pure, uncut chaos.
Sol’s mic crackled again, dry as hell. No emotion. Just raw judgment. “…I hope you get haunted, bro. I really do.”
You couldn’t even answer. You were beyond words. The cart you were supposed to be pushing? Yeah. You just stared at it. Like maybe if you focused hard enough, you could will the mission to complete itself.
And the Huntsman? Still there.
Pacing slow. Heavy boots echoing through the static haze. He hadn’t forgotten. Not about Sol. Not about you. He was still walking. Still waiting for someone to slip up. And you could feel it—He was pissed.
You and Sol managed to slip out while the Huntsman circled the wreckage, still checking corners like a paranoid ex. You bolted left, Sol darted right—no words, just instinct and pure panic-fueled coordination. Both of you were half limping, half sliding into the hallway, ducking behind the rusted lockers and broken shelving until the Huntsman's heavy steps grew distant.
There was a long, quiet beat once you were safe.
Then—“…Did we just leave Hyugo’s decapitated ass in there?”
You stared at Sol. He stared back. Then you both turned to look at the cart you’d spent ten minutes loading, still sitting abandoned in the middle of the room next to Hyugo’s... head.
“Motherf—”
The next ten minutes were pure stealth-game agony. Crawling back, avoiding cameras, sensors, trying not to alert any monster. You had to watch the Huntsman loop its route three times before Sol gave you the go-ahead. He moved to the body. You got the cart.
Teamwork, right?
Eventually, you loaded the final files, got the cart into the hallway, and hit the extraction point with barely a second to spare. The screen faded to black.
Round complete.
The next scene dumped the three of you back into the familiar starting truck. Same cramped space. Same dim, flickering fluorescent light humming overhead like an anxious fly. The air in the truck felt heavier than before, like it still remembered the chaos from the last round.
Sol stood in the corner, arms crossed, glaring at absolutely nothing with the weight of every bad decision Hyugo had ever made. You were perched on one of the benches, legs pulled up, hoodie sleeve still a bit damp from when you nearly choked on your own laughter earlier.
And then there was Hyugo.
His avatar spawned in silently, just standing there for a long second like he was processing his own digital funeral.
Then he exhaled like someone twice his age. “…damn, I got clapped.”
That was all it took.
You started laughing again, that quiet, breathless kind that rocked your shoulders and made your stomach hurt. Hyugo cracked up beside you, doubling over, no shame at all.
“Who the hell answers a phone call in the middle of a mission, bro?” you snorted, elbowing his character like it could knock some sense into him.
Sol didn’t laugh. Didn’t smirk. Just slowly raised his arm and pointed at Hyugo like he was pressing a mental “report player” button.
“That's what your ass get,” he said flatly. “Prank-calling me mid-hide with your creepy-ass burner number? You deserved that karma in 4K, dumbass.”
Moving on, the next map flickered into existence as the truck doors groaned open. Bright, sterile white lights cut through the foggy interior, revealing a massive abandoned science lab, all clean metal, reinforced glass, and flickering emergency signs that suggested terrible things had happened here. The air was thick with strange green mist hissing from the vents, swirling in ghostly patterns around overturned desks and shattered containment pods.
Hyugo was still sprawled on the floor from his latest brush with death, groaning dramatically. You and Sol stepped over him like he was part of the scenery.
"Science lab, huh?" you muttered, adjusting your gear.
"Great," Sol sighed. "Haunted test tubes. Love that."
Hyugo finally pushed himself up, grinning like he hadn’t just been yeeted toward acid twice in the last five minutes. “Oh, y’all are gonna love this.”
He opened his inventory with a smug flourish, the soft chime echoing like a game show reveal. And there it was:
The Hourglass.
Not just rare—stupid rare. Glowing in vibrant shades of purple and pink, pulsing slightly like it had its heartbeat. The mist around your group even seemed to freeze for a second, as if reality itself was like, wait, what.
You and Sol both just stared. At it. At Hyugo. Then, back at the Hourglass, like you were waiting for a hidden camera reveal.
“You found that?” you asked, taking a cautious step forward.
“Yup,” Hyugo said proudly, hands on his hips. “Just vibing in the vents. Found it near a corpse. Thought it was lore or something.”
Sol blinked like a tired professor dealing with the world’s most dramatic intern. “Hyugo.”
“Yeah?”
Then it happened.
Hyugo’s model jerked slightly, like a status effect triggered, and when his mic crackled back to life, he was no longer speaking like Hyugo. No. Now, he was channeling something deeper. Something ancient. Something theatrical.
He straightened up with cartoonish grandeur and spoke in the slow, wise tone of a final boss monologue. “Sunny,” he began—Sol’s cursed nickname—“I have acquired… the capsule.”
You blinked. “The what?”
“The capsules. Of time. The very essence of fate distilled into radiant fragments. This—” he gestured dramatically to the Hourglass, “—is our salvation. Our burden. Our destiny.”
Sol deadpanned. “…You’ve been holding it for three seconds.”
Hyugo ignored him. Spun on his heel with dramatic flair. “We are going to win this game. For the realm. For the vent corpses that came before us.”
You crossed your arms. “Hyugo—”
“If it means I have to sacrifice my life…” Hyugo continued, raising one hand to the digital ceiling like a knight accepting a divine quest, “so be it. Let my KD be shattered. My dignity obliterated. My outfit scuffed—”
Sol raised his weapon slightly. “Don’t tempt me.”
Hyugo gasped. “You would turn on me now, Sunny? After all we’ve been through? After I carried you through that cursed stairwell map with the glitchy ass doors? Have you no heart?”
You tried not to laugh. Failed.
“Onward, you two!” Hyugo declared suddenly, pointing dramatically at the truck doors as they creaked open to reveal the misty lab ahead. “We must go! For glory! For loot! For Sunny’s tragic lack of skills!”
Sol muttered, “I have skills—”
“SILENCE! The prophecy unfolds!”
And with that, Hyugo bolted forward, cape fluttering—he didn’t have one, but you felt like he did—into the ominous green mist, yelling something incoherent about “ether trails” and “data packets of destiny.”
You glanced at Sol. Sol glanced at you.
“I’m not reviving him when he gets face-checked by a mimic chest,” Sol said, voice flat as asphalt.
You tilted your head, smirking. “You know we’re following him anyway.”
“…Yeah. I hate that,” he muttered, already moving.
Without a second of hesitation, Sol opened his inventory with the resigned grace of someone prepping for a ritual he swore he wouldn’t take part in. One swift flick later, he pulled out the gun—the gun. Sleek, matte black, gold trim. The kind of in-game weapon that costs 7,000 currency, your soul, and your firstborn. Came with a single magazine and a kill count higher than most player stats.
Your eyes widened. “Sol—”
Before you could even finish your sentence—BANG.
