#it was actually cruel that the con allowed him to do that

[fangdokja]

"You didn’t just break my heart; you shattered it. And now I’ll make you pay for it."

❤︎ Synopsis. When you pushed them too far, you didn’t just break their heart—you unleashed a darkness that will haunt you forever.

♡ Book. Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Genshin Impact Males (Alhaitham, Diluc, Zhongli, Dainsleif, Ayato, Childe, Scaramouche, Kaeya, Baizhu, Itto, Kazuha, Lyney, Pantalone, Heizou, Venti, Xiao) x Fem. Reader (separate)

♡ Headcanons. Heart's Sins - Part 2.9

♡ Word Count. 1,741

♡ TW. dom + top + older yandere, non-con, general manipulation, forced relationship

♡ Note. Due to Tumblr policy, all characters are all of age.

♡ A/N. A prelude to the NSFW Jealousy Yandere! Genshin Impact stories... Also, low-key tempted to make an actual Villain! Reader for Genshin. Genshin is too happy for me, wahaha.

♡ Alhaitham.

"Logic dictates I should let you go. And, you once asked if I could live without you. The truth is, I’ve already calculated the answer. But I also know that the only number that matters now is the one I will sacrifice to ensure you stay in my grasp. Your defiance only makes me more certain. You will not leave me. Not while I still breathe."

His voice is cold, but the undercurrent is suffocating—a sharp intellect twisted by obsession. The air around him is heavy with oppressive silence, a scholar’s sanctuary transformed into a prison of precision.

♡ Diluc Ragnvindr.

"I swore to shield Mondstadt from all darkness, yet I never foresaw the abyss you would leave in me. If the light I fought for cannot keep you by my side, then let it burn. Is it selfish? Perhaps. But justice, like love, is cruel and blind—and I will see it served. If I must become the very shadow I despise to protect you, so be it—I'll sink into the flames gladly."

His gloved hands tremble, not from weakness, but from restraint. The soft flicker of a candle becomes a roaring blaze in his crimson gaze, a quiet promise of destruction should you defy him.

♡ Zhongli (Rex Lapis / Morax).

"I have seen empires crumble and gods fall, yet your insolence surpasses even the passage of aeons. Contracts are sacred, but you... you shattered ours, like brittle jade. How pitiful that even gods can be betrayed. What worth does eternity hold if you would spit upon it? Tell me, mortal, will your cries echo longer than your sins?"

He looms over you like a monument to vengeance, golden eyes glinting like cracked amber as the tectonic weight of his fury bears down, heavy enough to crush.

♡ Dainsleif.

"I am the last remnant of a broken kingdom, and yet you have chosen to break me further... I have endured the decay of nations, but your betrayal wounds me deeper than Khaenri’ah’s fall... Do you not see? You are the last fragment of a world I can’t let fall. If I must bear this curse forever, you shall bear it beside me. You will not leave, not while I still draw breath… or while you still do."

The abyss whispers through him, tendrils of despair coiling around his words. His eyes are hollow, yet the depth of his obsession is infinite, a void that consumes all light.

♡ Kamisato Ayato.

"Power is a tool to guide others, yet you sought to wield mine against me. Was it not enough to break my trust? Did you have to shatter my pride as well? Very well. I shall show you the strength of a Kamisato betrayed. Now, kneel, and perhaps I’ll allow you the mercy of living as my possession rather than my victim."

A deadly calm wraps around his words, as serene and suffocating as the moment before a storm. The fan in his hand snaps closed, and his calculating gaze holds you prisoner in its cold, elegant fury.

♡ Childe (Tartaglia).

"You were my calm in the storm, yet you dared to leave me drowning. Fine. Let me show you the abyss I clawed my way out of—let me drag you into the endless nothing that I embraced for you. You will never escape me, not when I’ve already given you all of me. Run if you like—it’s been too long since I had a proper hunt."

His grin is wild, feral, a harbinger of chaos. The scent of blood lingers in the air as his dual blades hum with anticipation, his playful demeanor masking the predator beneath.

♡ Scaramouche.

"You are cruel—crueler than the Archons who forsook me. You mocked me as a puppet with no heart, yet I offered you mine. And now you’ve torn it apart. You take and take, but I refuse to be abandoned again. Fine—if I am to be heartless, then so be it. You wanted to see the puppet’s strings—let me tighten them around your throat instead."

His bitterness festers, a storm swirling in the empty void of his heart. Thunder roars as his emotions boil over, each crackle of lightning a reminder of the suffocating cage he is building around you.

♡ Kaeya Alberich.

"So this is how betrayal tastes… sweet, isn’t it? I warned you once—don’t play games with me. Now, it’s my turn to move, and you will not survive the checkmate. You see, I’ve spent my life spinning lies, yet you saw the truth and turned away. You should have known better than to toy with someone already teetering on the edge. Now, let me show you what real deception looks like—when I make sure you never leave. You wanted the truth? You’ll live with it, chained to me."

Kaeya’s easy charm hardens, his words laced with a venom that strikes without warning. The cold calculation in his eyes freezes over, and beneath the glint of his smile is a predator unmasking himself.

♡ Baizhu.

"Every dose, every cure, every touch of my hand—it was all for you. Yet here you stand, looking at me like I am the disease. If my care frightens you, then perhaps you misunderstand what devotion truly means... Fine. If you won’t let me heal you, I’ll ensure that no one else ever gets the chance."

The healer’s gentle tone now carries a macabre edge, his obsession with preserving life bleeding into a dark, suffocating fixation. His serpentine companion coils tighter, mirroring his intentions.

♡ Arataki Itto.

"I thought love was supposed to be fun, but this—this hurts, you know? And if I hurt, then so do you. Simple as that. The great Arataki Itto doesn’t lose, not even to you, babe. So, guess what? You’re mine now, whether you like it or not."

His boisterous energy turns suffocating, his larger-than-life presence filling the space like a looming storm cloud. His crimson horns gleam in the dim light, a warrior’s promise of unyielding devotion.

♡ Kaedehara Kazuha.

"The wind once carried me to freedom, but now it whispers your name, haunting me with every breath. If I must tether you to this earth to stop you from drifting, then forgive me. I never wanted to clip your wings... But, better caged than lost to the wind."

The poet’s voice is filled with sorrow, his words soft yet heavy with veiled threats. The calm serenity of the wandering samurai turns into a storm that swirls with quiet desperation.

♡ Lyney.

"I’ve always been good at sleight of hand, but your escape act? That’s a trick I’ll never let you master. I’ll bind you to me with threads so tight, not even magic can set you free. Tell me, mon cher, will you still applaud if I make you the star of my darkest trick? For you are my masterpiece, and I’ll never let the curtain fall."

The magician’s enchanting smile hides a desperation that twists like smoke, his illusions now designed to ensnare rather than entertain.

♡ Pantalone.

"Profit, power, control—I gave it all to you, yet you squandered it for fleeting, foolish desires. You have stolen from me, but I will take something priceless in return. If I cannot own your heart, I’ll purchase every moment of your existence. You’ll be mine in life—or death."

The veneer of his politeness cracks, revealing a bottomless greed that consumes even his warmth. His calculating gaze hardens into something predatory, the cold glint of a predator sizing up its prey.

♡ Shikanoin Heizou.

"I’ve solved countless cases, but this… this obsession you’ve planted in me is the only mystery I can’t unravel. So, I’ll keep you close, where I can study every detail until there’s nothing left to uncover. You’ll confess to me, whether through words or screams—it doesn’t matter. The truth will be mine."

His lighthearted wit becomes razor-sharp, his boyish charm twisting into something dangerously obsessive. The brilliant mind that solves mysteries now works only to ensnare you.

♡ Venti.

"I’ve sung songs of freedom for centuries, but you—you’ve turned my melody into a dirge. I have been nothing but free, yet you cage me with your indifference. If you will not sing with me, then I will silence all other voices—until only mine remains. My bard’s soul will shatter, but at least you’ll remain."

The carefree lilt of his voice turns haunting, the winds swirling around you with an unnatural chill. The Archon of Freedom reveals that even freedom can become a prison.

♡ Xiao.

"You knew what I was—a weapon, a shadow of destruction. Yet you chose to wound me? Fine. Let me become the monster you feared. You were my peace, my fleeting solace in this karmic storm. Leave, and I’ll bring down the heavens themselves to drag you back to me. You cannot leave me—I won’t allow it. I’ve lived too long in the shadows to lose the only light I’ve ever known. Do not make me hunt you, mortal. I cannot guarantee your safety—not even from myself.”

His golden eyes glow with a terrifying intensity, his usually stoic words heavy with despair. The protector of Liyue becomes your tormentor, his devotion turning into an unrelenting curse.

────────────

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[fyeaheddiemunson]

Hey, remember last June when Joseph was scheduled for the Philly FanExpo (and I was also going the full weekend). And literally the day before they announced Joe was having Visa issues and wasn't sure if he could make it into the States?

And then on Saturday it was finally sorted out and Joe decided to honor ALL 3 days worth of photos and autographs into ONE single day?

I remember.

So, if he could make it to the con, he would. Dude is a full blown Hollywood actor now...not just a guy that starred in Stranger Things. This is why I have travel insurance for the Orlando FanExpo, because more than likely he will have more important work commitments.

It's fine to be disappointed, I understand fully...but blaming either him or his team is just stupid.

[eternal-evergreens]

｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧"Into the looking glass - V"｡⁠*ﾟ⁠+*⁠.⁠✧

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Post format: Multipart series

Pairing: Yandere!Male!DoL x Fem!Isekai!Reader

Word count: 4.3k

Synopsis: You gain the chance to wake up in the world of one of your favorite games. Unfortunately, the 'favorite game' happens to be one about rape, violence, and stalking. Not only that, but the game seems to be rigged against you. All you want is to find a way home and put this all behind you, but is that even possible...?

Warnings: Non/Con, Mental Breakdown, Virginity Kinks, Age Gaps, Choking, Gagging, Bondage, Alcohol, Drugging, Abduction, Victim Blaming, Reader is just having a Bad Time

Excellent Good Decent Okay Poor Bad Terrible

You aren’t sure how long you were out, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. You’re disoriented when you wake up, unable to so much as comprehend your situation, much less fight against it. You feel static around you as blood rushes through your veins. You can’t hear anything, can’t feel anything but your own body as you struggle to steady your blurry vision. You feel hands all over you, and you dimly register the fact that you’re not being choked anymore. 

You ache all over, but it feels distant, in a way. Like you’re feeling someone else’s pain for them. Like your body is not your own. It isn’t until his cock forces itself into your dry cunt, lubed only with the paltry amount of spit from earlier, that you come crashing back into your own body, suddenly feeling very aware of everything that’s going on around—and inside of—you. 

You can’t help it; you scream as you feel his tip tear through your hymen and hit your cervix. You feel a hand clamp down on your mouth, but you pay it no mind, your vocal cords continuing to exhaust themselves as you struggle helplessly underneath the man who should have been your caregiver. 

He speaks when you finally calm down, giving in to your exhaustion. “Your body was always mine,” he says, but you aren’t listening. “Just like your virginity.” You stare at the wall as he takes you, not knowing if the slickness between your legs is blood or something much, much worse. You don’t look down to check. You can’t. He fucks you with power. Each thrust of his hips is hard enough to have your throat throbbing and your vision speckled with stars. You feel your whole body bounce on the bed, each creak of the frame loud enough that you’re sure the whole orphanage can hear you. It’s kind of late. You wonder if you’re keeping anyone up. Is it cruel to admit a part of you hopes you are? That, somewhere deep inside, you hope you aren’t alone in this? That someone else is suffering with you, even just a little bit? 

You allow your thoughts to wander as your body continues to be abused in your own bed. Bailey’s head dips down to your chest, taking a nipple into his mouth and swirling his tongue around it. You jolt slightly, a soft gasp coming from your lips as pain slowly gives way to pleasure. You feel yourself tentatively push back against him, ignoring the hot shame pooling in your stomach from doing such a thing, as you close your eyes and try to pretend your circumstances are different. 

Instead of Bailey, you’re with your lover, at your actual home, in your actual bed. You try to pretend the way his length drags against your walls is more pleasurable than painful, imagining yourself moaning instead of grimacing every time he bottoms out and his balls slap against your skin. It’s sort of working, you think, as Bailey picks up the pace. There’s a wet ‘pop’ sound when Bailey unlatches from your breast, his breath hot on your skin. There’s not much of a reprieve from sensation, though, as you feel his lips connect to your neck just as quickly as they’d left your nipple, sucking and biting the sensitive skin between your collarbone and your throat. His hands find their way to your ass, and he lifts you up closer as he massages the flesh of your bum, still ruthlessly fucking your hole. 

He’s getting close, you think, as he pounds into you harder still. His breathing has picked up the pace, too, though you’re sure you’re guilty of this as well. With two more power-filled thrusts, Bailey unloads inside of you, tanging his hands in your hair as he brings your head closer in a kiss. It doesn’t last for long, however. He seems to catch himself as soon as he comes down from his high and quickly pulls away from you. He doesn’t so much as glance at you as he rushes out the door. You can hear the sound of a zipper being pulled as he leaves, not bothering to shut the door behind him. His flustered state would have made you laugh if it didn’t come at your expense. 

You aren’t sure how long you must have stayed there, staring up into space as various fluids dry and crust on your thighs and sheets, but it must have been at least half an hour, if not longer. By the time you finally climb out of bed and drag yourself to the bathroom, it’s too late for anyone else to be up, so after you wash and drain the tub, you’re free to draw another bath to really take your time in the hot water. 

As the water pools up around you again, you try to focus on the way your muscles loosen in the warmth instead of on how you now have to live under the same roof as the man who assaulted you. You close your eyes and breathe in deeply, but when you open them again, all you can see are slick, purple tentacles wrapped around your arms, your thighs, your stomach, and your neck. 

Your eyes snap open as cold water splashes on the floor. It takes a few seconds of heavy breathing and frantic glancing around for you to realize you must have fallen asleep and dreamed of phantom limbs mimicking your assault. 

That’s what you hope it is, anyway. 

Still running on adrenaline, you climb from the bathtub and dry yourself off, putting on fresh clothes before you head back to your room. The duvet has a large pool of blood and cum around its center, but the rest of the bedding is fine. Your dress and heels weren’t damaged or dirtied during the assault, but you can’t bear to look at them, so you place them on the duvet and wrap them up, throwing them into a corner to discard later. 

When you’re done, you look around your room, struggling to believe that just hours ago, the sight of your new decorations had filled your heart with hope instead of repulsion. Now, you just feel sick. Your stomach churns as you stare at your posters and wallpaper, not even registering the sound of tearing paper until your walls are completely bare again. 

