#don't break the chain no pain don't be afraid

[starlightshadowsworld]

Atsushi being a defiant little shit who makes his opinions clear and will just not do things if he doesn't need too.

He rolls his eyes at Akutugawa's rants. He raises an eyebrow at Dazai's antics and knows the second he's being messed with.

He respects Ranpo's ability but still, help clean up once in a while don't you? He doesn't bat an eye at the shocked looks that gets, because why should he hold his tongue?

Atsushi who calls himself a coward and yet even afraid still stands tall because the Orphanage couldn't break him.

He swore like a sailor and spat the soap out of his mouth. He dug his heels into the ground and glared when the Headmaster tried to drag him by his hair.

He survived attempts that should've killed him. And loudly dragged his chains on the ground just to piss them all off. What were they gonna do that they hadn't done before?

Atsushi who was raised being told the world itself abandoned him.

He never had anyone on his side. And because of that fights every fight dirty because it could he his last. And like hell is he going out in a place like this.

He grits his teeth and stands no matter how tired or in pain he is. Because he's never had the luxury of backing down.

[mononijikayu]

immortal sukuna who — in your fourth life (1).

immortal sukuna masterlist

immortal sukuna doesn't remember how old he was, he thinks that he has lost count.

but immortal sukuna was aware that it had been two hundred years since he had met you. that's how he counts how old he was. he was born again when he met you.

it was two hundred years of living and losing for immortal sukuna, but just as much two hundred years of love, of endless devotion.

immortal sukuna had wandered the countryside for the past fifty years, his feet carrying him through lands he once ravaged.

immortal sukuna could not even remember all these places that now barely whispered his name.

but something different stirred in immortal sukuna this time, an unfamiliar weight that grew heavier with each passing year.

immortal sukuna had to be honest that he didn't expect to find you in this life just yet.

when immortal sukuna stumbled upon the scene, his bright red eyes immediately locked onto the sight of you, bound in chains.

he could feel himself shake in anguish, in vexation as immortal sukuna looked at your face bruised and your clothes torn.

immortal sukuna looked at your pathetic, useless waste of air captors as they barked orders at you.

it was a disgusting sight, an outrageous sight, a disgusting sight; immortal sukuna had nothing to describe how they were treating you like less than human.

and though your eyes remained closed, your movements were careful, as if navigating a world you could no longer see. immortal sukuna hated this.

immortal sukuna was shaking as he could feel his feet to rush, to hurry without any other thought.

something in immortal sukuna snapped. in a flash, the men were dead, their bodies left in ruin.

immortal sukuna stood over you, towering and terrifying, yet you showed no fear. not because you couldn't see him.

immortal sukuna's touch was warm on you, and that had allowed you to release the tension and the pain as you squeezed his hand.

you did not know immortal sukuna, you seem to forget in each and every life you meet him.

but something else lingered between you — a familiarity, an old connection buried beneath the years. immortal sukuna knew you felt it.

you felt tears fall from your closed eyes as you relaxed onto immortal sukuna's touch, who tenderly observed your cuts and bruises.

"who had made you in such a state?" he growled, sukuna's voice sharp, filled with barely contained rage. "are there more of them?"

you tilted your head slightly, your face turning toward the sound of sukuna's voice, though your eyes remained closed.

"i… don't know." you whispered back at sukuna, voice hoarse from pain and exhaustion. "i never saw their faces."

sukuna knelt closer beside you, his crimson eyes scanning your form from top to bottom.

sukuna began noticing the way your hands fumbled slightly, how you hesitated with every step, how your eyes, though closed, seemed so lost. so afraid.

to see you like this broke immortal sukuna's heart. you did not deserve to be like this. you were a goddess. one that deserved worship and yet....

"you're blind." sukuna stated, his voice low. his heart breaking over and over at the words he had just uttered.

you nodded slowly at sukuna, the chains rattling with your movements. "i have been for a long time."

immortal sukuna felt a strange pang in his chest. blind. how could fate be this cruel to you? you who had done nothing but good?

you had once seen the world, had once seen sukuna, but now you were trapped in darkness, enduring horrors you didn’t deserve. not ever.

immortal sukuna could feel as though he was feeling the rim of his eyes clog with tears. he can't help it. he grieves. he grieves for him, he grieves for you.

without a word, sukuna reached out and snapped the chains that bound you, the metal shattering like glass under his strength.

you stumbled slightly, not expecting the sudden freedom, and sukuna caught you with a gentle but firm hand.

"who are you?" you asked, your voice trembling, but there was a strange curiosity behind it.

"someone you knew, long ago." sukuna murmured, watching your expression carefully.

you didn’t recoil, didn’t pull away. even without sight, you seemed to sense something in sukuna — something familiar, something safe.

"thank you." you whispered, your voice barely audible. you reached out hesitantly, your hand searching for sukuna's own.

immortal sukuna without thinking, placed his own hand in yours, his large, rough fingers enveloping your smaller ones.

for the first time in fifty years, immortal sukuna felt something he hadn’t felt in centuries — purpose. life.

immortal sukuna didn’t know why he had come across you, didn’t understand why fate had brought him back to you after all this time.

but standing there, your hand in his, your body fragile yet unbroken, sukuna knew one thing for certain.

he would protect you, sukuna would make sure that you would live this life without worry. that you would always smile. even if you can't see him anymore.

and perhaps, just perhaps, you would heal the darkness in him, the same way immortal sukuna had just freed you from your own.

you both will always live happily together, no matter what. immortal sukuna would make sure of it.

even if he suffered over and over again, even if immortal sukuna lives in misery waiting and waiting, he does not care.

what is two hundred years passed, and mayhaps two hundred years more to the eternity of sukuna being in your arms for forever?

these little miseries were the map of sukuna's soul. to get back his soul. you. you who he had been waiting for all this time.

when you fell asleep from weariness in his arms, immortal sukuna lifted you and carried you carefully on his back.

"welcome home." sukuna whispered to you in the quiet, for the first time in fifty years.

[darkbluekies]

i have been DREAMING of a silas torture scene!!! i have literally read, re-read, and re-re-read every word you’ve ever written about that man .. you have no IDEA how much I am going to eat up his torture story 🤭🤭 thank you for feeding us!!! <3<3

In the basement

Mafia!yandere OC x reader

Summary: you find yourself in Silas' basement once again and he decides to try a new torture technique — which backfires.

Warnings: torture, violence, mentions of starvation, manipulation burning, boiling water, mentions of cuts, mentions of sawing off people's limbs, ripping out teeth and nails, blood, beating, (let me know if you find more, I have been editing and rewriting so much that I've forgotten what is in the story at this point)

Word count: 3.5k

You lift your head when you can hear footsteps coming towards you. The mumble of Silas men greeting someone is all you need to know who’s here to see you. 

“There we have them”, Silas snickers and clicks his tongue amusedly. He’s acting as if he’s talking to a child. “Are we ready to act like a big girl/boy again?”

You glare up at him, where he stands with his hands in his front pockets. If you could, you’d tackle him until he hits his head, but your ankles are chained to the cold floor.

“I fucking hate you”, you mutter coldly. 

“Oh, do you now?” he chuckles cockily  and grabs your chin firmly, tilting it up to look at him. 

Your neck gets strained beyond its limits. Silas is tall and refuses to crouch down to make it easier for you to look up at him.

"Still disobeying?" he asks. "I thought you'd be good by now. I miss you, little thing. I want to have you back in my arms. Who am I supposed to hug at night?"

"Hug a cactus", you spit. "Suits your pleasant personality-"

Silas chuckles and grabs a fistful of your hair. He sinks down in front of you and forces you to look at him. Your eyes widen in fear and your scalp burns at his fingertips. You can feel your heart beat harshly in your chest. Suddenly, you remember why you've been afraid of him before — why his techniques always work. You seem to forget the basement when you've been let out, everything turning into a blur. All you remember is that you do not want to go back. But somehow, you always manage to.

"You don't want me to be nice, do you?" he asks you. "Want me to break that pretty little head until you're bleeding, hm?"

You shake your head quickly. Suddenly, you've figuratively your tongue — and if you're not careful you'll soon literally lose it. 

Silas lets go of your hair and stands up. You keep your head down. 

“Hm, what should we do to teach you a lesson?” Silas thinks out loud and takes a hold of your hand. “Should we … break some fingers?”

You shake your head quickly and try to take your hand back. Silas holds it tightly and brings out a lighter from his pocket. You panic and try to rip your hand out of his iron grip. Silas traps you against the wall with his knee and elbow keeping you in place. He shifts his bodyweight onto you and traps your arm onto the wall by securing your wrist to the surface. With his other hand, he brings out his lighter. You squirm desperately under him.

“Alright, I’m not going to break your pretty fingers”, he says. “You need them to please me.” 

“Please, please, don’t!” you screech and try to kick him. “Silas, don’t!”

He lights it.

“Do you know how my heart feels right now, Y/N?” he asks calmly. “It’s burning. I think it’s only fair for you to feel it too, to understand how hurt I feel.”

He moves the flame to your arm, holding it under your skin. You cry out in pain and apply more force to your wiggling. A stance of burning flesh reaches your nose. Silas holds the flame for a good thirty seconds before removing it. He brushes some soot off of your arm and bends down to kiss it. He moves on to your next arm, then your waist. You finally manage to pull your arms free and push him away. You try to sink down on the floor, but he lifts you up by your shoulders. 

“I need you to stand up for me”, Silas says. “Still with me?”

Your face scrunches up in pain. Silas shakes you carefully. 

“Still with me, baby?” he asks in a loving voice that doesn’t match his manners. 

You nod weakly. Silas smiles slightly and places you back at the wall. Your poor legs are still cuffed and feeling like jelly. Silas chuckles. 

He looks over his shoulder as two of his men come in with four buckets of water. You stare at them with wide eyes. This is new. 

“You know I can’t hurt you”, Silas says and walks over to the buckets. 

“Can’t hurt me?” you repeat in disbelief and show your arms full of cuts and bruises. “You’ve burned me! You’ve cut me!”

“You should see what he does to people he doesn’t like”, one of his men smirks. 

“Don’t talk to them”, Silas warns him and grabs the man by his collar. “Or you’ll get to taste what I do to those I don’t like.”

“Yes, sir, sorry, sir.”

Silas lets him go and grabs one of the buckets. He walks back to you where you stand against the wall. You want to sink into it. With your eyes glued onto the bucket, you open your mouth to ask what he’s going to do but you don’t have time to do so before he throws it at you. You hide your face with your arms and scream. Boiling hot water crashes against your body. Your dirty clothes stick onto you and quickly grow cold. You breathe heavily and look at Silas in shock and pain. He has already turned around to get the next bucket. Suddenly, everything’s ice cold and you scream again. Somehow, it’s worse this time. The quick temperature change feels like sharp needles penetrating your skin. You’re sure that Silas’ men upstairs can hear you by now. 

You shake your head in desperation as you see Silas pick up the next bucket. 

“Silas, please-”, you cry out. 

“You caused this yourself, Y/N”, Silas reminds you. “You have one simple rule: do not leave me. And what did you do?”

You stay quiet. He throws the next buckets full of water. Scorching hot. You scream even louder and start to sob. 

“What did you do?” Silas asks testingly and walks over to the last bucket. 

“I-I tried to run away!” you cry out and hug your shaking body. 

“And?” 

He picks up the next bucket. 

“I talked to a cop!” you sob and press yourself closer to the cement wall. “I’m sorry, I’ll never do that again! Please don’t hurt me anymore! Please, Silas, I-I’ll do anything!”

