legitimate question — is it bad to write smutty/romantic darkfics about leland coyle? Like I know he's a murderer, and I write about slashers all the time, but somehow him being a white supremacist makes me question myself, even if I'm not incorporating that aspect of him in any way. I genuinely wanna know peoples thoughts
Summary: You have a fever, and because you’re his very special patient, Dr. Gideon tries to help. In his own way…
Word count: 4.7k
Warnings: Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, noncon, medical experimentation, vomiting, blood & injury, implied SH, drug use, needles, knifeplay, size difference, oral sex, vaginal fingering, penetration, choking, biting, dry jumping, orgasm denial
Link to AO3
A/n: this is pretty gross and bad but the smelly reptile man brainrot is too powerful and I needed to something about it. Enjoy!
***
You know it’s him before he even enters the room.
The lock to your cell gives its familiar double-click, the sound cutting through the quiet of the room. Your stomach roils on instinct before the nausea can catch up, but luckily, you’re already awake. Have been, for hours, trapped in a feverish half-sleep suspended on the ebb and flow of your symptoms. Every swallow tastes like blood, and your thin nightgown clings to your skin in damp patches. Your body can’t seem to decide if it’s ice-cold or scalding, so you burrow yourself deeper into your bedsheets. You prefer it this way, if only to avoid looking at him.
Fluorescent light spills in from the hall. You sense it crest along your silhouette and pull the sheets up even higher, suppressing a shiver that cannot be blamed solely on your illness. Measured footsteps approach the bed, and his scent, antiseptic and metallic, surrounds you.
Dr. Victor Gideon makes a low, gravelly sound before he speaks.
“You’re awake,” he says simply.
A hand settles over the crown of your head, the unnaturally cold appendage shocking your eyes wide open. Thankfully, he can’t see that. It takes everything in you to steady your frantic breathing, fingers blanching where they curl into your sheets.
You wonder if it’s worth feigning sleep. The doctor is not an idiot, and certainly no stranger to your failed attempts at deceiving him by now, but you think he deserves the pettiness anyway.
There’s only silence for several more beats until he says your name, loud enough to produce a resounding echo in the small space. The dread it fills you with forces your lips apart, but no sound comes out. You try again, and your voice scrapes up raw.
“I couldn’t sleep,” you say, cringing at the pain in your throat.
Gideon says nothing. His hand brushes aside the hair concealing your face until it reaches the slope of your forehead, feeling the sweat that has accumulated there. You bitterly note the pleasent bite of cold from where his skin and rings press against you, a reprieve from your body’s own stifling temperature.
He hums low, as though considering something, then leans close enough for you to feel the mattress dip.
“Sit up,” he says, disconcertingly soft.
His proximity makes your head swim and stomach lurch.
“I can’t.”
“I won’t ask again,” Gideon warns.
With a huff, you force your elbows beneath you. Thankfully, the doctor backs up enough to give you space, but as you rise, your vision blooms with bleary spots and your feverish joints protest sharply.
“That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”
At last, you turn to look at him. Gideon is dressed in his usual coat, snakeskin leather shining dangerously in the low light of the room. He must’ve been out, you think, noticing the way his wiry hair is slicked back. A wet sheen covers the expanse of his inhumanly pale chest, as though he’d been in the rain.
He’s even wearing that wretched visor. It is perhaps the thing you loathe most of all about this man. The cold, all-seeing glint of it a constant reminder that he would never offer you something as simple or as equalizing as eye contact. It’s a power imbalance you have known since he took you captive all those months ago.
The cameras activate, whirring softly as they extend outward to analyze you. You cannot fathom what he sees besides the shell of a girl he’s reduced you to in the name of scientific research. A cannibal’s hubris.
You turn away from the uncomfortable scrutiny of it, but Gideon catches your chin between his large fingers and turns you back. You utter a noise of protest, only to be startled into silence by the sudden proximity of his face.
“You have a fever,” he notes, standing straighter.
No shit, you think hatefully. You’ve been sick. For days. It was really only a matter of time before all his drugs caught up to your body. Some darker part of you almost rejoices at the simple fact that this illness could be lethal, maybe your only way out of this hellhole.
“An inflammatory response to the last treatment,” he says again. “Taking longer to resolve than expected, it seems.”
He’s speaking out loud more for himself than you; you never understand what he’s talking about anyway, divulging only the barest details of his findings on occasion. You’re not even entirely sure there is a purpose to these experiments.
You know there is something that Gideon wants from you, though. The reason for these daily visits and the continued abuse and exploitation of your body. After all, you can’t imagine this monster has any room for affection in his heart. It’s a truth grossly apparent in a moment like this, where his behavior feels more perverse and unpredictable than ever, as though he is acting on some private fantasy.
Gideon reaches into his coat pocket and procures a small bag. Inside are three pills, all smooth edges and ill intent. Your stomach churns at the sight alone.
“No,” your voice cracks. “I can’t keep anything down.”
“I don’t think that’s fair,” says Gideon coolly. He shakes the pills from the bag and places them in your palm. “You don’t want to keep anything down.”
Frustrated tears burn at the corners of your eyes. “Please, the medicine makes it worse,” you insist. “It always does.”
The doctor says nothing to that, only staring down at you with the same unreadable expression. Then, his hand drifts towards a metal cart by your cot and flexes over a large syringe. The blood in your veins turns to ice.
The message is simple enough, and you know all too well that he will not hesitate to follow through on it.
“Good patients do as they’re told,” Gideon murmurs. “Surely you know that by now.”
You’re choking on air as hot, angry tears stream from your eyes.
You don’t want to yield to the threat, but the fear of falling victim to the mad doctor’s wrath paralyzes you. After a beat of hesitation, you nod slowly.
Satisfied, Gideon reaches for a cup of water and places it beside you. His disfigured smile, lips curling excitedly over jagged gold teeth, tells you he must get a kick out of this little game of defiance.
Despite the harrowing threat of Gideon’s temper, you keep your jaw shut. Your gaze falls to the pills in your shaky hand until your unshed tears blur their colors together, Gideon watches calmly, but the slight down pull of his mouth tells you his patience is thinning.
Silence stretches until the pressure feels as though it might split your skull. You tip your head back and place the pills on your tongue. Sharp bitterness invades your senses at once, and the urge to gag rises hot and violent.
Gideon beams, pleased.
You snatch the cup of water and down it in one go, but your throat seizes in immediate protest. He places a hand on your shoulder, rubbing placating circles as you cough sharply.
“Shh… just let it pass. You’re doing very well,” he murmurs.
The praise is short-lived as nausea crashes over you.
You bow forward, stomach clenching hard enough to make your ribs ache. He does not step back, but instead reaches for the metal cart to pick up an emesis basin, as though he expected this, and places it beneath your chin. You retch, once, then twice, bringing up the bitter medicine, water, and bile. Cold sweat turns waxy on your skin.
“I-I’m sorry, I r-really didn’t mean to do it this time,” you sputter between gags, but Gideon watches on disinterestedly.
He sets the basin aside once you’ve recovered, “I hoped that wouldn’t be necessary, but perhaps we should try the bath again.”
Your head lifts a fraction, eyes misted with the effort it took to expel everything from your body. You internally try not to panic
“N-no, not that again. Please.”
The doctor continues, “Your present fever is proving inconvenient for the data we require.” He pauses for a beat then nods to himself, like he’s pleased with his own idea. “If you still cannot stomach the medicine, then we will simply have to try the traditional approach again.”
“But it hurts,” you choke out. The room tilts on its axis as you try your damndest to keep down another wave of nausea.
Before you can argue further, your blanket is stripped away. Cool air bites at your clammy skin as Gideon hooks one arm beneath your legs and hauls you over his shoulder with effortless strength. The shame that flares through you burns hotter than any fever.
He carries you out of the room and into the adjacent bathroom, unceremoniously dumping you onto the stool bolted to the ground. Without another word, he approaches the bathtub and turns the tap. It sputters, then steadies into a crystalline stream.
Gideon glances back at you. “Remove your clothes.”
You might’ve laughed if you weren’t so terrified. Instead, you rise from the stool at once and lunge for the bathroom door, only for a rough hand to clap over your shoulder and shove you back towards it.
Your cheeks burn hotly with indignation, unsure of what to say. And why should you? Gideon is leaning down to stare at you, lips thin and expression unreadable, but you already know you’ve crossed the line.
As you stand beside the man now, you're disturbingly reminded by how this monster towers over you, capable of swallowing you whole should he wish it.
“Can I at least do it myself?” you plead, begging for some semblance of reprieve from his overbearing presence.
Something like amusement crosses Gideon’s marred features. “Oh,” his smile turns predatory. He leans impossibly closer, until you feel his hot breath condensate along the shell of your ear. “But we already tried that once before. Didn’t we?”
He punctuates the last part with a squeeze of your throat. If any of the nausea from earlier had begun to recede, it certainly comes rushing back now, along with the memories of your last attempt at rebellion when you attempted to drown yourself in this very tub. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to bury the memory of this cold-blooded monster’s hands on your bare skin and fists tangled in your hair.
”That won’t happen again, I swea—“
Without warning, you are lifted and dropped into the bathtub. A yelp tears from you as frigid water engulfs your body, the cold is so immediate and absolute it steals the breath from your lungs. Your flimsy, white nightgown soaks through immediately, but you hardly have the presence of mind to feel the shame of lying practically naked beneath him.
Gasping for breath, you look upwards to where Gideon stands over you.
The grin he fixes you with is carnivorous. He drops to his haunches beside the tub, imposing height still oppressive even bent down to your level.
“You’re not like others, you know,” he breathes, sweeping a wet strand of hair from your face. “That is why I must take such careful measures.” His hand drops to caress the tendons in your neck, lower until it cups a breast, flicking an erect nipple through your wet gown.
Your hand moves before your mind can stop it, striking him square across the face.
The crack that splits through the bathroom sobers you at once; shock detonates in your mind so violently that you can do nothing but stare at the profile of the man before you, then at your own hand as though it belongs to someone else entirely. You let it sink into the icy bathwater, then shrink back against the tub as though it’ll make you invisible.
Gideon goes still. Then he turns back.
And then he is on you.
Your head slams into the tile as his hand buries itself in your hair, forcing you still as he kisses you. Pain blooms hot behind your eyes, the violation of his nearness causing a surge of panic to flood through your body. His tongue traces the seam of your bottom lip hungrily, serpentine and cold. It demands entrance and you don’t have the strength to stop it. The forked appendage finds yours, and you’re certain you still taste of vomit but he doesn't seem to care.
Groaning in revulsion, you shove him away, but Gideon’s hand closes tightly around your neck. The callused pad of his thumb finds your carotid instantly, stroking it in silent warning until you yield.
The surface of your tongue catches on the chipped edge of a tooth, eliciting a small cry of pain as the tang of blood fills your mouth. Gideon groans when he tastes it, lapping up every trace with ravenous greed. When he finally pulls away, a thin strand of saliva remains connected to your mouths.
“I thought we’d moved past these little tantrums,” he seethes. His thumb presses deeper into your throat, making your head feel airy.
“Just kill me,” you spit. “I’m not getting better, and it doesn’t fucking matter–”
Gideon sighs and releases your throat, rising to his full height. You drag in a ragged breath, still reeling from the assault, only to freeze when you look back up and find him grinning at you. Fresh blood stains his smile, gold and crimson flashing in the low light, as though his teeth had been inlaid with rubies.
“Kill you?” he repeats, like you’ve just insulted him. “I’m afraid I can’t do that—not while I still have use for you.”