Hyugo collapsed like a folding chair. A single headshot. Dead. Instant. No fanfare. His body rag-dolled across the floor and slammed into the lab wall with a sad little clunk, the Hourglass clattering beside him like a dropped Fabergé egg. “…WHAT THE HELL?!” Hyugo’s mic exploded back to life as his model twitched on the floor.
You exhaled. “What the helly?”
Hyugo groaned. “What the helly??”
“What the helleante?” “What the helleon musk?” “What the helleberry pie?”
“What the Hellebron James?” “What the Helly Rae Jepsen?”
“Guys.” Sol’s voice cut in, calm but worn, like a man hanging by a single thread of patience. “Shut the fuck up.”
He walked over, still holding that overkill gun in one hand like it weighed nothing, then, without missing a beat, used the grab function to hoist Hyugo’s limp avatar off the ground. His digital arms dangled, legs flopping like a sack of potatoes in skinny jeans. “Bro—BRO,” Hyugo shrieked, squirming. “Put me down! What are you doing?! SOL—Sol stop—STOP—”
You trailed after them, watching like an exhausted parent witnessing their two chaotic ass sons take very different approaches to conflict resolution.
“Sol. Come on.”
Sol’s avatar stopped just at the edge of the glowing, toxic pit bubbling in the middle of the containment zone. The green light cast eerie shadows across the lab walls. He slowly turned his character model, head cocked toward you.
One word. “Justice.”
“BRO I’LL BUY YOU A SKIN,” Hyugo screamed. “A WHOLE PACK! LIMITED EDITION! I’LL PAY FOR IT WITH MY OWN CURRENCY—”
Sol took a step closer to the pit. Paused.
Hyugo whimpered. “Please don’t Wario-yeet me into acid, I’m useful…”
Another step. The acid hissed below, eager. Hungry.
You raised a hand like a referee about to blow the whistle. “Sol. We do need him to activate the switch in the next room. You remember the puzzle door.”
Sol sighed, heavy and reluctant. “I hate teamwork.”
Hyugo, still dangling: “I LOVE teamwork.”
After a long moment, Sol dropped him. Hyugo screamed like a dying fax machine as his avatar plummeted toward the acid below—arms flailing, mic peaking—until you lunged. Frame-perfect grab. Caught him by the hoodie just before he splashed into the bubbling green abyss. His scream cut off immediately. For a second, the whole game seemed to lag, his body glitching mid-air as you held him up like some divine intervention.
Silence. Then: “—Y-you saved me,” Hyugo breathed.
You dropped him. He hit the floor with a loud thunk.
"Don't thank me," you muttered, brushing off your sleeves. "I just didn't wanna hear that scream again."
Hyugo groaned, rolling onto his side. "You two are bullies."
Sol casually reloaded his gun. “You’re welcome for the content.”
Hyugo sat up, rubbing his digital head like he could still feel the gunshot. “I’m getting a new squad.”
"You say that every round," you smirked, already scanning the lab. Beyond the glowing acid pit, the corridors stretched into eerie, sterile hallways, the green mist rolling between shattered glass panels.
Oh, yeah—and the rest of the game? Oh, it completely fell apart. What started as a semi-coordinated dungeon crawl quickly devolved into Hyugo’s personal chaos playground.
You were trying to play with some semblance of focus. Sol was attempting to maintain professionalism, a beacon of composure in the chaos. And then there was Hyugo, who effortlessly turned the entire game from a tense "sci-fi horror dungeon crawl" to a wild, unhinged improv comedy show—complete with light war crimes.
He was a menace. No—he was the menace. A digital gremlin incarnate. One moment, you’re creeping down a shadowy lab corridor, the eerie hum of the ambient music seeping into your headphones, the air thick with tension. You’re on edge, weapons ready, your mind focused on the mission at hand… and then—BOOM.
Big Sean’s “I Don’t F*ck With You” intro explodes through team chat, its intro blaring like a furious soundboard god had just unleashed chaos upon you. You whip around the corner just in time to see Hyugo, arms flailing, sprinting full speed through a doorway, the music pounding in the background. Behind him? A grotesque, duck-shaped miniboss, honking like a malfunctioning bike horn and spewing acid everywhere.
You couldn’t help it.
You were dying from laughter, struggling to even aim properly, your screen a blur from tears of hilarity.
Sol, on the other hand?
“TURN IT OFF,” he growled, weapon drawn, hands visibly shaking with frustration. His usual calm demeanor? Gone.
Hyugo didn’t even flinch. “I WOULD RATHER DIE!”Instead, he leapt. A full-on swan dive off a second-story catwalk, arms spread wide in dramatic, angelic fashion, while the music still blared through the speakers. His avatar ragdoling gracefully down to the depths below, and that ridiculous duck miniboss followed right after.
You? Hysterical. Barely holding it together.
Sol? “I hope it eats him.”
The only thing more ridiculous than Hyugo's antics was the fact that you all still couldn't stop.
The next round? It was a complete disaster.
You were trying to maintain some semblance of control, moving stealthily through a high-alert containment zone. Alarms blared in your ears, the shrill sound slicing through your focus. Enemies were everywhere, ready to pounce at the first sign of trouble. Sol was on point, carefully lining up a perfect shot on a sniper perched high in the rafters. It was the kind of moment that made you feel like you were finally in control.
And then, suddenly—LOUD BABY CRYING.
The mic exploded with static, the shrieks vibrating through your headset. You froze, your camera whipping around to see what the hell was going on. There, crouched behind Sol, was Hyugo.
And he wasn’t even doing anything. He was just vibing. No weapons, no tactics. Just existing, silently in the corner.
The worst part?
Every time you looked directly at him, he shot off like a rogue NPC with a death wish. His character zigzagged around the hallway, darting every which way, a trail of baby wails following him like an ominous echo through the halls. It felt like you were being haunted by the ghost of daycare past, each screeching cry more absurd than the last.
Sol's jaw was clenched so hard you could practically hear his teeth grinding together. He spun on you, his frustration practically palpable. “I’m this close to uninstalling.”
You shrugged, not even bothering to hide your grin. “Let him live. He’s the only one distracting the minibosses.”
Sol’s glare could’ve burned a hole through steel. “He’s distracting me.”
Of course, things didn’t get better.
You were one artifact away from completing the mission.
Going back for the legendary Hourglass.
A cursed, time-warping relic that everyone knew was crucial to the final steps. You had made it this far, fighting tooth and nail to stay alive, to push forward. The whole mission had come down to this one piece.
Sol exhaled slowly, trying to keep it together. “Alright. Where’s the Hourglass?”
Before you could even answer, Hyugo shot up from the corner where he’d been hiding, far too excited. “Ooh! I’ll get it!”
You and Sol both said it in unison. “NO.”
You pointed at him, voice firm. “I’ll get it.”
You sprinted off, cursing under your breath as you dashed through the corridor, praying to every god in existence that Hyugo wouldn't somehow decide to follow you and make the situation even worse. The last thing you needed was him trailing behind you like a damn toddler in a toy store, causing chaos at every corner.