Silas scoffs. “You wanted to leave me, get me in trouble and destroy everything I’ve built up these last ten years! And I’m just supposed to … forgive you?”

You sob. You know how proud Silas is of his imperium. He's spent the last ten years building it to become the most fearless and powerful criminal in the country. You just wanted him to feel as helpless as you do.

Silas throws the last bucket at you and an icy waterfall greets you. One last scream leaves your panicked body. You sink down in a curled up ball as you hug your body, trying to keep some kind of warmth and shield. You sob and whimper with your head full of fear and nerve system confused. Silas throws the plastic bucket to the side and walks over to you. He sinks down in front of your body and grabs your chin between his index finger and thumb, like he did before. 

“What do I need to do to make you obedient?” he asks. “Do I need to kill everyone to make you stay with me?”

“Please …”, you plead through hammering teeth. “Please don’t, please-”

He hushes and cups your cold, wet cheeks. 

“You only need me anyway”, he says softly. “All those other people — your family, your friends — they don’t care about you like I do, do they? They just pretend to spare your feelings. Have they even tried to find you? Or help you? They’re probably going on with their lives the same, as if nothing has changed, in this precise moment.”

“You don’t know that”, you whisper and sniffle. 

“I do know. I have been watching them.” Silas moves closer to you. “If they really cared about you, they’d tell you when you did something wrong, and then help you fix it. That's what families do, they help you become a better version of yourself. They wouldn’t lie and let you destroy and embarrass yourself. The reason I put you down here, Y/N, is because you're my family, someone I care very much about. I have to teach you a lesson to make sure that you don’t do anything dumb. You’re a danger to yourself. You need me to take care of you, to teach you what is right and wrong.” He caresses your cheeks. “If only you didn’t do such stupid things I wouldn’t have to do these hurtful things. You know I love you.”

You sob and look down. 

"Say it back, Y/N", he urges you. "Say that you love me."

"I … I love you", you mumble.

"Good girl/boy."

Silas warm lips presses a hard kiss to your forehead before standing up. You sit frozen while he walks up the stairs. 

Silas leaves you alone for another twenty four hours before he walks down again, to see if you’ve broken yet. If you haven’t, he’s going to take your clothes and carve in his name in your leg to force you to see his name every time you open your eyes. He sees you curled up in a ball in the corner of the dark, cold basement. You’re not moving. 

“Are you sleeping, baby?” he smirks. “Rise and shine, we have work to do! We’re not done yet.”

You don’t move. You must be weak from hunger. 

“If you act well today, I might get you something to eat”, he smiles and walks over to you. “Would you like that?”

He’s much, much nicer to you than to the other people who have the displeasure of ending up in his basement. He would never talk to them as sweetly as he does to you, never negotiate with them like this. He would never change his torture methods to be nicer to anyone else but you. 

“Y/N.”

You don’t give him any attention. Silas rolls his eyes and grabs your hair to turn your face to him. You moan out a weak painful sound. Something’s wrong, Silas can tell that. He sinks down in front of you and presses his hand to your forehead. 

Shit.

Silas can feel how his heart skips a beat. He should have realized that you would have gotten sick if he left you in this cold basement in your ice cold, soaked clothes and hair. He gulps and cups your cheeks. 

“Are you awake?” he asks quickly. “Baby, look at me.”

You open your eyes slowly and look at him with dull, glossy eyes. Silas looks over his shoulder, towards the stairs. 

“Get me the keys to the cuffs!” he roars. 

He turns back to you and hastily brushes the hair out of your face. 

“Hold out, darling”, he says softly. “You’ll be taken care of as soon as I get the key.”

You cough out a weak sound that seem to come from deep inside of you. Silas helps you by patting your back. 

A woman comes down and gives Silas’ his keys. He hurries to uncuff your ankles and pick your warm, limp body up in his arms. He hurries up the basement stairs and then up the next stairs to your bedroom. He takes your cold clothes off of you and gives you new, dry ones. His sweatpants, his t-shirt. You black out right away. He takes the time to take care of your older cuts and your newer burns before tucking you in bed. Silas watches you with a burning gaze. He clenches his jaw before walking out of the room. His second in command stands downstairs.

"You", he says angrily.

"Yes, boss?" he asks and looks up from his phone. "What can I help you with?"

"Go up to the bedroom and watch over Y/N. I don't want them to be alone."

"Sure, but what are you going to do?"

"I'm going to work a bit. I need to get my mind on other things."

"I will watch them for you."

"Thank you." He grabs his shoulder. "You know the rules. Recite them."

"I will not talk to them if not necessary. I will not answer any questions and I will not touch them if not necessary. I will let you know right away if something is wrong.”

Silas nods and walks away. He walks into his office and sits down behind his desk. Although he tries to concentrate on paperwork, anger is boiling through his veins. He doesn’t know what he’s angry at — himself, you or his men. Himself for forgetting that you could get extremely sick, his men for not warning him … or you for getting out of your punishment before he had gotten to the point he wanted. He tells himself that this sudden sickness is a part of your punishment, but it doesn’t help his racing heart. 

Silas pours himself a glass of brandy, in hopes to calm his nerves. The liquid burns down his throat and warms up his body, but it doesn’t help. Before he can stop himself, he throws the glass as hard as he can against the wall. It shatters into a million pieces. The door opens quickly. 

“Boss, what’s wrong?” one of his men asks. 

“Get me someone I can mangle or else I’ll go insane”, Silas breathes out through gritted teeth. “Take someone from the street if you have to — just bring me someone I can kill.”

You open your eyes and feel how a lump has grown in your throat. You try to cough and rip your entire vocal chords with it. A cough attack erupts from deep inside your stomach. Every cough hurts worse than the one before and every breath in feels as dry as an ocean. 

“Oh, careful”, a voice says and helps you sit up. He holds a glass of water to your lips. “Drink up.”

You recognize the man beside you. Silas’ second in command? Where’s Silas?

“You’re awake”, he states and stands up from his chair after putting down the glass. “I’ll go get the boss-”

You panic and shake your head.

“Please stay.” You’re caught by surprise that your voice comes out as nasally and thick as it does, although it shouldn’t surprise you in the slightest. “Don’t get him.”

“I have rules to follow.”

“I have to ask you something first.”

The second in command sighs and turns his head over his shoulder to look at you. He looks tired, but you can’t let him leave until you’ve had your question answered.

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I’m not allowed to answer your questions”, he says. 

“I really need an answer”, you plead. 

“Silas will answer-”

“I don’t want his answer. He’ll lie to me. Please.”

He sighs and turns to you with his arms crossed over his muscular chest. “Let me hear the question first.”

“What do Silas do to the people he doesn’t like?”

Silas runs his hand through his sweaty hair. The man in front of him cries out. Silas has continued to throw punch after punch, using this strange man as a boxing doll. His fists are sore and bloody. Sweat drips down his back. The man in front of him has gotten his teeth pulled out with pliers, his hair has gotten cut down to his bleeding roots and nails have been ripped off. Silas had forgotten to gag him at first but the second the first loud scream exited the man's body, all he could see in front of him was your terrified eyes waking up to it.

"Boss, Y/N’s awake", a voice behind him says. Second in command.

"Fuck, I'm all bloody", Silas mutters and looks down at his black jeans and shirt that he's pulled the sleeves up on. "I can’t go up like this. Get me a washcloth."

The second in command drowns a cloth in a bucket of water. Silas uses it to scrub his arms, neck and face while walking up to you. When he opens the door, he finds you sitting up in bed, hugging your knees close to your chest.

"Hi, baby, how are you feeling?" he asks and sits down on the side of the bed.

Your eyes scan hum warily, stopping at his arms. Traces of blood can still be visible in the hair strands. Silas pulls down his sleeves.

"Don't worry about that", he says with an embarrassed smile. "How are you feeling, darling?"

"It hurts."

Silas reaches out to caress your cheek, but you flinch away. He frowns.

"I'm not going to hurt you anymore", he says carefully.

“Why are you bloody?” you whisper. “What have you done?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Why do you have to like me? Why do I have to go through this?”

You start to ramble for yourself and Silas hushes loudly. 

“You’re not making any sense, little thing”, he says. “Slow down, take a deep breath.”

“Why do you do those things to people?” you almost hyperventilate before starting to cough. 

Tears flow down your cheeks. You’re absolutely hysteric. Silas freezes. You know something.

“Why do I do what?” he asks quickly, grabbing your shoulders tightly. “Did someone tell you anything? What did they say?”

You sob and shake your head. 

“Y/N, if you don’t tell me what someone has put in your head-”, Silas says sternly. 

“You saw off people’s limbs!” you sob. “You … y-you-”

“Y/N, enough. Who told you?”

You don’t answer. Another cough attack erupts. Silas starts to get annoyed. 

“Y/N, who told you?” he asks through gritted teeth. “If you’re trying to hide someone, I’m throwing you back into the basement right away, with a fever or not.”

You sigh and glance up at him in pure fear. “Your second in command …”

“That motherfucker-”

Silas lets go off your shoulders and fly up from the bed. He can’t help but feel a deep ache in his heart. His second in command has been with him since he started his ‘organization’ — he’s been with him through thick and thin, had his back through everything. Him, out of anyone, knows the rules better. Silas trusts him to keep an eye on you alone, knowing that he would never betray him … or at least believing that.

He grabs his second in command and throws him against the wall.

“Traitor!” Silas growls. “You told them?!”

“They said that they had to know!” the second in command answered loudly, defending himself. “They wanted to know if you really love them! They wanted to know if you really were softer on them than others! They thought you’d lie if they asked you! I did you a fucking favour!”

They meet eyes for a few seconds before Silas curses and lets him go. He backs away, running his hand through his black hair. 

“Silas, I didn’t do anything to betray you”, the second in command says calmly. “I answered Y/N’s question in your favor. If I didn’t, they’d be even more wary of you.”

Silas doesn’t answer. His head and his heart are battling. 

He notices how you’re sitting at the top of the stairs, leaning against the railing, coughing into your arm. You’ve dragged yourself out of bed to stop him, but you couldn’t get far enough before your weak, aching body betrayed you.

“Y/N, what are you doing out of bed?!” Silas says sternly. “You need to rest!”

He runs up the stairs and picks you up. You’re tucked in again. 

“If you leave the bed again, I’ll have to cuff you”, he says carefully. “I don’t want you running around — especially when you’re sick.”

You’re very familiar with the chains that he uses to keep you in bed. Silas climbs sinto bed and sits on top of your legs to make sure you stay in place. 

“Y/N, Y/N, listen to me”, he says and cups your cheeks. “I could never do those things to you. You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

“You hurt me”, you remind him through sobs. “Even if it wasn’t as bad as you do to others, you still hurt me!”

“You know I don’t want to, but I have to. I have to make sure you don’t do stupid things like this — asking my men about my work. You know better than this and I know that. That’s why I’m helping you get back on the right track. If I don’t, you become like this, all frantic and scared. Why don’t you just let me protect you? Aren’t you tired of getting your heart in trouble? I know you are, baby …”

You sob which to him seems to be all the answers he needs.

“Trust me”, Silas says. “Trust that I know what’s best for you and you will never have to feel this kind of pain and fear again, okay?”

You can feel how your body starts to relax against your will. Silas wipes your tears and kisses your forehead. 

“My pretty, little baby”, he whispers comfortingly. “Everything will be okay. As long as I'm here, nothing will ever happen to you. I'll make sure of it, I'll help you.”

You sob and close your eyes. Once again, he wins.