Suddenly, you are being hauled out of the water and slung over his shoulder. You scream and thrash against the iron grip, soaking through his beloved coat and sending water streaming from your hair and clothes to the floor. Droplets splatter like tears across the concrete floor as he carries you back to your bed.
”No. No. Please, just leave me alone.”
You’re tossed onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. A wave of disgust rolls through you at the feeling of your soaked nightgown clinging to your skin, and the abrupt shift from the bath’s freezing water to the suffocating warmth of the bed makes your teeth chatter. You can scarcely catch your breath before he is on you again in a blur of snakeskin and pitiless cold metal.
You cannot escape him. Gideon’s presence is absolute no matter where you are, a reptilian bane that lives in your very marrow. His mouth finds yours again, nipping at a sensitive spot on your lip that begins to bleed. His arms trap you, fingers roaming about your body and squeezing into your nightgown and skin like he means to wring you out.
Something sharp digs into your skin, making you flinch. When you look down, a scalpel gleams in Gideon’s hand. It carves a long, bloody stripe along your collarbone, the searing pain briefly pacified by his tongue dashing out to lap it up. You go slack in his arms like a limb doll, head still throbbing from where it struck the wall earlier. The bath has done nothing for your condition, and fever creeps back over you in a nauseous wave, bringing with it that drowning delirium.
“You… you are my masterpiece,” Gideon pants, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your sternum and breasts through the material of your gown. A crimson tongue darts out to swirl lasciviously around your peaked nipples.
You briefly wonder if it would be possible to snatch the scalpel from his hand while he’s distracted and end your life right here, months of experimental torment beneath his thumb for the sole purpose of cruel dominion. A perfect retribution for a life that you no longer owned.
Almost as though reading your mind, he begins to laugh like a madman. You flinch at the sudden noise, which sobers him, turning his expression eerily grave.
“You are my finest work. Did you really believe I would ever let you go?” His face splits into a smile, with all the unhinged delight of a hunter closing in on its prey. “You, of all people, should know better than that.”
“Don’t you dare touch me,” you snarl, twisting in his arms to fight him off despite your mounting nausea, but he pins you down to the bed with inhuman strength.
Sinking to his knees, Gideon licks away rivulets of bath water on your bare legs, twisting the flesh tightly enough until the pressure blanches your skin. You cover your eyes with your arm and cry out, making him ease his grip before stroking gentle circles into your calves like he means to placate you. A hand glides up your leg, skirting along the wet edge of your nightgown. You hastily attempt to clamp your legs shut, but noticing this, he scores a deep cut into your thigh with the scalpel, sucking at the wound greedily.
“There, there,” he murmurs. “I’m only trying to help you.”
His hand resumes its ascent between your legs, cupping your sex over the drenched fabric. You instinctively reach over to cover his hand with your own in a silent plea to stop, but it only serves to compel his ministrations.
“Shhh… please don’t fight it,” he murmurs feather-soft into your skin, sounding vulnerable in a way that is unbecoming of him. “Can’t you see that I need you to trust me?”
“No more, please,” you collapse back onto the mattress and pretend this is all just a nightmare, a fever dream wrought of venomous heat.
The bottom of your nightgown is torn by the scalpel as Gideon rips the rest away, baring you entirely.
He leans over to plant a chaste kiss at your navel, sliding upwards until his mouth latches onto a nipple. His rapidly hardening cock digs into your abdomen, uncharacteristically hot from this cold-blooded monster. He sucks at the peak experimentally, capturing it between his front teeth and nibbling down. You sink your nails into his feathery hair and swallow back a broken sob. Why is he doing this to you? How much longer must you endure this torment before this creature decides you have nothing left to give?
He moves higher to nuzzle into the crook of your neck, grinding his clothed cock against your bare sex. The pressure of the snake buckle on his belt feels unexpectedly good against your pubic mound. He registers the small whine it elicits.
Gideon whispers your name reverently. “Tell me who you belong to,” then, seething, “Tell me.”
He emphasizes the command with another cut of skin at your sternum, licking that one like the others before he kisses you again. You taste yourself on his tongue.
“No one,” you hiss against his mouth, and Gideon laughs menacingly.
Cold fingers dash quickly between your bodies to find your cunt, gliding embarrassingly smooth along the folds. You turn to bury your face into the sheets, horrified in the face of evidence to your unwanted arousal. He makes a hum of approval as his fingers circle about your entrance and before you can stop him, two digits are pushed deep inside of you. Despite your wetness, the brutish size of his fingers leave you crying out in burning agony as they begin to pump in and out at a cruel pace.
Your body is betraying you. It must be. He has no right to it and still, it bows and thrums to his every touch. It feels too weak, too pliant that you wonder if he’s done something to you; after all, you have no idea what kind of drugs he has been pumping into your system since you were first taken here, nor what fills the syringes he administers whenever you misbehave. Maybe there was even something in those pills, despite your efforts to purge them. Colors writhe in the void of your clamped eyes as you try to imagine yourself a million miles away from this moment, somewhere in a lush forest, or deep beneath the sea, where this monster could never find you.
“I won’t… fuck…. Please just stop…!” You protest, squirming beneath his weight. But then he adds a third finger and curls it until he finds that spot along your walls that turns your brain to cotton. The combination of your fever, pleasure, and humiliation makes you feel like you might dissolve into the bed.
Time slows as you reach the edge. You defeatedly squeeze around Gideon’s fingers, if only to get this over with faster. But your release never comes.
Gideon detaches himself from you like a ghost. You clench around nothing and cry out, swallowing the plea that rises in your throat, certain it would shatter whatever ragged scrap of fighting spirit you have left if you ever let yourself yield to this beast’s whims.
You scramble up against the wall as soon as he moves away, and fix him with the most poisonous glare you can muster. “You’re fucking insane–”
The words lodge in your throat as Gideon begins to unfasten his visor.
You’ve seen his eyes once before, but the sight of them now, ablaze with sadistic hunger, makes fear cinch tight around your gut. Unnatural eyes, serpentine and bright, trail hungrily over your naked body before lifting to lock with yours.
“What I have planned for you will not be stopped by these petty little shows of rebellion, but it is entertaining to watch you try,” Gideon muses, placing the visor on the metal cart. Fear paralyzes you when he reaches for the syringe.
“No! Fuck, get away from me!” you scream, wrenching from the bed, but Gideon traps you again with his eager hands.
He twists you by the ankles and drags you right back towards the edge of the bed where he kneels, prying your legs apart to bring his face between them as the tip of the syringe rises like a serpent’s tooth and plunges deep into your thigh.
You collapse onto the mattress, defeated. A strange drag settles over your limbs, as though your blood has thickened in your veins.
The injection site burns, but even more scalding is the wet, dragging slide of Gideon’s tongue at your sex. You can’t stifle the broken moan that comes out of you, half-panicked, as you weakly attempt to kick him away with your foot. He barely reacts, squeezing your ankle tighter until the pain shoots white-hot up your leg.
Gideon closes his mouth around you, that hateful tongue pressing flat against your clitoris as he suckles lightly. He is merciless against your swollen folds, forked tongue plunging in and out of you until you’re left wheezing for air.
Your thoughts wade brokenly in your mind. You think the drug is beginning to take effect as weakness seeps through you in slow, poisonous increments, like you’ve been filled with this monster’s venom. Pleasure dies at the stake of your stupor. At some point you begin to cry, your cheek meeting the cold dampness of tear-stains on your sheets as you turn away to bury your burning face.
Your breath hitches at the half-lidded stare Gideon gives you from between your thighs. He’s grinning, the mess of your arousal apparent on his lower face as he lingers there, savoring your anguish. He blows on the sensitive flesh, using his coarse thumb to rub quick circles on your clit. You tear away as the scene becomes hazy and attempt to focus your attention on counting the ceiling tiles.
Something about that must amuse him because he begins to laugh against your folds, the vibration sparking every nerve to life. This, along with the delve of his greedy tongue into your sopping cunt sends you over the edge. But the pleasure does not arrive cleanly, instead it drags through the chemical fog in a warped pulse, too dull to ride out.
His hands keep you pressed to the bed, slurping down your orgasm and dragging his tongue from your slit to clitoris until you're left writhing in the muddy throb of overstimulation.
But he’s not done with you. Before you can recover, he wipes his mouth against your thighs and grabs a hold of you, rolling you onto your stomach effortlessly.
“Stop. Please, please, that’s enough–” you moan out, forehead slamming into the mattress. You feel like rolling over into a cramped ball on the floor and purging your body over and over until it forgets the feeling of his hands on you, in you–
“It’s taken me forever to find you…” He releases a shaky breath, caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief. “Now, at last, you can fulfill your destiny.”
You are still trying to decipher what he means when the jingle of his belt buckle and trousers coming undone barely registers in your syrupy brain.
No. No. No.
In your mind, you lurch away from his hands, but your physical body remains motionless on the bed. Gideon grips your lower body and slams his hips forward without warning. You scream into your own mouth, teeth sinking hard enough into your cheek to draw blood. Your bottom half feels like it might split in half from the force of trying to accommodate his inhuman length. The scarred, ribbed skin of his cock rubs obscenely against your walls, large hands settling on either side of your hips as you faintly feel them slither up and down your ribcage in a futile attempt to soothe.
A helpless sob escapes you, but the doctor moans over you, deep and ragged.
“Shhh… Oh, forgive me… But you’ve left me with no other choice.”
Gideon begins to ride you to his pleasure, sliding deep enough that you feel the hot, swollen head of his cock pound against your cervix, girth stretching your walls unbearably wide. Fingers on one hand squeeze your hips, hard, the other reaching for the underside of your body to tightly squeeze and pull at your breasts, rolling a nipple between his fingers.
“You’re doing so well, ah– that’s it. So damn well for me.” Cold flesh envelops you once more as he dips down to lick the space between your shoulder blades, your back unintentionally bowing toward him. The hand at your breasts drops to your lower belly and presses against the bulging impression of his cock as it jerks in and out of you savagely.
His next thrusts are harder and more merciless, even in your drug-induced haze, grazing a spot inside of you that sends a fresh wave of feverish heat in your blood. You gnaw on the bedsheets until your mouth is dry and brimming with the downy taste.
One more punishing snap of Victor’s hips into that particular spot, fingers rubbing tight circles at your clit with deliberate pressure has you coming undone in his hold; it’s a mangled sort of release that makes dark spots burst like fireworks in your vision.
Gideon isn’t too far from release himself, because the pulsation of your walls around him have his thrusts growing more desperate and sloppy.
“Yes… yes, yes, ah, that’s it,” he hisses, words blurred into a liquid murmur. “Can’t you see I’m the only one who recognizes your worth?”
A hand entangles itself in your hair, rings snagging at the strands, and wrenches your face close enough that you can hear Gideon snarl his release. Ropes of warm seed flood your channel, curdling any lingering pleasure from your orgasm into a deep, sour nausea.
You are wholly trapped beneath this monster’s weight and the effects of the sedative to do anything, even as he continues to pump a few final, agonizing strokes into you.
The doctor hasn’t even removed himself off of you before you feel the iron grip of his fist begin to wring your neck. You are slammed back against the bed before you can make sense of what is happening.
Gideon whispers your name like a prayer, “Rest, now,” he says, voice sounding strangely faraway. “We have so much more to do when you wake.”
Darkness swells around you, your final scraps of consciousness shattering into the blessedly quiet void of the sedative.
The peace is startling and merciful, like the breaking of a fever.
an innocent trip to a cabin in the woods. what could possibly go wrong?