When you finally returned, panting, gripping the eerie-looking relic in your hands, you were met with a sight that made your blood boil: Hyugo, standing atop a console, looking absolutely delightful in that damn ugly seasonal cosmetic hat.
He spun around like he was auditioning for a low-budget action movie, and before you could even blink, he started blasting the most obnoxious clapping sound effect. His character mimicked a ridiculously exaggerated movement, like he was giving backshots to Sol's and yours.
That was it. You were done.
No more laughter. No more tolerance for his nonsense. The mission was right there, within reach, and yet here he was, ruining everything with his antics.
You slammed your hand down on your mic key. “Hyugo, what the hell is wrong with you?” you growled, voice dripping with annoyance. “You can’t be serious. Every time we get anywhere, you turn this game into a circus. We’re not here to play dress-up and throw sound effects around. This isn’t a comedy show!”
You glared at him through the screen, fury bubbling up. “I’ve been trying to finish this mission for hours, and all you’ve done is run around like a damn gremlin, causing chaos and wasting everyone’s time! I swear to god, if you don’t knock it off—”
Hyugo, of course, just stood there, you knew for a fact that he’s grinning like an idiot behind his fuck ass character. The last shred of your patience snapped. You looked at Sol’s character on the screen, knowing he was feeling the exact same way. Sol’s normally calm demeanor was clearly strained, but he wasn’t saying a word.
“Hyugo,” you seethed, “I’m done. Just—get out. If you can’t take this seriously, then don’t waste our time. You’re a walking distraction and a complete menace. Maybe if you stopped playing clown, you’d actually be useful for once.”
Without waiting for any kind of response, you spun around in your seat, fingers slamming against the buttons in a blur of frustration. The shot rang out, and with a satisfying pop, Hyugo's avatar’s head crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
There was a long, tense silence. You were still fuming, but you didn’t care anymore. Hyugo was out of your hair. The relic was in your hands. The mission was finally going to be over.
Or so you thought.
Then, out of nowhere, his voice crackled through the mic, calm and far too chipper. "Alright, I’m logging off for the night," Hyugo announced, as if he hadn't just spent the last hour turning the game into a goddamn circus. "I’m gonna play something else. This is... yeah, this is too much for me."
You blinked, taken aback. He was serious? After everything? You were half-expecting him to jump back in and say, "Just kidding!" or somehow start another round of chaotic shenanigans. But no. This time, he wasn’t even bothering to tease Sol. No baby were crying sound effects, no loud meme noises blaring through the speakers, no swan dives off catwalks.
You let out a long sigh as the weight of the chaos slowly lifted from your shoulders, but just when you thought you could finally call it a night, Sol shot you a look that could only be described as a challenge.
“Don’t tell me you're actually done,” he said, a smirk creeping into his voice. “Come on, it’s late, but we’re so close. You’ve gotta finish the level with me. I dare you.”
You raised an eyebrow. You were exhausted, physically and mentally.
The idea of continuing felt like a cruel joke, but you knew one thing: Sol wasn’t backing down, and he had a way of wearing you down with that competitive streak of his. "Fine," you muttered, giving in. "But if I regret this in the morning, I’m blaming you."
Sol gave you a look through the camera—equal parts smug and tired triumph—as you queued up a new level, eyes bleary but still gleaming with challenge.
“You sure?” he asked, leaning back in his chair, stretching like a smug cat. “This one’s deep in the DLC vault. Real freakshow hours.”
You smirked, fingers already flying across the controller. “Bring it on, coward.”
What loaded next was an obscure, borderline-broken DLC map—one of those buggy, cursed messes made by a dev who clearly needed therapy and a hug. Everything about it was off: the lighting was dim and sickly, the corridors were way too narrow, and worst of all, voice proximity was cranked up to hell. It didn’t just pick up speech. It picked up breathing.
Neither of you noticed it right away—until Sol whispered a dumb joke and the monster twitched on the screen.
“Oh hell no,” he muttered, sitting up straighter. “This thing reacts to voice pitch?”
You hummed, too tired to even laugh properly. “Mmhm. Screeches at loud noises, tracks whispers like a bloodhound.”
“Great,” he deadpanned. “So basically, I die if I sneeze.”
You forged ahead anyway, navigating through the maze of twisted hallways and creaky floorboards. The monster’s guttural growls kept brushing up against your nerves, but your exhaustion forced you into a kind of laser-focused calm. Your voice dropped lower, slower, softer—soothing, unintentional, intimate.
“Go left,” you murmured. “No—wait... not yet... okay, now. Stay close to the wall.”
There was silence on Sol’s end. Long, uncomfortable silence.
“Why are you... whispering like that?” he asked, voice a little thinner now.
You didn’t even look up. “Monster hears pitch. Screams attract it. I’m trying to not to get us murdered.”
“Sure,” he said, and then quieter, “It’s just... wow. Okay.”
Another corridor, another wave of tension. You were crouched behind a rusted shelf, heart thumping, flashlight flickering like it had stage fright, as the game’s monster—this twitchy, multi-limbed freak that sprinted at sound—skulked somewhere nearby.
You leaned into your mic, voice steady, low, breath soft. “Hold your position… grab the crowbar… don’t move… until I say so.” Smooth. Silky. Calculated.
And then—“Sol?” Nothing.
“Sol?” Still nothing.
You peeked down the hallway just in time to see Sol’s in-game avatar standing completely still like some tragic mannequin left in a post-apocalyptic mall. Just… chilling. No movement, no reaction—man really just decided to embrace the void mid-mission. Then, out of the shadows, the monster shrieked like a dying lawnmower and launched itself at him.
“SOL—WHAT THE FUCK?!”
You screamed his name like he’d walked into oncoming traffic. His character didn’t even flinch. He just stood there, stoic as hell, right until the monster decapitated him with enough force to send his character’s head flying halfway across the screen like it owed him money.
“Oh my god—SOL, YOU DIED, YOUR HEAD—YOUR FUCKING HEAD WENT INTO THE SKY.”
Still no response.
Just the sound of the monster doing a victory screech and your own mic picking up your frantic panting as you became the hunted next. Now it was your turn to run. You booked it, chart in hand, tripping over half-looted shelves and whispering panicked commands to no one. You were not about to leave those high-priced relic items behind. No way. That shit was worth more than your character’s life, and you were committed.
You could feel the vibration through your controller ramping up—like it was trying to match your pulse. The sound of claws scraping concrete got closer. Louder.
Then—“Nnnh…” A noise. Quiet. Way too quiet. But there.
You froze mid-run. “Sol?” No answer.
“…Are you—are you for real jacking off right now?!”
A pause. Then, barely audible through your headset, a low mumble:
“Keep talking… please,”
“I AM IN A GAME, YOU SICK LITTLE FREAK! THERE IS A DEMON CENTIPEDE THING TWO FEET BEHIND ME—I AM FIGHTING FOR MY LIFE—AND YOU’RE TRYNA BUST?!”