[yanderefarm]

Ok there's vampire ares, but what about vampire or even pet Achilles, sadistic vampire reader who holds very popular "parties" where all the guests drink, have sex, and watch reader torture humans and vampires alike, maybe even add a casino element with people placing bets on who will scream loudest, last the longest without passing out, etc

cw;; blood drinking, blood, dehumanization, torture, needles, drugs

i was possessed to write this. i love this whole concept so much.

some vampires are kind to humans, they remember their own humanity and treat humans with care like domestic animals. some vampires have either forgotten or abandoned their original humanity in favour of making the weak suffer. and with modern technologies it's easier to push these humans to the absolute breaking point.

you're not so cruel as to hate humans, they make you money and entertain you after all, but you do enjoy hearing a human's will break. that's why you have your nightclub, an underground place where deranged perverts go to torture humans. human pets who were abandoned, human uprising activists, a greedy blood bank employee, a misbehaving human cattle, anything you wanted could be found right here. it was a demon's slice of heaven and the humans pit of hell.

you were enjoying the screams of the damned from your vip seat, blood wine in hand and two of the most sadistic female vampires you knew on your arms. they knew staying near you would mean they got a taste of the best humans to break. one of your usual suppliers approached your seat with 3 humans following behind him. two of them were clearly pets, numbers written on their faces to signify lot numbers, while the third and most beautiful wasn't marked or scarred he looked out of place.

"this was their last day on the auction. no one wants em so-"

"what about him."

the other vampire looks back at the pretty boy and sighs.

"he's a return. his owner complained he doesn't talk, doesn't scream, doesn't even get afraid."

your eyebrow raised in curiosity. you took his chain from the man, yanking the beautiful man closer to you.

"what's your name?"

"i told you he doesn't talk, sir. dunno how mu-"

"achilles."

his pretty voice was like honey. your supplier looked at him shocked while a smirk crossed your lips. you sat up fully intrigued by your new beautiful guest.

"achilles~ how come you're here and not being pampered and adored by one of the nice guys?"

"because I'm too beautiful to waste on them."

you laughed at that, the other vampires sheepishly joining in. as your laughter died you pulled him down to your level by his chain. your cold fingers gently brushed some of his pretty red curls out of his face.

"is that what the one who abandoned you said? or do you really believe it?"

it was amusing how naturally his stoic face leaned into your gentle touch.

"he told me that. he also said beautiful things, like me, look best when we're screaming and crying."

as if to punctuate his cold delivery you could hear a harsh thwack followed by a human's sobbing screams. you ran your thumb over his soft skin down to his pretty lips.

"that's why you didn't scream for him right? wouldn't make a noise, wouldn't cry. no, not you. you won't let these sick vampire bastards win. am i close?"

"i need to get home to my family. nothing he did to me was so unbearable that i couldn't endure for them."

your sadistic smirk turned to a genuine smile as you looked him over.

"... I'll make you a deal. you show me your worth and I'll protect your family."

he remained quiet contemplating it for a minute.

"if my worth is screaming and being in pain i don't know how well i can preform."

you let out a huff in amusement.

"don't worry I'll take care of your suffering if you agree to this."

"i would like to talk more about the terms but i just have to prove to you i have some value? is that correct?"

"that's correct."

"will any value be sufficient even if it's not what you're picturing?"

"hmmm... yes. even if your only value is your blood or your good looks. i still hope you'll endeavor to show me more than that, though."

"so i succeed by simply agreeing. you just hope to motivate me to be pushed to the edge?"

"yes. that's right. so, do you agree?"

"i agree."

you paid the supplier for all three of them, leaving the lesser two to the female vampires by your side. they both went about feeding on their new toys first while you sat achilles in your lap.

after a short while of just sitting there a waiter came up to you with a silver platter. in the middle of the platter was a syringe filled with a hot pink liquid. achilles eyed it, clearly intimidated by the sight but there was nothing he could do to stop you from picking it up. your other hand grabbed his jaw roughly, forcing his lips to purse.

"open."

he hesitated before he opened his mouth.

"tongue out."

his pretty wet tongue slipped out of his mouth giving him a slutty look there in your hands. pretty boy. you released his jaw but he kept his mouth open like a good boy. you tapped the syringe twice before bringing the sharp tip to his outstretched tongue. you didn't hesitate even as he flinched, plunging the whole thing into his tongue.

one of the girls looked at you both with wide eyes. "the whole thing??"

you gently removed the needle and placed it back on the silver platter, dismissing the waiter.

"what was it...?"

"if he's going to be amusing he'll need the whole thing. now get up and strip."

achilles hesitated again, his body actually frozen as he stood there brow furrowed. you let out a heavy sigh and began to unbutton his shirt.

"what... was it...?"

"it was something that will make you feel good. it makes your whole body sensitive."

you pulled his shirt down over his shoulders and discarded it to the side.

"is it dangerous to use all of it..."

"no. it'll just hit you really hard. it's ok, I'll take care of you but you do need to do exactly as I say. now take your pants off."

he stood up doing as you ordered with his cold face. he went to sit in your lap again but instead you lead him to the side of the couch and told him to stand there with his hands behind his back. he could feel everyone in the club staring at his naked body and you noticed his soft cock twitch slightly. you smirked before giving him a quick kiss and returning to your seat.

it took about 20 minutes before you finally heard a sound from achilles. you'd just been sharing one of the other pets, indulging in the free blood, when you heard the softest sluttiest whimper you've ever heard. you looked over to see your forgotten game with his entire body flushed and his cock stiff and leaking. he was clearly trying to stand still but even the slightest bit of breeze made him squirm and flinch. your eyes widened and your hunger that had been successfully satisfied so far tonight was like a fresh tidal wave. you needed to sink your fangs into him. you needed him screaming.

you got up abandoning everything too transfixed on your pretty toy to care. your breath was hitched when you reached inches from his wanting body, your fingers hovered over his skin. he looked over at you his stoic face now red and his eyes had hearts in them. he was like a masterpiece of want and desire you didn't even want to touch him for fear of ruining his perfect body. you hesitantly ran your fingers over his soft pink lips and a sultry moan flowed from his lips like honey.

everyone in the club was staring at you both now. everyone wanted this pretty piece of ass. you felt an odd twinge of jealousy and possessiveness strike. you pulled your hand away from your toy's lips instead grabbing his wrist roughly. god he let out another slutty moan. you couldn't stand that everyone could hear him. you started dragging him forcefully to your private room. as you did you noticed his feet struggling to keep up with your quick steps. you surprised yourself when you slowed down and matched his pace.

god you were already whipped for this pretty human.

as soon as you were in the private room you shoved him into the door, your mouth swallowing his slutty moans with a passionate kiss. his whole sensitive body twitched and jerked as his cock spilled cum onto his stomach. fuck. you pulled away to look at his mess leaving him gasping for air. he looked down as he tried to compose himself and the sight of his stomach covered in cum made him whimper. fuck.

you slammed your hand over his mouth hitting his head against the door.

"you're gonna fucking scream."

[pretzel-box]

Tags: Fluff, Established Relationship, GN!Reader, Marriage, just wholesome, Sebastian is starstruck about reader

Words: 1,7k

Authors Note: Song fic! Song today: Stay by Ghost feat Patrick Wilson [I really love Ghost]

I thought about my boyfriend while writing this, pls don't tell him!

If this world is wearing thin.

And you're thinking of escape.

I'll go anywhere with you.

Time had no meaning in a place where the sun didn’t shine and the moon held no sway, where even the distant glimmer of the stars was swallowed by the endless, wet depths of the facility. Days blurred into one another, indistinguishable, as the relentless march of hours became a meaningless cycle. Yesterday bled into today, and tomorrow would arrive, indistinct from the days that had come before. Time was a ghost, an illusion, in a place where nothing changed and nothing could change.

But none of it mattered. It never would. Not when you stood there, bathed in the soft, ethereal glow of his lure. The pale light caressed your features, casting gentle shadows on your face, highlighting the curve of your smile—the smile that was so heartbreakingly genuine, so full of warmth and affection that it made the cold, oppressive atmosphere of the facility seem almost bearable.

Sebastian couldn’t take his eyes off you, the way you seemed to defy the darkness that surrounded you both. There was something otherworldly about the way you looked in this moment, as if the glow of his lure was meant only for you, as if it existed to illuminate the small, precious space you shared with him. The facility, with all its horrors, faded into the background. The walls, the steel, the constant hum of the machinery—it all became distant, insignificant. There was only you and the light, a moment suspended in time, untouched by the cruelty of the world beyond.

The air was thick with unspoken words, with the weight of emotions too deep to name. Sebastian could feel it, the way his heart ached at the sight of you, the way it stirred with something unfamiliar and yet undeniably present. It wasn’t just the affection he saw in your smile, but the way you stood so close, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from you, close enough that the darkness seemed afraid to touch you.

In that moment, time truly had no meaning. The past, with all its pain and regret, was a distant memory. The future, uncertain and unknown, held no power here. All that mattered was now, was this—the light, the smile, and the silent understanding that passed between you.

Sebastian’s heart beat slowly, heavily, as if time itself had decided to take a breath. He wanted to reach out, to touch you, to close the distance that still lingered between you. But he didn’t move, afraid to shatter the delicate balance of the moment. Instead, he let himself simply exist here, with you, in the soft glow of the lure’s light.

And for the first time in a long while, he felt something like peace. It was fragile, and he knew it wouldn’t last—not here, not in a place where time had no meaning and every day was a battle to survive. But for now, it was enough. Enough to keep him standing, enough to keep him fighting. Enough to remind him that even in the darkest places, there was still light.

And you were that light.

Just wrap me up in chains.

But if you try to go alone.

Don't think I will understand.

"Stay," he begged that day, his voice breaking as the words escaped his lips. His hands, usually so steady, reached out to you with a desperation that shook him to his core. The rough texture of his palms, calloused from years of struggle and survival, felt softer in that moment, imbued with the tenderness and love he held for you.

"Stay with me."

It wasn’t just a plea; it was a confession, raw and unguarded. Sebastian, the one who had always seemed unbreakable, was now standing before you, exposed and vulnerable. His eyes, usually hard and calculating, were filled with an emotion so deep and profound that it made your heart ache.

He wanted to hold you, to keep you close, to shield you from the relentless darkness of the world you both inhabited. The love he had tried so hard to keep hidden, to bury beneath layers of pride and fear, now flowed freely in his voice, in the tremble of his hands as he reached for you.

You could feel the warmth of his touch, the way his fingers curled around yours with a gentle yet urgent grip. It was as if he was afraid that if he let go, even for a second, you would slip away, lost to the void that constantly threatened to consume you both.

There was a depth to his words that went beyond the simple request. It was a cry from a soul that had known too much pain, too much loss. A soul that had found something worth holding onto, something worth fighting for in the midst of all the chaos and despair.

The world outside was cold, unforgiving. But here, in this small, fragile moment, there was warmth. There was hope. There was love. And all Sebastian wanted was to keep that light burning, to keep you by his side, even if it meant laying bare his heart in a way he never had before.

He didn’t want to lose you—not now, not ever. And in that plea, in the way his hands trembled as they held onto yours, you saw the truth: Sebastian wasn’t just asking you to stay physically. He was asking you to stay in his life, in his heart, to be the anchor that kept him grounded in a world that constantly threatened to tear him apart.

“Stay with me.”

In the silence of your room.

In the darkness of your dreams.

You must only think of me.