★ FEATURING: suguru geto x fem reader x gojo satoru
★ CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ content, MDNI. au/non canon compliant. smut. dubcon. tongue piercing geto. knife play. blood. unprotected p in v. spanking. nipple play. ass play/fingering. ass eating. cunnilingus. face fucking. cum eating. usage of pet names.
★ WORD COUNT: 6.5k
★ JADE’S NOTES: kinktober’s over but here’s a slasher fic repost while i lock in on my wips ^.^ hope you enjoy!
This truly was something out of a cliché horror movie.
Missing poster after missing poster of people who stirred the nation in the past thirty years hung on every tree bark that the group van passed by, crows circled around the questionable looking cabin that you'd rented for the week (at a decent price, so you supposed you couldn't complain much), and rumors of two slashers followed you since you'd stepped foot into town. Gas clerks giving you puzzled looks when you mentioned your destination, wishing you the best of luck.
You were almost sure that you'd heard one of them whispering a quiet prayer after the five of you left the store, clutching a rosary in between their fingers.
The camp counselor that looked like they wanted to be anywhere but here, somehow seeming to have a stable connection despite the fact you couldn't get any more than one bar. "So, these are the bathrooms. Wouldn't recommend using them since they haven't been cleaned in like the past decade," they didn't even bother to look from their phone, smacking loudly on a piece of gum. This tour was really making you wish you hadn't cheaped out on the cabin.
"And finally, here we have the beds. They probably have fleas on there so just watch out," the camp counselor finally looked up from their phone to face you all. "And what about the rumors that are floating around about the two killers?" One of your friends asked behind you, forming a distance between themselves and the unsteady looking beds. "Probably just rumors. Dunno, don't really stick around after I collect my check."
And you already knew that they didn't exactly care about being reassuring, your suspicions only confirmed by the next words that came out of their mouth, "But just in case, you guys should probably get your affairs in order when you get a stable connection though."
The five of you were left alone to your own devices—having a compass (that you weren't even completely sure still worked properly) and a map hung up on a bulletin board outside the cabin, the edges fraying and the paper seeming like it was just one rain drop from falling apart. "Maybe we should go exploring in case that there is a killer roaming around. Get to know our surroundings," you suggested, hoping that it'd ease the already tense mood.
"And what if the killer's roaming around right now just waiting for the perfect opportunity?" One of your friend's boyfriends, one whose name you didn't really particularly to memorize, was the first one to respond. Like you were the one being stupid in this situation. You decided to bite back your tongue, looking over at the rest of your friends, "Anyone else want to go?"
You ended up going on your little exploration of the woods alone.
What you assumed was supposed to be a pond, only the hole remaining after the water all but evaporated, remained outside of the house. The stench of dead fish welcomed you when you took a couple steps closer to it, a few traces of dried blood on the sides. Probably just animal blood. Or at least, all you could do was hope that it was just animal blood. You continued walking through the rocky trail that the map indicated, spotting a couple of the landmarks highlighted.
While you walked, you couldn't help but feel as if something was lurking behind you. As if something was keeping eyes on every movement that you were making. But every time that you turned around, the most that you'd see would be a squirrel running through a patch of grass. "Hello?" You called out, your voice echoing through the leaves. Disappearing into nothing. And despite receiving no response, that uneasy feeling inside you refused to simmer.
You followed the map for a while—nothing that was really worth writing home about. Maybe the rumors had just been to attract more attention? Because it truly did look like just a basic campground.
A public bathroom that you could practically see the green fumes coming out of, dead flies scattered across the floor from the stench. A well that met the same fate as the pond, a small pool of water at the bottom. The only thing that seemed to be of aid if the rumors did turn out to be true was the camp counselor's cabin, the building in slightly better shape than the other one. A landline phone hung off the wall, though upon further inspection, it really only served as decoration.
A good enough hiding spot if needed, though.
You decided to go back to the cabin before the sun went down, since you were vastly unprepared when you'd made the decision to come out here. Your mosquito bitten legs being the stellar witnesses to that. A fire crackled in between of three logs set up, marshmallows and chocolate set on the side while some of your friends went out to gather a couple sticks. "Hey, I'm really sorry about the way that Logan acted earlier, he's just being a dick." So that was his name.
"You don't have to apologize, don't worry," you shrugged her off, getting the graham crackers that you'd packed in your bag beforehand. The man in question brought out a cooler of beer, and if you had to guess, he probably put more effort into packing that than his actual clothes. Bottle after bottle of vodka, tequila, and cheap beer stuck out from the sides once he'd set it down. And you hadn't seen him change out of the sweat stained shirt he had on just yet.
That effectively marked the end of that conversation, the rest getting distracted with getting a drink off the cooler. "You don't wanna get one?" You heard from behind you, their voice already starting to sound the slightest bit slurred. In less of a span than five minutes. "No thanks," you assured, sticking with just the s'more you had at the end of a stick. Last thing you needed to be was uncoordinated if you needed to run. Just in case.
They didn't seem to mind it too much either, shrugging it off and muttering, "More for us, then." Conversation flowed easily between the group, ghost stories being shared just for the sake of it with loud laughter bustling from drunken antics. "Apparently they're supposed to take virgins as a sacrifice or something," Logan blurted out, slapping a hand over his knee as if it were the funniest thing he could've said.
"No way, man. I heard that they're the ghosts of these two kids that drowned in the river down the path." Conversation and drinks kept flowing much after the sun went down, with only crickets chirping around. Begrudgingly, the group managed to make inside after a while and got out a couple sleeping bags to place on the floor. Last thing any of you all needed was to have to endure this trip out with fleas.
Loud scraping on the side of the wood woke you up from your slumber, wind whistling almost furiously. Almost as if a knife were being dragged across the surface. Your friends were already sitting up when you got up from your spot, their bodies seeming too tense for it to just be an innocent prank. "Maybe it's just the wind," you tried to rationalize this just to being paranoid, but even you couldn't lie about the two shadows that appeared on the side of the window.
"If the wind wanted to kill us," one of your friends muttered from underneath the comfort of her pink heart covered blanket.
"Since you went on that little trip earlier, tell us where to go," The same man that had treated you like you were stupid before now sounded like he was on the verge of peeing his pants, his voice raising up to almost a squeak. The group's movements were slow, the alcohol having taken a toll on them pretty quickly. "We're supposed to run this w—" and before you even had the chance to finish, the four of them took off running.
And every rule that had been memorized during horror movie nights was completely discarded in a moment of panic, the group splitting up almost immediately. You took off running where you could see the faint outline of a path, your footsteps pounding into the ground with every rushed step that you made. You were running off pure adrenaline, the burning sensation in your chest after running for what seemed to be an eternity almost didn't seem too bad. Just keep running.
Every breath that you took almost seemed to be too loud, your chest heaving with every sharp intake you took. Clasping a hand over your mouth, you took the opportunity to gauge your surroundings. You could barely see past a couple feet, most of the trees just blending together in the far distance. You figured that maybe you'd be in the clear for a couple more minutes before you had to find another spot. Get the ache in your legs to go down enough for you to keep running.
Or at least that's what you originally figured.
Until you heard the crunching of leaves echoing all too close, the whistling of a familiar tune you just couldn't put your finger on (not while you were too busy trying not to die, anyways). "Don't even bother running now, it's just gonna make our job harder," the voice came from somewhere way too close, the hairs on the back of your neck prickling up. He almost sounded like you were the one inconveniencing them by thinking about running.
Your heart pounded beneath your chest with every bated breath you took, your own traitorous lungs betraying you with every noise they had you make. Every step that you took almost seemed to be too slow, every ache in your muscles holding you back. "You can't get that far, y'know," a separate voice echoed through the depth of the woods, only confirming the rumors that it was two killers. "Just trip over thin air already," the other whined, the sound of the knife scraping on the ground following.
You willed yourself to keep running—even if you weren't too completely sure where you'd go if you did manage to escape. The nearest town that you'd seen on the way down here was close to two hours ago, you were bound to be dead meat by the time you got there. You shook off those thoughts, trying to keep yourself from making too much noise while you ran. And you'd almost succeeded until you bumped into something firm. You almost didn't bring yourself to look up, not wanting to face the possibility that it wasn't a tree.
"Please be a wall or something," you muttered to yourself, your eyes flicking open to see what exactly you'd bumped into.
You were met with a masked figure in front of you, a cheap hockey mask with dried blood clinging onto the sides. "Not a wall, sorry to disappoint. Just got yourself all sweaty after I told you not to run, sweets," he clicked his tongue, shaking his head in faux disappointment. Teasing you even further.
Another masked figure came into your line of vision, each one carrying a knife with blood dripping down to taint the forest leaves below. And every muscle in your body was begging you to move—to continue to keep moving, but you couldn't bring yourself to get unstuck from the position you were. The lankier one of the two approached your left, hooking your chin up with his knife. "Don't get mad at her too much. She was better fun than the guy who just fainted."
No ghosts or virgin sacrifices so far it seemed, at the very least.
"Much prettier too," you weren't even aware when tears started to roll down your cheeks, only becoming aware of them when the other guy approached your right. Using a gloved finger to swipe underneath your eyes, barely pushing the mask up to reveal his mouth. A silver tongue piercing illuminated by the pale moonlight flickered out when he went to lick it away, shamelessly tasting your salty tears. Seemingly reveling in how scared shitless you were.
"Those friends of yours gave away your location pretty quickly. Something something, kill you instead of kill them. You might have to consider who you get as friends, sweet cheeks," the knife was pressed deeper into the column of your throat as he spoke, the motion almost seeming way too gentle for a man threatening your life. That was until you felt a sting a couple seconds later, drops of blood dripping onto the collar of your shirt.
The man on your left pulled his mask up in a similar fashion as the other one, barely exposing his lips before he leaned in against your neck. You didn't even get a chance to react before his tongue darted out, licking a stripe up your throat and cleaning up the blood in return. "We can be your new friends, sweetheart. You're not half bad after all," he licked the remaining blood off his lips, toying with you all the much more than the other one.
"Not really looking for new friends," you uttered, the sting from the cut almost combining with some sort of sick pleasure? Maybe the adrenaline was starting to get to your head, because there was no way that you almost started to enjoy it. These men were still trying to kill you. The words reverberated through your head like a mantra, willing for them to stick long enough that you'd get away. Kick them, run away, do something. Anything.
And you could've sworn all the blood in your body went cold, your eyes widening to the size of saucers when you felt the cold edge of a knife digging into the side of your arm. "That's if she manages to escape," the other drawled, pressing the knife just hard enough for it to leave an indent. "I doubt it though, Satoru. She's run all out of adrenaline."
"Please," you weren't even sure what you were begging for at this point, if you were asking them to take it easy on you or if you were asking for them to let you go. Probably the latter if you were in a better condition. "Shh shh, me and Suguru are gonna take care of you. Just let us play for a while first," Satoru whispered, running a finger through the cut that he'd made. Wiping away the excess blood dripping down, sticking his finger in his mouth.
And it was almost sinful how pretty the man looked despite the circumstance, a light flush on his cheeks when he pulled the mask up just to expose his face. His shirt pulled up enough to show sweat covered abs, a white happy trail leading down to his pants. "Don't tell me you liked me better with the mask on," he almost seemed to pout as he spoke, cupping your cheeks between his hand. And from here, you could practically feel just how long they were.
Before you let your mind wander into more shameless places, you frantically shook your head. "No, no, you look fine, I swear," you let out a nervous laugh, trying to avoid having your voice shake too much. "You don't gotta lie to him, pretty girl," his partner, Suguru, brought your attention back over to him, taking off his mask as well. And the predicament you found yourself in suddenly seemed all that much unfair.