The controller was still buzzing in your hands like it had a personal vendetta. Maybe it was the in-game monster. Maybe it was your own nerves. Or maybe—just maybe—it was Sol, breathing way too hard in your headset and dragging your sanity down with him.
And the worst part? It was funny. Because you'd forgotten—actually forgotten—you were even dating him. You were so used to Sol being somewhat mean, clingy, pouty, and generally up in your business that his little habits no longer register. Until now. Until this very cursed match. Because this?
This was a whole other level.
Just when you rounded the next corner—BAM. The monster dropped from the ceiling vents like it had a grudge, tackled your character, and splattered your health bar in one hit. Your screen flashed a dramatic, unforgiving red:
YOU DIED.
You blinked at the screen. Jaw slack. Controller limp in your hands.
“…Are you kidding me?” you said, voice cracking. “I just got jump-scared to death because you decided to moan in my ear like we’re in some low-budget audio drama.”
Nothing. Just silence. Then, his mic crackled.
There was rustling, a shift, the soft sound of movement, and then Sol exhaled. Shaky. Like he’d just run a marathon—or committed a sin.
“I-I’m sorry,” he muttered, breathless and too soft for comfort. “I couldn’t help it. Your voice… it was driving me crazy.”
Your face went hot. Neck, ears, everything. You curled your toes on instinct. That stupid familiar twist of heat hit your stomach before you could even think to shut him up.
“Sol,” you hissed, but it came out more like a whimper.
“I—can we switch to Discord?” he asked suddenly, almost desperate. “Please, please, Pumpkin. Just for a sec. I need you to see what you’re doing to me.” He begged, using said nickname.
Your heart stuttered.
You weren’t proud of it, but the way he begged—soft, needy, breath catching like he was barely holding it together—yeah.
You were a little turned on.
Fine. Maybe more than a little.
You stared at the screen, still frozen on your defeat, the red YOU DIED taunting you like it knew exactly why. The headset felt suddenly too hot on your ears, like it was echoing back his voice over and over again. Your fingers flexed around the controller like it owed you an explanation.
“Sol, we’re in the middle of a game,” you muttered, but the protest was flimsy, half-hearted at best. Because let’s be real, your fingers were already flying to open Discord with the kind of speed that betrayed just how curious you really were. How desperate, aww.
“Then quit it.” His voice was a rough whisper, thick like honey poured over gravel, dark and syrupy-sweet. “Quit the game. I don’t give a damn if it’s ranked, or cursed, or if the final boss was personally designed by the devil anymore. I just need—”
A low, broken groan tore from his throat, vibrating through the call and sending an electric shiver straight down your spine.
“—need you to look at me.”
And when the video call connected?
God. You looked. And you immediately regretted it.
The screen flickered to life, and there he was—Sol, wrecked and breathless, like he’d been fighting for control and lost. His black and neon-green hair was a disheveled mess, sweat-damp strands clinging to his forehead. His shirt was rucked up past his hips, revealing the sharp cut of his abdomen, the tantalizing dip of his V-line—like he’d gotten impatient, like he’d been touching himself just thinking about you—well, of course, all he thinks about is you after all.
Bruises littered his skin, dark and possessive, marking him up in a way that only made him look wilder, more feral. His red-orange eyes were blown wide, pupils swallowing the color, glassy with desperation. His hands trembled where they braced against his desk, mic discarded like even that was too much to hold onto.
“You did this,” he accused, voice raw, wrecked. A confession. A prayer.
Your throat went dry. Heat flooded your veins, crawling up your neck, your cheeks, your ears—everywhere. You bit the inside of your cheek hard enough to sting, just to keep yourself from whimpering.
“You’re insane,” you breathed.
Sol nodded, feverish, eager. “For you? Every damn second.”
You tried to laugh, but it came out shaky, breathless. “We were just gaming—”
“No.” His voice dropped, sharp and dangerous. “You were gaming. I was trying not to lose my goddamn mind listening to you—your threats, your fucking voice, whispering curses like you were trying to ruin me.”
“I was not!” you protested, weak, already squirming.
“‘I’m gonna shove this bat so far up your undead ass, you’ll respawn with it sticking out your mouth,’” he quoted, verbatim, voice dripping with accusation. His gaze burned into you, unwavering. “Tell me that wasn’t filthy. Tell me you didn’t know what you were doing.”
You swallowed hard. “Okay,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Maybe that one was a little hot.”
His grin was wicked, triumphant, as he leaned closer to the screen, like he could taste your surrender. “So,” he murmured, voice dipping into something dark, hungry, “still think we’re finishing that match?”
Your cursor hovered over “Rejoin Game.”
Then, with a slow, deliberate click, you closed the tab.
“…I hope that monster knows it died for a very good cause.”
Your breath hitched as Sol leaned back, his fingers hooking under the hem of his shirt with a slow, deliberate smirk. "You wanna see more?" he taunted, voice dripping with sinful amusement. "Then say it."
Your lips parted, heat coiling low in your stomach as you narrowed your eyes. "Take it off. Now."
A sharp, breathy laugh escaped him as he obeyed, dragging the fabric up and over his head in one smooth motion. His chest was perfectly—toned, flushed, his pierced nipples glinting under the dim light of his room.
You hadn’t noticed before, but each one was adorned with a small silver med-sized bars, the metal catching the light as his breathing quickened. "Fuck," you muttered, biting your lip. “Aww, you’ve been hiding these from me?"
Sol’s grin was all teeth. "Not hiding. Just waiting for you to ask."
Your gaze raked over him, lingering on the way his stomach tensed as he shifted, his fingers toying with the waistband of his pants. "And what else are you hiding, huh?" you challenged, voice dropping into something darker.
"You gonna show me everything, or do I have to make you?"
A shudder ran through him at the command, his pupils blown wide. "Fuck—" His fingers trembled as he undid the button, the zipper sliding down with a hiss that sent a jolt straight to your core.
And then—"Holy shit."
Your eyes locked onto the glint of metal there, nestled along the length of his cock, a delicate Frenum piercing tracing from the tip down to the flushed, aching pink of him. He was big, thick, and heavy in his hand as he gave himself a slow stroke, the silver bead catching the light obscenely.
"You—" Your voice cracked. "You’ve had this the whole time?"
Sol’s breath came in ragged bursts, his free hand gripping the edge of his desk. "Yeah," he admitted, voice wrecked. "Thought you’d—ah—like it."
You did. God, you did.
“Play with yourself,” you ordered, rather quickly—voice dripping with dark command, leaving no room for hesitation. “Let me see how pathetic you look when you’re desperate for me.”
A sharp, wounded whine tore from Sol’s throat, but his hand obeyed instantly, sliding down his stomach to wrap around his cock—already hard, already dripping, the metal of his Frenum piercing glinting under the dim light. His fingers moved in slow, torturous drags, his breath hitching as he squeezed just the way he knew you liked to watch.