The rest is somewhat of a blur, but by the time it’s over, your room is even worse than it was when you got here. There’s torn wallpaper and crumpled posters on the ground, and the walls are sticky with still-drying adhesive, speckled with bits of wallpaper you couldn’t tear off. There’s stuffing everywhere, too. You see a decapitated teddy bear lying defeated in the corner. Most notable, however, would be the new fist-sized hole in the wall. You don’t remember making it, but if the ache in your bloodied knuckles is anything to go off of, it’s your work. 

You glance at the time. 

04:07

You sigh. You’ll just have to deal with it tomorrow. 

You climb into bed but immediately retract as soon as you touch it, feeling as if you’ve just been shocked by a high-voltage current. Your head is spinning, and you feel as if you might empty your stomach at any minute. 

Quest failed!

Your bed is uncomfortable. All rest points are reduced by half. Nightmares are more intense. Every rest has a 5% chance of waking you up sore. Save up your funds and buy a comfortable bed! 

Optional: Decorate your room to match your taste.

You’ve failed your quest! There is no penalty this time, but be careful not to let it happen too often, or there might be consequences! 

Shit, that’s two and a half grand down the drain. What are you gonna do, buy another bed? Would that even help?

You can’t stay here. You need to leave. You need to find Mickey. Unlock the next fragment or whatever the fuck. You just can’t stay here.

You put on your shoes and march right up to the door Mickey’s in, knowing where to find it thanks only to the system’s navigation, and knock quietly but firmly on the door. 

“What?! Do you know what time it is?” Someone, Mickey, you assume, whisper yells from inside, door on the handle as they stare up at you from between the crack of the door with disdain. 

“Landry knows about you,” you whisper back. “Your name is safe, though. He thinks you’re Mickey. Get the basket, I’ll take my clothes off, we’ll talk.” 

“How did you- never mind.” Mickey brings out their magic box or whatever it is, and you remove all your clothing. They check your hair and ears, and you try not to flinch whenever they get too close. “Good-good,” they say. “Okay, if you know about me, and Landry knows about me, then it’s no longer safe-” you put your hand up. 

“You need to get out of here. I’ll need to put a USB into Bailey’s computer while it’s on and logged in, break into the safebox at Leighton’s office and take the memory cards, and put in a good word with Landry 'cause you can make him crazy money.” Mickey looks stunned but hands you the USB anyway, even with their jaw still slacked. “Are we good? Can I put my clothes back on?” Mickey hesitantly nods, still looking baffled, and you dress yourself. Then, you head out and walk to school. 

It’s dangerous at night, but you need to get this done as soon as possible. You speed-walk the whole way to the industrial alleys and climb the fence, heading into the school grounds. You’re surprised you didn’t run into any trouble along the way, but you’re definitely not upset about it. 

You run into a dog as soon as you take a single step towards the school. It growls at you and prepares to attack, but you’re faster, throwing your arms up and chasing the dog intead. It runs off faster than you can chase and leaves you be, allowing you to head into the main office without further issue. 

Breaking into the safe is easy enough. You need an S rank in skullduggery to get in on your first try, but even F is capable of picking the lock if given enough time. Sure enough, it was on your sixth attempt that the box finally yielded, and you shoveled everything into your bag. You decide to take a look around the office while you’re at it and find a pack of new flash drives. 

You look over at Leighton’s computer. You should have enough time to copy information from Leighton’s computer to one of these drives, but you don’t have the password. 

You kick the trashcan on the way out, making a mess of Leighton’s pristine office. 

————————— It is Monday, the 12th of September, 2022.  -It has been 8 days since the game started. -The game started in autumn.  -It is autumn. -School term Finishes on Friday the 2nd of December. Current Funds: £1,799 Pain: Tears well in your eyes Arousal: You are cold Fatigue: You are wearied Stress: You are distressed Trauma: You are tormented Control: You are terrified Allure: You look like you need to be ravaged

The sounds of other orphans getting up and getting ready for the day is enough to wake you from your uncomfortable slumber, groggy and more than a little sore. You don’t remember if you dreamed last night or not, but either way, your sleep was far from restful. You consider not getting up at all, honestly, but your makeshift nest is far too uncomfortable to lie in any longer, and with the nightmares that you’re sure to start getting after this, being asleep is no better than being awake. So, you pull yourself up from the pathetic shelter you made last night and change into day clothes. It’s still somewhat early, so Bailey should be in his office. You try not to think any further than that as you leave your room and head into the communal areas of the orphanage. There aren’t any decorations up currently, but you can see remnants from old posters on the walls. Probably Bailey’s doing. You flinch at the thought. Orphans are scattered around. Some chatting, some doing their own thing. You spot one orphan, a slim boy, who looks very anxious. You can see him fluttering around different groups, looking frantic. You approach him, and he flinches when you put a hand on his shoulder.

“Short on an incoming payment?” You ask. He nods. “I can help.” His eyes light up, then freeze. He looks at you with a mix of hope and apprehension. 

“What do you want?” “Get Bailey out of his office for ten minutes. Make sure he doesn’t have time to log out of his computer. Tell him someone’s trying to snatch an orphan from the garden again or something else; I don’t care. Just get him out of there.” The boy’s face pales, and he starts to shake his head when you interject. “I’ll give you £1,000.” You don’t think twice about the number—it means nothing in comparison to home. But it’s different for this boy. His eyes widen, but he still looks hesitant. One more push. “C’mon. Would you rather get caught lying and get a few bruises, or miss rent and get sold off as an all-in-one dildo and fleshlight?” 

“I’ll do it,” he says immediately. You smile and hand him the cash. A few moments later, you see him and Bailey storm out of the office. You slip in without anyone noticing, and copying everything to the flash only takes a minute or two, so you’re out of the office in record time. +Rebelliousness

You can hardly sit still on the bus, constantly readjusting your position, crossing one leg over the other, then switching. You aren’t sure if you feel anxious or eager or if you’re just simply restless. Either way, the bus seems to take forever to arrive at Harvest Street. When it finally does, you’re off the bus in seconds and entering the pub only minutes after that. 

“Mickey showed up,” Landry says. “Strange one. Said you’d have a bunch of SD cards for me to take?” You pass on what you got from Leighton’s office to Landry, and he hands you an envelope. “Thanks. That’s the police master password, along with a £500 thank you for bringing me some new talent.”

“There’s also this,” he says, producing a USB stick from his pocket. “A virus. Wipes computer systems clean. Should be able to cause some trouble. Or make old trouble disappear. Good luck!” You thank him and leave the booth but decide to stay in the pub for a bit of day drinking before you head out. You need to relax, and while you know this may not be the healthiest method of achieving said relaxation, a quick fix is better than nothing. The beer is only five quid, so you buy one and sit down with it as you check your phone. You should have unlocked one of those fragments from completing the quest, right?

Fragment unlocked! No matter how bad things seem, it’s all just a game.

Are you drunk already, or is that just not helpful? It reads like a loading screen tip, for fuck’s sake. What are you supposed to do with this? 

You sigh. It doesn’t matter. All you have to do is unlock the fragments. You don’t need to understand them.

You feel the alcohol start to flow through your system as you order a second drink. You feel fuzzy already, and you’re not sure if it’s because you drank so quickly or if your avatar is just simply a lightweight. Either way, you knock back two more drinks and head out, feeling a bit lighter. -£20

You decide to go to the beach next. It’s not a very nice day out, with clouds hanging in the sky and a harsh breeze that never seems to fully go away, so the beach is expectedly not very busy. You don’t have a towel, so you just take your shoes off and sit down on the sand, watching the waves crash violently into the shore.

They almost look like they’re running from something. Desperately trying to get away, to reach the other side. They absorb their competition as they pass. Some don’t make it, they fizzle out before they get the chance. Others do, but they’re no any better off. They reach the shore only to be dragged back by the tide with no hope of ever escaping. They try again, perhaps knowing it’s futile but having nothing else to try, perhaps having forgotten themselves in the struggle, their shape long lost. The noise of the city fades into the background. They’re screaming out at the injustice of it all, you think, as the sounds of crashing waves surround your ears. 

You can’t see anything else but the water, you can’t hear anything but the colliding waves, and you can’t smell anything but the salty ocean breeze. The waves are hypnotic in their simplicity and repetitiveness, like a siren singing her song, and you find yourself entranced. No longer part of your own body, you’re nothing more than an observer of the ocean.

You aren’t sure how long you stay out there like that; you can hardly even remember anything that happened, but when you finally become aware of your surroundings again, it’s much darker outside. You think you must have lost time again, but you feel calmer. 

You brush the sand off of your bottom and leave, carrying your shoes until you’re back on the pavement.

You stop by the shopping mall on the way home and buy a cheap sleeping bag. The rest of the trip is uneventful. -£20

Your new sleeping area is set up in minutes. It consists only of some blankets, a thin sleeping bag, and a pillow, but you’ll have to make do. You go to look over at the luxury bed you can no longer use in disdain, but something else catches your eye first.

There’s something inside the hole you made last night. You aren’t sure how you didn’t notice it before, but you suppose you had other things on your mind. You step closer to it and realize two things are hidden in there. 

Cameras. Different models. Probably left by different people. One of them looks older than the other and has probably been there longer. The first camera was likely left to someone who had access to you early—Bailey or Robin. Of the two, Bailey is more likely to even think of doing this, let alone having the means to actually pull it off. The second camera must have been put in by someone who either only just met you or only just thought of keeping an eye on you. The second model could be anyone, but it’s probably Kylar, since he canonically tries to place a camera in the player’s room even in normal mode. 

You reach for the cameras, then hesitate. What will happen if you take them down? If the first one really is Bailey’s, do you really want to make him angry with you again? And if the second one is Kylar’s, then…then he saw what Bailey did to you. 

You hurriedly check your phone.

Kylar The Loner Kylar is inconsolable.       Fascination: 100% Love: 14% Devotion: 55% Jealousy: 100% Lust: 100%

Fuck. Fuck. You have to resist the urge to throw your phone on the floor. What should you do? What can you do? You can’t stay here; you’re a sitting duck! But is it any better outside?

You glance at the camera that you suspect to be Bailey’s and then rush out the door. You hit a sprint as soon as you pass the orphanage gates, not knowing where you’re going or how to get there. 

You’re able to get a few blocks away when trip on a rock in the darkness, falling and scraping your knees painfully. You grimace as you stand back up, not even bothering to look before you’re back on your feet—walking this time. 

A sense of fear creeps up on you just as your phone buzzes. You know this feeling.

Something is watching you. 

You don’t register the acute pain in your leg until after you hit the pavement. There’s nothing to break your fall. You hear a gasp as you lose consciousness. 

—————————

There’s a giant blue game UI floating in front of you when you finally come to. It’s the first thing you notice. Not the sluggish feeling in your head, not the swelling, stinging feeling on your cheek from when you hit the ground, or even the scrapes on your knees. No, all you see is blue. 

Note: Your current bindings make accessing the system via phone impossible. For ease of use, system notifications have automatically been switched to screenless mode. Buttons have been replaced with eye-tracking. To select an option, blink two times in rapid succession while looking at the option you’d like to select. >Ok

You blink twice at the prompt, slowly. The effects of the drug are still in your system, and they’re making your eyelids heavy. You’re worried it might have been too slow to register, but the text updates itself anyway.

New quest unlocked! You have been kidnapped! As the darling of this world, this kind of thing will happen to you very frequently. Prove that you have what it takes to survive in this world before it’s too late! >Escape Kylar’s manor. Rewards: x1 World Fragment  Time limit: 7 days remaining Penalty: Death

What the fuck?

Death? Death?! 

The shock seems to ignite a fighting spirit inside of you, and you struggle against both the lingering effects of the drug and your restraints, but the drugs seem to be stronger, and you can hardly even rub your wrists together. You stop when the door opens, though your struggle was so mild that he might not have noticed even if you continued. 

Fuck. This is fucked. You’re so fucked.

“G-good morning, my love,” Kylar says sheepishly. He’s standing in the doorframe right now, not fully in but not fully out either. He seems more nervous than usual. “I, I hope you slept well.” You stare at him. He tenses up at your gaze but still enters the room, shutting the door behind him. 

He approaches you with the kind of care and caution you’d use when approaching a wounded animal, dropping to his knees in front of you. Gently, he reaches a hand out to your face, caressing the bruise on your cheek. “I-I’m sorry,” he says. “I wasn’t thinking. I was just so panicked when I saw you that I just shot without thinking that you’d–” He starts sobbing. “Please forgive me.” 

You’ve been through Kylar’s abduction scene before—both of them. You know that every choice you make will have some kind of negative or lewd consequence. Even saying nothing at all will make things worse for you. 

“I can do that,” you say, words slightly slurred but still discernable. “But you need to earn it.” 

“A-anything,” he says. ”I’ll do anything.”

“Even let me go?” Kyar’s expression falters, then darkens. “It’s not safe out there.” He looks away from you. “You could be taken from me at any moment.” 

“I have the pepper spray you gave me.” “Then why didn’t you use it last night?!” +++Jealousy You feel your stomach lurch. “You…you were raped, right? You didn’t want it, right?!” You can’t find the words to respond, even as he begins shaking you. This only seems to make it worse, as his grip on you tightens. You hardly feel it, but you aren’t sure if that’s the partial paralysis or just his lack of strength at play. He’s mumbling something to himself, but you can’t make out the words until his volume suddenly rises again.

“But you stopped fighting, didn’t you?! Does that mean you enjoyed it?! Does it?!” Coming out of your stupor, you’re finally able to respond with a weak shake of your head. You can hardly even make the movement due to whatever’s in your system, and Kylar seems to take that as hesitance. He bolts up, pushing you and the chair you’re tied to over. Your arms, which were tied behind your back, end up breaking your fall. You cry out as you hit the floor, pain searing through your non-dominant wrist. You think it might be broken. Sprained, definitely. 

Kylar’s hands fly to your neck, and panic takes over. “NO!” You scream, flailing wildly as panic allows your muscles normal function for just seconds before falling back to impairment. Your outburst, while short-lived, seems to have proven effective, however, as Kylar quickly climbs off of you. 

“W-what have I done…?” He scrambles to get you off the floor. Kneeling beside you, he clings and grasps at you like a hungry peasant before his king. Except this king is tied up and at his subject’s complete mercy. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, my love! Forgive me, please! Please!” Tears prick your eyes, but this could be your chance to persuade him. 

“You broke my wrist,” you say. “I need to go to the hospital.” Kylar looks at you in alarm. 

“D-does it hurt??” 