A little voice in the back of your head kept reminding you that the two of them were psychopaths who were just running after you with a knife a couple moments ago, but it was quickly pushed over by just how attractive the two of them were. The white haired man's partner was just as handsome as he was, long black hair cascading past his shoulders. The two of them contrasting each other almost to perfection.
You were broken out of your stupor when Satoru (if that was even his name) grabbed your chin, letting out a laugh as he analyzed your expression. "Nah, she's not lying. If I didn't know any better, I'd think she was turned on," he noted with a laugh, his fingers moving down to the front buttons of your shorts. "You don't mind if I test his theory, do you?" Geto didn't wait for a response before unbuttoning your shorts in a haste, dipping his fingers into your cunt.
And the traitorous squelch your cunt gave out when he dipped his fingers inside you spoke more than you could. Suguru brought his finger to his lips, wrapping them around them as he seemed to savor the taste of you. "Don't hog her, asshole," Satoru muttered next to you, walking over to where Suguru was standing. The white haired man tangled one hand around the other's hair, coaxing him to part his lips. The two of them exchanged a needy kiss in front of you without second thought.
Which would've been the perfect opportunity for you to run. If you weren't frozen to your spot as the two of them intertwined tongues, their kiss almost seeming more spit and teeth than an actual kiss. A string of saliva connected the two of them when they pulled away, a pink flush to each of their cheeks. A little more prominent on Satoru, though. "Taste so sweet," Satoru murmured, facing you with his hands on your hips. The knife seeking to have been discarded.
Suguru moved to stand behind you, leaving you sandwiched between the two men. "You want us to take care of you?" Suguru questioned, moving to the side of your neck. Licking up the column of your throat in a similar fashion that Satoru had done, nibbling down on your pulse point. Leaving you marked in more ways than just the cut from before. You nodded, your back almost arching into his touch. A light shudder ran down your spine when you felt Satoru's hands on your breasts, circling your nipples.
Except you weren't shivering out of fear this time around, but rather out of sheer arousal. Your perked up nipples and the wet patch on your panties only serving to prove that further. "Come on, I wanna hear you say it," Satoru flicked both your nipples between his pointer and thumb, his touch making you arch further into Suguru. "Please. Need you to take care of me," you breathed out, your body almost falling lax underneath their touch.
"Need, huh?" Satoru had a cocky grin on his face, pulling your shirt up and over your arms. "Yes, need," you reiterated, your hand immediately going to his fluffy white hair when he leaned in to press open mouthed kisses to your collarbones. You could feel Suguru's cock straining in his pants behind you, the tip of it rubbing against the back of your shorts with every movement of his hips. "Even said please and everything," Suguru sounded just as breathless as you, if not even more.
Satoru's tongue swirled across your left nipple, his fingers rolling the other one in sync. All the while he kept looking up at you, cerulean eyes almost seeming to glisten under the moon as he did. Your eyes closed in bliss, your hand pushing Satoru's head even further into your breasts. Needing everything that he was able to give. Euphoria quickly took place in exchange for the fear that coursed your body earlier.
Suguru's hand trailed down your stomach down to the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down just enough for your panties to be exposed. A light breeze hit your cunt when he swiftly pushed them aside with two fingers, dipping one inside of you. Your slick coating his fingertip, glistening under the light when he pulled it away from you. Your breathing grew heavier, your chest heaving for completely different reasons. All the aches in your body had almost seemed to go away.
Though you were pretty sure they'd come back by the two of them were finished with you, if the feeling of Suguru's cock behind you was anything to go by. Satoru pulled away, leaving your breasts with teeth indents and your nipples covered in his spit. "So pretty," Satoru noted before slipping your shorts down, letting them fall down to the dirty floor below. You made no move to move when they pooled around your ankles, Satoru already moving to take your panties off.
"Let me taste her first," Satoru spoke up before Suguru could, licking his lips as if he were about to taste a delicacy. Suguru didn't make any noise of protest, simply shifting to take Satoru's earlier position. The white haired man placed his hands on your thighs, forcing you into a half bent position before spreading your legs apart. "Oh fuck," a low curse escaped your throat, Satoru's tongue wasting no time in licking your folds.
You pushed your hips to meet his tongue, Satoru's tongue darting inside of you. His mouth making out with your dripping cunt like it was something that he was made to do. You weren't even sure which of the two you was being louder, moans escaping the two of you. Suguru placed his hand on your chin, pulling your attention back to him. His cock stood in front of you, your eyes almost widening at the size. It wasn't too big, but the girth.
"Not the scariest thing you've seen tonight," Suguru snorted from above, the tip of his cock rubbing against your lips. Precum coating your bitten lips like a lip gloss. You opened your mouth, taking the tip inside your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the sensitive skin, licking down to his frenulum. "Fuck, Satoru," you words came out muffled, his tongue flicking at your sensitive clit. His tongue swirling around the nerves with no particular pattern.
You let spit dribble down Suguru's cock to make this all the much easier to you, looking up to see him already staring at you. He placed his hands on your cheeks, catching you off guard when he thrusted in your mouth. "Don't bite it off," he warned, his thrusts starting off slow to get adjusted to it. To get you adjusted to simply being a hole for him to fuck. Your cheeks hollowed out in an attempt to fit more of him inside with ease, each thrust having his cock further down your throat.
A thick finger circled around the tight rim of your asshole, the gloves from earlier quickly discarded of. "Sucking me in so good," Satoru let out a groan behind you, slowly pushing a finger inside of your ass. Whether the tears prickling in your waterline were from how Suguru was using you as his fleshlight or from the sudden stretch, you weren't completely sure. "S-So tight, fuck," and the man behind you almost sounded entranced, starting to pump his finger into your asshole.
"That's it, there you go, good," murmured praises behind you completely contrasted the harsh thrusts that the man in front of you was giving, his cock nearly touching the back of your throat. His heavy balls slapping against your chin when he pushed it to the hilt. "Taking us so well, this what you wanted?" Suguru questioned, looking down at you. And you just nodded, not completely sure if he did want an answer. And that only made him laugh.
"So sweet, so good," And just from a couple minutes of having his nose deep into your cunt, Satoru already sounded drunk off your pussy. The rhythm of the fingers inside your ass fell out of sync, your hole being stretched out more than you planned for this trip to this cabin (which admittedly, had been not at all). Satoru switched the two, his tongue flicking inside your puckered hole while two fingers pushed inside of your cunt with ease.
Satoru's fingers curled to hit your g-spot every time he pushed them inside, his long fingers reaching spots only your toy back home had done. His tongue flicked around the rim of your ass before he spat a thick glob of spit inside of you, vibrations shooting up your spine with every moan that he let out. Which turned into a chain reaction of sorts—the sensation of those vibrations having you moaning against Suguru's cock.
Suguru's thrusts got faster, the tip of his cock pushing against the back of your throat. Almost hitting your uvula with ease. And in comparison to his sharp thrusts, he reached down with one hand to wipe your tears away. Sucking them away like he did earlier, the gesture almost too tender for the way he was making you take his cock. "Taking us both so well, practically made for it," he cooed, your tongue running down the underside of his cock.
With one final flick of his tongue, Satoru pulled away from your ass. You didn't even have to look behind you to know he was cleaning your slick off his fingers before he delved back in, his nose prodding against your cunt when his mouth latched onto your clit. Rolling his tongue along the hood, his fingers spreading your walls open with ease. Especially when he added one more, the slight sting in between your legs slowly started to become pleasurable.
You rocked yourself back to meet Satoru's tongue, your nails almost digging into Suguru's thighs to maintain your position. And if you didn't know any better, you'd almost say that Suguru was enjoying the small sting—his thrusts starting to get sloppier. "Don't stop, don't stop," muffled whines escaped from your lips, vibrations shooting up the other's cock in the process. Your hand went down to Suguru's balls, rubbing the sensitive skin with your fingertips.
And that was enough to send him over the edge—a loud groan escaping from his lips. "Gonna make me cum," he uttered as a warning, pulling his cock out of your mouth before he had a chance to. Changes were he didn't want to blow his load just yet. Suguru let you maintain yourself up by holding onto him, your hands starting to shake as you got closer to your orgasm. "There you go, take it princess."
"Mhm, yeah, almost there," you moaned out as a response, your eyes rolling back the more desperate that Satoru's flicks got. Like he needed you to cum for his sake more than yours. "Yeah? Satoru's gonna take care of you, just gotta let go," his fingers stroked your cheek with such a tenderness, almost like the fact he didn't want to kill you a mere moments earlier didn't exist. A fact that you yourself had forgotten, the only thing running through your head being how much you needed to cum.
Every flick of Satoru's tongue had you dripping onto his mouth, your walls clenching around nothing. Every sweet word that Suguru whispered to you making you get all the much closer. "Right there, right there, please," your voice came out hoarse, your hands balling into fists against Suguru's thighs. "Ah ah, fuc-" You were only able to get fragments out, unsure of what you were even trying to say. And even then, the two of them seemed to have an understanding.
All decorum that Satoru seemed to show earlier quickly flew out the window—too enamored with the taste of your cunt. He spat into it with a fervor, savoring the taste of you like one would their favorite candy. "Gonna cum," you managed to get out before your jaw fell slack. "There you go, that's it, take it," Even if the sweetness Suguru was giving you might've been fake, that combined with Satoru's fervent fingers and tongue had you reaching your orgasm with ease.
Soundless moans came out of you, your pussy doing most of the noise for you anyways. You came in a manner of a couple seconds, your release dripping onto Satoru's expectant tongue. And it was almost like he hadn't realized it just yet, continuing to push his tongue inside of you with a needy fervor. "Shit, too sensitive," you let out a whine and that pushed him out of his stupor, his hands letting go of your thighs. Albeit reluctantly.
You looked over at Satoru through a dazed expression, your slick glistening around his mouth like a trophy. He only licked his mouth clean, wiping the rest off with the back of his hand. The two of them switched positions, Satoru's cock standing erect in front of you. It was slightly longer than Suguru's, albeit not as thick, but just as pretty if you had to say. His angry mushroom tip leaked drops of precum, practically twitching in anticipation.
You swirled your tongue around the tip, looking up at Satoru as you did so. Watching him already start to unravel from just the simplest bits of stimulation. All the while, Suguru dragged the tip of his cock along your folds, coating it with a mixture of your slick and Satoru's saliva. A muffled moan escaped from your lips when Suguru stretched you open, none of the prep that Satoru had done earlier proving to be effective.
"Fuck, tight, so tight," Suguru let out labored breaths, pushing his cock deeper inside of you. Up until the point where his balls were hitting your ass. His hands gripped your hips, your own gripping onto Satoru's to maintain whatever semblance of balance you had left. The man above you was quickly turning into a mess, as much as he tried to hide it. "Take it, just like that, f-fuckkk," loud groans escaped from his throat, his head thrown back.
Your tongue ran across the veins running on the sides of his cock, your hand pumping his shaft at an unsteady rhythm. You took Satoru's cock in your mouth, bobbing your head to what you could reach. Your hand making up for what you couldn't, the two almost working in tandem. Spit dribbled from the corners of your mouth, some of it mixing with the drops of precum. With every push of Suguru's hips, you were only pushed deeper into Satoru's cock.
Satoru placed a hand on your cheek, keeping you in place as you slowly began to bob your head to take him even further. Not that you managed to take much of him in, the man too big for you to take all his cock in your mouth. Your hand wrapped around what you couldn't reach, jerking him at the same time the tip reached the back of your throat. "S-So good, taking me so well," and his voice came out in almost a desperate whine, none of the teasing from earlier showing.