“Fuck—fuck—” His hips jerked, chasing his own touch, his thighs trembling. “Tell me—” he gasped, voice wrecked, “tell me how I look.”
You leaned closer to the screen, lips curling into a cruel smirk as you drank in the sight of him—his black and green hair sticking to his sweat-slicked forehead, his pierced nipples pebbled tight under your gaze, his abs flexing with every ragged breath.
“Like a whore,” you purred, low and filthy. “All these piercings, all these pretty little decorations—just for me to look at, huh? You like showing off? Like knowing I’m staring at your cock and thinking about how mine it is?”
Sol moaned, high and broken, his free hand flying up to pinch and twist at his nipple, the metal barbell catching the light. His back arched off the bed, his whole body shuddering. “Yours,” he gasped, voice cracking. “Always—fuck—always yours.”
You watched, transfixed, as his fingers moved faster, his strokes turning messy, needy. His other hand kept playing with his nipple, tugging at the piercing just to hear himself whimper, just to feel something sharper.
And God, you were losing it too.
Your thighs pressed together, trying to relieve the ache building between them, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough. Not when you could see the way his cock twitched in his grip, the way his stomach muscles clenched as he got closer. Not when you could hear every broken gasp, every bitten-off moan.
Your mind raced with want—with the desperate, clawing need to have him here, in your room, on your bed, begging for you to climb into his lap and ride him until neither of you could think.
You imagined his rough, massive hands dragging down your body, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he whined into your ear. You could almost feel the heat of his skin under your palms, the way his muscles would tense as you traced every scar, every bruise, every inch of him.
And his piercings—fuck.
You wanted to lick them, to bite down just hard enough to make him gasp, to suck his nipples until they were red and swollen. You wanted to taste every part of him, to sink onto his cock and feel that Frenum piercing drag inside you, hitting every perfect spot until you were both sobbing.
But most of all?
You wanted to see those eyes—those obsessive, red-orange eyes—locked onto yours as he came undone beneath you, whispering your name like a prayer.
"Be careful with yourself, pretty boy," you murmured into the mic, voice dripping with false sweetness—but the tremor in your breath gave you away. Your fingers slid between your thighs, slow, teasing, just enough to make your hips twitch. "Wouldn’t want you to break before I’m done with you."
"Sol," you breathed, voice dripping with sin as your fingers traced slow, teasing circles over your own skin—just watching the way his eyes darkened, the way his breath hitched when you bit your lip. "You have no idea how badly I want to touch you right now."
His throat bobbed, his grip tightening around his cock like he was barely holding on. "Fuck—tell me," he begged, voice already wrecked.
You tilted your head, letting him see the hunger in your eyes—the way you ached for him. "I’d start with your face," you murmured, dragging your fingertips down your neck, mimicking the path you’d take on him. "Kissing you so deep you forget how to breathe. Then your neck—"
Your teeth grazed your lower lip, just imagining the way he’d shudder. "Biting you just how you like it. Gentle? Or hard enough to make you whimper?"
Sol’s hips jerked, a broken sound escaping. "Hard—fuck, please—"
You smirked, dragging your nails down your chest, watching his gaze follow every movement. "Then I’d take my time with these," you purred, rubbing your own nipple just to watch him lose it. "Your piercings—god, I’ve thought about them so much. The way they’d feel against my lips, cold metal and hot skin. I’d tease you until you were begging me to move lower."
His breath came in ragged pants, his hand moving faster, desperate. "Lower—where—?"
You let out a slow, sinful laugh. "Guess."
Your fingers trailed down your stomach, lower, lower, until his eyes burned with recognition. "Oh, Sol," you sighed, voice thick with want. "You liar, such a bad boy. All this time, you never told me about this."
You licked your lips, imagining the weight of him, the way that frenum piercing would feel pressing against your tongue. "I’d take my time tasting you, savoring every inch—until you were shaking, until you couldn’t stand it."
Sol’s back arched, his free hand gripping the edge of his desk like he was about to snap. "You—you knew—?"
‘No," you admitted, your own fingers slipping between your thighs, moaning softly at the contact. "But I dreamed about it. About how it’d feel when you fucked my throat, when that little metal bar hit the back of my tongue. You’d try so hard to be good, wouldn’t you? But I’d make you lose control. Make you push deeper, until I was choking on you—until you came so hard you screamed."
He let out a strangled groan, his thighs trembling. "Or—fuck—or you could ride me," he gasped, his voice raw with need. "Take what you want, use me—‘
You cut him off, “Fuck—fuck—fuck—“
Your breath hitched as you rocked against your own fingers, Sol’s blown-out, filthy gaze locked onto you through the screen. He was watching—watching every twitch of your thighs, every shuddering gasp, every slick, desperate stroke of your fingers. And God, the way his lips parted, his chest heaving, his cock twitching against his stomach—like he was made for this. For you.
"That’s it, pumpkin," Sol groaned, voice wrecked, his fingers digging into his own thighs as he fought not to touch himself yet. "Look at you—fuck—look at you, taking yourself apart just ‘cause I’m watching."
You whimpered, arching off your gamer chair, your free hand fisting the blanket. "S-Sol—"
"Tell me," he demanded, his voice rough, needy. "Tell me what you’ve been thinking about. What you dream about when you’re pretending to focus on your goddamn finals."
Your hips stuttered. Fuck.
"Y-You—" you gasped, your mind spinning with him—Sol, yours, always yours, forever yours—jumping on him, riding him, your mouth around your cock as you ordered him to take it and be still until he was sobbing your name. Or maybe him pounding into you—vice versa if you have to be honest, his thick cock splitting you open, filling you up so good, so perfect, slow and deep one second, then brutal the next, fucking you senseless until neither of you could think—
"Fuck, Sol—!" You bit your lip hard, your thighs trembling. "I—I want you—inside—want you to fucking ruin me—"
A sharp, punched-out moan tore from Sol’s throat, his hand finally—finally—wrapping around his cock, stroking hard, fast, like he couldn’t hold back anymore. "Yeah? Where?" he growled, his hips jerking up into his fist.
"Tell me exactly where you want me, pumpkin—"
"E-Everywhere—" you whined, your fingers working faster, your body burning. "My mouth—my hole—fuck, just—fill me up, Sol, please—"
"Fuck—" His head tipped back, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
“J-just you—fuck, you cumming so deep inside me—gonna make me drip with it—" You moaned, loud and shameless, your climax crashing into you like a fucking tsunami—and just as you came, shaking, screwing your eyes shut, you heard Sol break.
Sol’s breath hitched, his rhythm faltering. "I’m—I’m close—"
You locked eyes with him, your own pleasure coiling tight, unbearable. "Then come," you demanded, your voice a dark, delicious command.
"Come for me, Sol. Let me hear how much you need this."
And when he did—when his whole body shook, when his voice broke into a desperate, pleading cry—"Ngh—pumpkin.”
His back arched off his chair, his cum flying—literally hitting his camera with a wet splat, his cock pulsing in his hand as he kept stroking, milking himself through it, his moans filthy, pathetic, perfect.
