• Chosen one. What a damn coincidence that the protagonist/main character is the one, the child of prophecy who will bring peace to the world. My favorite variation is a chosen one that's failed and/or disgraced and has to redeem himself and prove his worth. That, or the chosen one is one of many chosen one variants who fail or have abandoned their calling.
• Humans are the real evil/monster. Yeah, I get it, humanity sucks. No need to be reminded over and over again when I can just open social media or the news on the daily to beat it over my head.
• Anything to do with animals. I just don't wanna see them hurt to be quite honest.
@zhellas asked: Civilian Male!Reader who gets a crush on Nobara and tries getting to know her
*:･ﾟ✧it took an embarrassing long time for me to finish jjk alskdasoidasd
male!reader
tw: none
• Just give up lmao.
• But honestly, having a crush on Nobara is like walking on glass shards and hot coals. Liking her hurts because she’s got standards, it hurts even more that she takes her jujutsu seriously and the fact that you were a civilian even more so. The best shot that you could get is that you fit her certain criteria on men and you’ll have a slight chance on getting her to notice you.
• Nobara isn’t heartless. She gives chances when she sees them fit. And you were pretty cute that you wanted to get to know her despite who she is. And she definitely wasn’t the type to string you along only to dump you in the end. If you were serious about her, then she pays it back.
• It was hard to find free time for you two to hang out but for those times that she does, she goes all out. She goes shopping while you carry her bags whilst you two were having a conversation about whether a movie series was overrated or not. She doesn’t waste time when she can multi-task! After all, she wants to make the most of her free time. You had to appreciate her tenacity, even though you struggled for the first few dates. But it wasn’t long that you two fell into an unexpected rhythm.
• Of course, she isn’t a woman without class. She also settles on “normal” dates as thanks for being patient with her. Cafe dates are always her favorite as fluffy pancakes with piles of whipped cream and dusted sugar are rare for her hometown to make. Any opportunity to live the city girl life, she takes, and you were honestly surprised at how she’s a completely different person when it comes to anything Tokyo.
• It was these very rare and few moments that you and Nobara are “normal”. Getting to know her past, getting to know her friends (who just so happen to wear hoodies and shades inside the cafe and hid their faces behind a stack of pancake soufflés), and all of the school stresses that you two experience.
• Nobara can never say this out loud, but she enjoys this sense of normalcy that you give. She accepted that she could never live normally and she hates it when people would give her a false sense of normalcy. But she supposes, when you just look at her so earnestly and cutely like that, that maybe she could give you a chance.
• (Meanwhile, Itadoru and Fushiguro, are filming everything on their phone as blackmail for Nobara)
Male!R x Billie (F!Billy) in a very rough and toxic, yet extremely horny, relationship. Like all the stuff we talked about a while ago.
HEY! Well been a minute since I have done you a thing Zhellas and as per usual you really come through with the M!Reader prompts! I got pretty dark and out there at points with this, hope you enjoy it as does everyone else!
I appreciate the patience, this shoulda been out earlier but after that hard news I got earlier this week it really fucked me up and took me outta the writing mood but hey I am back in it now! SO! I let’s get into it!
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Rating. Explicit. Length. 5.6K. F!Billie Loomis X M! AMAB! Reader. Warnings: Dark! Fic. Toxicness. Unhealthy Relationship. Mentions of murder, blood, gore, death. Rough Sex. Throat Fucking. Oral Sex. Vaginal Sex. Vaginal Fingering. Public Sex. Hitting. Spitting. Degradation. Dirty Talk. Cream Pie. Name Calling. Ropes. Restrained Sex. Semi-Public and Full Public Sex. Handjobs. Blowjobs. Cumplay. Bloodplay. Reader Is Hopelessly In Love. Complex Feelings. Confliction. Cumming Where You Totally Shouldn't.
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Billie Isn’t Alright.
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Everything started so great but hey doesn’t it always? No one sets out to get into a relationship like the one you find yourself in now. You don’t have a first date and then sit down with your friends the next day at lunch and when they ask how you it went you say “Oh she was a manipulative, psychotic, disgusting human being who ignored my boundaries, called me names and took a distinct and sick pleasure in harming me.”