If you had to guess, he was probably needier than you were in the moment. Your tongue ran alongside the underside of his cock, licking along his frenulum and swirling around his dripping tip. His hips moved to meet the movement of your hand, his thrusts slower than Suguru had done earlier. Satoru didn't complain when your nails dug further into his thigh, almost seeming to enjoy it. The two of them had a thing for pain, from what you could tell.
"Just a masochist, hm?" You quipped, taking advantage of the fact that he was much too stimulated to give you a teasing remark in response. A moan escaped from your lips when you felt a sharp sting to your ass, the flesh jiggling from the smack that Suguru delivered. "Be nice, you're not exactly in a position to be making little quips," he warned, though his voice didn't hold much bite to it. His thrusts got deeper, your walls stretching to fit his girth.
"Y-Yeah, be nice," Satoru tried to add onto Suguru's words, but all he managed to do was let out another whine. If the other didn't sound intimidating, Satoru just sounded downright pathetic. Your hand went down to his balls, holding his sac in your palm, grasping it gently. Satoru's mouth immediately opened, his eyes closing in pure bliss with needy whines slipping out like water.
Suguru was much quieter than Satoru, though a low moan escaped through his lips on occasion. When he figured no one was listening. His thrusts were almost punishing, the tip of his cock hitting your g-spot every time that he thrusted into you. "Oh fuck!" A loud needy moan escaped from your lips—the very same thing you were making fun of Satoru of, when you felt his fingers go down to your clit. Rubbing against the nerve with just enough force for it to be pleasurable, rather than just overstimulating.
Your walls clenched around Suguru's cock, practically milking him for everything that he had to give. "Ah! Ah! Don't stop, Suguru! S-So good," you whined out, vibrations shooting up Satoru's spine in the process. "D-Don't. Tell. Me How. To. Fuck. You," each word was punctuated with a thrust of his hips, "Fucking brat." And despite his words, you couldn't help the way your slick coated his shaft with every movement of your hips.
You felt it dripping down your thighs, the ground beneath you a mixture of fluids and blood. "Don't forget about me," Satoru let out a whine, your head bobbing to take his shaft deeper than you'd taken him before. "You make it hard to forget when you're so needy," your muttered words turned into a moan, at another smack to your other cheek in return. "S-Said be nice to him," Suguru tried to sound imposing, but the way his voice cracked gave him away almost immediately.
"You're just as much of a masochist as he is, letting two psycho killers fuck you like this," he added, the loud slapping of skin against skin only proving his point. You spat against Satoru's shaft, your chin and mouth covered in a mixture of both of their precum and your spit. Your hand continued to roll his balls the way one would marbles, your thumb running across the sensitive skin. "'M sensitive there, not too much," Satoru moaned out, but the way his hips jerked to meet the movement of your tongue betrayed him.
The two of you were more similar than you would've originally thought, really.
Satoru was the first one out of the three of you to cum, his chest heaving and his abs tensing up when he felt himself getting closer. "I'm close, so so close," and you guessed that his words were supposed to serve as a warning, but you made no move to take your mouth off him. "Fuckk, take it. Just like that," he cooed, his mouth open in an o-shape. Watery spurts of cum shot onto your mouth in a manner of seconds, the taste of him pretty neutral. Better than battery acid cum, you supposed.
Your walls clenched around Suguru's cock, leaving him with little space to move. Your grip was like a vice, milking him the closer you got to your own orgasm. Your nails dug into Satoru's thighs in front of you, crescent indents marking his pale thighs almost instantly. "So tight, you gonna cum?" Suguru maintained the same rhythm to his ability, his fingers rubbing at your clit in the same manner as before. "Y-Yeah, please lemme cum, please, please," your moans came out more and more incoherent.
"Not sayin' no, take it when you're ready," and with one final thrust of hips, your orgasm pooled out of you to form a creamy ring around the base of his shaft. You eased the grip that you had on Satoru's thighs, looking up to see him still coming down from his own orgasm. Suguru's thrusts only got sloppier the closer that he got to his own, his balls slapping against your ass in his fervor to cum. And if he had any intention to pull out, the way your cunt clenched around him would've made that all the more impossible.
"Shit, shit, gonna cum," Suguru, who seemed to have more composure than his partner, groaned out as he reached his own orgasm. Spurts of cum shot inside of your cunt, your walls clenching rhythmically against his shaft. Even if you couldn't see him from where you were standing—you didn't need to just to know that his load was much bigger than Satoru's. His orgasm lasted much longer, leaving the man behind you spent. A couple seconds passed by before he pulled his softening shaft out of your cunt.
"Fuck, fuck, fuck," your moans echoed across the forest, your hands resting against the cabin walls next to you. The two of them didn't seem fazed by the fact they were licking Suguru's cum off your cunt, if anything, you'd say that Satoru seemed to enjoy it a bit too much. "So good," he moaned against your cunt, his tongue flicking against Suguru's when he pushed inside of you. You turned your head to look over at the two of them, the two of them exchanging the combined taste of you and Suguru in a needy kiss.
"Goddamn greedy," you heard Suguru mutter from his side when he'd pulled away, the silver piercing that you'd felt earlier flicking against your clit. Once the two of them had deemed that you were cleaned up enough, they stood up from where they crouched behind you. Satoru dangling your shorts in his hand, taking advantage of your slowed movements to dangle them even higher just when you were about to reach them.
"Come on, we'll give you a five minute head start. If you can stand properly, that is," Satoru spoke up once he'd pulled his pants up, zipping them back up. And as much as you wanted to take advantage of it, you could hardly move a limb without it shaking like a leaf. "Look at her. Think we'll have be nicer than that, maybe ten minutes," Suguru let out a laugh as he zipped himself up as well, wrapping an hand around your arm to help you stand up properly.
It was only then when the sound of a bell echoed throughout the space, bright lights shining above the three of you. Bringing you back to the fact that this was just another cliché horror movie. "Alright, cut. Let's take fifteen before we start on the next scene," you could barely make out the shape of the director as he spoke through the megaphone, the lights above blinding everything that wasn't in close proximity.
What you'd mistaken as the taste of iron had been the stench of corn syrup and ketchup filling your senses, Suguru and Satoru completely covered in fake blood. The two of them waited until no one was facing the stage, Satoru hooking his fingers around your belt loops from behind. "Those moans of yours didn't sound too realistic. Good thing we're very willing to help," Suguru whispered in your ear, your slick coated panties hanging in between his fingers.
"We'll even keep the masks on this time if you're into that."
All you could hope for was that the rest of your cast members would think you were screaming and not creaming. Again.
he’s still inside you, softening, his hips pressed flush to yours—and his mouth is against the curve where your neck meets shoulder. you think it’s just breath. the uneven catch of him coming down, onyx hair sweat-damp and sticking to your skin, the way bodies sometimes tremble after.
then, a drop. another. and another. a slow seep, salt-traced, sliding down the curve of your shoulder blade.
you go still beneath him.
he makes a sound against you—this choked, awful thing, half-cough, half-nothing—and you feel his throat work against your nape. swallowing it back. trying to. the same boy who has never once asked you for anything, making a noise like he’s drowning in three inches of water.
oh.
“‘gumi,” you whisper, and he shakes his head, dark lashes wet against your skin.
don’t.
his fingers tighten on your hip, like he can hold himself together if he just holds you hard enough. you feel him everywhere—the lean weight of him, those sea-glass eyes screwed shut, the way he’s shaking and trying so hard not to.
you don’t turn around. you understand, somehow, that he needs to not be seen right now. so you stay still and let him press his face into your shoulder, let the tears seep into your skin like saltwater, like tide, like something the body has to release or drown in.
your hand finds his over the blooming bruise of your hip—those hands that fight and save, that don't know how to reach for softness.
you don’t squeeze. just—there.
he breathes out, shuddering, and you feel the ocean drain out of him slowly.
you hold the pieces without looking at them. you let him fall apart somewhere safe.
based on the comments beneath this post by my beloved ari summer-oil getou ♡
working on some requests! It'll be a minute tho cause I don't have nearly as much time to write as I wanna, but feel free to send in more i love it 🤍 I forgot how much I love short form content hehe
I wasn't gonna post my main but since I have stories bleeding over between accounts and some of y'all have been sweet enough to lemme know about it I'ma just add it to my pinned 🤍 thanks guys! 💕
leland coyle x reader, sexual content, threats of violence, sneak peek from 'bad dog'
Tile cold beneath your hands and knees, you force yourself down like you're praying at the church of his person. Every fine hair on your neck bristling, goosebumps on your skin as you hesitate before forcing yourself to lick a long, wet stripe along the toe of his boot. Tasting silt and rubber as your unwilling tongue is dragged across the black of one, then the other. Your whole body tensing to hear him chuckle high above the show of it; its rumble caught somewhere dark and dangerous between benign amusement and a ravenous, depthless appetite.
“There’s my special pup…” he roughly croons, and something tight in your lower gut cinches that you tell yourself is hate, even as some floodgate of warmth threatens open. Though as you tense to pull away, to stop this, he gently tsks his tongue.
“Nu-uh-uh, I don’t think so, mutt… Them things’r still filthy.”
He taps the toe of the boot nearest your lips against the tile.
“You leave a single scuff an’ I’ll make you polish off my cock, next, then my cattle prod… Make you lick the lightnin’ right off it.”
୨ৎ your bf shiu refuses to eat you out, so toji shows him how its done ! (nsfw, mdni)
toji only swung by for a drink. nothing serious — he dropped onto your couch with that easy swagger, cracking some joke about women these days expecting a man to actually know what he’s doing.
“c’mon,” he said, halfway through his beer, “if you’re not eating pussy? ha! you’re not even fuckin’.”
it was supposed to be harmless banter, but shiu had just… scoffed. shrugged. muttered, “i never cared for it.”
the air went sharp. your eyes darted to your boyfriend, shiu, then down at your lap, embarrassment burning. you thought maybe the topic would pass — but toji’s head snapped around so fast you swore he’d pull a muscle.
"…so, toji," you start, trying to steer the conversation away from your very frustrating sex life. "how's megu—"
“you what?” he barked a laugh, grinning like he’d caught shiu with his pants down. “you’ve got her in your bed and you don’t go down? you’re kidding me.”
shiu’s jaw ticked. “drop it.”
“nah, fuck that,” toji snorted, setting the bottle down with a clink. “i gotta see this. you’re telling me you're walking around with a woman this pretty—” his eyes slid lazily to you, tongue dragging across his teeth, “—and you haven’t even tasted her?”
shiu didn’t answer. the silence was answer enough.
and that’s how you ended up here: shiu standing stiff by the wall, brows furrowed deep, cigarette half-smoked, while toji’s on his knees between your thighs, holding them apart like they belong to him.
“he's pathetic, ma” toji mutters again, breath hot against your pussy, "i'll make you feel so good, just forget about that asshole, yeah?" he stares at your folds in awe before his tongue dives in.
the first lick is filthy — a fat stripe from hole to clit, ending in a sloppy kiss. he groans like he’s been starving, mouthing at you, sucking your clit between his lips until your hips twitch off the bed.
“ahh—f-fuck—!” you cry, hands flying to the sheets.
he pulls back just long enough to spit right on your cunt, thick and wet, watching his saliva drip before smearing it in with the flat of his tongue. your thighs tremble as he tongue-fucks you, the obscene squelch of spit and slick filling the room.