You nod. “Badly.” As if to further emphasize your point, a single tear rolls down your left cheek. “I need to go to the hospital. You have to untie me.” Kylar looks like he’s about to nod, but then frowns. He shakes his head.

“I-I’m sorry,” he says. “I can’t. You’ll run away.” 

“It won’t heal right,” you say. “I could lose function in my whole arm.” Kylar, rather incomprehensibly, seems to brighten at the suggestion of you becoming permanently disabled.

“I-I can take care of you!” He says, a dark glint in his eyes. “Forever.”

…You’re going to have to find another way out.

—————————

<Prev Next>

[johnwickb1tsch]

John Wick x You │Tarasov's Daughter

You are the eldest daughter of Viggo Tarasov. You’re smart enough to take over the family business, but you’ve always been overlooked because you’re a girl (their loss). But John Wick sees you. In fact he saw a lot of you, once, when he’d been your bodyguard for a brief time during a turf war back in the day. You’re not sure who seduced who really, but you’ve never forgotten the feeling of his big hands digging into your hips or his teeth in your shoulder while he fucked you against the marble top of your bathroom sink, watching you go to pieces for him in the mirror. Maybe he was even your first! You seethed with jealousy when you heard he left the Underworld to get married to a nice normal American lady and settle down in domestic bliss. You were actually allowed to DO that? No one in this life ever really got out. You can’t help but think that you could have made him just as happy as some boring middle-aged photographer. Helen. What a stupid name. So when the shit hits the fan after your dumbass brother Iosef disrespects John Wick (and kills his dog, what the actual fuck?) you wonder if John will come after you.

Pick your poison: Canon!John Wick │ Dark!John Wick │ Yandere!John Wick

18+, all the warnings, dead dove do not eat! Predator kink, size kink, kidnapping, dub-con, brat taming, dark!john, mean!John, yandere!John , jesus fucking crist tumblr u have broken me…🙃

Canon!John Wick

John doesn’t hurt women unless they are really REALLY giving him no choice (Looking at you, Perkins!). But you are the means to his end, so he doesn’t hesitate to take you for bait for Iosef and your father’s men. He is raw and back in full predator mode after taking a hiatus for five years. Of COURSE you piss him off, and when you try to escape he snaps. He still calls you moya milaya printcessa (my sweet princess)tho while he fucks you against the wall with his hand on your throat. When the idiots your father employs do finally come for you John kills them all, and your brother, and your uncle after taking back his car. He lets you go, and a part of you forever wishes that he’d kept you…

Dark!John Wick

You were always such a fucking brat back when he had to watch over you, and finally he can get his revenge. When you mouth off he undoes his tie and uses it to gag you, something he’s always wanted to do, and as you watch him whip off his belt with such calculated flourish you are practically sliding off your chair. He bends you over his knee, the way someone should have a long time ago, and he taunts you when he finds you’re soaking with slick in between whipping you. Is it just you, or is he not hitting you half as hard as he could tho? You don’t know and you don’t care, you’re 98 percent sure you’re not getting out of this alive, so you at least want to die having had his magnificent manhood inside you one last time. You are delirious by the time he soothes the welts on your ass with the light touch of his fingers. “Are you going to be my good little girl now?” he demands as he tosses you on the bed like you’re just a ragdoll. Like he wants to hear your reply, he removes his tie from your mouth.

“If you fill me up with that big beautiful cock of yours.”

He laughs at you, and you get the feeling he’s delighted by your sass, even in this cruel mood. “You don’t get to make the demands anymore, milaya.” He slaps your thighs apart and goes down on you, licking you relentlessly, bringing you to the edge again and again but never letting you cum.

“Please, please, please,” you beg and tears stream down your face as finally you watch him undo his pants. He has utterly broken you.

“You always were such fucking whiner,” he hisses, pulling your hair hard as he plunges himself inside your swollen cunt. You hate him for how good it feels as he fills every last inch and corner of you, and if you ever get your hands free you’re so going to make him pay for this.

Yandere!John Wick

John always carried a torch for you, but you were so off limits. The boss’s daughter. A sure death sentence, but it almost would have been worth it. He’d thought about you constantly for a good long while, your beauty and your body was burned into his brain, but then he met Helen, and that fire smoldered to red hot coals he kept in the back room of his twisted black heart. But when Iosef starts shit there is absolutely nothing to stop him from taking what he’s always wanted. He’ll make you his perfect little pet, one last bit of revenge against the Tarasovs for disrespecting him after all he’d done for them.

When you see him materialize from the shadows in the mirror behind you, you try to go for the gun you keep in the top drawer of your vanity. You’re half certain he’ll kill you for it, but you’re y/n Viggovna Fucking Tarasov, and you will not fucking beg like your little bitch of a brother undoubtedly did. You’re not surprised when he manages to disarm you in the blink of an eye. You wait for the blade in your throat or the gunshot in your gut but he just holds you in those inexorably strong arms, looking down at you with those burning dark eyes. He’s so tall, he’s so much bigger than you and that always turned you on.

“You’re mine now, printcessa.”

You know you’ve always been his but you hate being helpless. He kisses you hard, unforgivingly, possessively, and you try to bite him but he knocks you out with a headbutt. Ouch!

You wake up in a luxuriously appointed room that you just know in your gut is now your new prison. Wick is no fool. There are digital locks on the doors. There are windows that you know will be unbreakable. Your hands are bound above your head, and though you try to worm free it’s impossible. After a while John enters, straddling you on the bed. Even though your legs are free his weight pins you down, you are trapped, and you’re embarrassingly certain he can feel the heat that’s pooling between your legs for it. His face is covered in cuts, his knuckles are torn. He’s been through Hell, but he came out the other side, the way you begrudgingly knew he would. “Your family’s dead,” he tells you. “No one’s coming for you.” He doesn’t really seem to take any joy in it, his handsome face stoic as stone. “You belong to me now, and I hope your father rolls over in his grave every time I defile you.”

You try not to enjoy it while he rails you into the soft mattress, or when he touches you while he does it, his long fingers so exacting. He is a master of manipulating the human body, for pain or for pleasure. You think he makes you cum out of ownership over anything remotely tender, but he makes you see God so often it almost feels like he cares about you. He becomes your dark deity, the altar you worship on, even if just in the deepest depths of your heart. You still have some pride.

You still try to fight and still try to run, even though he punishes you every time. Maybe you’re made bold by the fact that he hasn’t killed you, where he killed everyone else. They were kind of assholes though. John kept you, after all, and you can’t fault his taste. You think he secretly loves the chase, maybe even admires you for fighting him when there really is no hope. He loves reminding you who is in charge though too, and on nights when he’s in a particular mood you know you won’t be able to sit without feeling it for a week.

[cozzzynook]

Okay okay idea time, Rodimus running away from home after Optimus finds out he's sparked with Megatron's sparklings.

While Optimus isn't a cruel or sparkless mech Rodimus knew his carrier would be more then mad when he was found in the med-bay. He was holding a scan with the photo of a large sparkling with a tank Alt-Mode, It didn't take a genius to figure out who the Sire was. After arguing with Optimus for 2 hours straight Rodimus knew he couldn't remain as a Auto-Bot as it was far too risky, He couldn't risk his sparkling getting taken away or worse so he packed a bag and just left.

The only bots who knew where Roddy had vanished too was Kup, Ratchet and Bee, all three refused to talk with Optimus for months after Rodimus left. Maybe once the war is over or his carrier has come to his senses he'll allow Optimus to see his sparkling when they arrive but for now Roddy is content to leave him in the dark.

Hope you enjoyed, I guess this could be classed as angst or hurt/comfort

I love this idea!!!

Its not even that Roddy is worried about Optimus hurting him or the bitty its just he knows other bots will and his carrier will be so focused on anger and disappointment and leading the autobots he won’t notice or have time to help.

Plus he’d stress Roddy out the entire time and Roddy knows it’s not a good thing to be sparked by a warlord but it happened and instead of using this as a treaty opportunity Optimus is not at all thinking about that.

But roddy is when the few who know agree with Prowl and Jazz who bring it up. The two find out on accident really and Roddy is certain Prowl and Jazz would do something to his bitty or him for being a traitor to the cause but they don’t. In face they’re offended by his beliefs and propose the idea of treaty through spark bonding and the bitty.

Roddy agrees to the bitty part but he’s very surprised when Megs agrees to the spark bonding part.

Roddy…isn’t on board with that part and Megs isn’t about to let the opportunity to conjunx Roddy go away sooooo he agrees to the treaty because their bitty truly is enough of a cause every bot can get behind since bitties were the only thing left unscathed during the war. But the treaty will only be signed if he’s allowed to conjunx Roddy.

Roddy agrees to everyone’s complete surprise and its only after all is signed and his carrier is still upset at him mind you, that Roddy says, “I agreed to conjunx you,” he rubs his tanks feeling the nausea roll with all the smells in the air and his nerves bad because of the situation and his carrier.

“But the treaty nor I ever said when.”

And..He’s got a point.

So he stands and turns to leave with Megatron ready to follow but Bee and Kup are keeping them distanced with Bee following giving their carrier a disappointed look and Kup gives the warlord some advice.

“Do the ritual right. My grandsparkling always did like his and Kaonian customs.”

Idk where my brain went but i like both these ideas and I can see a lot of secret bitties popping up all over on both sides. Same faction bitties and a lot of cross faction bitties.

Starscream is quick to move Bee and their bitty into their new home and Optimus is just..shocked he didn’t know both his bitties were seeing cons and he actually had a grandsparkling already.

“Get yer helm out of yer aft,” is Ratchets non too friendly advice to Optimus as he holds his and Drifts newest sparkling while their oldest sparkling First aid is standing next to his sire nodding before bounding off to now freely cling to his carrier Drift.

“He’s got a point boss,” Jazz is now openly holding his bitty while the sire just stands next to him. Okay so Optimus knew Jazz and Soundwave had a long thing going. He just kept his intake shut like he did with Prowl and Tarantulas who had a pretty complicated but loving relationship going on.

Sooo he does the next best thing which is sigh and apologize to both his friends and bitties.

He forgot how much he misses having them both in his arms snuggled up to him.

He’s very happy holding his grandsparkling and watching Megatron suffer his awkward attempts at courting Rodimus who actually enjoys them since its spark felt.

But he absolutely draws the line when Shockwave comes back. Because his bitties and long time friends can just see the intentions Shockwave has for him and man Optimus does not want to be sparked again.

“Our youngest bitty is and will stay Bumblebee, Shockwave. Get away from me.”

Starscream does not make things better, “Oh great, so you, your brother and carrier will all be sparked at the same time?”

Aaannnd thats not how Bee wanted others finding out he’s sparked again but Star just ruins things with that intake of his and he’s long learned to accept it.

Optimus manages not to kill Starscream and he manages to keep Shockwave at arms length for all of a hundred years before waking in berth with the cuddly mech who rubs his still flat tank.

“Not happening,” Optimus grumbles trying to turn away.

“Denial has never been suitable on you. Adorable nonetheless,” Shockwave simply states.

-

Idk what i did but i like it and thank you for submitting this story because i really like it and it made my brain do this.

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

This BECANE SO LONGI’m not proofreading…

Leviathan x Reader x Foras

Cw Reader cucks Leviathan with a servant who is ‘cloaked, slight dub con voyerism, slight dub con hand job, Public stuff, teasing, spur of the moment threesome

-

It was a rare sight to see Leviathan so livid, yet, no one was hurt, quite the opposite actually.

While you sat in another person’s lap, right in front you sat Leviathan, your partner. He was watching you ride a random (to him) demon while he’s left naked and tied up, unable to even touch himself as he watches you.

The demon with you was using Foras’ ability, he knew that, but he wasn’t certain if, it was in fact, his most trusted and loyal servant. He growled, baring his teeth at the thought.

If it wasn’t humiliating enough to be exposed to one of his minions like this, he didn’t even know which one it was.

He tried to stay quiet, even as the sound of your flesh slapping against yours, he tried to listen to any sound they make, thinking he could use it to identify them. He even closes his eyes to focus better, but right as he thinks he can hear their voice.

You must have noticed since with take advantage of the fact he cant see with his eyes closed, and land a harsh slap on his defenseless groin, getting lucky hit and hitting just below the base, getting his cock and balls.

“Ah! The h-hell was that for?” He groans, glaring at you as the throbbing between his legs got worse. He needed to cum, but he wanted to focus on the man penetrating you. After-all, it’s not like he could ask someone else about this.

As king, he refuses to go to his minions and ask ‘Do you know the demon that cucked me?’ Or anything along those lines.

His attention is once again pulled away from the other demon while you grab the base of his cock, squeezing it in an agonizingly tight grip.

Leviathan hates the pathetic moan he lets out, to his humiliation if it wasn’t for your hand, he’d have cum from just a tight squeeze.

“Focus on the show, Levi.”

You teased him, to his horror his cock bobbed, letting all three of you see how much he enjoys this. To his surprise the other male demon whines, on instinct his attention is drawn to look where the man’s face would be (judging by the noise) and he realizes by your position…

You are letting the other demon lay his upper body on yours, chest to back…that demons weight is on you…

He snarls without noticing, getting caught off guard with another slap to his groin.

But you released the grip on his cock, Leviathan let out a surprised whine as he cums.

He looks at his cock in horror. Is he truly so depraved he just got off to being slapped, twice?

He threw his head back in frustration, thrusting forwards subconsciously.

He needs to kill the demon your with!

He cant let ANY of his subordinates see him like this!

As he’s throwing a mini tantrum. He suddenly stops, a thought clicking in his head. He looks begrudgingly between your legs.

You’d been cruel, allowing him to see to see your body opening for the invisible cock.

He’s seen how you stretch for his own cock, and the demon your riding right now, is smaller than him.

He feels his own cock twitch as a small sense of pride fills him.

That’s…all he can recognize, he knows it isn’t Glaysa, given the size…but that leaves so many demons.

He groans internally…trying to estimate the general size of the cock. Leviathan thinks to himself he could…’inspect’ his subordinates, he doesn’t need a reason, he knows his subordinates would let him do anything…

His eyes twitch as he sees cum drip from your opening…

That’s it…he is definitely punishing whoever this is.

To dare to penetrate you in front of him, watch him be humiliated, THEN to cum INSIDE you…

Leviathan bites his lip as he suppressed a growl. He can faintly hear low moans escaping the demon, the tone…he knows it’s one of his devils, one of the 72.

He knows Foras is the only one who can make anyone invisible…he’d have to ‘inspect’ him first.

He loses his thoughts once more as he sees you clenching down in the invisible cock, he realizes that you have climaxed too. On the other males cock.

He grimaced at the thought. He collapsed against the bed, knowing he’s not going to be untied until the other make gets a good head start.