No one does that. And for good reason. If you spill all of that up front no one would ever stick around. She knew that all too well when she first got with you.
Thing is with Billie Loomis, like any good shitty human, she lulls you into a false sense of security. Gets you invested, gets you to care, to fall in love, makes you feel like the most wonderful and special person, talks about how you “-get them-” and all that other ilk.
Then they reveal all the dark and broken parts of themselves slowly. Over time they expose the darkness inside more and more and start to push your boundaries all the while until they are a seemingly totally different person than the one you first got together with. But by then you are hopelessly in love with them and feel stuck and like you have nowhere to turn, nowhere to run or hide.
Her plan had worked like a charm, you had fallen so damn hard so damn fast for the brunette. Ended up getting impossibly infatuated over diner food and double feature movies, during long drives and late night talks. Finding immense and intense comfort in her arms and even more between her spread thighs. That was the one place she allowed a bit more of her actual tastes to shine through. Would encourage you to be rougher, to go faster, harder, hold her down and spread open, put a hand to her throat and her deep brown eyes looking up into yours as she would say so prettily, “C’mon, you can hurt me. I want it to hurt.”
You weren’t the type to want to do that before but she changed that. Showed you just how good it could be. Pushed you furthest in that regard first, you ate it up, couldn’t help it, felt far too good to question it. Why would you ever want to stop when she looked and felt like that when she was cumming underneath you, legs wrapped around your hips, back arched and gasping out your name.
To be perfectly honest maybe you should have caught on sooner, especially when one late night, on her knees she pulled out a pocket knife and your breath caught in your throat. Looking down at her in the moonlight, between your spread legs, something darker in her gaze, lips locked around the head of your cock as she held the blade to your inner thigh, letting you feel how cold it was.
To start.
Then it slowly biting into your flesh as her mouth worked you over, drawing blood painfully slow and when she took your hand and put it on her head, burying your fingers in her hair and encouraging you with those demanding eyes to “-fuck my throat.”
You could practically hear the demand even with her mouth occupied and you hesitated. That is what made her eyes narrow and dig the blade into you, that made you curse “What the fuck?!” and pull her hair and give in, fucked her mouth hard and rough, she felt incredible, you didn’t stop until you spilled down her throat.
When she pulled back there was drool running down her chin, breathing hard, she was looking up at you, you were still barely coming down she reached out and ran her finger in the blood leaking from the cut on your thigh and brought it up to her mouth, running her finger over the center of her tongue before her lips closed around it and she sucked. The hum she let out, like it, like you, were the best thing she ever tasted.
Fuck she had you.
So again when you stumbled in on her, mask off, blood splattered across her face, one of the biggest knives you’ve ever seen in her grip, silver blade dripping in thick red, you should have expected it.
Her hand fisted in that poor fucker’s shirt, he was a mess of holes and red under her, she looked wild, unhinged, you’d seen that look before, just a little bit different, that same look in her eyes when you gave in to those demands she gave in bed.
She let go of the guy’s shirt, she stood up straight, looking at you. Chest still heaving from the effort of what she had done, looking you up and down, like she was considering something. That look of hers held such weight, such complexity, it aroused and scared you in equal measure. You swallowed hard and spoke first, “Billie-”
That seemed to wake her up from her stupor, her eyes meeting yours and her expression turned harder, you weren’t sure what it meant until her grip on the knife tightened and she lurched forward. She charged you, blade out, other hand reaching out for you and holy fucking shit she was about to kill you, about to run you through just like that poor son of a bitch on the floor behind her.
Luckily you thought fast. You moved to one side, her blade missed and you grabbed her wrist, hard, turning so you were now behind her, the other hand met her shoulder, foot sweeped hers out from under her and you pushed her down, hard. She let out a grunt upon hitting the ground, you were on top of her, she was struggling but you had her pinned down too hard. Her head turned, looking at you over her shoulder, hair was stuck to her forehead, she was smirking slightly, “Are you surprised, y/n?”
You had no response to that and so instead you said, “Drop the knife Billie.”