"Shit—look what you did—" he panted, his voice wrecked, his cum streaked across the screen like some kind of obscene trophy. "Fuckin’—everywhere—"
You laughed, breathless, your body still buzzing. "Mmm… should’ve been inside me instead."
Sol’s eyes darkened, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. "Next time," he promised, his voice low, dangerous, "I’ll make sure none of it goes to waste."
Then, with a smirk that sent a fresh jolt of heat straight to your core, he leaned closer to the camera—and licked a stripe right through his own mess.
"Fuck," you breathed.
Sol just grinned, his lips glistening. "Better than video games?"
You groaned, throwing an arm over your face. "Shut up."
He laughed—warm, bright, yours—and you couldn’t help but smile.
The screen between you flickered with the remnants of what just happened—Sol’s chest still heaving, his lips parted, his skin flushed down to his collarbones. You both just breathed for a second, the air thick with satisfaction, the kind of exhaustion that curled warm in your stomach.
“Fuck,” Sol muttered, voice rough, dragging a hand down his face. “We’re gonna have to clean this shit up.”
You snorted, stretching lazily, your muscles loose and tingling. “Your camera’s never gonna recover.”
He glanced at the mess streaked across his lens and groaned, but there was a smirk tugging at his mouth. “Worth it.”
You both took a second to recover—him wiping his screen with the hem of his shirt, you grabbing tissues to clean yourself up—moving in comfortable silence, the kind that only came when words weren’t necessary. When the heat between you spoke louder than anything else.
Then, softer: “Exams fucking suck,” you sighed, flopping back onto your chair, legs still trembling slightly.
Sol huffed a laugh, rough and warm. “Tell me about it. I think my brain’s just soup at this point.”
“Same.” You grinned at the ceiling, still feeling the ghost of his gaze on you. “But at least we’ve got this.”
“This?”
“Yeah. This.” You gestured vaguely between you, as he shifted in his seat, giving you another glimpse of his toned stomach, the way his sweatpants rode low on his hips. “The games. The dumbass voice chats. The… other stuff.”
There was a pause.
Then, so quiet you almost missed it—
“This is the only part of the day I actually look forward to.” Sol admitted.
Your breath caught. “…Yeah,” you murmured after a beat, voice softening. “Same.”
The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was loaded—warm and electric, like the air right before a thunderstorm. Then Sol broke it, his voice dipping into something teasing but dangerously sincere.
“Your voice is dangerous, you know.”
You laughed. “Why? ‘Cause it almost got you killed in-game?”
“No.” His tone shifted, low and deliberate.
“Because I think I’m kind of into it.”
“Oh my god—” You grabbed the nearest pillow and hurled it across your room, your face burning.
Sol laughed, the sound bright and unguarded, and you could picture him—sprawled back in his chair, smug as hell, that lazy grin playing on his lips.
You both laughed it off—mostly—but when the moment settled, neither of you moved to leave the call. The screen stayed open, Sol’s heavy-lidded gaze still fixed on you, lingering like he was memorizing every detail.
Fuck. The night couldn’t end like this.
You glanced at your clock. “…I don’t have another final until Friday.”
Sol’s eyebrow arched. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” You bit your lip, then slowly—deliberately—spread your legs, letting him see the mess you’d made, still glistening between your thighs. “So… you could come over. Bring snacks.”
His breath hitched. His fingers twitched against his desk, like he was fighting the urge to reach through the screen.
“Fuck,” he muttered, his voice rough.
You smirked, then—just as his eyes darkened with hunger—you poked at the screen, sticking your tongue out before abruptly ending the call.
Leaving him with nothing but the image of you.
And another hard bulge in his sweatpants.
“Fuck,” Sol groaned to the empty room, already scrambling for his keys. He grabbed his jacket, his pulse racing.
Yeah. This was so much fucking better than video games.
The call between you and Sol was already too much—voices tangled in panting breaths, the slick, filthy sound of skin on skin, the way Sol whined your name like a prayer. It was overwhelming. Distracting. So much so that you didn’t even notice the other set of ragged breathing.
A third participant in the call.
Hidden in the shadows of the voice channel—camera off, letting go rugged breaths —Hyugo sat frozen at his desk, bathed in the dim blue glow of his monitor. All he’d meant to do was pop in, apologize for trolling you both earlier, maybe convince you to queue up another round. But then he’d heard your voice. Sol’s voice. And then—
Oh.
Oh, fuck.
His fingers, which had been idly scratching at his thigh, froze. His breath hitched, sharp and sudden—like he’d just taken a hit straight to the chest.
This wasn’t just a call.
This was filth. A live, unfiltered, obscene performance—and he was the unseen, uninvited spectator.
And that alone made him hard, fast.
It wasn’t long before Hyugo’s baby-blue hair, usually tied back in a neat half-pony, now hung loose—sweat-damp strands clinging to his flushed cheeks. His lips—god, his lips—were bitten raw, his teeth sinking into the fabric of his own shirt to stifle the pathetic little noises threatening to spill out.
He hadn’t meant to stay.
He definitely hadn’t meant to touch himself.
But the way you talked to Sol—low, commanding, dripping with filthy promises—it wrecked him. The way Sol begged for you, voice cracking on your name, the way he whimpered when you teased him—
Hyugo’s hand was already slipping past the waistband of his sweats before he could stop himself.
“Fuck,” he breathed, silent, trembling.
He wasn’t supposed to be here. Wasn’t supposed to be listening.
But god, the way you talked about ruining Sol—
His cock twitched in his palm, already leaking, already aching as he quickly fisted himself, trying to be quiet. He could’ve put himself on mute, but—
The risk of getting caught turned him on more.
So he tested himself, gagged by his own shirt, watching his cock pulse in his grip, his thighs tensing as he fought to keep his hips from jerking forward.
He should leave. He should close the call.
But instead, his fingers tightened, stroking slow, so fucking slow, just to drag it out, just to hear more.
By the time Sol left the call, Hyugo was ruined.
His thighs shook. His free hand clutched at his own shirt, dragging it up to his mouth to bite down as his hips jerked forward—
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck—
He barely had the presence of mind to grab a few napkin from his desk, cupping it over the tip just as his orgasm ripped through him—a silent, shuddering cry muffled into fabric as he spilled into his palm, his cock throbbing with every pulse.
“F-fuck—!”
He slumped back in his chair, chest heaving, skin burning, his cock still twitching as he dabbed himself clean, careful not to let a single drop ruin his precious gaming setup.
Disgusting. Pathetic. And so fucking good.
He still couldn’t believe you two—blissfully unaware, oblivious to the fact that he’d just come to the sound of you and Sol falling apart.
Hyugo’s lips curled into a shaky, guilty smirk.
"Maybe I should still be annoying in y’all’s games more often," he thought, breathless, wicked.
This wasn’t better than video games, but—Fuck.