He watches as they slip out of you, their cock covered in cum, a mix of both of yours. You help him clean up, using a cloth to clean the cum off him and yourself. Levithan can hear the grunt from the demon as you nearly stroke his cock while getting the essences of you both off him.

Leviathan’s eyes narrow as the other demon leaves while he’s still tied, and you’re cleaning him up. Leviathan moans, feeling you take his cock into your hand and rather roughly rubbing it dry. He can hear the door to his room open and close, but you still wait to untie him. By the time you start to untie him, he realizes it would be too late to find the minion right away…

He’d have to run around the palace and find the nearest demons…he can ‘inspect’ them, if he’s fast enough he might find them…but…you’re holding him while untying him, leaving him wanting to stay…

Hell, he will search later…he knows if he takes off you’d probably chase after him…

-

The following day, Levithan had made a plan to isolate nearly all his followers, and check them, his first would of course be Foras, as he could outright ask him who he helped hide, or even if it was him.

Levithan’s blood boiled at the thought…true he made the order that none of his demons were allowed ALONE with you…he should have ordered them to not be allowed to touch you like that…

He finds his target fast enough. Foras is alone like usual, he shoved Foras against a wall, blocking his exits.

“Last night. Were you the one who was with me and (M/c)? If it wasn’t, I need to know now who it was.”

Leviathan growled out, when Foras flinched back against the wall and offered no info he decided plan b was his only option…

He unzipped Foras’s pants, reaching in and pulling down his underwear enough to reveal his cock. Foras jumped and tried to push his hands away, or at least tuck his cock away before his king could see it.

“You’re Majesty! W-what is going on? W-why are you-“

Foras gasped and was caught off as to his horror Levithan was stroking him. In a public hall.

“I saw how they stretched, I have a rough estimate of their size. Get hard faster.”

Leviathan said as if it was an order. Foras heard footsteps coming and wanted to hide…but he couldn’t…not with Leviathan keeping a watchful eye on him.

“Your Majesty Leviathan…please I hear someone coming.” Foras whimpered out. He didn’t even get a reaction form Levithan, until he felt Levithan squeeze him with near crushing force, his cock visibly deflating from its barely hard state and going limp.

He didn’t need to hear Levithan speak to know he’d been caught.

“It was you, wasn’t it?”

Leviathan growled, squeezing his subordinates cock torturously, he ignored the footsteps getting closer. He towered over Foras, looking down upon him as Foras visibly shrank.

Leviathan stepped in front of Foras to hide his exposed genitals, still in Levithan’s hand as he hid his servants shame from the person walking in.

Levithan instantly tightened his grip even more so as he sees you walking through the door. He debates releasing Foras and punishing him later but you waltz on over smiling.

You had to have been suspicious he’d do this as without hesitation he sees you aiming to separate him from Foras, you stop though seeing Levithan’s hand…on Foras’s cock, which was completely limp, red at the tip undoubtedly from the the pressure trapped in it.

“What did I miss?” You force Levithan to release Foras, having to physically pry his hand off. “Leviathan, I didn’t know you like cock…I’d have invited someone sooner if I knew.”

You tease, to get his attention on you, and to pull attention away from Foras. Leviathan growls.

“It was him, I saw how big he was while you rode him. He shouldnt have touched you.” Levithan snarls. “I’m going to punish hi-“

Leviathan stops and watches as you drop to your knees in front of Foras, gently kissing his cock, kissing the bruises Levithan left.

“Stop.”

Leviathan said, in a low rasp in his voice as you see surprise and anger across his face. “You…how long have you two been?” He says…seemingly more upset seeing how Foras is getting hard so fast from you, while he struggled to get his minion erect.

He wanted to pull you two apart but…seeing you two made him ache, he wanted to be involved, not push Foras away and have you for himself…

Maybe he needed to fuck around with Foras to feel better?

After that thought he approaches you two, grabbing his hand and placing it over his lap, right as you take Foras’ cock into your mouth. Foras whimpers in confusion, accepting both the roles he’s being pushed in.

He tries to stroke Levithan. He tries to mirror how you touch him, he has never…done this kind of thing…he knows how to touch himself but not another male.

You hum in approval, before you could do anything else Foras spoke up. “Please, can you two please…wait till we are in private?”

Leviathan scoffed and growled at him.

“You can just make us invisible if anyone comes.”

You do stop even as Levithan argues. “We should, I’d like to be on a more comfortable area too.” You get up, helping them both tuck themselves away.

Leviathan dragged you two to his bedroom, throwing Foras onto the bed and placing you down. When Foras attempted to move back Leviathan grabbed him and pulled him back.

“Levi, gentle.” You ordered, slapping his cock as payback. Leviathan groaned in response, letting go of Foras. Foras looked to you with a mix of respect and admiration. Leviathan seemed to get more agitated at that.

“Thank you, (M/c). I appreciate i-it.” He gently wrapped an arm around you, only to get pulled closer to Levithan. “Y-your Majesty?”

Leviathan push him with force down against the bed, getting between his legs. “Have a seat.” He says to you, helping you straddle Foras. Said demon whimpers as you are seated against his cock, you two quickly remove his clothes, leaving you seated on his cock.

Foras is flushed realizing quickly that Leviathan is punishing him with you not knowing. He knows your not gonna let him inside you just to avoid an outburst from Leviathan…and Leviathan was teasing him by not letting him have you…

You roll your hips against his cock, enjoying the friction. Leviathan on the other hand lifts up Foras’ hips and slips himself rather quickly and half hazardly into Foras, earning a whimper. While your movements are gentle, pleasant movements, Leviathans’ are rough and careless.

The dual stimulation made Foras whimper, turning invisible to hide his blushing. Of course the two of you don’t need to see him to keep going, and in seconds you feel a familiar wetness between your legs you glance down to see cum pouring from his invisible cock. Foras is whimpering and gasping, you hear Levithan growl as he thrust faster.

“There we go…that feels better.” Leviathan teasingly moaned, leaning into you. Leviathan grins down at Foras as he places his weight into you while you rub yourself against Foras. Leviathan locks eyes with him over your shoulder and Foras freezes realizing.

Leviathan is mimicking how he was leaning on you last night…to prove to Foras he can’t have you only to himself.

-

[touyas-multi-purpose-saline]

DAY XXXI. — YANDERE

cw: Yandere, Mentions of Violence / Torture, Usage of Quirks in a Horrific Manner, Character Death, Infantilization, Mentions of Abuse, Unhealthy Relationships, Overhaul is Insane, Possessive Thoughts / Behaviors, Obsessive Thoughts / Behaviors, Codependency, Graphic Descriptions of Gore, Implied Dub-Con / Non-Con, Uncomfortable Scenarios, General Dark Content Not Suitable for Immature Audiences, Fem! Reader. Reader discretion is advised. 18+ Only!

author's note: Wow! This is the final day! I'm so happy to have finally reached the end of Kinktober. I hope that all of you have enjoyed my work and I'm glad to have received the support I have! This is actually my fifth year of completing this challenge, but the first time I've ever done it with BNHA. Anyways, enjoy! I do not condone unhealthy behavior in any sense! This is strictly fiction! Do not force yourself to read if you're uncomfortable.

word count: Approximately 1.9k words.

Why are you doing this again? 

Oh, it doesn’t even really make sense, but there’s something about this all that makes your head spin. Dizzy, you’re dizzy, and your bare feet hurt whenever they thunder down the bleak and fluorescent hallways. The slap, the shuddering in the walls, it’s all so deafeningly loud in your head that you almost can’t comprehend it. Should you turn back? Your pace stumbles, but you push further. Would it be better if you turned back? Nothing seems like the right option now. If you turn around, you’ll have to stare down those cruel golden honey eyes, have to feel him put his hands on you, all over you, purposefully breaking and bending your body as a punishment, telling you how much it pains him to do this but you were the one who forced him for being so cold-hearted to him. But if you run away, there’s not even a solid chance that you’ll make it out, alive anyway. There are other big and evil men lurking here. You don’t know where they’re stationed, don’t know where they could be hiding, and if they find you, who knows what’ll happen? Would they hurt you? 

Only one person is allowed to hurt you. 

“Little girl, come out wherever you are. It’s not playtime right now.” 

Overhaul, no, Kai. He told you to call him Kai. He said only the most special and dearest person to his heart could call him Kai. And no one else could even fathom it. There’s a tingling in your toes, the pads of your fingers, and you can feel the irregular beating of your heart fracture and palpitate harder. 

His voice echoes throughout the hallways. Where is he? It feels like he’s nowhere but everywhere at once. Bile’s in your throat, and you have to catch your breath. You should really stop running away from him, but there’s a tiny doubt wallowing at the back of your neck. It had just been one time. But it felt weird, really weird, and you’re uncomfortable, maybe terrified even though that’s really harsh because you do care for him but he’s so bizarre and his touch feels so very mystical. He’s enchanting, you think. Is that why it’s hard to look away from him? Say no to him? You do everything that he asks. But what happened last night makes your thighs clench, makes your jaw tight, makes your eyes salty. Tears burn, they prickle like those sharp needles Kai always administers to you. Adrenaline, something’s coursing through you, sickly, a disease, and you wonder why you feel like each step you take makes the world spin in horizontal circles. One step you’re on the ceiling, the next you’re buried underground. Over and over, and those pearls in your eyes spill to the floor. 

“Coooome on, little angel. You’re usually such a good girl for me. But you’re making me angry.” 

Eyes are blown out wide, and your steps falter until you collapse to your knees, feet splayed behind you and hands loosely resting in your lap. Kai’s angry at you. He’s angry at you. Why did you run away from him? You should have stayed in his bedroom, shouldn’t have crept out whenever he was asleep. You love him, don’t you? That’s what you told him last night. You told him you loved him and then he pressed his mouth to yours, kissed you, and it felt really good but it made you squeamish and guilty because he’s evil and he would’ve hurt you if you said no. You had felt like you were going to throw up on him, but Kai’s hand fell on your hip and suddenly he was all over you. Shivers trace up your body, beginning at the base of your back, spinal fluid congeals and drenches, and you can feel it on your lower tummy too. Everything still feels so sticky, strange, and that heat you felt itches at the palms of your hands. Kai’s skin had felt so foreign underneath the flats of your hands, had felt silky but hot, and the sweat glazing underneath your fingertips still wets them. You can’t get the image out of your head. 

“Don’t you love me, angel? I don’t want to have to hurt you. Come to me and I’ll give you a reward.” 

You’re sobbing, choking on your own heavy saliva and gasping through whispers that you want to vocalize but can’t find the will to do so. There’s throbbing between your legs and you don’t know why, he’s disgusting, you’re not supposed to run from him, you’re afraid that he’ll push himself onto you again. It had felt that way last night, too, and you remember whenever Kai had grabbed your hands roughly and guided them wherever he wanted. He placed them on specific spots on his body, and on your body, and he told you those were the places that would make both of you feel good even though you didn’t want to let him pleasure you. But there’s a weak groaning in the back of your mind that remembers how Kai felt upon them. If you touched one of those spots right now while fantasizing about him, would it help you stop crying? There’s so much twisting happening in your belly, down in the places Kai had touched and left his welting mark, had shoved his cock inside, and there’s a reminder of smeared and dried gore on the inner sides of your thighs from his violence. You feel really weak, lightheaded, and your blood is pounding all throughout your being. The ripping and tearing you felt last night shreds in your ear like a motor, and you choke, bend forward, and vomit. Pale liquid is all over the floor before you, splattered, and your hair almost brushes the mess. Oh, Kai’s going to be even more mad. He hates messes. He’s going to hate you forever. He promised he loved you. But he hates messes more. 

“Little girl. Answer me. Answer me now. Say something. Say something or you won’t like what I’m going to do.” 

There’s a trembling in your bottom lip, but you can’t bring yourself to speak. Words lay flat on your tongue, but they just stew there. They’re sour, gross, and you want to tell him that you’re here and that you’re sorry and that you shouldn’t have run away from him and that you won’t do it again and that he can do whatever he wants to you.  He was the one who saved you from the streets whenever you had nowhere left to go. He was the one who held his hand out, curled it around your hesitant paw, and he drew you in. He saved you. Every part of you is his, everything you are belongs to him. You owe him that. Kai said that. He said that was why he loved you, why he needed to take off your clothes and show you how much you mean to him. When he cuts you, when he peels your scabs off, when he reforms your body in mirages—it’s how he shows his love. You’re helping him with something important, meaningful. And you need to go back to him. The words are almost ready to come out— 

“Okay. Okay, I get it. You don’t love me anymore, and I’ll have to show you how to be dedicated to me again.” 

Footsteps pause behind you. The clap of the soles of his shoes. You know he’s there but now you realize that it’s impossible to turn your head. Kai’s here. He’s here, and he starts to walk. Step, step, step, slow and calculated, and you can hear his haggard breathing. Had he been running? The crashing of his body off of the walls, basketballs in the net, round the rim, and you realize that everything Kai’s ever done has been a mesmerizing hallucination in your mind. So many things he’s done have disappeared from your mind, winked out, and you can only remember each and every tender caress, those odd smiles, pleasant words of praise, and you realize that your face is on fire. Powdering conflagrations, infernos that whip their tongues across your cheeks, lapping at the dip of apples underneath your eyes. You’re meant to be his. He doesn’t need to show you how to love him again because you never stopped. That resolve thaws your frozen body, and you tilt your head over your shoulder slowly, mouth open, breath hitched to speak. And then, 

Kai’s looming over you. Dark, shadowy, and you can’t see anything but his glowing eyes. He’s panting, insanely, frustrated, and his fists cinch and unfurl repeatedly. A skipping chuckle begins in the back of his throat, body awkwardly leaning back in a twitch, stiff, broken, mechanical, an off-key violin chord, and then he creaks as he leans forward and dangles over your shrinking form. 

“Do you really want to run away from me that badly?” 

A gasp, and you start shaking your head vehemently. 

“N—” 

Kai isn’t listening. 

“I have a way to keep you by my side forever. It’ll hurt both of us, but it’ll especially hurt me the most. Our bodies can be one together forever.” 

A line creases between your brows so suddenly that a headache thumps between the crown of your head. 

“Wh—” 

Kai’s head rolls and he flops both of his hands out, palms up. He’s not wearing his gloves. 

“Our bodies being one doesn't mean we won’t be autonomous molecularly. I don’t mind using myself if I really have to. It’s all for the plan.” 

What do those words mean? 

“K—” 

Those hands flip over, palms down, and his fingers skitter like cockroaches. 

“You won’t feel a thing. You’ll never have to feel a thing anymore. It’ll be pleasant for you. I’ll be the one to shoulder the burden, little girl. And I’ll never feel so whole like I’ll feel then. Isn’t that what you would want?” 