She let out a little laugh, “Oh fuck off! What? So you can stab me instead? Don’t fucking think so.” Your knee dug harder into her back, you were gritting your teeth, did she really think you could ever do that to her? You couldn’t. You weren’t like her but before tonight you never would have thought she could do this. Maybe you were wrong about a lot and just didn’t know it yet.
She hadn’t stopped moving under you. She wasn’t as strong as you but fuck was she slippery, was squirming so much. “I’m not gonna stab you.”
“Why not? Don’t tell me you’re as stupid as I think you are.” You said it so easily, far too easily but that is just how badly she had you, “I won’t kill you. I love you.”
What you said hung heavy in the air.
She broke first, she laughed, head falling forward, forehead touching hardwood and she didn’t stop laughing. “You fucking idiot.”
For some reason that is what got you. Her laughing, calling you an idiot, you twisted her wrist and she winced, she dropped the knife and you swiped it away, it slid across the floor away from you. “Why am I fucking idiot exactly, Billie?”
She nearly snorted, unable to respond, still too busy cracking up, it made you angrier. Your hands on both her shoulders you rolled her over, pinned her wrists on either side of her head, straddling her, sitting on her, pinning her hips down, “Answer me! Why am I an idiot?!”
Sucking back a deep breath, she finally calmed herself down enough to reply, grin still splitting her face, she was looking up at you, “Cuz.” Another breathless laugh, “You walk in on your girlfriend mid-murder, discover she is totally fucked up, complete phsycho and you’re response is to tell her you love her?!”
An amused shake of her head before it tipped back onto the floor below, “Total. Idiot.”
All of this sparked something in you. Seeing her like this, doing such a violent act, the look in her eyes, her making an attempt on your life, the fight and struggle, her demeanor, her verbal abuse and name calling. You’d never been more upset and so you spat out, “Fuck you.”
Made her laugh again, “Yeah judging by the front of your jeans I bet you want to.” She was smirking up at you, something so defiant in her eyes. “Question is. Are you gonna?”
You did.
Ripped her robe up and off, her white t-shirt was stained through with blood from the crime she committed, you yanked it up, red smudges on her skin, her bra stained too, you hooked your fingers in the middle part of her bra, tugged it down so her tits popped free. You were rushing, were far too hard, just had to have her, you weren’t even sure why, maybe you wanted to put her in her place, or wanted to teach her a lesson or maybe just because you were reluctant to admit that you were actually hot and bothered.
You had her jeans down and off, your own out of the way, you spit into your palm, about to jerk yourself for a bit of prep, make yourself at least a little wet and she scoffed, “Awe, a courtesy spit for your murderer girlfriend, how fucking sweet.”
She cooed it so mocking, so sickenly saccharine, you let out a disgusted sound and your hands came down onto her thighs, spread her legs forcefully, ripped her panties to the side and buried yourself in her dry. She let out the most delicious sounding groan and you realized that she was fucking wet. God she really was fucked up, she got soaked from killing whoever that was a few feet away.
You glanced over, that is right, you were a few feet from a dead body, one that your girlfriend, the girl that you thought you knew better than anyone, who has lied to you about this and who knows how many other things, just killed and she was dripping wet from it.
It disgusted you, it angered you, it turned you on too fucking much. That night was the most intense one you had with her by far. She seemed to love it, kept pushing you further and further, it got the exact desired effect she hoped, you fucked her like you hated her.
You were rough, slapped her tits until they were tingled red as you had her. She taunted you cruelly, you had her face down ass up at one point, hand on her head, fingers buried in her messy hair, holding her cheek to the cool hardwood, down in the tacky pool of blood she had caused and she was still saying in between pants and moans, “Tha-that all you got?”
You slammed into her over and over, she was moaning so much, clenching down on you, squirming under you, bucking back onto you, just fuck it felt amazing, not holding back, just using her. She got off on it so hard, you didn’t even touch her clit once and she came harder than ever, practically screamed your name when she did, nails biting into the hardwood floor as the swollen walls of her cunt milked you. Came so fucking hard inside her you nearly saw stars.
After the fact you looked down at her. Lying half in that pool of blood, heaving, sweating and leaking cum. She looked fucking goregous and that thought scared you, that you loved seeing her like this. She sat up, smoothed back some of her hair, looking at you she said coolly “Not half bad.”