He didn’t mind shit like this now. He’d take it every damn time.
…y’all… should I write a threesome? jkjk…
Also... not gonna lie, writing this made me like Sol. Just a tiny bit.
here they are! + reasons why each is my fave too <3
starry-eyed singer [siren!satoru gojo x scientist!reader x scientist!suguru geto] by @besidesjustmyamour
⤷ i am just always a lover of anything siren or mermaid themed but THIS. ONE. oh my stars. The tension with Suguru goes haaaard and ANAHSJUAHNN i can’t spoil it but. UGH. He who is him look but don’t touch. And Satoru?? MMMM don’t even get me started. Hurts my heart a little. I can’t gush anymore or I’ll spoil the whole thing before anyone can read it. So underrated btw
party 4 u [fratboy!satoru gojo x reader] by @junuru
It’s so great gatsby coded. I was smiling and giggling so much, I love this type of reader. “I can’t believe you’re real.” WHENEVER I SEE THIS PHRASE ANYWHERE I TEAR UP IMMEDIATELY. It’s so cute. I love when the man is yearning his heart into pieces
hair care routine [suguru geto x reader] by @justtimings
⤷ I love the scent choice for his hair products sm, this one is just soooo cute <3 ik that hair softer than liquid silk 😩
noise complaint [roommate!suguru geto x reader x roommate!satoru gojo] by @caffine-exe
⤷ they make me so mad. i read so reader doesn’t have to be alone with them, eagerly awaiting for her to gut their asses. and fuck them. whichever comes first, or both at the same time. Love this one sm and so so excited for the updates <3
just barely [kento nanami x reader] by @dearsnow
⤷ My man crying. Enough to bring me to tears every reread oh my god i want to hold him
parallel parking [dilf!toji fushiguro x reader] by @nanamisbbygirl
⤷ uber to my dickSHE IS NOT MY MAIN CHICK BUT SHE STILL GON GET HIT!!! this because this the type of reward I deserve whenever I attempt to parallel park. (I can’t) this one’s the fav bc it’s the first dilf!toji i read instead of scrolling past, and now ill never skip out on him again 🙏🏽
first love/late spring [suguru geto x reader] by @throatgoatgeto
⤷ so you see, I really just can’t resist a mitski reference. The banter with suguruu yumm (but I lowkey want Shoko.) author is SOO funny with it you will be wheezing
piercer!sukuna x reader by @bistrocatxx
⤷ I don’t really like sukuna. Is what I said before reading this next thing I know I’m foaming at the mouth for this god forsaken man, venus u converted me </3 pussywhipped sukuna supremacy!!!
still my girl [exhusband!satoru reader x reader] by @edensrose
⤷ crying some more. He’s just so and he. Like let’s kiss and make up?? Immediately. The portrayal of Satoru is just so correct im smiling and crying </3
homeward bound [kento nanami x reader] by @cupidstrace
⤷ just do not speak to me after i read this. My eyes are sweating. Profusely. The letter at the end oh my god OWWW. 10/10 about to reread and cry again
he keeps you between his ribs [suguru geto x reader] by @sugurusladyknightt
⤷ tears. I’m crying. Ho is you a poet (you are. And I love you for it) scalpel in hand I’ll get to his heart one way or another
plotting [satoru gojo x reader] by @straows
⤷ this is peak Gojo behavior he did this. he’s literally so stupid. him and his twitter someone stop him. (Don’t. Let him obtain more knowledge)
cowboy like me [outlaw!yuki x reader] by @meanderingwistera
⤷ I don’t see many Yuki x readers but still this one is one of my favorites of them all <3 like yes take me away bae let’s run away together scissor city bound!!! can’t wait for the next part 🩶
i hope I didn’t bug anyone by @ing I’m sorry ໒꒰ྀིっ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১ you’re all so very wonderful <3 xoxo
Rafayel being forced to kill the person he loved the most because MC commanded him is peak angst. I can say with ease that I fucking CALLED IT and I love that they went with that
The way he holds her in his arms with such desperation and tenderness knowing it will the last time, allowing himself to shed tears just before she literally slips away from his arms.
"I'll become one with the sea and stay with you forever." Oh they're sick for this and I love it.
MC is the only one who could make a God pray and fall apart.
btw I looooove that he cries pearls I think it's my new favorite thing.
You don’t think Suguru meant to say those three little words.
Not the first time, at least.
They just happened to slips out during an exhale. Accidental and far too intimate for the quiet morning between the two of you.
You’re talking. Laughing softly. Sprawled out on the couch of your place together, freshly moved in, legs draped over his lap, fingers lazily brushing through his silky, dark hair while you ramble about something. Work. A new café you tried. Some friend whose name he’s already forgotten.
But he’s not listening to any of that.
He’s watching you.
With that violet gaze of his, half-lidded, soft around the edges, like he’s getting drunk off the shape of your smile. His thumb draws slow, absent-minded circles into the plush of your thigh, and his pretty sleepy smile is curved just slightly. Not quite a smirk. Not quite a smile. Something lazy. Warm. Like he’s savoring the moment without needing to say a word.
And when you laugh, bright and easy, the sound bubbling up from your chest like it was made just for him, he says it.
“I love you.”
Just like that.
Soft. Thoughtless. Barely louder than a breath.
You freeze, just a little. Smile faltering as your eyes flick to his.
Suguru blinks, like he doesn’t realize what just left his mouth. As if the sound of his own voice surprised him. His lashes flutter again, and his thumb stills against your skin.
He laughs. Not his usual low chuckle. No. This one is quieter. Boyish. Almost bashful. The sound curls at the edges, like he’s trying to hide it behind a smirk that doesn’t quite land.
“Oh,” he murmurs, a hand coming up to scratch his jaw. Clearly flustered “Shit. I didn’t mean to - no, I did, I just…”
His voice trails off, fingers twitching like he wants to fidget but doesn’t know what to do with his hands. His cheeks are pink. The tips of his ears, definitely pink. He shifts beneath you like his body’s too big for the moment he’s in. Like he’s never felt this naked.
And that’s when he leans in.
His hand comes up to cradle your face, rough palm warm as his thumb brushes the apple of your cheek. His gaze dips lower to your lips and then flicks up to meet your eyes - eyes dark, molten, impossibly full of something too tender to name.
“I love you,” he says again.
This time, it’s somehow different. As if it's truly coming from the heart. Coming from a rare, vulnerable place within himself.
You blink. Lips parting, breath caught somewhere in your throat as warmth floods your cheeks, your chest, your whole body.
You smile, soft and stunned, and whisper, “I love you too, Suguru.”
And that’s what gets him.
His breath catches. His eyes widen, just barely, but you see it. The way they shimmer for a second too long. The way his pretty mouth twitches like he doesn’t know whether to grin or groan. His head drops to your shoulder with the faintest thump, hair tickling your collarbone as he wraps his arms around your waist and clings.
“You’re going to break my heart,” he mumbles into your skin. “Say it again.”