He’s not making sense. He’s scaring you. 

“Y—” 

Kai’s chuckling turns loud, and he’s laughing loudly in uncanny rhythms. His eyes have never looked fuller. 

“And it’ll truly be me that fixes everything. I’ll be the one to cure everything wrong with this world. As one, as mine, it’s me. Me, little girl.” 

His left hand stretches forward. You’re too afraid to flinch away, to run. You know something’s going to happen. There’s no stopping him. You’re whatever Kai wants you to be. You always have been. That’s why you let the curtain of his palm fall closer to your face. Even with the static, even with the chill that tickles the round of your neck, nibbling the shells of your ears, the quivering that fills you, even with Kai’s touch, heel of palm atop your forehead. You don’t know what comes next. But your flesh starts to wiggle like worms, you feel so light, and Kai’s adoring gaze starts to fade at the numbing pain that spreads throughout your body. There are no more thoughts in your head. Only cold acceptance. You close your eyes as your skin starts to flake off. 

“I’ll make sure you can never run away from me again, little angel. 

Just the two of us.” 

[darkstarofchaos]

Spoilers for EarthSpark S2 below the cut.

The problem with Starscream isn't that he was evil. I have to lead with that because apparently if you complain about how he was handled, people are just going to assume you wanted him to be redeemed. I am not a Starscream redemptionist, nor am I a fan of "redemptions" where an evil character becomes a Good Guy. One of the biggest issues I have with Megatron redemptions is that he never actually has to address what he did to his own side, he just fucks off to join the other side/goes his own way. Suffice to say, I was not hoping for EarthSpark to "redeem" Starscream (unless it was in the more personal sense of trying to do better by his own people).

The problem with Starscream is not that he was evil. The problem is that, to make him the specific brand of evil the Powers That Be wanted, they had to completely ignore his previous characterization.

I honestly did not have a problem with most of his (admittedly few) scenes. His motivation for being Evil was disappointingly shallow, but him being grumpy-but-accepting of the new Terrans fit with his S1 characterization. The bit where Skywarp complains when he doesn't do anything to punish "Spitfire's" disrespect could easily have been spun as him trying to be a better leader after his talk with Hashtag. I liked that he isn't stingy with praise when someone accomplishes something. Even the painfully underdeveloped motivation could have been expanded into him trying to do what he thought was best for his faction. All the building blocks for a villainous-but-sympathetic Starscream were right there.

Which is why watching everything fall apart in the last 20 minutes felt like character assassination.

You cannot convince me that the Starscream who knew Hashtag for an hour and was ready to risk his life for her is the same Starscream who murdered two children without blinking. You cannot convince me that the Starscream who criticized Megatron's violent leadership would consider it a compliment when he's called more cruel than Megatron. I don't care what previous Starscreams were like, this one had an established characterization that does not work with what we see later. Not unless working with the Autobots briefly completely disillusioned him to the possibility of a lasting peace.

Also, love how the time skip allows them to just avoid any sort of fallout from having the people you were working with go back to trying to kill you. Love how there was no deeper reason to the war restarting than "they're Decepticons". Heaven forbid we get any sort of conflict with the two sides trying and failing to work together, and the falling out being a shared responsibility and not just "the Cons were actually still evil, lol". Can't have anyone grappling with how things went wrong and wishing they'd done something differently to maintain the peace. Megatron yells at Starscream to end the war like the Autobots played no part in it continuing. Which is obviously the intent, but it just feels like such a lazy copout to keep the Good Guys morally pure.

The Decepticons were being hunted down and locked up. They had no reason to think well of the Autobots or the humans, which means that if the Autobots wanted peace, it was their responsibility to reach out and prove that things could be different. Yes, the Decepticons would need to put in effort too, but they were not the ones - at least not the only ones - who needed to prove that they meant well. If the two sides worked together for a while and the Decepticons still unanimously rejected the possibility of ending the war, the Autobots share the blame for that decision.

I have plenty of other issues with how S2 is going so far (why was Nightshade the only Terran who got completely relegated to side character?), but I'll save my rant about the Chaos Terrans for later. It'll be huge, trust me.

[gay-for-the-snz]

Day 3: Campus/Con Crud (M, cold)

yayyy, Joseph prompt. I am one of the people who loves pointing out the irony of a sick doctor that he complains about, so now you get a whole prompt about it! 2.2k

⁂

It is impossible, truly, to avoid the oncoming 'fresher flu', or whatever other coy little term it's stuck with. A large number of people congregating, mingling, away from home for the first time and desperate to make a good impression; it's a recipe for one person tracking something into the university, and it spreading like wildfire amongst the population, whether they be student or staff.

Of course, he's no fool. He takes more than adequate precautions, but all the caution in the world is unable to do anything to prevent contracting something entirely. He may as well pin his same hopes on holding back an ocean with a sheet of paper.

And so here he sits, holed up in his office like a hermit while he feels this cold settling in full force. He wrinkles his nose against the feeling of it, everything damp and thick like it's trying to become a swamp in inflamed sinuses. He blows his nose, frowns more deeply, and blows it again. It does little to ease the discomfort, but does provide a small amount of relief in allowing him to breathe somewhat more easily, at least for the next few moments.

He squirts some hand sanitizer into his palms, even if by now it's somewhat of a moot point. If someone doesn't get something from him, they will get it from someone else. That doesn't mean, of course, that he shouldn't still be cautious--he is, after all, a medical professional. To transmit something to someone else, they would need to actually enter his office, but no one has signed up for his office hours, and it's customarily silent in here, save for the sound of his sniffling.

It hasn't quite progressed to the sneezing just yet, but there's that niggling irritation in the back of his nose, nestled deeply within where no amount of sniffling, or rubbing with tissues, or blowing his nose will truly clear it. It will only be satisfied by a truly scraping sneeze that will scratch the itch, if only temporarily.

The door opens, much to his surprise, and Monty slips in as unobtrusively as he can manage. "Mr. Cavanaugh."

"Dr. Valentine." He goes to raise his mask, but Monty waves him off. "Don't bother, I'm sure I've already got it coming down the pipeline. My roommates all came down with it earlier this week, and there's really not much room to stay away from eachother."

He doesn't shrug, but does give a slight nod of affirmation. "You're free to make your own decisions." He nudges the box of tissues in between their two desks, to keep it in reach of the pair of them. He doesn't exactly want to share the box, he would much prefer unfettered access to them, himself and no one else. But it's important to be generous and open--or so says the HR department.

They love to fuss and fawn and breathe down the back of his neck, but rarely seem to actually take "yes" for an answer. He's not going to be kissing babies or shaking hands, and that seems to be the only thing that people want to see. No one cares about the fact that he has opened his office to another person. That he is sharing the burden of his workload. That he is being so gracious as to even share his tissues with someone else.

It's not so much the tissues that he's really focused on, it's the concept. It's the fact that he is being so gracious, that he is working so diligently to appease the desires of the people who need to feel so important that they have nothing better to do but hound him, and no one is giving him the credit he is due for it. To buy him a bit of breathing space from the fears that they will take away his final chance to have a TA, that he is some cruel beast who is going to chase this one off like all the others.

"You should be resting, if you're coming down with this."

He laughs, adjusting the thin wire frames of his glasses in that unconscious habit of his. "I could say the same to you, really."

He takes off his reading glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose between his eyes, something to fend against the dull headache that's starting to grate at him. "You're right."

It's a surprising admission, clearly, because Monty looks like he's been nearly knocked out of his chair just to hear it. "Did I hear you right? You, Dr. Valentine, are admitting that you're willing to go rest?"

"That's where you're wrong. I admitted I should be."

"Doctors make the worst patients, then?"

"And I'm one of the worst." He sniffles, distinctly aware of just how wet the sound of it is, and plucks a couple tissues from the box. He can feel that nascent tickle, the feeling of it beginning to slowly unfurl and brush delicately along. He grits his teeth slightly, waiting for it to decide whether or not it's going to become an actual sneeze.

And it does.

He takes a sharp gasp, and sneezes harshly into the handful of tissues, his shoulders jumping hard from it. "HH'RRASSHHue!" It scrapes roughly over his throat, tears through his sinuses in a way that does, thankfully, scratch that irritation.

Monty jumps, looking up from his laptop. "Jesus! Bless you!"

He glowers over his steepled hands, nothing but exhausted and angry eyes above the painted nails.

"Right. No blessings. You got it."

He waits until he sees him swivel his chair back to what he's doing before he finally relaxes his shoulders, blows his nose harshly. It was satisfying, this time at least. It'll become less effective later, when he gets into the thick of this cold. For now, it's an effective, if momentary, relief of the tickle. He sniffs again in the aftermath of it, the action feeling significantly drier and less wretched than it did beforehand. He knows it's going to refill soon enough, his mucous membranes working overtime to attempt to flush this virus out of his system, but for now he's thankful for what relief he can scrape together.

"This is one of the things you must accept, as a medical professional." Monty doesn't turn to look at him, and for once he's thankful to not have to be making eye contact. "You will still always get sick, no matter the precautions you take, and no matter the attempts at diverting the course of nature. Being the 'sick doctor' is something that people always find deeply amusing to point out the irony of, and something you must accept."

"I don't think people usually hold it against anyone. Like you said, it's impossible to avoid--especially this time of year, when it just wreaks havoc on everybody."

"And yet. And yet." He swipes a pair of tissues from the box, folds them in half in preparation. "People will point it out as if you're supposed to be able to make it happen. As if being ill is some moral or professional failing on your part."

"I guess it's hard for people to sort of separate the professional from the profession."

"The 'campus crud' and 'fresher's flu' and whatever else they decide to call it. Every year it takes its toll on the populace of any school, and every year everyone wrings their hands and fusses and frets because it's inevitable. Would I prefer that it was something we could actually truly avoid? Something which we could actually force the steps necessary to minimize its effects? Certainly. Who wouldn't, especially as a medical professional? But as it stands, we can only work with the authority which we're granted, and that authority doesn't extend much farther than the walls of this office, or occasionally the classroom in which we're teaching." He sniffles, and takes the tissues from his desk. "Don't startle, this time."

"Doctor?"

" 'RRSSHHue! HH'RRASSHHue!"

He sniffles in the aftermath, holding his position for a second longer than he really needs to ensure he's finished, before he straightens up and pinches at the tip of his nose.

He looks like he tried his best, but it's impossible not to notice the jump in his shoulders, the way he looks more like a prey animal than a TA. "Bl--" He falters under the waspish glare. "--ack. Black...uh, polish. It suits you." He gestures flashes his own bare nails for emphasis.

"Don't get used to wearing it if you want to be in the operating room." Even though he just sneezed, it hasn't fully scratched that itch. He grants himself the indulgence of wrinkling his nose hard against the feeling, and sniffs sharply, the liquidy sound blunted by the congestion preventing it from being wholly effective. "Some hospitals allow it, but I would discourage its use. One of the many perks of teaching, rather than doing."

He leans forward slightly, takes another couple of tissues and blows his nose thoroughly, before squirting hand sanitizer into his palms. Monty's stopped working entirely, it seems, because he leans back in his own chair and makes some vague motion with his pen. "And the schedule, I'm sure."

"I don't miss being on call. I will likely never be able to hear the sound of a pager without that instinctive jolt of adrenaline that tells me something is happening urgently."

"You still have it, I'm guessing?"

He offers a faint, wry smile. "I'm not one to throw out perfectly good technology."

"I don't think you're beating the old man accusations at this rate."

"Let them make whatever accusations they want. I'm middle-aged, but old to those doe-eyed and bushy-tailed freshmen who think that anyone over the age of thirty-five is going to keel over and die at a moment's notice." He rolls his chair across the floor mat and grabs a stack of papers from the printer. "Here. Tomorrow's lecture notes, you're going to be my annotation."

"Wow, and just when I thought the exciting world of Molecular & Cellular Basis of Disease couldn't get any more exciting, now I get to annotate a stack of papers that are their own basis of disease."

He scowls. "If you're implying that I've handed you lecture notes I've been using as a tissue, you're insulting me."

"I wouldn't say insulting so much as, like, good-natured ribbing."

"Don't."

"No ribbing? No friendly joshing?"

"Get out of our office."

He certainly isn't going because he's been told to, but he gets up nonetheless. "Fine. I'm getting a Monster."

"I will remember your kidneys fondly."

"You'll be my donor?"

"I will not be offering you my kidneys, nor my surgical prowess."

He rolls his eyes, but continues out the door nonetheless.

He massages his sinuses now that Monty is out of the room, granting him the privacy to be a little more indulgent in the way he tackles this cold. He is not optimistic that it's going to be over soon, nor gently. His nose is prickling with irritation, and he can feel how warm it is to the touch, blushing from the abuse it's been taking. He's always been somewhat chagrined by how quick it is to redden from his attention, drawing everyone's eyes to it without any chance to say no.

He glances towards the ugly fluorescent lights outside of his office in the hallway, the light harsh in the little window by the ceiling. It does enough, this time. "Hh'RRISSHhue! Hh...hH'RRRSSHhuh!"

He sighs, and brings a hand up to rub his throat with a little wince. The curse of the 'dad sneeze', as it were, is that an already tender throat is only made more so by them. He blows his nose, and pinches at his nose. This has, finally, seemed to scratch that itch fully. He's bought himself a bit of time before the next time, and in so doing has bought himself the time to start annotating a test that's already starting with several wrong answers in a row. Joy.

He pinches the bridge of his nose again, the headache trying to push through the malaise. He's going to have to sleep early tonight. An extra hour of rest, perhaps, carefully rearranged to fit into his busy schedule. He isn't planning on taking any time off--for a cold, especially one so minor as this--would be foolish. And, of course, this early into the quarter, it would be not only unprofessional but setting his students up for failure. Missing time as a student? Difficult, but able to be made up. Missing time as a professor? It sets the entire class behind.

He's never smoked, but there's occasionally that desire within him to go take a smoke break. That immediately soothing of tension, of frayed nerves and discomfort eased. He takes a sip of coffee instead--a different concession to himself, one that isn't recommended but is more tolerable than alternatives. His mug, some old, kitschy thing with a bat that was a gift from a friend years ago, shows its age in the fading color and the surface cracks that run along it.

Simply another storm to be weathered.

[gallusrostromegalus]

oh my god I am frothing at the mouth PLEASE tell us about how Unohana is SO WEIRD ACTUALLY

(her reveal is my favorite thing in the whole series and I was obsessed with Bleach for a good long time)

I love Unohana. She's magnificently insane and deliciously fun to write so far.

My take on AEIWAM Unohana is that fundamentally, she just wants to be happy.