Sebastian couldn’t tear his gaze away. You stood before him, a vision so ethereal that it felt as if time itself had stopped, allowing him to take in every detail of this moment. The faint flicker of his lure cast a soft glow around you, making the scene almost surreal—like a painting brought to life.

Your makeshift veil, though simple and worn, had an elegance that transcended its humble origins. It draped over your head and shoulders with a delicate grace, fluttering slightly in the faint breeze that whispered through the corridors of the facility. Despite the thin layer of dust that clung to the fabric, it shimmered faintly, catching the light in a way that made you appear almost otherworldly.

He noticed the blush on your cheeks, the soft pink that betrayed your flustered state. It was a contrast to the cold, lifeless surroundings—so full of life, so human. It made his heart ache with a longing he could barely comprehend. The ribbons in your hair, torn from old bandages, held a bittersweet charm, a reminder of the harsh world you both inhabited, yet they were transformed into something beautiful in your hands. You had a way of doing that—of taking the broken, the discarded, and turning it into something to be cherished.

The bouquet of withered lilies and roses you held was the final touch, a symbol of something fragile yet enduring, something that had withstood the test of time and adversity. Even in their faded state, the flowers carried a poignant beauty, much like the resilience you both had shown through everything.

To Sebastian, you were divinity incarnate. You outshone the stars, made the sun's brightness seem pale in comparison. In this moment, you were everything he had ever wanted, everything he had ever needed. Every part of him, every fiber of his being, was drawn to you, consumed by the love he could no longer keep hidden. You were his.

He could hardly breathe as he looked at you, his chest tight with the overwhelming emotions that threatened to spill over. You were his—his muse, his anchor, his reason for fighting in a world that had given him so little. And in this moment, as you stood before him, the embodiment of all that was good and pure, he knew that he could never let you go.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, the words escaping before he could stop them. They were raw, unpolished, but they were the truth. He reached out, his hand trembling slightly as he gently touched the veil, the fabric soft beneath his fingers. It was a tender, almost reverent gesture, as if he were afraid that anything more might shatter the delicate beauty of the moment.

His eyes met yours, and in them, you saw everything he couldn’t say—the depth of his love, the fears he carried, the hope that you could be his salvation. He had always been the one to protect, to shield you from the horrors of the world, but here, now, it was you who held the power. The power to heal, to bring light into the darkness that had been his life for so long.

“I never thought…” he began, his voice thick with emotion, “that I could feel like this. That someone like you could…could see me, really see me, and still be here.”

He swallowed hard, struggling to find the right words. But how could he? How could he express the torrent of emotions that flooded his heart every time he looked at you? All he could do was stand there, trembling under the weight of his love for you, hoping—praying—that you understood.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. The cold, the darkness, the fear—it all faded away, leaving only the two of you, bathed in the soft light of his lure. You were his universe, his everything. And as he looked into your eyes, he knew that, no matter what the future held, he would fight for this—for you—for the chance to hold onto the one thing that made his existence bearable.

You had become his light in the darkest of places, and he would spend every moment he had left proving that he could be worthy of such a gift.

There can be no inbetween.

When your pride is on the floor.

I'll make you beg for more.

You promised to marry him all those years ago. Those weren't just words but the assurance that you would never leave him, you couldn't.

You wouldn't marry the handsome raven haired man.

Or the tall sea-serpent hybrid that got experimented on.

You wouldn't marry the nerdy man you knew or the sassy giant.

You would marry Sebastian. Just Sebastian.

“Sebastian Solace. My sweet, beloved Sebastian. Please, stay with me.”

[zepskies]

OMG I KEED A PART 2 TO SAM HAVING A CRUSH ON DEANS GF

Like idk maybe say Sam didn't listen to Dean and tried making a move on reader? Like ofc he wouldn't ever do that *I don't think* but in this hypothetical scenerio it happens

Hey hun!

Oooof, that's hard. You guys really like this angsty love triangle stuff, huh? 😂 I genuinely think Sam would rather saw off his own hand than hurt Dean that way. But this is like, the only thing I could think of on this one. 😅

See this imagine for context: You are Dean's one exception.

Pairing: Dean W. x Reader, one-sided Sam W. x Reader Word Count: 1,100

Imagine: Sam crosses the line.

Goddamn witches.

That's the last coherent thought Sam has, before his mind is no longer completely his to control.

Well, it's still his mind. His body. But the careful door in his mind and in his heart, reinforced with steel and chained shut with titanium, combo-coded, locked and loaded, now has broken hinges.

Thoughts he hasn't allowed himself to think for months are pried open, with a sick kind of enjoyment in pain.

You're his brother's girl. Sam can't help but love you. He wants you. And now, he might be able to have you.

The witch is dead, but the spell she just hit Sam with remains. He's not dead, so that's a plus.

"Are you okay?" you ask him, slightly breathless. You're the closest to where he's sprawled on the ground, so you go to him. You touch his arm, and he can't help but clamp down on your hand. He looks at you with the thinly veiled eyes of a hunter as he smiles. Because your concern reaches the deepest parts of him.

"I'm fine," he says.

But Dean reads the hunger in his brother's eyes. He's subtle in the way he grasps your shoulder and Sam's (noticeably tighter).

"But what happened? How do you feel?" you ask, trying to take stock of what you're all dealing with here.

"I uh...feel fine, actually," Sam says. He rolls his shoulders. His gaze focuses on you. Dean holds him back from getting off the ground.

"Get the book. See if there's a way to fix this," Dean tells you without taking his eyes off Sam.

Sam tilts his head at Dean, the beginning of an angry frown on his lip as you rush away to find the witch's spell book.

"What's the matter, Dean?" Sam asks. He doesn't bother to lower his voice. (He literally doesn't have a filter anymore.) "Afraid of what might happen when she actually has the chance to choose?"

Dean's lips purse as his eyes darken. "This isn't you. And when you wake up from this, you're either gonna hate yourself for even thinkin' what you're thinkin', or you're gonna have one hell of a headache."

Sam stares back incredulously. He scoffs. "What're you gonna do, kill me?" They both know that's not happening.

But that's also when Dean knocks him the hell out.

When Sam wakes, it's to you stuffing tissues in his bloody nose. He groans a bit. He looks at you and still wants. But when he looks down at himself, he's in the bunker, handcuffed to the war room table.

You look worried for him as you go back to your side of the table with the book. Dean is oddly nowhere in sight. Sam thought he'd be watching you (and Sam) like a hawk.

"Dean'll be back in a sec. He's trying to get ahold of Rowena," you supply. "But how're you feeling? What's the spell doing to you exactly?"

Sam rolls the kinks out of his neck and removes the tissues, even though his entire face radiates with pain. His brother once promised to break his nose, and he did just that.

"Basically? I think it took away my inhibitions," he replies. More like threw them in a blender and put his deepest, headiest desires into overdrive.

You frown. "Like a really bad bender, or a truth serum kind of thing? But why would he punch you out for that?"

Your gears are turning rapidly, weighing out all the options. You always were smart. Sam leans forward slowly. Noting your thread of wariness, his face softens. He doesn't want to scare you...

He sighs. "Listen...there's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while now."

He reaches out a hand. You're looking at him in frozen surprise. His curled fingers brush your cheek. He leans in toward your face.

But you flinch and pull away.

"What the hell are you doing?" you ask.

Sam should've known, but it still hurts him. His jaw clenches. The spell takes away his self-preservation, however.

Just as he might've tried with words to finally confess the depths of his heart, the door creaks open.

The sound of Dean's heavy boots approaching makes him flinch. But Sam looks over with an unrepentant stare.

Dean glances at Rowena, nostrils flaring. "Fix him." He gestures at Sam before he joins you on your side of the table, resting a protective hand on your back.

Rowena shoots him a droll look. "Only because you asked so nicely."

"I don't need fixing!" Sam argues, glaring at Dean. His voice echoes on the bunker's walls. "You're just afraid of what happens if she knows the truth!"

Your eyes widen further. You look from Sam, to your boyfriend. Dean's jaw is clenched tight.

"Okay, what the fuck is going on?!" you ask in earnest. Dean meets your gaze for a moment, his face tense. His reluctant eyes communicate to you things you never knew. Things that clog emotion in your throat. Dean turns back to Sam.

"Don't do this, Sammy. It don't end well for you," Dean says.

"Like hell," Sam retorts.

"Okay, sleep now, dear," Rowena says. And with a wave of her hand and a haze of violet, Sam's world once again blackens.

When he next wakes, he's in his own bed. Not restrained. He indeed has a massive headache, and it's hard to breathe through his still broken nose. He groans and turns, and his brother is there.

When the overwhelming guilt sets in, Sam knows he's himself again, with all the careful walls around his heart put back in place. Rowena must've broken the spell when he was unconscious. Dean can see the truth in Sam's eyes.

"There he is," Dean remarks dryly. "Our giant Jekyll and Hyde."

Sam inhales deeply. "Dean..." I'm sorry doesn't quite cut it.

"She knows," Dean says, after a moment. "Obviously."

Sam nods, swallowing past a lump in his throat. He hesitates to ask the next burning question, because part of him knows the answer.

"It doesn't change anything."

Sam's head turns at the sound of your voice. You stand in the doorway, with your arms crossed despite the disheartened look on your face. Your eyes meet his, steady and sad, but firm.

"I know," Sam says, with a small, self-deprecating smile. "I'm sorry...for all this."

"It's not your fault," you reply. Spell or no spell, the way he feels is not his fault.

You step into the bedroom and go to Sam's bedside, laying a hand on Dean's shoulder. That hand smoothes up his neck, and your fingers briefly thread into his hair. Another silent conversation passes between you and Dean, the way only lovers that close can accomplish.

After a beat, Dean nods and gets up out of his chair. He thumbs at your cheek; it's both an answer to your unspoken request and an endearment. Then he pats Sam's shoulder before he leaves you and Sam alone in the room.

Trust. That's what that is. Dean trusts you, and now that the spell has worn off, he trusts Sam again.

Sam meets your gaze. As awful as he feels, he still loves you. He knows you know by the way your gaze meets his.

All he wants to do is touch you.

To apologize, and to touch you.

He hates himself.

You shake your head. "I love you, Sam. As my friend. My brother."

"I know," he nods. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry," you reply. "You just have to respect that."

"'Course, I do," Sam nods again. You would've never known, if not for the damn spell.

You surprise him by taking his hand. Yours is soft and warm and kind.

Always kind...

But never truly his to hold.

AN: GAH! The Angst. You could bottle it. 😩

Want to know what that conversation was like between Dean and the reader after she "found out?"

Read It Here: You and Dean talk about Sam's feelings.

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[dark-and-kawaii]

Tiefling bachelors reacting to someone smacking or coping a feel of his partner's butt in passing? What does he do?

˖⁺‧₊˚✦ Don't Touch ✦˚₊‧⁺˖

✦ Awhhh I loved doing this one!!! We love us some protective tiefling bachelors!!! I hope you enjoy these *nervous laughter* xoxo

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ I feel like Zevlor is a man that pays close attention to his surroundings, so you can count on him when it comes to those who wish to pass on by and cop a feel.

It was such a lovely day in Baldurs Gate, the air was filled with the scents of exotic spices and the colorful sights of stalls brimming with goods from across the realms as you and Zevlor walked through Baldurs Gate. Zevlor, ever watchful, stayed close by your side, his sharp eyes scanning the crowd, “You never know what could happen in a place like this,” Zevlor murmured. His presence always making you feel protected in the sea of faces.