You scoffed. Not half bad. You’d show her yet.
That is how the next phase of your relationship kicked off. She felt no need to hide who she was anymore. Billie Loomis wasn’t nearly as sweet as she led you to believe at the start of your relationship. She let you in on all of it. How truly violent and brutal she could be and she continued to drive forward in her hobby, if anything you knowing now spurred her on and it made her ramp it up. It made your stomach twist, made you fucking sick thinking about it, how cavlier she was about it around you, she still had such an act on around other people but with you she hid nothing and it had one massive effect, namely on your sexlife.
Having you in on her dirty little secret got her insanely hot, the fact you didn’t like it made it better, she loved to push you. And my God does she push you.
You two were out on a date, out at the mall, both in a clothing store, backs to each other as you were looking through the racks, you felt pretty normal, happy. You asked if she wanted to get something for dinner that night and she hummed, you glanced over your shoulder, she didn’t return that look, a shake of her head, you watched her ponytail swing and she said, “I’m going ‘out’ later.”
That was when she finally glanced over to look at you, and you could already see the smirk on her face as she asked, “That a problem?”
It was. “You really wanna do that instead of grab dinner with me?” She scoffed, a roll of her eyes and she said, “Duh.” as she turned her head back to the rack in front of her, flitting through more hangers.
“And then what? You gonna pull that bullshit of texting me about it? Hope I’ll come running to do what-” She cut you off, “Fuck me post kill, obviously. You should know this by now, keep up.”
“You’re fucking disgusting, you know that?” She turned around, leaning against the rack of clothing, smirking again as she was looking you over, looked like she was considering something, “And yet you STILL come running whenever I call.”
God she was infuriating when she was like this. So self assured and confident about this. She strode forward, leaning in, pressing against you, it prompts you to ask, “How can you do this?” Obviously referring to her little ‘hobby’ and she cocks her head to the side, eyes narrowing as she says seriously, “Cuz I get off on it.”
“No shit.” You scoff and roll your eyes and she says, “No really. I do. Just thinking about what I am gonna do later has me wet.” Fuck. Was she serious? You were too curious. Decided to see if she was bluffing. “Prove it.”
She gave a single nod, a smile still on her face and she turned on her heel, you watched her start to head off away from you and called out, “Where are you going?”
“To the change room. You want me to prove it or not?”
A sigh left you, adjusting yourself and following behind her. You couldn’t help yourself, couldn’t resist. You and her were careful to make sure no one saw you going into the same changing room and once you were inside, your back was to the door, she held your gaze and started to undo her pants, slipping them down her thighs. She pulled her panties down and the evidence was clear as day. Strings of arousal connected from her core to the crotch of her panties, breaking apart as she pulled them down.
Yeah she wasn’t lying.
Her saying, “Well?” Finally made you tear your eyes away from the dark patch on her underwear and had you moving forward. Arm against the wall over her head and had you saying, “You opposed to a pre-kill fuck?”
She wasn’t. She loved it. “Right here? And you call me out on how dirty I am-” Your hand slipped between her legs and as you felt her tense you said, “You want us to get caught?”
She ground herself on your palm and said, “Maybe.”
You had her right there. Fucked her in the changing room, your face buried in the crook of her neck, you ended up pulling her shirt collar down and sucking hickies into her chest and she had her hands on your head, her fingers in your hair as you fucked into her. She breathed it to you, “I’m gonna go kill that bitch with your cum leaking out of me.” And that is what pushed you over the edge.
You were out for lunch at a diner you both liked to frequent. Stuff has been getting worse between you both. Fights were more frequent, she was so mean and you were starting to give it back to her fairly equally. You knew this was a bad idea, that your relationship wasn’t healthy by this point but you were still stuck, still smitten, because of days like this. Today had been a good day, no fights or unnecessary meanness as of yet. You looked across the table to her, she had her hair down, fingers playing with the straw in her soda and her other hand laid out on the newspaper that was left on the table when you both arrived.
You were so fucked.
You still loved her.