Oh, that doesn't sound too nuts. I hear you say.

Yeah, but I also headcanon that she has ADHD. We joke a lot about it on this site, but if you have the good fortune to have functioning dopamine factories, allow me to explain the worst part of it, for me.

There's no passive happiness.

Most people, as I understand it, if left to their own devices without undue stressors like capitalism or any particular stimulation, tend to be able to feel pretty okay most of the time. Which fascinates me because if I am left alone without undue stressors but no stimulation, my malfunctioning dopamine factories will shut down and I will rapidly develop a terrible black depression and paranoia that life is cruel and I will never experience happiness again and also my appetite vanishes and sleep cycle collapses and I will end up mentally and physically distraught, sometimes in less than an hour.

So I've always got to be doing something, or The Horrors get me.

So imagine Unohana, and with a brain that wants to die if she gets bored... living in fantasy magical ancient japan. Not much to do, out in the early days of the soul society, besides being attatcked by monsters, or participating in warfare, or starving to death. the first two, at least, get the blood pumping, but the first is difficult to come by regularly, so as a young woman, the most interesting thing that happens to her on the regular is Mortal Combat.

And how exciting it is! Adrenaline! Dopamine! And on the rare occasions she meets a fellow combat enthusiast, she also gets one of the best things about ADHD- Recognition Responsive Euphoria. You know that great feeling you get at Con or meeting another person with your special interest and you guys just VIBE and it feels like you've been best friends for life in less than five minutes? Yeah, apparently Non-ADHD people don't get that.

So naturally, she develops her skill in combat, not in pursuit of Honor or The Art or something nebulous like, that, but in the simple Pursuit of Happiness. She gets very good at it, and a lot of people die.

But she starts getting... too good at it. The fights don't last, there's nobody willing- let alone able, to meet her on her level and the previous joy she felt fades and fades until she is once again left in the darkness.

Then, a Miracle happens! Some punk stabs her in the lung :)

Man, what an evening for her. Kills a hundred men with barely a stroke and there's no more joy in the world for her when suddenly some barely-legal scarecrow looking bastard with a raggedy sword he pulled out of someone else's corpse appears at the top of the pile of bodies and then goes Ape. Fucking. Shit. on her.

It's the most fun she's had in ages! He's strong and fast and his moves are inefficient but delightfully unpredictable and by the GODS the STAMINA! Alright, she might be 1,000 years his senior but in the soul society age really is just a number and she can't help but be charmed.

So she flirts back by nearly cutting his face off. This DELIGHTS him!

And there it is again, that sudden feeling of intimacy between like-minded individuals, only these two ships aren't passing in the night, there' here to make Titanic 2: Electric Boogaloo. They make eye contact, and know-they're just like me.

True Love is a wonderful thing.

It's also a great opportunity for a surprise thrust and she only sort of manages to block it, and despite the feeling of blood pooling in her lung, she returns the blow full across his chest.

She staggers back, coughing.

He, miraculously, sits up, coughing. He won't die if he can crawl off somewhere to lick his wounds, but he can't continue the fight either.

She stands up, teeth gritted through the pain, and sheathes Minazuki. "What's your name?" She asks. "So I may find you to fight again."

"Don't have one." he wheezes. "But I'll never forget yours."

She's had men spit that as a threat to her before. It sounds very different as a declaration of love.

"Yachiru." she says, trying to not cough up blood. "Unohana Yachiru."

*

A Year later, there's a problem.

Soul Society has a bit of a problem with lungs. They can make entire fake bodies for shinigami to travel the living world, but individual organs, especially lungs... never seem to transplant well. Perhaps it's the fact they're already dead.

Her left lung is "healed" in the sense that it no longer has extraneous holes in it, but... Godsdammit, she still has all the power but none of the stamina. Barely 10 minutes into a fight and she's wheezing worse than The Old Man. 20 minutes and her hands are starting to shake and she's seeing spots in her eyes because she can't breathe well enough to keep the oxygen in her veins. Her fights usually last seconds so functionally she's still one of the most powerful people in the afterlife but it's a far cry from where she was before.

She can no longer be the 11th division's Kenpachi. Hell, she can no longer be the woman she was before.

"Unless you figure out some new medical miracles, this is as healed as it's going to get." Explains the chief medical officer after yet another frustrating checkup.

"...If that's what it takes." She decides.

The next morning she re-enrolls in the Shinigami Academy, under the name Unohana Retsu. The sole change she makes to her appearence is to braid her hair down the front of her chest because people WILL ask about the scar, and she doesn't want to think about how badly she's letting down that warrior with no name.

Either she needs to learn how to get back to his level, or find a new rival and learn to heal them to actually last the 20 minutes she has, or she'll die.

She studies.

To her vast surprise, bodies are actually fascinating. She'd previously seen that there were lots of interesting organs inside people but now learning what they are and how they work and the fact that the human body is already astonishingly death-resistant compared to most animals AND a carefully balanced meat sculpture minutes away from catastrophic failure at all times delights. She learns about the extreme ways humans can survive and the bizarrely mundane ways they can die, and she starts to form an idea- not an image, not a philosophy per se- but a working theory of how to keep someone alive and moving for as long and far as they will go, and what they need to stay upright.

This idea shines so brightly that it can keep that terrible darkness away.

The century practically flies by, and one night she stays up manually pumping the mechanism on a device used to keep the also-failing lungs of a young boy going after the power goes out. He's been blessed by A God that he's lived as long as he has, but even Gods can fuck up sometimes and she effectively has to breathe for him for twelve hours until the God gets its shit back together and he can breathe under his own power again.

"Hell of a fight you put in, keeping him alive." says one of her colleagues, collapsing beside her out in the 4th division medical garden where all the doctors go to smoke.

Retsu slowly exhales the smoke, fatigued but still coming down from the high of success. She cocks her head. Her body aches and her mind races and her heart thrills, just like- "I guess it was. " she realizes. "Interesting fight, going 12 hours in the ring with a dying child and winning because he walked away at the end." She laughs, and hands him the cigarette to share.

"You weirdo." he colleague laughs. He's far too young to remember when she was Yachiru. Most of them are these days, and it's a weird sort of peaceful anonymity and personal joke. "You weren't fighting the kid. If we were actually allowed to fight patients, I'd've stabbed the Kuchki hypochondriac decades ago." he grumbles, taking his own drag.

She snorts. "Who was I fighting then?"

"Death?" smoke billows out as he laughs, like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

She freezes. Oh. Oh. That's why she likes this so much. She's gone from fighting mere men to the one opponent she knows she can win battles with, but never the war, and who will defeat her personally someday.

"Are. Are you crying?" he asks, a little worried.

"I- yes." She laughs, tears streaming down her face. "I just fell in love all over again."

"Ouch." he nods sympathetically, offering her the cigarette back. "Who with?"

"Death's own Angel, apparently." She giggles, feeling positively prepubescent with this crush.

And thus she goes on, for centuries, learning everything there is to know about bodies and minds and how the two keep each other going and the ways she can help. She gets very good at it, and a many more people do not die.

But there is a special, secret place in her heart for that nameless warrior that defeated her in battle, and made her stronger than every before.

*

Nearly 1,000 years after she stopped being Kenpachi, she is supervising the annual "see if you can kill the captain" tournament. Her colleague Kaname is there, a walking anxiety disorder with undoubtedly real but strangely hard to diagnose phantom pains, but he's still easily in her top 10 coworkers of all time because he made her a new medical record filing system so functional they were actually able to recataloge three millennia of medical records into a usable format in under a decade. He can come twitching into her office any time he likes, especially if it gets her that mass vaccination process for the Rukongai he's been biting The Old Man's heels for.

Then

as suddenly as he had appeared the first time,

He's back.

He's older now and larger, having matured into a spectacular bastard, but there's no mistaking that cutting edge on his reiatsu (which, oh, that has gotten much, much stronger since last time) or that scar running down his face as he turns from where he had just cleft the previous Kenpachi in twain, and stares out into the crowd in the shower of blood, challenging anyone to do something about it. Hell, even when Yamamoto appears to congratulate him on his promotion, Death's own angel's first reaction is to turn to fight the old man without hesitation.

He then promptly picks three different fights with four captains in under five minutes, tells Yamamoto to shove the job up his ass, imply he's had a WILD collection of vocations in the last millennium and furthermore, he has to get home to his daughter.

...Named Yachiru.

Hilariously, Unohana is only having the second weirdest time about this here, because Kaname and Kenpachi are, somehow, even weirder than she is.

[wentz2005]

need to share my top five taypoolverinelor songs with everyone because !!!!!AAAAHHHH!!!!!!! i’m obsessed with them theyve taken over my life i can never be the same again. anyways,

Cowboy Like Me - “with your boots beneath my bed, forever is the sweetest con.” this one is so self explanatory

Daylight - this one makes me scream theres so much oh goddd “My love was as cruel as the cities I lived in, everyone looked worse in the light // I DONT WANNA LOOK AT ANYTHING ELSE NOW THAT I SAW YOU!” I read in a fic once from Logans pov him looking at Wade’s scarred face and thinking why would anyone want to look at anything else? and its haunted my every waking moment. “i’ve been sleeping so long in a twenty year dark night, and now i see daylight. i only see daylight.” this whole song i mean it just flops back and forth between them its sooo ugggh “i once believed love would be black and white, but its GOLDEN✨” plus its always just felt like a first queer love coming out song to me

DELICATE ! - “this aint for the best, my reputations never been worse so, you must like me for me. we cant make any promises now can we babe? but you can make me a drink…. dive bar on the east side, where you at?” I MEAN COME ON!!!! OH MY FUCKING GOD!!!! this one is tooo poolverine specific it makes me crazy

dress - this is prolly the least poolverine explicit but still “you made your mark on me, a golden tattoo” and “i dont want you like a best friend” now he wakes up by his side…

IVY !! - poolverine are actually lesbians to me so i’m allowed to assign this song to them. and oh god, they’re ROOMMATES! theyre going to fall into domestic bliss so easily without even realizing theyre doing it and before they know it everyone thinks theyre dating because theyre practically married and they dont know how they got there (also wanessa remnants) “oh i cant stop you putting roots in my dreamland, my house of stone, your ivy grows, and NOW I’M COVERED IN YOUUUU” like it hurts “i’d live and die for moments that we stole on begged and borrowed time.”

i could talk about them forever and i NEEED to talk to rrr about his loganpool playlist and what taylor songs hed assign them and what wades fave taylor songs are (i believe hes a 1989/reputation/lover/midnights guy and im inclined to believe i am right.)

[tangledbea]

My Tangled/Bridgerton AU ideas that no one asked for

Rapunzel and Madame Gothel

The daughter of an extremely successful merchant (yes, she's getting a downgrade, can't just have princesses running around everywhere), Rapunzel's mother died in childbirth, and her father died of a broken heart shortly thereafter. Fortunately, the woman who was hired to be her nanny and governess was there to step in immediately, caring for the girl like she was her own.

Rapunzel is raised by Madame Gothel, who she calls Mamá, and is hidden from society for the majority of her life and carefully cultivated to be the Diamond of society upon her debut, which will raise her own status on the ton when they all see how flawless her “daughter” is. Rapunzel is beautiful, demure, regal, elegant, talented… everything a man could want as a prize. Now, if only Gothel could wed her off to royalty and secure her own status forever…

Before her debut, Rapunzel was rarely seen in public, though she could often be glimpsed in her window on the top floor of her house. When she was allowed out in public, she was made to wear wide-brimmed hats, keep her head down, and carry a parasol. Gothel wanted to prove she had a daughter while cultivating mystery about her, so that her debut would be a big reveal to the ton and the world. Because of this, Rapunzel was raised alone, without friends, though she spent a lot of her time in the window watching the people below. When they weren’t in London, they were at their country estate, Der Sonne Manor, with sprawling grounds and little staff, who were under severe threat to never speak of the girl when they happened to catch sight of her.

Though Rapunzel is barely interested in most of the men whose eye she catches, she knows her job is to catch a husband. Against Gothel’s desires, she wishes to find someone interested in her, and not just her beauty and status. She hates suppressing her entire personality and hiding her quirkier interests, but she does what she’s told, lest she risk her mother’s wrath.

Unbeknownst to Rapunzel, Gothel murdered her father when she was an infant after securing that she would have access to Rapunzel's inheritance in order to raise her properly. She took advantage of his broken heart, manipulating him to sign legal documentation before killing him. Though the exact cause of his death is not confirmed, there are those who speculate that Gothel had something to do with it.

Eugene Fitzherbert and King Edmund of Umbra

There was treachery afoot in Umbra when Eugene (Prince Horace) was but a baby. King Edmund sent his only child away for his own protection, but the trusted maid he sent him with was killed en route to a safe location. Suspecting she was being tracked down, she left the baby on a stoop. The people who lived there were unable to care for him, and so took him to the local orphanage, where he grew up under the name Eugene Fitzherbert, and never knowing his lineage.

Growing up poor, Eugene longed for a life of wealth and adventure, envious of the nobles who dallied in the richer parts of town. Knowing that there was little to no future for an orphan, he took to stealing and conning to give himself even a fraction of the life he wanted.

He became jaded over time, convinced that the world was hard and cruel, and that he'd never know anything else. And yet, when he was 25, he was abruptly rediscovered by his birth father, who announced his lineage and brought him back home to be the Crown Prince.

Eugene (who refuses to go by Horace) is at something of a loss. This is the life he has always wanted, and yet he has no idea how to actually live it.

Lance Strongbow

Lance grew up in the orphanage with Eugene, and they were best friends, learning to steal and con together. However, their paths diverged in their late teens, and while Lance didn't know what became of his friend, he set his own sights on being such a convincing conman that even the nobles wouldn't know the difference.

He slowly and gradually worked his way up in subtle ways, until he hatched his major plan. The Baron of Vardaros is a man who has not made a public appearance for decades. The last Lance heard, he'd made his way to America and was never coming back. And so, Lance took his name and title, and has begun passing himself off as the current Baron of Vardaros.

He is a rake, spending his time at the club with other men and enjoying the marriage season because he gets much attention from fawning young ladies who are hoping to catch a rich, titled husband. In truth, he gets a huge thrill out of knowing that he is a fraud, and that no one around him is any the wiser.

Little does he know, the true Baron of Vardaros is soon to catch wind of his identity theft, and will want his revenge.