“Oooh look at this one!” you paused to admire a stall with shimmering fabrics,. Out of the corner of Zevlor’s eyes, he noticed a man weaving through the crowd towards you, his intentions clear. Just as the stranger's hand stretched out towards you, Zevlor acted swiftly.

Without hesitation, like the seasoned soldier he was, Zevlor grabbed the man's wrist, stopping him in his tracks, “I’d Mind your hands, if I were you.” His voice was calm but carried a deadly warning. His grip tightening just enough to make the man wince, his face contorting in pain.

The man, realizing his mistake, tried to pull away, but Zevlor's hold was unyielding, “Think before you act, for you never know whom you might run into,” Zevlor added, his tone stern. After a moment, he pushed the man back into the crowd, his eyes never leaving the stranger until he disappeared into the crowd of people.

You looked up at Zevlor, “And here I was going to say you worry too much.” gratitude filled your eyes and you gently kissed his cheek, “always my steadfast shield.”

With a soft smile, his arm finding its way around your waist, he pulled you close, “let’s not allow that to ruin our day.”

For the rest of the day, Zevlor kept you close to his side, his tail gently coiled around your thigh, a silent promise of safety. His hand resting at your side, while you continued to explore the market.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ After everything happened with Lorroakan, Rolan was no longer afraid to get handsy with those that mistreated him or others, especially if it involved you.

Today Rolan found himself walking alongside you, Cal, and Lia through the city during a festival. The wizard would’ve preferred to stay in his tower but you all had insisted that he come with. Cal being the one to convince him, ‘she could get into trouble and need her fancy wizard to come to her rescue for once.’ Is what he had said. Crossing his arms annoyed, Rolan continued walking.

Laughing, you nudged him gently with your elbow. “Come on, Rolan. Even you can't deny it's nice to take a break from your books and potions.” Rolan's lips twitched into a rare, fleeting smile, “Perhaps. But only because the three children are enjoying it,” he said referring to you three.

As you absorbed the joy and laughter around you, a sudden jolt disrupted the harmony. You felt a sharp smack on your rear followed by a leering voice slurring, “Hey, sweetheart, how about a kiss for the brave festival hero?”

Instantly, Rolan's demeanor shifted as he spun around to face the pig of a man. Rolan’s tail quickly brought you behind him, “Stay behind me,” he murmured, his voice low and controlled, but with an unmistakable edge of anger.

The man laughed mockingly, stepping closer. “What's this? The little devil's got a temper, eh?”

Without breaking eye contact, Rolan raised his hand, fingers weaving through the air, chanting under his breath. The air around the man's feet began to shimmer, and suddenly, he yelped as his feet were bound by glowing ethereal chains, rooting him to the spot. Rolan's gaze was icy as he stepped towards the bound man, “I would choose your next words very carefully if I were you," he warned, his voice steady.

Lia and Call watched on the sidelines in awe, proud that their brother got to finally be your protector for once.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚ Dammon has a gentle heart, is soft spoken, and usually always tries to help someone in need. Confrontation? Nah, not really his jam. He had always been more at home among his anvils and hammers than dealing with confrontation. However, today something snapped, perhaps it was because it involved you.

As his hammer came down, shaping a new blade from glowing steel, a commotion- your voice, had broken his focus. Whipping around, he caught sight of a passerby hastily retreating his hand from your backside with a smirk, leaving you flustered and upset. Dammon's usual calm demeanor went out the window and was replaced quickly with anger and protection.

For a moment, he hesitated, his large, calloused hands tightening around the hilt of the sword. Then, with a swift motion, Dammon pulled the sword from the forge. The metal steaming as it was removed with an orange glow.

He walked over to the man, his heart pounding from the adrenaline of stepping so far out of his comfort zone. Dammon's approach was silent but swift, and as he reached the offender, he held the hot blade just inches from the man’s face. The heat from the steel was evident, a clear threat that no words could match.

"Never touch anyone without their consent, understood?" Dammon said, his voice uncharacteristically commanding, his brows furrowed. The man's eyes widened and he nodded. Pleased with this, Dammon flicked the blade in your direction, “Good. Now apologize.”

[justanotherrpmeme]

Forced to Watch starters

"Look at them. Look closely. You can make it stop." "No! Please, don't hurt them!" "All you have to do is talk. Save them." "Open your eyes, [name]. This is your doing." "You monster! I swear I'll make you pay for this!" "Stop! I'll tell you anything, just don't hurt them!" "Why won't you look? Afraid to see what you've caused?" "Please, I'm begging you, let them go!" "This is your fault. Remember that as you watch them suffer." "I can keep this going all day. Just say the word." "You're stronger than this. Don't give in." "See what defiance brings? Pain and suffering." "No matter how hard you try, you can't save them now." "You don't have to do this. Let them go, and I'll do anything." "Look at their faces. Their pain is because of you." "Don't close your eyes. I want you to see every moment." "I won't let you break me, no matter what you do." "Feel their pain, and know it's all your fault." "You could end this right now. Just give me what I want." "This is just the beginning. How much can you endure?" [TORMENT] The sender forces the receiver to watch a loved one being tortured. [CHAINS] The sender chains the receiver to a chair in front of a screen showing their friends being hurt. [FEED] The sender shows a live feed of the receiver's family/friends being tormented. [DESPERATION] The sender mocks the receiver’s futile struggles to free themselves while they watch a loved one's torment unfold. [WHISPER] The sender whispers taunts into the receiver's ear as they watch their loved ones being harmed. [ESCALATION] The sender escalates the violence each time the receiver attempts to look away or close their eyes. [PROXIMITY] The sender positions the receiver close enough to their loved one to hear their screams, but unable to intervene.

[kanri-domo]

Characters: Il Dottore, AMAB! Reader

Warnings: Non-Con, Torture, Kidnapping, Stockholm Syndrome, Drugs

A tale of three failed escapes.

I.

It's dark. Dottore has no idea where he is or how he even got here. The last thing he remebered was storming off after a useless meeting, annoyance clouding his mind, fully intent on returning to his precious experiment. Yet, somehow, he was now in a dark cell, with the only light coming from behind a locked door.

With each little movement, the chains that bind him down clank. There's a cuff around his ankle and collar around his neck, both heavy and securely locked with a sturdy padlock, with chains that lead to the bedframe, which is bolted to the ground unfortunately. The chains aren't long enough for Dottore to go anywhere close to the door either, frustratingly enough.

"You're awake!" The door creaks open, finally. In enters a person Dottore does not recognize yet feels vaguely familiar.

"I've been waiting for you to wake up for so long," you complain, "I think I used too much sedative, but I was worried you'd wake up while I was still getting everything ready! Thank the archons you've enhanced yourself as much as you have - I think the dosage would've killed a normal person."

This person, Dottore thinks incredulously, is fucking crazy. To attack a harbinger - Dottore himself no less - is one thing. It's expected to for them to have some enemies, but it's whole other thing for someone to drug and kidnap one.

You prattle on for even longer, slender fingers twirling around a set of keys. Dottore stopped paying attention, no longer interested. If you were stupid enough to flaunt off the keys to his chains, then it would only be prudent for him to waste as little time necessary to escape and give you a slow death for the trouble you've caused.

The moment you walk into his range, Dottore snaps. He might be a researcher and scientist at heart, but he was the second for a reason and it doesn't take much to overpower you.

Dottore knocks you out with a strong blow to the head. It's disgusting how weak you are, he grumbles to himself, kidnapped by a stupid weakling.

As he turns around to unlock the cuffs around his ankle and neck, he fails to notice you getting back up, brushing off the blow as if it were nothing. It's not until he's shrieking in pain from an electrical shock that breaks him out of his concentration, and to his horror, face-to-face with you.

"Sorry, darling," you purr, "I'm afraid it's not going to be that easy. But hey, since you're so excited to be here, why don't we get started with lesson one?"

Dottore's vision is darkening, but he watched angrily as you place your hands around his throat and squeeze. The last thing he sees before he passes out - whether it be from the electrical shock or the lack of air, Dottore doesn't know - is the crazy glint of excitement that he'd seen in himself many times before. Dread pools in his stomach and everything goes black.

II.

Dottore was tired. There's a bone-deep tiredness that's been persisting ever since you'd kidnapped him. How long has it been? A month? Two months? No natural light enters the cell that you keep him in and the only other indicator of time passing is you coming and going.

There are bruises all over him; you liken it to adding color to a canvas, each one blooming into blues, purples, and blacks. Everything hurts. There's dried semen on his thighs and chest, but it's easier to ignore compared to everything else.

Dottore automatically stiffened at the ominous creaking of the door opening. You step in, humming cheerfully. In your hands is a tray of disgusting, horrendous slop. Dottore looks away from you, unwilling to submit himself to your whims despite the gnawing hunger.

"Ah, this game again?" You ask, amusement coloring your voice. "When will you learn," you tut. You say more words, but he's not listening, too tired to care. You roll your eyes at him before placing the slop on the ground and leaving.

The door closes behind you, but it lacks the distinctive click of the lock. The sound of footsteps getting feinter and feinter indicates you leaving though.

Dottore stares. There's no way you'd forget to lock the door... Would you?

It's dumb, and maybe it's the pain and exhaustion that fuels this escape attempt. It's so painfully obvious that it's a trap, but Dottore is nothing if not desperate.

Tugging at the chains, the loosened links came free. Hesitantly, Dottore stalked towards the door, afraid to make too much noise, lest you come back to investigate.

Peeking out the door, he sees no one. Despite the fear and the gut instinct of something feeling wrong coursing through him, Dottore refused to retreat back into the cold embrace and safety of the cell behind him. There's another door a small distance ahead, an exit perhaps?

Dottore takes his first steps towards freedom, before breaking into a run, hurrying before you come back. He would escape, he would -

A sharp pain from his head stops him in his tracks - or rather, you slam him into the wall does. Dottore sees stars and before he knows it, he's on the ground, blood bleeding out and running down his face.

"I'm going to kill you," Dottore snarls weakly, dizziness and pain quickly overtaking his senses, "I'm going to cut you into pieces and burn you alive," he slurs.

You laugh. Dottore is already weak from the time he's spent with you, and the head injury doesn't help, so it doesn't take much for you to hold him down despite his struggling. You unzip your pants, and Dottore stills.

"This is your punishment, darling," you coo as he started hyperventilating beneath you. You're not kind, Dottore had found out early on, but usually your punishments were physical, not sexual. Sex only happened after you'd coerced him into it in exchange for something else. Never as a punishment.

Your dick is objectively big, but for some reason, it feels even bigger than usual when you penetrate him. You don't bother to stretch or lube him up, and Dottore feels the lack of preparation keenly. It's painful and slow, and the whimpers the escape him would've been embarrassing if the pain of his insides rearranging themselves to make way for you wasn't as painful as it was.

By the time you bottomed out, Dottore was only moments away from passing out, but a sharp slap across the face brought him back.

"Ah - ah," you taunt, "if you black out now, I'd have to punish you even more later."

Without warning, you pull out before proceeding to slam yourself back in. Dottore howled at the suddenness, and the overwhelming feeling of pleasure and pain began to mix together as you fucked him senseless. Soon, blood slickened your movement and your roughness smoothed into a steady pace. Your hands grip onto his thin waist, nails digging into thin flesh, undoubtedly leaving even more marks. You fuck him like a ragdoll, and Dottore was helpless to stop you.

The harsh pace is unforgiving, and by the time you've cum, Dottore was extremely close to blacking out again. You cum inside him, painting his insides white. The feeling of fullness was overwhelming, Dottore whined, his own cock hard, yet lacking the necessary enough stimulation to get a release.