She smiled, something fond in her eyes and she looked up from the paper. “You gotta see this.” She scooped up the paper and came around to your side of the booth, you made room and she sat down beside you, spreading out the paper and pointing to what she wanted to show you.
Your eyes scanned over it and then you looked at her as you questioned, “An obituary?”
She nodded, a smug smile on her face, “That was my handiwork.” You looked over it again, looked at some of the finer details, the date checked out for one of the nights she was away, made mentions of her family, she was planning on going to college, was murdered. Her hand covered yours, fingers laced with yours and she dragged it under the table, placed your hand on her thigh and slipped it up, in between her thighs and oh, she wasn’t wearing panties.
Your fingers skated over her and she was already damp, you looked into her eyes and she bit her bottom lip, “What are you gonna do?” Her hand left yours where it was and went to your thigh, nails dragged over your pants and she made a move to open your fly, “Because I know what I’m gonna do.”
Your other hand that wasn’t pressed to her leaking slit grabbed her wrist, “You never give up, do you?” She gave a small shake of her head, “No. Your reactions are too fucking fun.” Her face turned a little less playful but her tone was still fairly light as she said, “Now let me jerk you off under the table.”
You and her are staring each other down for a moment and then you let go of her wrist. She unzipped your pants and yes, you were already hard. You touched her in return, fingered her as she stroked you and neither of you let up, quiet dirty talk passed back and forth until she came, thighs squeezing your hand, having to cover her mouth with her hand to stop any sound from spilling out. You loved the feeling of her cumming on your fingers and so soon you were close, you left your fingers in her and she stroked you to your end. Had brought a napkin down with her other hand to catch your mess. It was an insanely good orgasm, you shouldn’t get off so much on doing stuff like this in public but you did, made you weak in the knees, good thing you were already sitting. You pulled your hand away and so did she, you licked your fingers and enjoyed how dirty it felt to be tasting her so publicly while the other patrons were so unaware. You looked at her and she was doing the same, licking a stray bead of your cum from her thumb.
The lunch you shared after you tucked yourself away was unbelievably delicious, almost as much as she was.
Almost.
You and her had a bad fight. She was supposed to meet you for a movie but stood you up, she went out with Sue to engage in their 'hobby' yet again. You hated how close those two were, the fact they shared this hobby, you had your thoughts, lingering doubts on just how close they were. You had been waiting outside Sue’s house when they drove up. They got outta the car and Sue had an arm around Billie’s shoulders, both laughing about something, the energy was always so high and they were always so clingy with each other after doing this.
Sue noticed you first, a wave with her other hand, a big smile as she said, “Look who it is! Y/n, how you doin’?”
She was always so damn casual with you. Arms crossed as you were leaning against the hood of your car. “M’ fine Sue. Mind if I steal your partner in crime away?”
“Oooo you’re in trouble Billie-” It made the shorter of the girls roll her eyes and punch her taller companion in the side, “Shut up Sue.” Her friend was still snickering as she pulled herself away, “Yeah, yeah, see you later.”
As Sue walked by you to go inside she gave a wink as she said, “Don’t be too hard on her, eh? I still need her for a while.”
“No promises.” You said and Billie was right in front of you now. You waited till you heard the door close and then with her hands in her pockets she asked, “So what’s got your boxers in a bunch?”
“Oh don’t play fucking dumb with me, you stood me up!”
“Is that what this is about? Shit, you can be so whiny-” That pissed you off, “Whiny?” She nodded and hummed, “So fucking whiny. You want me to apologize? Is that it? I’m sorry I missed the lame ass movie you wanted to see.” She forced a smile, “Better?”
You ran a hand over your face, “No it’s fucking not better Billie, fucking Chirst you don’t give a shit about me do you-”
You were so sick of this shit, of her damn attitude, the fight pressed on, she was so dismissive, you let yourself be loud, didn’t care, knew Sue wouldn’t give a shit and her house was pretty far outside of town.
“I don’t have to stand here and take this shit from you.” She started to pull away from you, looked like she was going to go inside to Sue’s place and that pissed you off. How often she kept running off to her friend, you grabbed her, hands in the back of her jacket and you forced her down over the hood of your car.