[kroosluvr]

swap au stuff that i cant doodle rn bc it’s 6am:

goro confronts akira who looks smug as always. “ok, kurusu. ive had enough of your bullshit, why do you insist on being such a piece of shit towards sumire and i when we’re all fighting for the same thing? your life is on the life too, and your reality.” like are you stupid or just dumb

akira’s smile, ofc, doesn’t falter. “well, i don’t have ulterior motives for everything, you understand. what you see is what you get with me, isn’t that -“ fist slams into the wall next to him. “cut the crap, kurusu. do you care about winning or not?”

his eyes follow goro’s. “not,” he says w emphasis, “really.” then, “does that surprise you? remember:” voice drops to a whisper, “i’m a dead man either way.”

goro’s head spins. this infuriating guy - what the hell, so he’s basically on maruki’s side? “i saw you in leblanc,” goro says. “i saw your wish. what was it now.... to be a normal, well adjusted student? kind, considerate, honest?” with emphasis. “everything you’re not?”

akira looks angry for a second, and it disappears. he clears his throat. “that must have just,” his voice is noticeably less smooth. “been a lapse in. my judgement.”

“so that’s what you’re after?” goro’s voice rises. “that life? you want his reality?”

“what’s in it for me if i fight for this one?” akira screams. “i was conned out of a good life and, and my plan to save myself failed. this-“ pointing at goro, sumire, their surroundings, “this is just cruel. wont even let me rest, yet bringing me back to show me…” voice lowers, “what… maybe, i could have been.”

goro’s quiet. sumire says from the back, “so dr maruki’s using you.”

“what?”

it clicks. “the same way shido did,” goro says.

akira’s face turns cold. “don’t bring that up.” (he'd thought highly of himself, that he and shido were partners and equals in their arrangement, but ofc he was anything but: just a high school kid that shido could pin his crimes on.)

“it’s true, isn’t it?” goro sneers. “maruki is using you to get under our skin… it's sickening, really, turning our friends against us, just to actualize his horrific reality.”

akira doesn’t say anythjng. goro steps back. “you’re stupid,” akira says coldly, “if you really think we were friends at all.”

as he storms off, sumire says, “i told you it’d be a stupid idea.”

goro grits his teeth. “he’s insufferable.” then, “and unfortunately, a perfect pawn.”

—-

i think it’d be interesting since (canon) goro fights for the true reality bc he doesn’t want to allow himself to be puppeted any longer. meanwhile (swap) akira, the trickster, lets the ends justify the means: since he’s a dead man walking, well, fuck it why not let some version of himself be happy for once.

it also drives a harder wedge in royal trio bc now they have to deal w akira third impostoring before they can get thru the palace. maybe in this au they actually start rescuing the thieves before akira comes around (and we get akira boss fight yayyyyy instead of sumire)

also in this au this means sumire knows that akira died in the engine room which is interesting. will have to thjnk on that more later

[xmo-rmon]

You know, I am by no means a fan of anything joe smith did, but I feel like, despite what he might have said or thought, his intentions were ultimately relatively small-scale because his con was entirely for immediate personal gain. ie: getting to do whatever he wanted with no consequence, mostly in the form of fucking as many women (and girls) as he wanted to while also claiming ownership of them. It was entirely about his own ego. I think mormons like to go “well he allowed a few black men to have the priesthood! he wasn’t racist!” No, he definitely was. He held no respect for black people, but he held no respect for anybody. You think a man who manipulates everyone around him into being his loyal followers is choosy about who can come and tell him he’s a good boy and back him up on the idea that he should get to do whatever he wants? That’s like saying “well he allowed women to be mormons, so he wasn’t misogynistic.” Uh-uh.

And I really do wonder, if things had gone differently, if he had not met the people he did, if he had lived out his life, if his little cult would have fizzled out or at least ended up very fringe today. Men like him start cults all the time. I mean look at jared leto and his harem island.

What I mean to say is, I wonder where the church would be if he never met brigham fucking young.

mormons love to either bury the horrendous things that man did or said, or even say “he said some things that would be considered racist today” and “we need to forgive past prophets for saying things that were normal at the time” and “the church as a whole can’t be represented by one man alone and it’s easy to understand what we truly believe.”

You absolute buffoons, the things he said and did were outrageously racist even for his time. He was a completely batshit mass-murdering maniac. Yes racist sentiments were common in his time but they were not universal, and even then, the average consensus was absolutely not “black people were cursed by god and the greatest blessing we could give them would be to kill them all.” Even in the speech where he says that he acknowledges that most people will not agree with him.

And you cannot create a system where one man is the king that speaks to god and go “well one man doesnt represent the church.” Yes he does, by your design. And no, it’s not easy to understand what you believe, because you’re so flowery and vague in order to avoid taking responsibility for anything. You worship joe smith for giving you the church as you know it today, but he fucking didn’t. You have the church as you know it today because a heartless, cruel man turned it into a colonizing force and literally called to exterminate the indigenous people that stood in his way. The church as you know it today was only made possible by mass fucking murder; you don’t get to go “well that’s not what the church is actually about”. If all that never should have happened then you are basically saying that there should be no mormon church. The very foundation of your institution was built on suffering and death.

“At some point the church stopped giving the priesthood to black men and we have no records as to why”

I wonder who you named your fucking university after then you fucking lying coward

[tht0nesimp]

Home Is Where The Heart Is

tw: imprisonment but not abduction?, dub-con touching, birthday fic!, abduction

A/N: I ACTUALLY GOT IT OUT IN JUNE HOLY SHIT (June 29th….11pm)

”Dear~” Fuck him “Come on, What’s the harm in a little indulgence?” Fuck him “How upsetting!” Fuck him

Fuck him. And the scene unfolding, it could have been worse, it could always be worse. But ever since Hisoka showed up in your apartment one day—years pass, and soon enough you need up in your current predicament in his home—he would always stop by on his birthday, not always on yours, but always making sure to give you a nice toxic dose of him on his special day.

“I don’t want to engage in emotional warfare, I don’t want to do this” He lets a theatrical sigh out, continuing to drape himself across the King bed in the middle of the room(his room, he’d been somewhat not truly caring of when you set up your own space, up until he started coming home more) wrinkling what you’d perfected a few hours before.

“Just relax, all I’m asking is for some time today! I’ve never much celebrated my birthday before you, especially in my youngest years, wouldn’t now be a perfect to time to start? ♡” you let your eyes wander yonder, to the dozens of stacks of playing cards sitting the closet, and the hole in the curtains, anything to avoid giving him the satisfaction.

“ignoring me won’t work, we both know~ I’d thought you learned from the last few times” he was right, as per usual, but yet your ability to see that escaped you again. “Plus I…I thought I wasn’t allowed in public” “indeed, but I figured you wouldn’t protest to going to dinner? There’s no need to be so worried! I’m not planning anything” but it always felt like you knew he was lying, because half the time he was

it had always been difficult; trying to discern between what was real or not, whether it’s a cruel joke when he tells you he loves you or not is still a mystery. And yet, he tells you often, sometimes when your awake or sitting on the couch just thinking, or baking or cooking, but sometimes it’s late into the night when you’re asleep—unable to know that he does mean it, especially when he sleeps with your frame next to him. So vulnerable that some primal part of him just wants to hide you like a dragon and it’s jewels

♪───Ｏ（≧∇≦）Ｏ────♪

“You look lovely!” Hisokas smile digs into your very soul, as per usual. His driving slower than normal, purposeful, he’s trying to make you angry. You focus on the light rain, not daring to question him as he drives up a mountain

“I believe we’ve arrived” You exit the car, keeping your head down until you hear him rustling in the trunk, pulling out a picnic basket and a blanket that was barely big enough for the two of you. “You want to have…a picnic? At 12 at night?” “Is that a problem?” His voice loud in contrast to the sounds of the forest.

He sets the basket down, and gestures for you to sit next to him, pulling a store-bought cake a pack of generic candles out of the twine basket. “How are you going to light them?” Normally you’d just let him figure it out, but the face he made when he realized made it obvious he hasn’t exactly thought of it. “Hmm, close your eyes” you close your eyes, like a giddy kid waiting for a gift, but when you opened them the candles were lit and aflame. “A magician never reveals his tricks~” the flame burned as silence filled the moment, quiet crickets and what must have been a small stream taking the place of any conversation.

“Make a wish, Hisoka” you loosely motion towards the cake “I wish for-“ “Don’t tell me! It won’t come true if you do!” You hadn’t meant to say it, but he didn’t seem to mind as he blew them out with a giggle almost too innocent for the monster he was.

“To many more years of hell, I guess” he wraps his arm around you, not bristling like you used to at the touch. “To many more, now, would you care for a bit of champagne?” Picking a bottle of champagne and a glass out of the basket—you wonder how it didn’t break on the bumpy drive up—“alright”.

He pours the glass generously, filled entirely to the brim “I told you I wasn’t tricking you, dearest!” You side eye him “Oh shut it…” the words are muttered and soft as you try to enjoy the night sky full of stars

“To think one moment was all it took for our paths to intertwine? Truly a coincidental fate.”

Coincidental indeed

[romana-after-dark]

The Wrong Way: Chapter 7

Dark!Joel Miller x Fem!Reader Tommy Miller x reader (secondary)

Masterlist

Spotify playlist

Summery: You are sold to Joel to clear up some of your fathers' debts, and he takes you back to his house where him, Tommy, and high ranking members of his raiding trope stay. Joel is mean, cruel, and hash, but had small moments of softness that confuse you in your venerable state. Over time, you get to know him and Tommy, and see different sides of each, an both are hiding secrets. Was it possible to fall in love under these circumstances? Or was that just another way Joel was fucking with you?

Aka: my mom sold me to One Direction

WARNINGS FOR FULL FIC, NOT CHAPTER BY CHAPTER UNLESS SOMETHING NEW IS ADDED AFTER MASTER WARNING LIST: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!! Fic contains graphic depictions of sexual assault, rape, molestation, dubcon/non con. Blow Jobs, PIV sex, lose of virginity, sex trafficking, past incest, death/people dying everywhere, Stockholm syndrome, falling for your rapist, victim blaming, torcher, branding, physical abuse, rape (not Joel), somno, dub con on tommy? idk he's not really into it but feels like he has to, self-harm/depression/suicidal thoughts (not a lot) but fair warning, major age gaps, love triangle, pregnancy/birth, threats of abortion, major character death, mentions of potential csa/child abuse but does not even come close to happening, forced pregnancy, forced housewife shit, breeding, breeding kink?!?!

********************

There would be no need for a bath, he had already taken you once today and the two of you had sat in the water until it was room temperature; Joel had even managed to get a scented candle, saying the wife of one of the other raiders, one who didn’t live in the house, made for you when she heard Joel was “seeing” someone. You wondered how much she knew, if she knew you were kidnapped, bought, that Joel had hurt you so severely in the early days, but now your relation had shifted into more of a live-in girlfriend. Either way, it was a kind gesture, and you enjoyed the lavender scent as Joel washed you. You’d been rather lonely since Tommy left last month, but things in the house had shifted once again…

Lorenzo had somehow become your babysitter in place of Tommy, except you were allowed outside of your room now. You’d proven to Joel that although yes, you’d cheated on him, you wouldn’t leave. You managed to convince him it was just once, and although he was not thrilled that Tommy had taken your virginity, he seemed convinced that yes, when you had actually begun showing him affection, Tommy was just your friend. You loved Tommy, you think, but you weren’t lying. He had never touched you sexually after that first day. Joel didn’t need to know about the affection you showed each other…

Still, you wondered why Joel was so willing to leave you alone with Lorenzo for hours on end when he’d already had to deal with Nick and Tommy, but you were grateful. You’d taken to housework to kill time, Lorenzo usually sitting at the kitchen table drinking whatever alcohol he’d gotten his hands on and smoking as you cooked, washed dishes, swept and mopped. Many of the things you used to clean or cook with had to be requested of Joel, almost like a shopping list that depended on what he could find. A bunch of bachelors living together hadn’t proved to have much necessary home items (they didn’t even have flour!) but in time, you’d been able to provide them all with a cleaner living environment and better food. In turn, many of the men were less shitty to you. You think sometimes to that night Joel had left you handcuffed to the table, and you wonder who, of the men who muttered quick words of thanks, would have raped you after Nick… would Jack, who occasionally sat with you when Lorenzo and Joel were both out and made small conversation have hurt you given the chance? Were the men who you had began to take company in the same men who raped and killed? You were sure of it… but how much did it matter? Joel was your primary company, the one you took solace in, the one whose arms you laid in right now, and he had done horror to you… you couldn’t exactly hold the other men to the standard you had held Tommy to.

“Got any plans today while I’m gone, little one?” Joel asked as the water cooled, neither of you wanted to get up yet, not until Joel really had to go.

“It’s nice out, I think I’ll do some laundry” Nice weather was laundry days. Jack had thrown together a washboard of sorts for you when Joel was unable to find anything and you had refused to let him demand one from any of the households of the other men. Jack had worked with his hands pre-outbreak and was able to put something together for you, which you appreciated.

“Lorenzo ain’t give’n yuh no trouble is he? I know he can be a damned asshole sometimes, especially when he’s been drink’n”

When wasn’t he drinking? When wasn’t he an asshole?

Great question. “No, no trouble, thank you for asking.” Lorenzo could be an asshole. He was blunt, and made it very clear a few times how stupid he thinks you are for staying with Joel, for pushing Tommy away, for putting yourself between Tommy and Joel tha night and refusing to kill Tommy, simply banking on the unstable man’s mercy, so on and so on… But you would yell at him to shut up and he would, after a last word or two if he was drunk. You appreciated Joel’s concern, the way he always looked after you… You remember the hurt on his face when he had come back from slaughtering Nick, how sorry he was that you felt like you couldn’t tell him, and of course Tommy had insisted that he made you have sex with him, despite the fact you had begged Tommy… Joel tried so hard to communicate with you now, or at least for you to communicate with him.

“Alright. You’ll-”

“Yes baby” You took Joel’s hand. “I’ll tell you if he so much as looks at me funny”

You could feel the light laughter from the rise and fall of his chest. “Anything you need today? Other than the cocoa powder, I’ll keep looking for that.” It was the last thing you needed before you could make brownies. You knew he’d find it eventually, but it wasn’t a necessity.

“Can you trade for more eggs? Trade, Joel. Trade. Not steal.” You insisted he not take more from people on his lands other than the ‘rent’ for ‘protection’. An older farmer had a chicken coup and that’s where you got your eggs. Joel sighed, but agreed. You pause before asking. “Joel?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” He leaned over to pull the plug on the tub, draining the cool water out. 

“Lorenzo said there were a few apple trees a couple miles out… I wanna make a pie for Mrs. LittleHawk, Cash’s wife, as a thank you for the candle, and of course a few for you all.”

Joel mumbled something about not needing to send a thank you, that the women should respect me the way the men respected him, but you thought that was silly. They had no reason to think anything of Joel’s kept woman.