You laugh at him, looking down on him as if he were a dumb bitch in heat. You take pity on him - or at least Dottore assumes you do - and dig your fingers into his prostate. It takes several harsh jabs before he spills all over himself, and Dottore silently curses his masochistic tendencies. But, at the very least, you seem to have had your fill, he relaxes, letting exhaustion fill him.

"This isn't the end of your punishment, unfortunately for you," You taunt, "You belong to me, and only me, you know? It seems my silly pet still wants to escape, so I need to make sure I train you well. I need to make sure you know, and your body knows, that I'm the only person who will ever love you!"

The last thing he sees is the sadistic gleam in your eyes, a familiar look that Dottore no doubt had on his own face once upon a time.

He blacks out, body aching and terror griping his heart.

The next time Dottore wakes up, he’s back in the dark, cold cell. There's something - a vibrator - in him, and he's tied down to the bed. You've taken everything: his pride, his freedom, and his dignity. You've crushed it beneath your heel and the only thing Dottore could do was laugh at the irony until he cried.

The mad scientist sobbed and screamed into the unforgiving darkness, unable to move and unknowing of when you'd return.

III.

He's wet and shivering. Archons, why was he so stupid. To run away when you loved him when you took good care of him.

Dottore was hiding in an alleyway a couple blocks away from where you'd kept him captive, not that he knew where the hell he was. It's definitely still in Snezhnaya, if the amount of snow meant anything, but it was a big enough country that Dottore still had no idea where he was.

He could go back, but... The thought of your anger, however, was enough to hesitate. Besides, he still was loyal to the Tsaritsa, and still had a duty to the Fatui... didn't he?

Angry stomps interrupted his thoughts. No, dread pools in his guts, it seems, you had already found him before Dottore could make any decision at all.

You stare at his pathetic form, face blank of any emotion.

Dottore pathetically crawled towards you, body already numb from the cold. He could salvage this, he thought desperately, you loved him, after all. You'd forgive him... Right?

"M' sorry," he mewled pathetically, clinging onto your pants, "I didn't mean to," he adds. He practically kneeling in the snow, too weak to get up, as well as trying to act as submissive as possible. The collar around his neck feels heavy, despite being only made of leather. You'd placed it there, changing it from the heavy lead to a lighter leather, calling it a reward for good behavior.

But Dottore had misbehaved, and now, you're angry.

"It seems," you sigh, and the next words that come out of your mouth freeze Dottore even more than the cold did, "that I still haven't trained you well enough."

Dottore opened his mouth - to beg, to scream, he didn't know - but before he could, the sharp jab of needle made its way into his neck, and you injected a strong sedative into him. Dottore slumped down into the snow, misery filling his wretched heart and vision darkening.

.

.

He wakes up strapped to an examination table. The table beneath him is warm, but the air is as cold as ever, and Dottore shivers. His mouth is being forced open by a ring gag and his legs were forced apart by a spreader bar. There's something huge inside of him, it stretches out his hole to a burning degree.

"Finally awake, dear?"

Dottore tilted his head to look towards you. There’re no emotions on your face, and you're holding a bottle filled with a clear liquid.

He whines, a last-ditch attempt at placating you. It's useless, he knows, it's already too late for him. The room is cold, but the trembles that wrack his body stem from fear.

You ignore him, opting to instead pour the contents of the bottle down his throat. It doesn't take long for Dottore to figure out what exactly you'd given him.

The aphrodisiac that you give him is strong. Dottore couldn't help but jerk and fight against the restraints, the burning need for stimulation becoming overwhelming.

You laugh at him, and instead of relieving him, you turn on something beside you, and in turn, the thing that's inside of him - a dildo - starts moving in and out. At first, the pace is slow, slow enough that he couldn't help but whine for more, but within moments, speeds up into a harsh pace.

"I think that should be good for now," you hum. Dottore's moans and breathy screams permeated the air. Even the slightest of touches from you were quickly becoming too much.

It doesn't take long before the first spurts of cum spill out, but the machine is unbudging, and so are you.

"A- ahh!" The need for more and feeling of too much clash, Dottore cries, feeling overwhelmed. You're laughing at him he notes out of the corner of his eye. He’s squirming against the restraints even more now, desperate to escape.

It's too much, he thinks; I'm going to die.

The machine continues to fuck him. It's going to fuck him to death, Dottore can't help but think hysterically, he's going to die here, still trapped by your love.

With another rough thrust, Dottore cums again. And again. And again. And again.

You're still watching him as the drugs wear off, as his dick softens, yet the machine still continues to thrust into his loose hole, unable to even clench down. There's no way he could cum again, but the machine continues to wring orgasm after orgasm out of him, even if no liquid spills out.

It takes one last dry orgasm before you finally stop the machine mid-thrust. Your hands softly run across his body, each feather-light touch makes him twitch and jerk, body too sensitive. With swift hands, you remove the gag. Dottore quickly snapped down, wishing he was able to rub his sore jaw.

"Well," you ask, "what do you have to say for yourself?"

Dottore trembled under your harsh stare, breaths coming out uneven and short.

You frown. You reach out to pet him on his head this time, each pet soft and kind. "You know I love you, right? I'm only doing this for your sake," you tell him, "The Fatui are no good for you. You belong here, with me."

"Look at you, so wrecked and slutty. This is what you're born for, you're a perfect whore," you add, "So give up, Zandik, I'm the only one who'll love you no matter what, so be good for me, m'kay?"

Dottore Zandik sobbed, dam bursting open, tears spilling. You were right, weren't you? His parents hadn't loved him, the Fatui hadn't cared enough to find him.

Only you would love a monster like him.

"I love you," he hears you say, and it hurts to hear. There's a part of him that's screeching, angry that you've reduced him to such a pathetic, humiliating state.

The rest of him is quiet though. He's given up. You love him, so you're only doing this for his sake, his mind rationalizes.

"Love you," he mumbles between the sobs and tears, "I love you. I'm s- sorry for running, for being no good."

You smile gently down at him, but your eyes are cruel and cold. You're satisfied by his obedience.

Zandik cried and cried, the reality of his situation finally settling in. There was no escape from you; your love was drowning him and finally, Zandik let himself be drowned.

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Love In Chains (Lion El'Jonson, Angron)

Summary: Your presence calms the bestial and bloodthirsty nature of the two primarchs. Unfortunately they have a completely different ways of obtain you.

Lion El'Jonson/fem!Reader, Angron/fem!Reader

Warnings: yandere, obsession, kidnapping

Word count: 1116

Song: Tiamat - Love In Chains

Honestly, I don't know if it turned out well. Was I able to convey at least a little the characters of the primarchs in love? And who did it best? These two are a complete mystery to me.

This feeling was like a sea breeze. Cool gentle wind. The rustling of leaves and the scent of a thousand flowers... Angron had never experienced any of these while he was a slave. But his brothers and sisters often used such expressions to describe something beautiful. And serene. Calm.

It was you.

One of the many serfs who were brought to Ullanor. Small and fragile compared to the primarch, you did not cause irritation. You didn’t interfere, no, he was glad to have fleeting meetings with you. For in the first years after the nails he experienced relief.

For the first time, he could not strain all his muscles, concentrate his mind to cope with the pain. A disgusting pain that consumed his entire soul. Until he entered into battle, saluting his real and dead brothers and sisters screaming their name and speel blood of his enemies.

But you awakened in Angron something forgotten that had been with him since birth. What the slave owners of Nuceria took from him. What the Emperor and his primarchs perverted and humiliated. What his Legion did not expect from him. Something that was buried deep inside him under rage and bloodlust. Empathy. Humanity. The desire to take care of someone. Protect and value.

To love.

He can barely restrain himself when he dares to approach you. He is afraid of. Afraid that he will hurt you. That he can't contain his rage. Because of the pain running throughout the body due to nails. But you calm him down just by your presence and the primarch pulls himself together.

“Clean my armor” - no, he should not order. He doesn't want to see you scared. You were a serf, but you are not a slave. - "I need help."

You noticeably relax and a wave of peace rolls over Angron, almost making him want to moan. He had so few moments of peace in his life. Only with brothers and sisters, when they licked each other's wounds. When they applied signs to each other. When they clung to each other in the mountains, intoxicated by the long-awaited freedom.

You were not a warrior. But that's fine. He treated all the slaves from Nuceria well. Besides, why feel rage towards the original weaklings? Only weak and cowardly warriors deserve his wrath. But not you. You helped. You healed.

It's complicated. Try to start a conversation and win over. Angron showed concern for the weak even now in this state. But almost no one saw it. And these were such rare moments. Now he wants to repay you in full with the kindness of your presence.

And you open up to him. Not immediately, gradually. But this is enough for the primarch. And when you agree to his offer to serve him personally on the Conqueror... in that brief moment, he barely feels the nails.

Sheer bliss.

Which smoothly turned into uncontrollable rage when the World Eater learned that you had been taken. You've been kidnapped. They took you away without asking your opinion or Angron���s. They took it away like a thing.

And when the frightened serf admits that it was Lion El'Jonson, something in Angron breaks. He did not want to kill the unfortunate servant. But he couldn't contain his rage at losing you.

He had never been in so much pain.

***

When Lion saw you, he immediately knew that he wanted you. And he will get you. It doesn’t matter what your background was, your opinion and what others think. He sees, he takes. Although the fact that you turned out to be a serf turned out to be a pleasant bonus.

You should have known by now to obey. It's not like El'Jonson would have any more trouble if you resisted. He might even like it. Or not. It doesn’t matter, because the result will be the same. You're in his bed.

He imagined you shrinking from his massive figure and squeaking like a mouse while he loved you. No meaningless and useless words that people used. Simple and understandable copulating. The best way to show affection.

And Lion really liked you.

All so pretty. A funny girl. You followed the instructions immediately and absolutely perfectly. How the primarch loved. It's like you were made for him. Suitable to him. Like your neck, rounded hips, seductive waist. Fragile and delicate compared to him, you would have perished in the forests of Caliban in a matter of seconds.

But he wouldn't let that happen. He would protect you. He would bring you food and cover you with wool. He would share shelter with you and bring you gifts. Intricate pine cones, beautiful flowers, monsters heads. He would shed so much blood, kill so many animals so that you would see his power. And realized that he is the best defender. He is your knight.

Perhaps someday the primarch will show you his home, but first the primarch had to fulfill his duty to the Emperor. Set off to conquer new worlds in a Crusade. One order and his servants are already taking you away despite your pathetic attempts to explain to them that you must serve the World Eaters.

Are you stupid?

Although you are a serf. Probably yes.

Well, it’s fine, Lion will love you just like that. You’re even cute while you’re crying and begging him to let you go to Angron. Silly and cute mouse. One day the Emperor told the primarch a story about a lion and a mouse. El'Jonson didn't like it. And now he doesn't like it either. But now, remembering the work of the ancient Terran writer, he cannot help but frown.

You cringe even more and ask him to stop tearing your clothes. No, well, you're definitely in trouble. Just like that, you beg him to make you his. With these eyes, these lips. Why do all animals have beautiful males, but human females are so much more seductive than men? This is stupid.

And Lion is stupid.

He has given up. Because of your look, your voice. That incredible feeling of calm that comes from you. You reek of peace. Stink of serenity. Something he could never experience in the forests of Caliban. Could never get one in the Crusade. But now he has you.

The little mouse is already sobbing quietly while the lion presses her in the bed. The primarch cannot stop squeezing you in his arms, consuming your body with his heat. Inhaling the smell of your hair and listening to your breath. Merging with you like an animal hugs its prey. Which is what you are. Only Lion will leave you alive.