“You aren’t going anywhere.” You could hear the smile in her voice. “Oh no? What the fuck are you gonna do?”
What were you going to do? A great question. One you had an answer for very quickly. When you forced her over the hood of your car, her hands were forced out of her pockets and in that process you realized she had some rope in her pockets.
That is what led to you tying her wrists behind her back and ripping her pants down, you took out every bit of anger out on her. Fucked her so hard against the hood of your car. Pulled on her hair and told her that she was- “A selfish fucking bitch-” who “-only thinks with her cunt.”
You used your hand in her hair to slam her head against the hood of the car after she called you a "-fucking pussy-" and even spit on her and that is what pushed her over into cumming around you.
After you were done her ass was red, cum was leaking out of her and her legs were shaking and it was only after you flipped her over and saw that smile on her face that you realized you played right into her hands and gave her just what she wanted, yet again. You took the bait like a fool. She was still panting when she playfully punched you on the arm, her wrists now unbound and hands free and said with a wink, “Nice work champ.”
There was nothing nice about this.
Nothing nice about your relationship. You should leave, break up with her or turn her into the cops or something but you couldn't stop yourself. It made you feel sick if you thought about what she did for too long so you didn’t, you focused on the rest, on the positive feelings she was capable of pulling out of you and of course, the sex. You heavily focused on the more physical aspects.
Problem was the parts you didn’t like to think about were bleeding more and more into the physical part, and what was worse? You were loving it. Getting off on it insanely hard, it made the sick feeling and the guilt only grow. But it was like an addiction. You couldn’t say no to her. Couldn’t stop.
Which is what led to here.
“Mmmf oh my God! Yes-” You shhh’d her for what must have been the tenth time in five minutes. She was in your lap, straddling you, her knees in the dewey grass, her hands on your shoulders as she was riding you as you had your back to the tree. She felt incredible, so slick and hot wrapped around your cock, she practically whimpered, “Sorry just fuck, it feels so good-”
You let your head fall back against the bark of the tree and you looked at her, seeing her flushed face, hair a mess, panting as she rolled her hips, you had your hands on her hips, helping her move, “I mean it! If you can’t shut up then I’ll stop-”
Then her hands flew to your mouth. Covered it and stopped you from speaking, her movements slowed, got more gentle, still unable to fully stop, rocking her hips back and forth. You gave her a questioning look and she panted out, hushed, “Wa-wait. Listen.”
You could hear it then. The priest speaking, the sounds of people crying, muffled sniffs and sobs, the music picking up, she looked at you, helpless and you knew what she wanted to do. You shook your head. It was too risky, if you were caught like this-
She nodded her head. “Can’t resist.” She kept your mouth covered and she leaned, looked around the three and her breath caught, she clenched around you and you gasped, hands digging into her hips harder, bunching more of her skirt up in the process. She started to ride harder, still peeking around the three you were learned against, “Yes, yes, they-they are, shit-”
Her hips were moving with such singular purpose, hitting that spot just right, grinding her clit on you, breathing so hard, walls of her cunt fluttering around you, she was so close. You let out a questioning hum from behind her hands, you squeezed her hips and she pulled back, fully facing you again as she moaned out lowly, “-they are lowering the coffin-” She locked eyes with you as she said, “Right. Now.” panting it out in time with the fall of her hips.
That shouldn’t have turned you on so much, but it did. You bent your knees, feet flat on the wet grass and you held her hips as you fucked up into her, hard, she moved with you, meeting you in the middle and had to bite her lip so hard to stop herself from screaming as she came that she drew blood.
You followed right behind her. Cumming inside of her, filling her to the brim as you heard the far off sobs of the grieving people at the funeral, mourning the life that your girlfriend herself ended. You didn’t question, didn’t think, just pulled her to you, kissing her, tasting the blood on her lips and it actually made you moan into her mouth.
She pulled back and was still trying to catch her breath, she looked at you with so much love and affection as she said, “And you call me filthy.” You rolled your eyes and leaned in, pressed a kiss to her forehead and said, “You still are.”
She didn’t dispute it.