You laugh, already feeling his smile against your neck. “What, I love you?”
“Mmhm.” His voice is muffled, but you can hear the smile. Feel the curve of his lips against your skin, before he pecks a gentle kiss against your collarbone. “Just like that.”
So you do. A little louder. A little surer. You run your fingers through the strands of his silky, dark hair, tug gently at the occasional knot of his bedhead, until it all falls loose, spilling black silk across his back and over his shoulder as he melts into you.
He looks up, cheeks flushed, violet eyes so full of warmth it makes your chest ache.
And then, God help you, he giggles. A soft, airy, helpless little sound. The kind you could chase forever. A rare sound to hear.
“You’re not allowed to make fun of that,” he says, already grinning as he buries his face in your neck again. “I’ll never repeat it if you laugh.”
“You will,” you hum, brushing his bangs out of his face. “You’re a sucker for me.”
His groan is dramatic. He pulls you tighter into his arms like he could fuse you to him. “You’re so full of yourself.”
“You love it.”
“I do,” he sighs. “So much it’s disgusting.”
----
Mini Suguru headcanon that was too long for the tags, lol, so I’m putting it here instead.
When I started thinking about this blurbo, I kept coming back to this one idea: Suguru really sucks at being vulnerable.
Both him and Satoru are pretty bad at it, honestly. But with Suguru, it feels different. His vulnerability doesn’t show through words easily, it comes out through actions. Through the way he watches you when he thinks you’re not paying attention. Through soft touches, protective gestures, and just quiet moments shared between the two of you. That’s how he says I love you without actually saying it.
And that’s what I tried to express here-ish, lol.
I think out of all the characters, Suguru is the one who takes the longest to say it out loud. Like, I'm talking years. (Which would be a bit insufferable, thinking it's commitment issues but it's more so issues with vulnerability) Not because he doesn’t feel it, but because it’s terrifying to feel it. And opening his mouth to say it out loud? That’s like handing someone the knife and baring his chest all at once.
So when he finally says the words aloud. It means everything, and he's trusting you not to break his heart because now it belongs to you.
(idk if this makes sense, it's wayyyy past my bedtime)
suguru indulges himself — not nearly as often as he maybe should. far less than he does you, but nonetheless, he does. on occasion.
allowing himself to act on impulse every so often. on whims and buried desires. letting himself be easily swayed by the current of his heart.
i love you.
he tries not to make it too obvious, too imposing. suguru knows better than most that confessions feel that way more often than not.
he tries to be subtle about it. as subtle as he can. i love you but it's hidden in the odd pauses between his words, between fleeting glances and quiet sighs, and jokes that mean too much to him.
he's pressing you to a wall now. effectively shielding you from view and trapping you in against it. your face delicately held in his hands; be subtle suguru. don't impose.
his touch is light, you could push him off if you wanted to. for a moment, he waits for it. watching you watch him.
you could feel your heart beating in your throat, doing your best to swallow it down. be subtle. your eyes flit to his lips and back to his eyes again. it was quick, impulsive. it may have gone unnoticed if not for the proximity.
before you get so much as a single word out — before you get to see the little hearts in the soft gleaming gold of his violet eyes. before you get a good look at him, the soft of his lips press to your own. pillowy and so inviting.
the questions on the edge of your tongue fleeing, each disappearing in a different direction to a far away place you can't find yourself concerned with right now.
birds fleeing at a sudden disturbance, but you cannot. perfectly pleased being in his embrace, against the hard brick and binding of the building behind your back.
his mouth moves languid against yours, slow. almost torturously so.
taking up your space as he tilts your head back a little further in an attempt to reach more of you.
he's all you smell. all you taste, all that you feel. eyes shut tight, grasping at his arms through the sleeves of his shirt.
greedily, he swallows your breath, stealing the air from your lungs and leaving behind the taste of him on your tongue. fresh like citrus and chilled floral tea, fresh like a cool breeze and the rays of sun filtering in on slow quiet summer mornings.
it's dizzying. accredit to the the lack of air, and perhaps to him too. suguru could have that effect.
your knees buckle, body slumping against the cool wall. there's a blissful buzz in your head, your heart tender; melting to dollops of warm soft caramel.
the weight of your body is suddenly too much to carry, your knees feel hallow. finally giving in as your pliant body slides down the wall.
suguru follows, lowering his body with yours, refusing to break the kiss just yet. your butt meets the ground and his knees too. hunched over, leaning into you, with both of his knees on the hard ground; sugurus drinking you in.
desperately, as if stoping would hurt him.
he thinks it really might.
the material of his shirt is held right in you fist in an attempt to ground yourself. it feels as though you're melting right into him.
pulling away, you have to be the one to break the kiss first — although, calling it a 'kiss' doesn't suffice. you gulp down fresh air in big breathes filling your empty lungs and working overtime to quell your hearts erratic beating.
he watches you, with fondness blending into the pretty mauve of his eyes. lips glossed now and parted to do the same. deep breathes.
you look a mess, the most beautiful he's ever seen; lips slightly swollen and a deep glowing rouge painting your nose, the apples of your cheeks, the tips of your ears.
suguru waits only a moment, his own face tinted in the same deep blush, and he leans in again. pressing quick light kisses to your soft reddened lips. one after the other after the other after the other, ambushing you in a sweet, loving assault of too many too quick little pecks.
you're eyes go wide and a glint all to bright shines in his, continuing the attack until a laugh bubbles up your throat at his antics; silly and playful. your laugh saccharine.
tucked away together in a quiet corner, sheltered from the bustling street by the wall.
suguru pulls away slow, reluctant. just enough to see you properly again. he looks so proud of himself.
big, warm hands that cradle your jaw still, thumbs on either side tracing over the delicate skin there in little abstract absentminded shapes.
he's resting his forehead against yours now wondering if you could feel the quickness of his heartbeat. if you could see past the boyish grin and all his subtlety to the part when he bares his whole chest to you.
— WATER IN MY LUNGS, YOUR CROONS HAVE STARS FOR EYES .
synopsis . the water kisses your feet, like it does, every single time. and yet, yet, you feel like something’s feeding from the deepest, locked away parts of your mind— something that you can’t afford to show someone else.
something that you can’t dream of showing someone else.
but the claws with moonstruck eyes already know.
contents . suguru geto x gn!reader. siren!suguru. fantasy. angst angst ANGST. fluff. slow burn. reader contemplates a LOT. grotesque imagery (as always. . . sorry). sugu is a lil bit fucked up but aren’t we all LMAO. same goes for reader. a lot of existential crisis.
★ jiah’s notes . hi so uh did you know that this was supposed to be a onesho—
— ut incepit fidelis sic permanet .
000 — i drown, but someone holds my hand .
word count. 0.78k
. . . more to come.
★ taglist .
@poopooindamouf @satorus-princess @applespencils (comment to be added !)
@stxrysnow on tumblr. do not copy or post any of my works.