He had never been so calm.

[simpforchuchu]

Stay by my side

Prompts: DAY 2 - solitary confinement @febuwhump Characters: Chuuya x reader Fandom: BSD Summary: He found his lover in a dungeon…

A/n for prompts: Hello guys! This is my first time trying a prompt challenge. I hope you like the short fics I wrote. I will finish them by writing some of the requests I have. I love you 💜

Sorry for the grammer or spelling mistakes.English is not my main language so...

Thank you and love you 🥰

Warnings: mention of fights, torture, blood and killing…

The young mafia executive ignored his rapidly beating heart. Fear took over his entire body. He killed all his enemies in the building, and his men were taking care of the rest. He was searching for the most valuable person in his life.

He was sure that he had checked all the floors and looked behind every door. But he couldn't find y/n anywhere. He was about to cry. He wanted to scream in fear, but he couldn't. He seemed speechless.

He quickly went down to the ground floor and headed for the door. But as he was running, he noticed an area on the ground making a strange noise and stopped.

It was as he expected. There was a secret door. He lifted the lid and noticed the stairs leading down to the basement.

He shouted as he descended the stairs in fear.

“Y/n! Can you hear me ? Y/n, baby if you are here please give a shout!”

The young man opened his eyes with fear when he saw the dungeons in the basement. All dungeons were empty. He walked quickly to the end of the corridor and saw one of them’s door was closed.

The door was not locked. He opened the door and saw that someone was hanging on chains from the ceiling of the dungeon. He shouted to the men coming behind him.

“Turn on the hallway lights, now!”

After a few seconds, the lights turned on and Chuuya shouted in fear.

“Y/n!”

Her lover was hanging by a chain. He ran inside and examined the young woman. Her face was bloody, it was obvious that they tortured her.

He wanted to scream, cry, blow this place up. But first he had to take her home.

It wasn't hard to break the chains. He gently took the young woman in his arms and quickly took her out of this dark dungeon.

When they got out, he took her to the car and ordered the driver to drive.

His eyes filled with tears as he looked at the bloody face of the woman in his arms.

“I'm sorry baby, I'm so sorry. This happened because of me."

He caressed the young woman's face in fear. He hugged her gently and kissed her hair.

“I promise you, they will suffer much more than the pain they caused you.”

Chuuya had fire in his eyes. The feeling of revenge was so strong that he did not notice the young woman waking up. Y/n slowly reached out and caressed the young man's face.

“I just want you to stay by my side.” She whispered.

Although Chuuya was startled by the young woman's fingers touching his face, he softened with her words. Because he didn't want her to be afraid anymore, he kissed her palm and whispered.

“I'm not leaving you and going anywhere. Don't worry my love.”

[eidelvyd]

@aluxialookingatyou One Night with the King AU!

I adore this one. I love all of my stories, but this one... mmm.

So! Firstly, if you don't know, One Night with the King is a movie based on the story of Esther from the Bible.

It's not amazing, but it's a personal favorite.

Now I won't be getting into the biblical parts of it, that isn't why I like the movie anyway, but before Esther marries the king, he gathers up all the pretty eligible young women and keeps them at his palace while he's looking for a new queen, spending time with them in turn to decide who he wants. THAT is our inspiration (though I'm making it decidedly more consensual).

Rough summary: Tom is the ruler of a (probably unnamed) small magical country and his advisors are harassing him about getting married. Each of his advisors submits candidates, the nobles offer their children, and the other young, eligible persons of the kingdom are invited to present themselves for consideration, though few of them pass. The chosen candidates will reside in the palace until a final decision is made, and all participants receive a reward for their families. The selection is almost complete, when Tom takes a stroll through the market with some of his advisors, and notices that they’re being followed. He confronts the boy following them and discovers that the boy was only attempting to return a locket that had fallen out of his pocket. Regulus Black, one of Tom’s foremost advisors, and the only advisor who had not chosen a candidate, notices the lingering gaze and interest that Tom gives the boy, and decides that he will enter the selection after all: with Harry Potter as his candidate.

Snippet!

“Why were you following us?” The man (boy, really) glanced up nervously, revealing unusually bright green eyes. His eyes widened as he realized who he’d been following, and he immediately lowered them, though he did straighten slightly. “I-I’m sorry, my lord, I was just trying to return this.” The boy reached into his pocket, slowly pulling out an old, heavy, golden locket. Tom inhaled sharply, the fingers of his left hand feeling futilely for the locket that should have been in his pocket. “You dropped it,” the boy continued when Tom didn’t take the locket, “It looked important… I didn’t think you’d want to lose it.” Tom reached forward hesitantly, the tips of his fingers touching the warm gold of the locket. Odd, it was usually cold. A surge of heat danced up his arm when his fingers brushed the boy’s skin. The way the boy’s hand jumped under his indicated that he had felt it too. Bright green eyes met his again, more curious this time than afraid. “Is everything alright, my lord?” Tom felt a light touch on his shoulder and blinked, breaking eye contact with the boy, and turned to meet the concerned gaze of one of his advisors. “Yes, Regulus, everything is fine.” Noting Regulus’ inquisitive glance between him and the boy, and what was in their hands, Tom adopted a more dismissive tone. “Just a good citizen, that’s all.” “Ah!” As he spoke, Tom had grasped the locket without looking and started to pull it away, intending to put it back in his pocket, but at the pained cry, he quickly turned back. The boy was still on his knees, but his arm was outstretched painfully towards Tom. The chain had somehow tangled around his fingers and his wrist and was cutting ruthlessly into his flesh, drawing blood.

And another

“What’s your name?” The boy looked surprised that he’d asked. “Harry, Harry Potter.” “Harry…” Tom let the name roll off his tongue slowly, tasting it, a small smile curling his lips as he spoke. He pressed a kiss to the back of the hand he was still holding, smile widening to a smirk when Harry’s cheeks flushed crimson, and stood, pulling Harry to his feet with him. “You assumed correctly, it is very important to me. Thank you for returning it, Harry.” “O-Of course, my lord,” Harry’s body twitched oddly, as though he had been about to bow again, but realized he couldn’t because Tom was still holding his hand. He settled for bowing his head instead, cheeks still adorably red. “It was just what anyone would have done, my lord.” Tom laughed at that, shaking his head in disagreement. “If you truly believe that, I find you delightfully naïve.” A small grin flashed across Harry’s face. “Should have done.” “Better,” Tom chuckled, scanning over Harry’s frame one last time, curiosity peaked by the strangely fascinating peasant boy. He lifted Harry’s hand to his mouth and kissed it again, enjoying the renewed flush of color in Harry’s cheeks, “Goodbye, Harry Potter.”

One more!

“What happened?” Ron asked, curiosity replacing concern. “I don’t really know,” Harry replied, shrugging. “He seemed really surprised, mostly.” “What did he do?” Hermione questioned, reaching for his hand again and probing the scar with her fingers. “Well, I tried to give him the locket, but when he tried to take it, the chain got wrapped around my hand and cut me. He untangled it and healed me, then he asked what my name was and…” Harry trailed off uncertainly, his cheeks heating once more. “And?” Hermione’s eyes narrowed, focusing on the color in his cheeks. “Well, he, um,” Harry could feel his blush deepening and creeping down his neck. “What did he do?” Ron’s brow furrowed, concern creeping into his tone again. “Well, he…” Harry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, “He kissed my hand. Twice.” Ron’s eyebrows shot upwards, and Hermione’s lips twitched like she was trying not to laugh. “Shut it,” Harry groaned. “We didn’t say anything!” “You’re thinking it.” Hermione laughed and wrapped her arm around his waist as the trio began to walk down the street. “Aww, you don’t think we’d tease you, do you?” “No, of course not, why on earth would I think that?” “No idea, mate,” Ron snickered, slinging his arm around Harry’s shoulders. “We’d never do that to you.” There were a few moments of silence as the three friends strolled through the market, glancing at the stalls around them and observing the many different people browsing them. Then – “Was it a nice kiss?” “Do you wish he’d kissed you somewhere else?” “Do you-“ “Shut it!”

Isn't it cute?! It is! Because I said so!

I genuinely love this idea so, so much.

Just don't ask me when I'm going to finish it, I might cry.

[allforthegamebingo]

AFTG Xmas Advent Calendar 2024 || Angst Edition

AFTG Christmas Advent Calendar 2024 || Angst Edition (this version is 18+ due to the context of the prompts (nothing explicit))

PROMPTS [ [#] angst - angst - angst || dialogue ]

[01] slipping on ice - breaking bones - unable to move || "you should have never come here." [02] unhealthy coping mechanism - overworking themselves - somethings never die || "you were just a child." [03] new trauma brings back repressed memories - memory loss - ptsd || "i don't want to remember." [04] fever - hallucinations - long recovery || "you stayed." "i promised."

[05] victim blaming - toxic relationships - tricked || "it's always your fault." [06] broken promises - betrayal - guilt || "everything will be alright, i promise you." [07] feeling tears while sharing a kiss - bathed and cared for by another - tired || "i'm sorry." [08] running away - left all alone - deep longing || "i feel safe, when i am with you."

[09] touch starved - flinching away from a kind touch - blood || "don't let them-" "i won't." [10] won't stop hurting - child abuse - sign language || "i could never leave you behind." [11] bad habits die hard - anxiety - relapsing || "won't you let me see?" [12] rough childhood - demons of the past - sexual assault || “i won't let them lay a finger on you, never again."

[13] chained - forced to lie - shot || "i'd never flinch from your touch." || [14] painful escape - forced to choose - career ending injury || "please stop." [15] eating disorder - panic attacks - self-harm || “but you love me anyway, don’t you?” [16] hiding an injury - infection - stitching themselves up || "you're over reacting."

[17] heavy breathing - fainting - feeling uneasy || "stop!" [18] sensory deprivation - overstimulation - strapped down || "you have to hold on." [19] passed out from the cold - can't open their eyes - has yet to wake up || "i hate you." [20] stab wound - being let down by someone they once trusted - first aid || "what happened to us?"

[21] freezing temperatures - hypothermia - left to freeze to death || "don't die on me now." [22] frostbite - hands numb from the cold - chronic pain || “you are- you will be alright, i promise you.” [23] staying awake till they can't anymore - dissociating - nightmares || "it's not your fault." [24] being allowed to heal - not afraid anymore - finally free || "acceptance is the first step, right?"

[moeitsu]

Song Lyrics That Remind Me of Arthur Morgan

Nobody asked for this, but I listen to A LOT of music, and this boah is constantly on my mind 24/7. So I thought I'd share some lyrics that remind me of him and his relationships <3

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Hard Believer - First Aid Kit

"So you ask for my opinion. Well, what is there to say? To be honest and just foolish, won't make you wanna stay. You've got to go on and get moving. And I can't do that for you. Got so many plans and so much you wanna do. Love is tough, time is rough on me."

To a Poet - First Aid Kit (Mary & Arthur)

"You said, 'Don't give me nothing you don't wanna lose.' I said, 'Darlin' I'll give you everything I got, if you want them to choose.' Though unwillingly I left and it was so, so hard to do. Now I miss you more than I can take and I will surely break. And every morning that I wake, God, it is the same."

Afraid of Heights - Boygenius (Dutch & Arthur)

"I know I fucked up when I told you I'm afraid of heights. It made you wanna test my courage. You made me climb a cliff at night. You wanted me to jump and I declined. You called me a coward, I replied, I don't wanna live forever, but I don't wanna die tonight."