“listen to her,” he says against you, words muffled by your cunt. “hear how wet she is for me already? that’s after, what, two minutes? and you’ve been ignoring this pussy for months?”
shiu exhales smoke slow, but his shoulders are tight, brows furrowed, jaw clenched like a vice. his hand has drifted — shamefully, almost angrily — to the front of his slacks, palming the hard outline of his cock.
“shut your fucking mouth,” he growls, voice low and brittle.
“nah,” toji chuckles, dragging two fingers through your slick and holding them up, strings of it shining in the dim light. he sucks them into his mouth with a loud pop, then dives back in, tongue flicking your clit quick and mean.
“ohh—god, please, more!” your voice cracks, hips grinding helplessly against his face.
toji growls, gripping your thighs tight. he spits again, watching it drool over your folds, then shoves two thick fingers inside you, pumping hard. his mouth latches onto your clit again, sucking, tongue circling, until your vision goes white.
he glances up at shiu, chin and lips smeared shiny. “you see this? she’s about to cum just from my tongue. you ever make her this loud, huh?”
shiu’s teeth grind audibly, glare scorching, but his hand moves faster against his bulge. “fuck you,” he mutters, ragged.
“nah,” toji groans, curling his fingers inside you. “i'd rather fuck her.” he presses his tongue flat to your hole and hums, the vibration ripping a whine out of you. your whole body arches, cunt gushing around his fingers as you cum, sobbing his name.
then he finally pulls back, lips glistening, chin smeared with your juice, tongue swiping along it slowly. he licks his lips, dragging the string of your slick across his mouth, and just stares at you — eyes dark, grin sharp, totally fucking satisfied with the mess he made.
“fuck,” he murmurs, voice low and filthy. “look at you. all over my mouth. all over my fingers. god, i could do that forever.”
you collapse back on the sheets, trembling, utterly wrecked, while shiu stands there — eyebrows knitted, jaw tight, chest rising fast, hand still pressed to his lap, caught between frustration, jealousy, and undeniable arousal.
toji smirks up at him, still kneeling between your ruined thighs. “look at you. hard just watching me eat what’s yours. pathetic. you should thank me, really. i’m just taking care of your girl.”
shiu exhales smoke through his nose, dark eyes darting between you and toji, lips pressed tight, jaw flexing. then, suddenly, his chest tenses and his hand stops mid-stroke.
“move over, fushiguro.” he growls, voice low, dangerous, heated. “i’m not just gonna sit here anymore and watch you get all the fun."
it's safe to say, none of you were able to get any sleep that night. for good reason!
not because tears are pretty—though he’ll tell you they are—but because they’re proof. proof that you’re unspooling for him in a way you never do for anyone else. when your face floods, your defenses fall away; the words you choke out are honest and small and wrapped in salt. it shows him how much you want this, how willingly you hand yourself over, and the sight of it feeds something deep and hungry inside him. he hoards that proof the way a god hoards worship.
you told him once, half-joking, half-sincerely, that you wanted to be ruined by him. the words tasted like dare and confession. he kept them. tonight, he intends to follow through with it.
you try to sink down on him, to take him fully like you’ve practiced in restless, lonely fantasies. but he is too big—vast and unyielding—and the first attempt is a soft, embarrassing whine. “mmph—” your breath catches, you can’t reach the angle, and the helpless sound twists something in his face into a hungry smirk.
“pathetic,” he murmurs, amusement and command braided together. one hand clamps to your hip, the other finds the small of your back and jerks you forward, forcing you flush against him. the motion is sudden, terrifying, and exactly what you needed. thok. you gasp, tears spilling over without permission.
“s-sukuna,” you pant, voice broken. “i…please—”
“i know it's too much,” he says, deep and low, teeth flashing. “but you asked to be broken. you asked to be ruined. i'm merely giving you what you asked for.” his grip tightens as if to make the truth of it physical. he guides you, not gently—more like shaping clay with a fist. you press down until he bottoms out inside you, wide and filling, and the pressure makes you sob into his chest.
he watches you closely while you tentatively rock your hips, your body jerking pathetically as you try to ride his cock. his eyes are bright, cruel, and reverent all at once. “you can’t even move properly,” he says, voice hoarse with something like delight. “you’re too small, too weak. so fuckin' cute.”
you whine, an urgent, pleading sound, half humiliation, half want. “i’m trying—i’m trying—” the words are breathless, useless. your hips wobble; you’re uncoordinated, desperate to be good for him.
“no,” he snaps, and the sharpness makes your heart spike. he grabs both sides of your waist like a captain taking the helm and shoves you down so you have no choice but to be full of him. the force makes you catch your breath—a sob turned moan. the mixture of pain and pleasure blooms in a hot, unbearable hankering.
"f-fuck! no— i can't!"
"shh… yes you can."
he begins to move you, not with a lover’s patience but with a steadiness that tears you apart. his hands are expert and relentless, correcting every timid tilt, every unsure grind. when you try to take back control, he stills you with a palm over your lower back and adjusts the angle, his fingers pressing where it makes you see stars.
“look at me,” he orders. you lift your face, cheeks wet, hair clinging to your temples. his thumb wipes a tear with a gentleness that contradicts the brutality of everything else. “say you’re mine.”
“i’m yours,” you breathe, the confession coming out softer than you expected, raw and small and entirely true.
“louder,” he demands.
“i’m yours, sukuna—please,” you cry, the words tearing out of you. your breasts heave, your back arches into him, and the sound you make is half plea, half surrender. every sob stitches itself into the cadence of his thrusts.
the room fills with wet, obscene noises, and he matches each of your sobs with a harder, more precise thrust, synchronous in a way that leaves no room for thought. your tears drip down your collarbone, slicking his palm as he drags it along the valley of your breasts, over the soft spot at your throat. he nips there, sharp and claiming, and you flinch and moan at once.
“you don't like crying,” he murmurs against your ear, slow enough that you can feel the breath shake it. “you think it makes you weak.” the words are velvet-wrapped poison. you sob harder, and that sound—raw, unfiltered—does something to him. his hips stutter, pupils dilating. "i like it when you're weak. makes it easier to keep you by my side."
"please— i can do it myself," you beg clumsily for him to let you try, to let you learn to ride him right. to please him. he laughs, a low rumble that vibrates the floor.
“you don’t get to decide that,” he says. “i will show you.”
he teaches with his body. one hand slides between your thighs to rub at your swollen clit, fingers working a rhythm while he holds you fast with the other. when you try to move, he punishes you with a hard push down to keep you steady, and a sharp, hot sting of humiliation shoots through your spine. it’s the exact pinch that makes you submit more willingly than any gentle coaxing.
“say my name,” he commands, each syllable timed to the sharp intake when his pelvis slams upwards.
“s-sukuna!” you sob, louder this time, and the noise tears out of you like an animal released. he grabs tighter, forcing you to wobble on his cock with each rough tilt. the friction is exquisite, an electric knife cutting through the fog in your head.
his voice drops lower, nearly a growl. “good. cry for me. beg for me while i fill you.” he gives you no mercy—only the kind of discipline that leaves your knees weak and your mind blank except for the sensation of him. he presses his forehead to yours for a moment, not tender, but close enough that you can feel the heat of his nose against your brow. “you are mine to ruin,” he says, as if making a promise.
you sob, a sound that turns into another kind of music when he speeds up. the thrusts become jagged—hnngh, ahh!—and every time you try to adjust, he answers with a harsher response, a thumb digging into the small of your back, a bite at the shoulder that draws a new, gasping sound from your mouth. tears streak your cheeks in steady ribbons; the salt on your skin is a map for his lips.
a breathy moan escapes him when your sobs hit a certain pitch. you feel him tighten, the first tremor of approaching release igniting a panicked thrill in your gut.
“i’m—i’m close,” he rasps, icily matter-of-fact. you nod, tears blurring the world. “tell me you're mine,” he orders, almost cruelly.
“i’m yours—i’m yours—i’m yours—” you wail, each repetition tearing something open and making you more obedient than you thought possible. the sound of you calling him that, reducing yourself to a such a pathetic display—broken, pleading, wet—sends him over the edge.
his release hits like a physical force: a hot flood that consumes the tightness in your belly and leaves you quivering in the aftermath. he shudders, voice raw as he growls your name and holds you down as his body convulses, every pulse a claim. even when he comes, he does not let you go immediately; his hands keep you anchored, a possessive weight that keeps you pressed to him.
when the violent rhythm ebbs, he slows, fingers tracing the tracks of your tears with an almost tender cruelty. his breath is rapid, and for a beat there is something unguarded in the way he watches you, chest heaving. “you did well,” he says, low. it’s not a question; it’s an edict that settles around you like smoke.
you lean into him, sticky and spent, cheeks still salt-smudged, and for a moment the world is nothing but the sound of his quiet, satisfied breathing. even the humiliation gleams now, sharp and bittersweet; you had wanted surrender, and you got it—unglamorous and devastating.
“stay,” he murmurs finally, fingers easing from the small of your back to curl around your wrist so you can’t pull away. “cry. break. come back to me, and i will keep you.” the promise is both gentle and horrifying, and you nod, because beneath the ache and the embarrassment there is a ferocious, private relief: you were seen, undone, and claimed by something enormous.
the way I check your page like it's my morning newspaper should be illegal cause wild animals is living rentfree in my head 💀
i hope you're doing well tho 🫶 take your time, you don't owe us anything - we will still be here when the last chapter drops 💫
😭💕 im sorry its taking so looonnnngggg lol, you're so sweet thank you! it's still on my radar I am of course just taking my sweet ass time with it lol, im really excited for the resurrection finale too 👀💕
you had lost count—no, scratch that, you'd given up counting moments ago—of how many times you’d come tonight. You were utterly breathless, eyes blurry, and mind hazy, after another exceedingly euphoric release, yet your boyfriend seemed like he was far from done with you. He eyed your nakeness as if you were the center of the universe, worshipping every curve of your body with his sinful gaze: how your sprawled-out frame spasmed from overstimulation on his wrinkled sheets; how you babbled out sweet pleas as you convulsed from your high—an indecent spectacle.
fuck. he cursed on his mind, feeling his cock hardening once again.
he moaned greedily, eyes not leaving your raw form as he spread your legs further with one hand, the other pumping his cock, readying for another round—he was insatiable.
“oh, bab—fuck.” you cried out, your body shivering from oversensitivity from the small movement.
despite your glossy vision, you could tell he was…amused; his eyes glinting with inextinguishable need and desire—a perverted combination. who wouldn't be? when he gets to see such picturesque view below for his eyes alone. With an exasperated sigh, he tapped his heaviness against your slick folds—an impatient gesture; you moaned, biting the flesh of your lip.
the warmth of his cock radiates deliciously onto your pooling cunt, and as if fuel to a flame, you burned with desire—relentlessly.
“spread your legs wider for me, baby..” he ordered brusquely, his voice tainting with an immense degree of greed, need, and danger that only turned you on more. you spread your legs, pussy squelching lewdly as your folds opened, beholding your glistening hole.
he licked his lips. “wider…” he groaned
you moaned, and without hesitation, you obliged with no shame—a brazen act that he loved about you; he chuckled deviously.
“fuck, baby, you think you could take my cock with that gap?” he ridiculed, his laugh reverberating on his chest that scratched something in your brain. god, the way he sounded—like a drug—it was addictive. you’re mind was too mushy and hazy that you hadn't realize his sneaky deed.
biting his lip, he pressed his tip on your hole—splitting it open with a soppy squelch.
“ah!” you gasped, eyes rolling back.
and with a devious smirk on his face, he seethed, “wider.” his voice low, stern, and venomous—impatient.