This was so wrong. This was the most wrong one so far. She had managed to talk you into actually attending a victim's funeral. Not just fucking behind a tree while stealing looks and listening, she wanted more, which led to you and her crashing this funeral. Both dressed up. Her hair up, in a black dress and heels, a little cardigan, doing her best little innocent act, pretending to be so upset just like everyone else, she insisted of course that you play the part, getting dressed up yourself, suit and tie and jacket over it.
Attending the funeral was bad enough. But what she did during it was worse.
You were all standing, listening to the proceedings, you were feeling so conflicted in that moment, mind a million other places and then you felt her hand. It started off holding yours, fingers tangled together, her leaning her shoulder against yours, and it felt nice.
It didn’t stay that way.
Her hand slipped out of yours and started to feel you up, you tensed and looked at her, about to try and fight her on it but she said quietly, “No one is looking at us. Play it cool or you’ll blow our cover.”
Her hand moved and she felt how hard you were. She had this slight smirk for a second before letting it fall, trying to keep her expression neutral at best, you couldn't help it. She has done this to you. Tied death and sex together and now you were finding yourself getting hard at the mere mention of the macabre. It was all her fucking fault.
She didn’t stop. She moved so slow, so careful, you thanked God for your coat, you had your hands in your pockets, helping cover what she was doing. Her hand closed around you, so soft and warm and she moved so precisely. Stroking your cock, it was barely covered by your jacket, you tried to keep your focus on the funeral, your eyes forward, but you still kept stealing glances elsewhere, no one was paying any attention to you both. And it made you hotter, made you harder. She could tell. Could nearly feel the smug energy radiating off of her.
You didn’t stand a chance.
She was far too good, knew you too well after all this time, had the perfect technique down you had no way to warn her but it wasn’t necessary, she knew your tells, could pick up from how you tensed.
You were really about to do this, about to cum, out in the open at a fucking funeral that your girlfriend was responsible for because of her murderous habit.
All your focus went into staying up right and not giving yourself away, staying perfectly silent and expressionless. A truly difficult task when you come so hard. Your hand came up and you used it to your advantage, trying to make it look like you were partially covering your face to hide your emotion. Thankfully no one seemed to notice. You were breathing much harder and she pressed a kiss to your shoulder, trying to look comforting, she slipped you back into your pants and that is when you realized that it was all wrapping up.
Her hand found yours and she squeezed, pulling you along, breaking off from the group and you were both going back to the car. Your mind was racing, couldn’t believe you just did that, did you love or hate it? Hard to say, you felt conflicted, it was sick, wrong, but it felt good, you glanced at her and she was smiling so hard, looking down at her phone and you asked, “What’s got you so happy?”
Her gaze flicked to yours. “This.” She showed off her phone and it was a picture and what it was made your stomach drop. You realized what it was immediately. It was a picture of the woman who had been in front of you at the funeral, picture of the back of the skirt of her dress, unmistakable cloudy white, thick and sticky stain from where you had spilled your cum.
You had been so caught up with everything else you didn’t think about the mess, didn’t think about where you came and she counted on it.
She was leaning against the car, turning the phone back to herself, smirking down at the screen, “So be honest, how does cumming on the grief stricken mother of the victim feel?”
“That was his mother?!”
You spat it so loud, fists clenching, not caring if you were overheard, that fact made her chuckle and she gave a nod, “Oh yeah. Why do you think I insisted we stand there?"
You opened and closed your mouth a few times, trying to come up with a response, trying to think of something to say, trying to put your feelings into words. “You planned this from the start! You-you sick fucking bitch-”
“Awe you mean it?” She cooed, stepped forward, hand on your tie, she wrapped it around her hand once and tugged you closer, "I love when you talk like that."
You were scowling down at her and tried to think of what else to say, too much emotion you couldn’t put into words and she cut you off anyway. “How about we get some lunch? I dunno about you but I am starving.”
You actually did feel hungry.
That was the moment you decided that yes while Billie Loomis was fucked up, you, were just as fucked as she was.
You sighed, resigned to your fate at last and asked, “Wanna hit the diner?” She tugged you down and kissed you sweetly before pulling back, smoothing down the lapels of your coat and said, “Sounds perfect.”