My Silver Lining - First Aid Kit

"I don't know if I'm scared of dyin', but I'm scared of living too fast, too slow. Regret, remorse, hold on. Oh no I've gotta go. There's no starting over, no new beginnings, time races on. You've just gotta keep on keeping on."

Sun Bleached Flies - Ethel Cain

"If they strike once, then you hit 'em twice as hard. But in the end, if I bend under the weight that they gave me, Then this heart would break and fall twice as far. We all know how it goes, the more it hurts, the less it shows. But I still feel like they all know, and that's why I could never go back home."

Saviour - George Ezra (Mary & Arthur)

"Time was young and you were mine. Take me back to that midnight moon. Cradle me, at that midnight moon. All of me is all for you, and what I got to give is not enough. It's a dark night. Being your own savior, is it saving you?"

Cowboy, Gangster, Politician - Goldie Boutilier (Mary & Arthur)

"We said goodbye, but it never ends. 'Cause you can't get away from a woman who loves you. 'Cause you can't run away from feelings that haunt you. No, you can't separate a fire from a flame that already burns. Every saints a sinner, we all have our past. Forever is a fiction, nothing lasts."

Let Him Fly - Patty Griffin (Mary Gillis-Linton)

"Ain't no talking to this man, ain't no pretty other side. Ain't no way to understand, the stupid words of pride. It would take an acrobat, and I already tried all that so, I'm gonna let him fly. You know the light has left his face, but you can't recall just where or why. So there was really nothing to it, I said I'm gonna let him fly."

The Chain - Fleetwood Mac (Dutch & Arthur)

"And if you don't love me now, You will never love me again. I can still hear you saying, we would never break the chain. Run in the shadows. Damn your love, damn your lies."

Devil's Resting Place - Laura Marling

"I've been with the devil in the devil's resting place. Water won't clean you, you only hold yourself to the things you do. Come up here to speak to me and hold your face to mine. Any man can hold my gaze has done his job just fine. You sold your life away to be with me tonight. Hold your head against my chest, I think you'll be just fine."

Through the Valley - Shawn James

"I walk through the valley of the shadow of death. And I fear no evil because I'm blind to it all, and my mind and my gun they comfort me. Because I know I'll kill my enemies when they come. Surely, goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life. And I will dwell on this earth forevermore. Well, I came upon a man at the top of a hill. Called himself the savior of the human race. Said he'd come to save the world from destruction and pain, but I said, how can you save the world from itself?"

Youngest Daughter - Superheaven

"It's useless, I tried, but to no avail. To tell you how much I know, how much I care. Breathe until your lungs fail, you can sing 'til you go deaf. I am sick, I am horrified at everything I hear. Everyday repeats itself again, the cycle of our misery, It drives us all insane."

The Fall - Gregory Alan Isakov (John & Arthur)

"You heard blood was thick, brothers and sisters. But ya don't know where anybody's at. Time was a bust, you thought you'd better be tough. Nobody gets past the trembling wire. All eyes on you now, on you. We're all holding our breath."

Second Chances - Gregory Alan Isakov (John & Arthur)

"I'm running from nothing, no thoughts in my mind. Oh my heart was all black but I saw something shine. Thought that part was yours, but it might just be mine. I could share it with you, if you gave me the time. I'm all bloody knuckles, longing for home. If it weren't for second chances, we'd all be alone."

My Mind - Paris Paloma (Dutch & Arthur)

"What did I do wrong? Will you tell me what I did wrong, what did I? Was it a first offense? How long had you been harboring that vemon? You could have used your words then, you wanted them to hurt and so I let them. Never would I beseech you, to endure what you put me through."

[befuddled-calico-whump]

Augusnippets Day 22: Tearful Goodbye

cw: past torture, captivity

previous // Riot Kings AU Masterlist //

for the @augusnippets challenge // word count: 581

=~=~=

They cuffed his hands in front of him when he asked, and it's honestly more than Dan hoped for. He has five minutes alone, the pair of guards that will escort him to Mainfleet barricading the medbay door to prevent him from running.

He won't. He can't.

Wes has drifted in and out of consciousness for the past week; Swift had seen him to the brink of death, but he's held on. It shows on both counts. Bandages or bruises cover most of his skin, and one of the medics had shaved off his matted hair to get at some nasty head wounds.

That last bit may be the most gut-wrenching. Wes has had his hair dyed since they joined the Riot Kings; he's always taken care of it, always taken the time to re-color it when the brown started to creep through. The loss of it makes him look hollow somehow. Less alive.

Dan feels about as empty as Wes looks. The only reason he's on his feet at all is because he needs to be, because if he would've given in to the pain and exhaustion both of them would be doomed. He hasn't allowed himself a second to process much of anything yet. What he escaped, what he's resigned to, what he's left with.

Five minutes.

He's putting this off. If he thinks about it, he’s afraid he'll break down, have to be dragged away weeping. Dan tries to swallow the lump in his throat, and moves to the bed, cupping Wes’s cheek with a chained hand.

“Hey.”

When Wes’s eyes open, there's a clarity there, and Dan is glad. He doesn't think he could do this if Wes were locked in delirium. He reaches up to lay a hand over Dan’s.

“Hey,” he croaks, then frowns. “Wh’s wrong?”

They haven't been left alone together since day one, always a guard or a medic, or both. Or maybe Wes just sees it on his face.

“I'm..” He swallows again. The lump won't go away. “They're taking me today. “ I don't know if I'll see you again.

“What? Where?”

He's not going to sugarcoat it. “Prison, probably.” But he's not above lying. “I'll be okay.”

“Dan… th-they can't—”

“I don't have a choice.” He won't fight, won't run. He'll comply to the best of his ability. He squeezes Wes's hand, silent for a moment. “They're sending you home.”

“They're… no, Dan—”

“You'll be safe. I've been talking to the captain. As long as I comply—”

“Why would you—?”

“This is the only way.” If Wes is sent to prison, he will die. On Arrow, he'll be free. Monitored, but taken care of. 

One of the guards raps on the door, and a pang runs through him. Not now, not yet, don't—

His eyes sting, and he hurries to wipe away any tears. “It's time. I have to go.”

“Please. Please, Danny, please don't do this.” His fingers curl around Dan's, refusing to let him go.

“Promise me you'll stay out of trouble,” he says, like he's only going away for a little while, like he'll be right back.

He won't. He'll never…

The guard knocks again, but Dan ignores it, bending over the bed to embrace Wes, trying not to hold him too tight as the other man sobs into his shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” he breathes against Wes's ear. “I'm sorry.”

“Please don't die. Please… I need you to come back.”

“I will. I promise.”

He's not above lying.

[umbralsong]

Lady Incognita

Cazador Szarr's "niece" is named Amanita Szarr. You can find her story scattered throughout the palace's attic, dungeon, and the House of Hope. She was a girl who grew up near Anga Vled raised by old servants. At 13, she was brought to visit her uncle in Baldur's Gate...

The day her entire family exposed themselves as vampires.

Alternate Text: An east Asian girl with medium-brown skin and dark brown then red eyes looks away from the viewer. One with brown, facing away. Twice with red and shoddily cut away dark hair, looking away in despair and notably darkened, red, downcast eyes and short hair. Once more with darkened eyes and a cloak and red eyes to match, long dark hair flowing from her hood.

Unfinished, but hey. I want to show fellow artists that things just don't come to you. Sometimes, you have to work the lines and paint until they do. Use Glaze to protect your art from AI scrapers.

The notes you can find in order:

Alturiak 1477 Tarsakh 1477 Mirtul 1477 Kythorn 1477 Flamerule 1477

Please read about issues with Cazador's depiction [here]. Thank them for their kind contribution and show support.

Donate to Gaza here: https://gazafunds.org/ Support good causes with a click here: https://arab.org/ Ceasefire Now: https://ceasefire-now.com/ Donate to the [Sidewalk School] [Pay your rent], settlers. [KOSA Resources]

The city palace, straddling the wall between the Upper and Lower City, was more than creepy, it was somehow chilling.

Cazador Szarr the Avid rose to power in 1296. She stayed at the estate for at least four months before she was killed. She was turned in Kythorn 1477, 15 years before the start of the story.

'Uncle' Cazador made me a vampire, but I refused to participate in the family rites. He gave me the Hunger but he could not break my will. He had Blovart imprison me in the attic. I weakened. They sent up human blood, and eventually I drank it. For a year, they stopped sending anything. I tore at the walls in frustration. Then they sent up a bound captive.

Cazador's favorite punishments are cruelty, hunger, and isolation.

His staff, "Woe:" The gentle tap-tap-tap of a staff on stone sparked terror for all in Cazador's palace. It signalled an approaching storm, and all they could do was shrink into the background and pray its wrath would not fall on them. His dagger, "Rhapsody:" Cazador's love of poetry arose after he read on the naked stomach of a dead child in his homeland. The child was hung from the lowest branch of a tree. Cazador read the poem, and looked at the child, and he knew that here was the artform for him.

Her coffin is on a wooden table overlooking a window. There are chains by her bed, a candle, and a skull. There are three skeletons in the attic, one headless with a crossbow and garlic cloves in their cage.

I succumbed. I am a vampire, and damned. I curse the name of Szarr and reject it. Now I stay in the attic by choice and write my little histories. I am Lady Incognita. Amanita is no more.

I think the snippets of her story were so impactful because of the complete betrayal. The fact her family were never around. The fact they lied for her entire life. The fact they forced her to transform, which we know from Astarion's partial ceremorphosis dialogue is incredibly painful:

Player: Unlike you to be so unwilling to receive a new power... Astarion: That was before I knew the cost. Before I knew it meant transforming into some grotesque beast. I remember how it hurt when I turned to a vampire. My body writhed and warped while I was utterly helpless, the grip of death owned my heart as it beat its last. I - I don't want to turn into anything else. I can't do that again. I can't watch my body be taken over. Player: You're afraid? Astarion: I'll happily murder my way to whatever powerful artefacts we can make use of. Point at the back and I'll stab. Just don't ask me to sacrifice my body. It hasn't been mine for so long.

We know thematically there is a parallel between vampirism, abuse, and sexuality. Cazador appeared to lose interest in his 'niece' altogether. Nonetheless, he locked her into an eternal childhood under "true vampirism," never to grow to adulthood, and denied her a "typical" life forevermore. There is something particularly grotesque about that.

Astarion: Nearly two hundred years and I never came back. Not since the night I woke up down there. I had to punch a hole in the coffin and claw my way through six feet of dirt. Then when I finally broke the surface, retching up dirt and congealed blood, Cazador was waiting. From that day on I was his. Until today. Player: You were never his. Whatever he had, he took by force. Astarion: Maybe, but he did take it. There's almost nothing left of the person I was. Just a name on a rock. For nearly two centuries, I stalked the streets like a ghost while the person I was lay here, dead and buried. Now I need to figure out who I am. What I want.

We find The Tourmaline Depths in the room beneath Cazador's room. She wrote Diseases of the Blood to tackle vampiric illness. She wrote the names of ruling vampires, their titles, and their successors. She is, what, 28?

I like to think she knew all of Cazador's secrets, from the corpses in the suspended cages to his dungeon. I'm impressed by her mental fortitude in the face of such odds as a child and young woman. I'm impressed she chose to do what she loved, escaped, and became such a relevant figure in the study of vampiric physiology. I wish we knew her better. I wish we had the opportunity to meet her.

She is the historian who sullies his name and documents his endless crimes. She escaped. Cazador underestimated her.