꒰ SYNOPSIS ꒱ : your cramps have hit you especially hard this month and astarion has an idea that could be mutually beneficial
꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI. f!reader, period sex, oral (f!receiving), mentions of blood, unprotected sex but astarion pulls out, multiple orgasms, blood sucking, praise, pet names (darling, my sweet, pet), — WC : 2.2k
reblogs and interactions are always appreciated ! (*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᰔ*.ﾟ
“believe me, pet, it would be a win-win.” astarion drawls, his hands following the flow of his speech. “you lay down and let me take care of you while i get my fill.”
the thought had crossed your mind before —fleetingly. the last time he fed from your neck the idea planted itself in your mind in a haze joined by many other ones, swirling together as your body tried to make sense of what was happening.
“but,” the argument you were about to make dies in your throat. but, what? astarion was asking you to let him indulge, a chance to satiate his hunger while also pleasuring his lover. his eyes plead with yours, giving away how eager he really is. “sure, why not.”
“that’s the spirit.” he claps his hands together before reaching out for your hand. “i promise i’ll take good care of you, my little treat.”
“what did i say about using that nickname?” you mumble as he takes your hand, quickly bringing it up against his lips for a quick peck, hiding the small smirk that was blossoming.
flashes of the last time he called you that floods your mind – the way it slipped off the tip of his tongue and lured you to his bed. the first night you let him feed off of your neck, taking the blood he needed while his cock was buried in your heat.
“what’s that? can’t hear you darling.” he teases, knowing exactly what was running through your mind right now. he finishes guiding you to his tent and he closes the curtain. “no matter, it’s just you and me now.”
suddenly, you feel a bit nervous under his stare. the reality of your moment coming into the forefront of your brain. you knew he has an affinity for blood, but what if it tasted bad — what if you tasted bad?
his lithe fingers gently cradle your face, adoration soaking his features. his dark red eyes trail all over your features, taking in every little piece of your face.
“gods, you’re beautiful.” he breathes out, slowly leaning in to kiss you. you meet him halfway, lips colliding against one another as his hand starts to trail down the curve of your waist. he pulls apart for a second, placing a quick peck before he speaks again. “i can’t wait to taste you, i know you’ll be as sweet as always.”
his words pour over you as warm reassurance, your body melting against him as he kisses you again. the small flame that had formed before was quickly simmering into a wildfire, lying just beneath the surface and ready to consume both of you in a spark of passion.
but for now, he takes his time with you. his lips trail down your neck, fangs barred as they lightly drag along your jugular. you hold back a gulp, ashamed at how much it makes you yearn for him even more.
he doesn’t bite, not when he’s so eager for what lies below. you lay all the way down the bedroll as he makes his descent, murmurs of praise slipping off his tongue and onto your skin.
he makes quick work of the pants you had on, tearing them down your thighs as his bloodlust starts to kick in. in seconds, his head is buried in between your thighs, nose pressed against your clit as he deeply inhales.
“darling-“ he breathes out, absolutely in awe of how delicious you’re going to taste. “this is…” he trails off, unsure if words could describe how much this means to him.
“never seen you so speechless before.” you tease, trying not to squirm under his gaze, his eyes locked onto the blood woven slick pooling at your entrance.
“what can i say?” he presses a kiss just above your clit, eyes darting up to yours. “this is a gift, and i plan on showing you just how appreciative i am for it. for you.”
you open your mouth to retort but his tongue catches your throbbing nub first, sending a jolt throughout your body. after that first taste, he’s gone. completely lost in you and the frenzy begins.
he tosses your leg over his shoulder, angling himself to get deeper. his tongue delves back into you and you feel him everywhere. it’s enough to arch your back, your fingers clawing in his hair. he grunts approvingly into your messy cunt, licking up every little speck of blood he can get his mouth on.
each precise stroke of his tongue has you unraveling in his hold, undoubtedly gushing more of your bloody essence on his eagerly awaiting mouth. he was practically moaning now, the vibrations shooting throughout your body. he breaks for air for a moment, licking his lips and looking up to you.
“no one could ever taste as sweet as you, darling.” a soft nibble to your inner thigh, his darkened, blown out eyes still locked onto you.
he goes back down on you, slowly pushing in his fingers to draw more out of you, wanting you to flood his vision with the small slice of heaven you’re granting him right now.
it’s all too much and you’d be lying if you said his enthusiasm wasn’t the driving force towards your release. you’d never been with a man so desperate for your taste, especially when you were in this state.
your back starts to arch off the bedroll, reeling in the pleasure that’s about to snap. the coil shatters into a thousand pieces as you dig your fingers into his curls once again. you don’t know if you were loud or not, you don’t know anything as a white veil had taken up your vision, pleasure coursing through your veins as your blood pounds within your ears.
the tent is silent, save for both of your heavy breathing. through half lidded eyes, you see him greedily lick around his lips, ensuring he didn’t waste a drop of the gift you’ve given him.
it takes a few moments for you to come back down to reality, your head swimming in the pleasure astarion hurtled you in. you watch as he places one last kiss against your cunt, slowly backing up on his haunches.
without breaking eye contact, he slips his still coated fingers in his mouth, eyes almost rolling to the back of his head as he savors the taste of you. a beat goes by and you think it’s over and time to head back to your own tent.
but he’s always been a selfish man.
“you know, i don’t think i’ve quite gotten my fill of you yet.” his voice sings in your ear. “i think i want a little more.”
“you might have to wait a bit.” the words flow out of you as you prop yourself up on your elbows, getting a better look at him. his eyes were still blown out — crazed. whenever he has that frenzied look in his eyes, his hunger is still strong and his sights are set on you.
“or, maybe not.” he tilts his head to the side. “let’s have sex so i can make a proper mess of you.”
“what? i-i’m not sure.” you frown slightly. the cramps had subsided, sure. but who’s to say that wouldn’t bring them back?
“think about it.” he drawls, taking off his shirt, showcasing his body. “coming a few times will be very beneficial. it’ll clear everything right out.”
“well.” you pause. realistically, there could be a truth in that. but who knew if your body would listen to logic anyway. and yet, “well i suppose it couldn’t hurt to try.”
“exactly, darling.” he smiles before a softer look falls onto you. “but if it does, you’ll let me know.”
it wasn’t a question. the underlying care he held for you was slipping through the cracks of the tantalizing facade he loved to put up. you nod your head in confirmation. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t excited to test this theory out, especially watching him slowly untie his breeches. lithe fingers that were just inside of you untwisting the knots woven in the string.
his cock springs out from being stuffed away, begging for some sort of relief judging by the amount of precum that was pooling on its head.
he hastily lines himself up to your slick entrance, rubbing his tip around it before it kisses your swollen clit. you gasp out as your body tingles with electricity. after a baited breath, he starts to slide in agonizingly slow, carefully watching your face as he does so.
but you look away, the eye contact feeling a bit much — even after everything. he was just too pretty, his expressions too raw. every moment you held his gaze, the fire inside of you threatens to take over.
“you need to look at me, my sweet.” his cold fingers grasp your chin lightly, tilting your head so you had no choice but to look at him.
before, when you had first slept with astarion, things hadn’t been so intimate. of course, it was all very rushed. it was the end of a gruesome battle and tensions were high, not to mention alcohol was swirling around in both of your systems.
but this was different. so much time had passed since then — or at least, that’s what it felt like. it’s all been so intense since you first met the pale elf that you hardly believe it’s only been less than a few months.
and in that time, you two had gotten so close, really close. slowly prying each other's heart open with gentle, reassuring hands. something that had forged itself out of forced trust, blooming into a beautiful and vulnerable partnership.
“i’m here.” you whisper, finally looking at him. his eyes soften and you realize at some point you started to caress his cheek. your finger smooths over his soft, smooth skin before his lips meet the palm of your hand, pressing a kiss onto it.
“and thank the gods for that.” he whispers back with a pleased look. his hips were flush with yours, moving in slow and short movements so he didn’t overwhelm you. but every second he filled you up, you could feel the pain subsiding in your lower abdomen.
you let out a soft whine, clenching around him as he starts to go a little faster. his eyes trail from yours and down your neck, looking at the twin marks he left the last time he had you in his embrace.
“astarion-.” you gasp out, savoring the way he continues to roll his hips into you, molding your cunt perfectly to take him and him alone.
“yes, my love?” he whispers, pressing a delicate kiss against your neck, taking every ounce of his self control to not sink his teeth into you. but he was making you feel so much better, one bite couldn’t hurt, right? you tilt your neck to the side to show it off for him. he hesitates. “are you sure?”
“please.” a simple request he wouldn’t leave unfulfilled as his fangs dig into your neck, the same spot he drank from before. he sucks lightly, your mind clouding and filling with nothing but stinging pleasure.
his starts to thrust again — faster this time as he gets lost in the overwhelming sweetness of your blood. it fuels through his body, giving him the strength he normally needs to help keep you safe. but instead, he’s only using it to drive into you harder.
he pulls back from your neck with a gasp like he’s been shocked, blood dripping down the sides of his mouth. his attention shifts, watching his cock disappearing into your cunt, feeling you already start to gush around him, blood starting to soak around his length.
“so sweet.” the words barely leave his lips, but enough for you to hear it. his fingers move down to swirl against your clit, trying to give you the same pleasure you were giving him. “make a mess for me, my sweet.”
words escape you as moans take its place, his name a mantra you can’t stop yourself from repeating. the sting from the bite he gave you was rushing through your veins now, every sense of your nerves being heightened to places it’s never been — overwhelming pleasure coursing through your whole body.
you clench around his cock, squeezing him so tightly he can’t control his hips anymore, rutting against you as the pleasure finally consumes you both.
astarion’s eyes flutter shut as you cum around him, coating his cock in your bloody essence. once you stop fluttering around him, he quickly pulls out and cums all over your lower abdomen.
your head lolls back, coming down from the high he just gave you, aftershocks running down your body. astarion lightly trails his hands along you, a surge of energy overcoming him as he breathes in your scent once again.
“there, now that that’s settled,” he pauses, immediately sliding down and tucking his head back in between your thighs. he licks his lips quickly, his tongue darting across as his feast lays before him. “i’d like to resume my meal.”
How do you feel about Coyle X Murkoff Nurse! Reader? Reader is a new and skilled nurse but had the terrible misfortune of having to patch up Coyle after a nasty run in with some reagents. He was being grumpy and bitchy the whole time she was patching him up and she is just so over it. She responds to him with sarcasm and some attitude and Coyle's kinda digging it.
Afterwards, He goes on his way and she thinks that's the end of it right? Wrong. Seemingly out of no where, she finds out she's been reassigned. She is now Coyle's personal nurse and has to patch him up in between trials and overall be in his close proximity 24/7. There's no escaping him now.
How do I feel about this? Anon, this is SO good. I love the idea of Nurse!Reader tending to this bastard. Also, this got really long, really quick, I just couldn't help myself lol. Honestly? When it comes to Coyle I fear I can't help myself in general haha. Enjoy!
WC: 2,495
CW: Suggestive, sexist, and derogatory terms used by Coyle (obviously). depictions of gore and violence. Fem implied reader.
Coyle's Nightingale
You pulled the blue and white pin striped dress over your head. It was stiff, but Nurse Barlow told you it would soften up in a few washes. You smoothed the stiff dress out before fastening a white shift to the front of the dress with safety pins. You did up your hair, affixing the white Flossie–with a muted blue ‘Murkoff’ logo embroidered dead center–to your head with Bobby pins.
You pulled on your sheer stockings and slipped your feet into shiny, patent leather, black Mary Jane style shoes. You turned to the small mirror in your room, looking at your warped reflection.
“Ok.” You took in a deep breath, “this is it!” You smiled at yourself.
You had been in between jobs, looking for something steady, looking for something that could keep a roof over your head. Nursing jobs had been far and few in between. You got lucky by happening upon a flyer stating a facility nurse was needed while a medical research program was being conducted. You practically jumped at the chance. Onboarding had been quick, and now you were to shadow under Nurse Barlow for the time being.
You walked down the halls of the Sinyala facility, and took a mental note of how run-down it looked. The walls were grimy, the tile floors were scuffed and had oddly colored stains. It almost seemed like poorly mopped dried blood. For a medical facility specializing in ‘research’ you’d have thought the upkeep would have been better. You thought it would have been in pristine condition, or at least clean. You pushed the thought out of your mind as you entered the pharmacy and laid eyes on Nurse Barlow reading at the counter.
Her blonde hair was perfectly curled in the front, her face done up with a soft blue eyeshadow, a soft pink rouge, and deep red lipstick. Her nails are perfectly manicured with red nail lacquer. You became a bit self conscious at your own appearance, she exuded the perfect, traditional, American nurse image. She was an exact copy of the nurses on the flyers you had seen years ago for the last war, enticing young women to join the nurses on the front lines. Propaganda you admittedly fell for yourself.
Without looking up from her book, she greeted you. “Oh, hi Honey, why don’t you take a seat?”
You silently nodded. You took note of just how tired she sounded. You seriously hoped this wasn’t what your job was going to entail. A pill pusher? You had much more qualifying skills than just working a pharmacy counter. You had been stationed overseas for God sakes tending to the soldiers in the last war.
You looked up to the glass window, seeing a few men in bio-hazard suits that covered them head to toe. They donned surgical masks, and goggles. Both items obscured their faces. They wore long knee length aprons, and elbow length gloves over their suits. You couldn’t quite see what or who they were working on. Whatever they were doing must have been intense as they wore so much PPE.
“Erm, Nurse Barlow?”
“Hmm?”
“What uh, what am I going to be doing here? I just… no offense, I just don’t think working the pharmacy counter is really putting my skills to use…”
Nurse Barlow sighed before shutting her book. “Look, whatever Doctor Easterman has assigned you to do, you do. He knows what's good for you.” She opened her book and resumed reading.
You sighed, resting your elbows on the counter, and propping your head up in your hands. You looked around for anything to do rather than just sitting here. Yet everything seemed to already be meticulously organized. At least Nurse Barlow seemed to keep her station clean.
“Nurse, one of the Prime Assets had a nasty trial with one of the reagents. He needs a good examine and potentially could use some patching up.”
You nearly jumped at the sudden voice, turning around to see a guard.
Nurse Barlow let out a heavy sigh, and slammed her book closed before turning to the guard. “Who is it?”
“It’s Sergeant Coyle, ma’am.”
“That bastard? Oh, pardon my french dear.” She looked at you. You waved her off.
“Yes, ma’am. Can you follow me please? We’ll take you down to the Thin Blue Line.”
You followed close behind as the two left the pharmacy.
During on-boarding, you had been given a quick rundown of what to expect, and not to be too frightened. This was rigorous therapy designed to help the most demented of people. Everything you were about to see or come across, you had been assured, was perfectly fine. You were then taken to a dark room, and made to watch a video filmed by Doctor Easterman elaborating further on what this was.
Yet despite all that, you were not prepared to see what you did. The room you, Nurse Barlow, and the guard entered was in horrendous condition. There was gore and viscera staining the walls and covering the floor. Dismembered bodies littered the room. The sight was nothing compared to the smell. Rancid meat, and decay filled your nose. The scent was mixed with something else, it smelled almost… burnt. You pressed your lips into a thin line as you tried to not let the sight or smell get to you.
What was this place? What exactly was going on here? And what the fuck did you get yourself into?
Your thoughts were quickly interrupted by a different guard wheeling in a gurney. Strapped to it by leather restraints was a cop. Or at least, he looked like a cop.
The man was dressed in a very basic cop uniform; a leather jacket concealed a white button down adorned with a red tie. His pants were black–standard issued slacks– and he wore knee high leather boots. He only had one glove on his right hand. You looked at his face, half of it was scarred to hell and back. His beard was black and beginning to gray in some spots. His eyes were obscured by black aviator glasses. The black cap on his head was decorated with a badge that read ‘Special Killer.’
The strangest part about his outfit was the yellow and blue wires that were wrapped around his torso and coiling down his right arm. You were too focused on taking in his incredibly strange appearance to hear what he was ranting and raving about.
“-THOSE PINKO FUCKS!”
You jumped at how loud he got. Nurse Barlow scoffed at him, “I can’t be worrying about Prime Assets. My Reagents need me. Let the new nurse take care of him.”
You were about to protest, when Coyle’s southern drawl filled your ears once more, “Easterman hired another whore to clean up his mess?”
You glared at the cop, taken aback at how quick he was to degrade you. He didn’t even know your name.
“I’ve done my time patching up Prime Assets. It’s her turn.” Nurse Barlow left with the guard.
You were left alone with Coyle. Albeit him being strapped down, you were still uneasy. You looked around the room, noticing another viewing window with identically dressed doctors you saw in the pharmacy. Seeing them put you at ease.
You walked over to the gurney, “OK… Um, Mr. Coyle, Sir? I’m going to examine you now. Tell me what happened.”
“I don’t need no patchin’ up. I need to teach those Fuck-O’s a lesson! There’s fuckin’ laws ‘round here and I was just enforcin’ ‘em.”
“Well, you’re bleeding. I have to examine you.”
You walked closer to him, doing your best to shove the cords out of the way, and began to unzip his leather jacket. His white button down and red tie came into view. You knew his face was bloodied, what you couldn't see is what worried you. You didn't know what was hiding under his garb, and you didn't have the tools readily available if it was more than a scratch.
“I need a fuckin’ cigarette.” Coyle barked.
“No smoking. Those things kill you, ya know.” You began unbuttoning his shirt, gently moving the fabric away from him.
Coyle scoffed, “You can’t keep me from smokin’. Can’t tell me what to do, neither.”
Your delicate movements surprised him enough to shut him up. You slid your hands over his stomach, pressing down lightly to see if anything was tender. When he made no sound you moved on to his ribs, gently pressing your fingers against the bones to feel for any abnormalities.
Coyle, though he’d never admit it to you, reveled in the feeling of your hands working on him. Your warm, soft, and feminine touches elicited a spark of arousal within him. A very primal feeling overtook him.
“Hrrm, honey, I think my groin is injured too, might wanna take a look.” Coyle groaned.
You rolled your eyes and shook your head continuing to palpate for any unseen internal injuries. “Ok, looks good.” You re-buttoned his shirt, zipping his jacket back up.
“Officer Coyle? I need to examine your obvious facial injuries. I need to remove your cap and glasses.”
“First you deny me my cigarettes, ‘n now you wanna expose me further? I don’t think so, Honey.”
You softly sighed, a sound Coyle surprisingly enjoyed. His cock twitched in his pants. He took another look at you, clear disdain was plastered on your face.
You stood next to his face, hands on your hips, “You’re gonna have to cooperate.” You broke the silence.
Coyle grumbled under his breath, beyond agitated that one; he hadn’t had a smoke in a good hour. And two, he couldn’t get any reaction out of you. Which only tempted him further.
Coyle wondered just how much you could take before you broke. How much would it take to get that pretty head of yours to snap? He was dead set on trying.
“Ya gonna make me, Honey? Ya gonna try ‘n tell me, an officer of the law, what to do?”
You glared at Coyle. Your gaze cold and dark. There was something behind your eyes Coyle couldn’t quite place. Something dangerous hidden behind a pretty facade. Something Coyle found himself wanting.
“As a matter of fact, yes. You’re in my care now. For the time being you will listen to me.”
Coyle scoffed, “well how ‘bout that. A woman thinkin’ she can tell a man what to do.”
You rolled your eyes, but bit your tongue. You were still a nurse, and you needed to behave as such. Coyle was a right asshole, now you see why Nurse Barlow wanted nothing to do with him. You took a deep breath, and retrieved supplies left for you on a nearby table.
You looked over the gauze, the thin wire, and the needle. Not appropriate supplies for patching someone up, and definitely not sterile either. You really started doubting this was a proper medical facility.
You turned back to Coyle who was shifting uncomfortably on the Gurney. “You’re gonna want to stop moving while I stitch the gash under your eye.”
Coyle stopped moving, not because you told him to of course, but because the sooner this was over, the sooner he could get back to cooking the pink out of those sorry ass reagents, and the sooner he could get a smoke.
You cautiously approached him, still wary even though he was restrained. You gently wiped away the caked up blood with a square of gauze, opening the already healing wound as you removed the scabs, causing a fresh trickle of bright crimson blood to leak out. You frowned at the sight. Coyle didn't seem to notice, or if he did, he didn't care. You pressed the square of gauze to the gash and held firm pressure, slightly moving Coyle's head to the side as you did so.
Coyle looked up at you, seeing you so focused intrigued him. Seeing you so focused on him caused his already aroused cock to leak. He was desperate to see just how far you'd let him go, see how much of him you could take before you broke. Mentally and physically.
He watched as you removed the gauze, checking the wound before tossing the piece of cotton aside. He watched as you skillfully threaded the needle, and returned to the gash on his face.
"Hold still, I don't have lidocaine so you're going to feel this unfortunately.
"Hrmm, that ain't nothin' Honey."
You gently pinched the sides of the gash together and pierced the skin. You quickly began suturing his wound close. You winced every time your needle stabbed into his skin, pulling the thin wire through with a faint squelch. Your finger tips now stained a deep red. You pulled the needle through his skin for a final time, and tied off the wire.
"Ok, all done." You tossed the needle and wire down on the nearest surface. "I'll call the guards in to bring you back to wherever it is you came from."
Coyle sneered, grumbling under his breath once more. You couldn't quite tell what he was saying due to his already low voice and southern drawl.
"You're welcome." You wiped your bloodied hands on the white shift pinned to you.
"I ain't thankin' you fer doing yer job." Coyle glared at you.
"I wouldn't of had to do 'my job' if you weren't cruisin' for a bruisin'." You taunted him.
Coyle didn't know what to say. No one had the balls to stand up to him, much less someone the opposite gender. "If those Jay-walkin' Shitbags didn't gang up on me... Lord. I'd have killed every last one of 'em Commie shitbirds."
"Uh-huh. I'm sure."
Coyle glared daggers at you, not that you could see his eyes behind the dark aviator glasses he wore. He swore to himself if he'd ever get the chance, he'd fucking kill you. Or fuck you. Or kill you. He'd be doing one of the two. "Just wait Sweetness, when I get my hands on you... I'm gonna fry yer ass."
The guards finally came and wheeled Coyle off. You let out a sigh of relief. You couldn't wait to get back to your room, change, and resume your pharmacy duties. You were starting to think being a pill pusher wouldn't be all that bad.
You turned to leave, when another guard stopped you.
"Um, nurse? We just got word from Doctor Easterman. You're being reassigned."
"Reassigned? But I just started. I haven't even been here for a full twelve hours!"
"Sorry. He's moving you down to the Thin Blue Line. You'll be the nurse down there."
"For what? The Reagents come back to the sleep room and the pharmacy there!" You argued.
"Not for the Reagents Ma'am."
Your heart dropped. You knew what the guard was about to say, and you prayed to whoever was listening that he wouldn't say it.