“Please Joel?”

He sighs again. “Fine, only because I ain’t had apple pie for 10 years. I’ll swing by the patch on my way back.”

You turn around in the tub, facing him as your wet hair stuck to your face. You comb his hair back and smile as he leans into your touch ever so slightly. “I was actually hoping… maybe we could take a ride out there? I wanna pick ‘em myself…” 

“Baby…” You looked so hopeful, so wide-eyed and innocent. “I got so much shit to do, I ain’t got any time in the day light to take you for a few weeks”

You pout. You know Joel has a hard time saying no when you pout, especially when he’s all lovey-dovey after sex.

One more sigh. He supposed you’d been so good, very well behaved and not an inkling that you wanted to run… he had forgiven you for cheating on him with Tommy, a difficult betrayal to grapple with, but that was just how much he loved you… he supposed there was no reason to not let you go… you knew if you tried anything it’d spell the end for Zach and Tommy. “Are you comfortable going with Lorenzo?”

You light up, peppering kisses all over his face as you thanked him, continuing to tell him how much you appreciated it and how you were gonna make a whole pie, just for him as he dried you off, carrying you back to the bedroom you shared. There was no reason you couldn’t walk, but Joel always carried you, and you always laid your head on his shoulder or kissed his neck as he did. You loved feeling loved, protected, adored.

You watched Joel pull off the towel around his hip and get dressed, and despite being sore from the ravenous fuck this morning, you still felt that pang of desire. He really was so, so handsome; broadest shoulders you’ve ever seen in your life. Joel looked over his shoulder and smirked as you eyed his bare ass before he pulled up the boxers. “Like what you see, little girl?”

You blush and turn away as he chuckles, before going to the closet to pick out an outfit for you. He had been bringing back several dresses, which you thought a bit impractical, but he seemed to enjoy watching you cooking in a dress, walking up and pressing his erection into your ass with your hands in the dish sink. He had absolutely fucked you against the counter before, nearly burning the baked beans in the process and your arm, and you had managed to assert one single boundary during sex; no fucking while you cook.

He pulled out a white dress for you which you put on over your underwear. 

“I got a surprise for you.” He says as he finishes dressing, strong muscles flexing with his movements. He gestures for you to sit on the bed, and you are delighted as he picked up his guitar.

You gasp a bit. “You fixed it?”

“Just for you, princesa” Joel smiles. “Now, it’s been a long as time, and my voice ain’t what it used to be-”

“I’ll love it, it’s perfect, no matter what” You assured.

Clearing his throat as he sits on the bed, he tuned up one more time, having fixed it up the other day while she worked on the garden with Lorenzo binge drinking outside. “Alright, well, this is one I still remember all the words and chords to, so here we go.” He looked… nervous. He wanted to please you, make you smile, wanted to make you happy in your life here… and you seemed happier, you really did. He knew you missed that traitor bastard of a brother, but it seemed Lorenzo kept her enough company when Joel was gone.

When the music started, you were immediately entranced. It was melodic and haunting and beautiful all at the same time… and when Joel began singing… you couldn’t help but begin to truly adore him. Nothing he had done to you mattered the moment he sang to you.

“Well I’ve been ‘fraid of change’n cause I built my life around you

Well times makes you bolder, children get older and I’m getting older too

Take my love, take it down… If you see my reflection in the snow covered hills, will the landslide bring me down, oh, the landslide brought it down.”

The cords were a bit clunky, and he mumbled over a few words not seeming to remember exactly what they were, but you loved, you loved it so much you begged him to play again, and again, and again until he said he needed to get going, but you had memorized chunks of the words and the melody, you wanted it to play in your head forever the way Red River Valley did when Zach used to play it. 

“I take it yuh liked it?” Joel chuckled as he took the strap off his shoulder.

“It was beautiful, Joel. I loved it. Were you a singer before the outbreak?”

Joel couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “No, not really. I wanted to be though. I used to sing and play for family, few open mic nights” You didn’t know what an open mic night was, but it sounded like a show, and it made you proud that someone who had played at shows played for you.

“For family?” You ask, not thinking, but then immediately regretting it, knowing that this was a sore subject for him.

Instead of getting angry, he looked… sad… He shuffled a bit, getting up to put his shoes on. “Yeah I uh… I had a daughter. I sang to her before bed, she loved that song.”

You knew better than to press the issues, knowing the fact he even mentioned Sarah was him laying an extreme amount of trust on you, and you took this trust seriously.

“Did you write that song?”

He hesitated. “Ummm Yeah, I did. Years ago.”

A few hours and a horse ride later, you were picking apples while Lorenzo smoked and drank against a tree. His cigarette smelled awful so you made him move away from you. You usually didn’t mind the smell, but your nose had been so sensitive lately, and whatever brand he got today smelled like a skunk. You supposed he couldn’t be choosy, but Jesus did he have to drink too? Nonetheless, you were happy today, you really were, happy to get fresh air and sunshine, enjoy the smell of the apples and the trees and the flowers, the warmth on your skin and the breeze through the thin dress. You hummed along to the song Joel had sang you today, gently singing the few words you remembered here and there. 

“Oh, hhmhmmhmmm what is love. Can the child hmmm hmmmmmmm rise above, Can I sail hmmmm hmmmm hmmmmmmmmm can I sail through the seasons of my life”

“How the fuck do you know that song?” He slurred, clearly drunk already.

You turn to look at him curiously. “How do you know that song, Renzo?” 

He scoffs at you. “Uh, maybe because it’s an incredibly popular song from before?” The sarcasm slurs out of him.

“No it’s not” You chuckle. “It’s Joel’s. He wrote-”

Lorenzo was laughing so hard he fell over. You felt your cheeks burning.

 “Why are you laughing!”

He tries to catch his breath as he continues wheezing on the ground, his smokers laugh mixing in with coughs and chokes. “I-I’m sorry” Now, you knew that wasn’t genuine. Lorenzo didn’t apologize. “God DAMN you are way too fucking young for that old bastard” he holds his stomach and hickups as he laughs. 

“Don’t call him that!”

“Fucking hell” Lorenzo covers his face, kicking his legs a bit as he mocks you. “He’s got you so fucking brainwashed, I should feel bad for you if this wasn’t so fucking funny!” 

You didn’t think it was that funny, but whatever was in that drink must make him a lot gigglier than usual. 

You throw an apple at his head.

“Ow!”

“Why are you laughing!”

“This is some really fucking good weed”

You didn’t know what that meant and you didn’t wanna ask.

Lorenzo went on. “That song he sang you is a very very popular song by one of the most famous bands in history, Fleetwood Mac, and it was covered by a popular country band like a year before the world went to shit. Joel absolutely did not write it, and the fact he was, what? 5? When the original song came out and you don't even remember it should disgust him. And Tommy for that matter but you don’t ever fault Tommy for- OW!” Another apple.

It was a while before he spoke again. “You could run for it, you know. This would be a good time, if you can get to the horse before me.” You ignore him, and he mutters that you are a dumb bitch again, lying on the grass with his smelly cigarette.

“And what about you?” You challenge him. “Now would be a great time for you to cope a feel, take advantage of us out here alone like everyone else seems too.”

“Oh don’t you worry about that sweetheart” He giggles, his accent (Boston, he told you a few weeks ago), even thicker with the alcohol, making him a little hard to understand when he drinks. “You aren’t my type”

“Oh?” You ask, not believing him. It’s not that you thought yourself anything special, but you also knew with men, it wasn’t your looks they were after, just what was between your legs, and most of the men you had met, save for Zach, Tommy and Lorenzo, seemed eager to get there. “Then what’s your type?” Your laundry basket full of apples perched on your cocked hip, you challenged him.

You did not expect him to answer “You’re brother”

The basket of apples`drop to the ground. “What?”

Another burst of giggles. “Oh come ON! You got Stockholm syndrome but being gay is where you draw the morality line?”

“No! No it’s not that… well, I guess I’ve never met… and you still see Zach? How is is he-”

“Slow down there, sweetheart” The drunkenly thick accent making it sound more like sweethaht. “First of all you have obviously met a ho-mo-sexual” he drew out the word teasingly. “‘Cause your brother is one. Secondly, he’s doing good.”

 He ended oddly sincere.

You had so many questions, but mostly you were thankful Joel didn’t go back on his word and kill Zach for trying to take you. “Did you… is that why you helped him try to rescue me?”

“Nah” A little wave of his hand and a sleepy chuckle. “He did pay me, but we hit it off. Don’t think too hahd ‘bout it, we ain’t elope’n or nothi’n”

“Well… can you tell him I said hi, and… I miss him?”

“Yeah, yeah I will. C’mon, let’s get going” Lorenzo wobbles as he stands up, falling over a few times getting to the horse. As he tries to mount, he’s halfway on the saddle before falling off with a harsh ‘OOF’

“Lorenzo!” You set down your basket of apples you had to regather, and hurry over to where he lay. The wind was knocked out of him but he was breathing, to your relief. “C’mon, let's go.” You try to pull him up, but he just laid there, groaning and dizzy as his world spinned.

“This is the perfect oppretunity to go, why don’t you just fucking leave, dumbass”

You growl a bit as you try to get him going, successfully pulling him to sit up at least. “I’m not having this discussion.”

“You’re little hero left you, there’s nothing here for you except this delusional little white-picket fence life you are playing with.”

“If I leave, you are dead! Joel will kill you! You ridicule me for not having common sense but if I leave you’ll end up like that rotting body outside the house as will Zach and Tommy!” You push him back down, but he sits up quickly grabbing your shoulder. “Let go!”

“Don’t pretend like you are doing this for me, kid, when you know damn well you’ve gone and fallen in love with the same asshole who raped and abused you!-”

“You don’t know anything about us, or about him!” You scream, trying to pull away.

“You think I ain’t seen that fucki’n brand on your thigh when Joel dresses you up like a doll in those short little dresses?” His voice raises.

“Let! Go!” 

Lorenzo’s hand goes to your skirt. “Look what he fuck’n did to you!” 

The slap you delivered across his face was so hard it stung your hand, his lips bled a bit as you fell back in shock and he laid back down on the grass.

The two of you laid there in silence on the ground for a while, panting. You hadn’t reacted like that since Joel first took you, and even then you never slapped him.

It was Lorenzo that spoke first. “What are you gonna do when the baby comes?”

There was a pause as your ears rang, blood draining from your face, you felt hot as your heart rate picked up. “What?”

“I had all my sisters, 6 of them. Was married too, not that anyone ever asks. I know when you’re on your period, even though I try not to. It ain't come yet” You had no way of keeping track of dates… it came when it came and all the days had begun to blur…

“No… no he always pulls out…”

“Well so did my sisters boyfriend but she still got knocked up at 14, was puking every morning like you. You’re about 3 weeks late.”

No, no this can’t be happening… Your hand flies to your stomach. “No, I had… I had a stomach bug…”

“Whatever you say.” He looked like he was about to fall asleep.

God no, you can’t bring a child into this world… How is Joel gonna react? Fuck, fuck, fuck! “Get up!” You scream at Lorenzo, standing up and forcing him on his feet. “Get on the fucking horse and get us home!”

He begins to climb up. “So fucking-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, so fucking stupid” You grumble, and sit behind him to keep him from falling over as he takes you home.

You’re pacing the floor when Joel comes home, and immediately clocks something is wrong, dropping the bag he brought. “What did he do?” His face is stone cold, pulling out his gun.

You knew he meant Lorenzo, and as much as he got on your fucking nerves, you didn’t want him dead. “No he’s fine, it’s not him, it’s just… Joel I gotta tell you something, and I don’t know how you’re gonna react…”

Joel softened. He knew… he knew his reactions are why you didn’t tell him about Nick, and if something was wrong he wanted you to be able to tell him. “It’s okay, you can tell me little one, we’ll figure it out together.”

Tears fill your eyes, and as the sobs start, Joel takes you into his arms. “J-Joel… I-I-I’m pregnant.”

He freezes, unmoving and you cannot tell what he is thinking. He’s gonna be mad, he’s gonna be so fucking mad at you, he’s gonna beat the shit out of you until you miscarry, or he’s going to kill you! He only just mentioned his daughter to you today, this is going to tear up open wounds… what if he thinks it’s Tommy’s baby? You didn’t want this, you didn’t want this at all, how could you bring a child into your situation?

“This is amazing…” He whispers.

“W-what?” How could this be amazing?

Joel pulls back to look at you. “This is amazing, you are amazing…” wonder is in his eyes, but you shake your head slowly.

“No… no Joel we can’t do this, we can’t raise a child”

“Of course we can.” His voice was so soft, so assured… “We absolutely can, I’ve done it before.”

“When the world hadn’t gone to shit!” tears were still in your eyes, occasionally spilling over.

His grip got just the tiniest bit tighter… “You don’t think I’d be a good dad?”

You knew a warning when you saw one. “No, no that's not it!” You were quick to deny the accusation. “It’s just… this world, there's constant danger-”

Joel cuts you off with a kiss, his grip tight as he begins to kiss your neck. “I protect you, don’t I?”

“Yes, Joel, but there's so much going on, I can’t-”

Another kiss. “Yes you can.”

“No, no I can’t. Please, Joel, I know you know people, doctors… can’t you find someone, someone too… to take care of-”

Another kiss. “Of course I can, I’ll find the best doctor around, you’ll have everything you need.”

“No, not a pregnancy doctor, Joel I want to end-”

His grip on your shoulder was harsh, uncomfortable, but not necessarily painful… he was playing nice, nicer with you than he usually did when he perceived a wrongdoing. “You wanna abort my baby?”

The tears flowed freely as you began to plead with him. “I can’t do this Joel, I’m fucking scared, somethings gonna go wrong I just know-”

A final, searing kiss. “We’re gonna be parents, okay? A happy little family.” There was no room for question, no room to argue, no room to ask as he kissed you, his grip softening as you didn’t protest; your reward. I won’t hurt you today, but remember, your body is still mine. All this freedom, but you still belong to me.

He kissed you onto the bed, dressing you down and into a nightgown, his hand constantly rubbing your stomach, caressing it, adorning it in affection with the same hand that nearly brought you to death multiple times… but he was so gentle, wasn’t he? So gentle when he wanted to be… And he had been different, he’d been better, Joel had been so soft, even in sex. None of the ways he would in sex, even accidentally. And he agreed not to come onto you while you cooked, you had successfully been able to say no to sex… that was an improvement, a vast improvement… yeah, maybe you could do this.

When Joel fucked you that night… you felt like you could call it making love.. He was so tender, it was surreal. As he strummed his guitar lazily for you you felt your stomach. Logically, you knew there was hardly anything there, but you felt it… you felt that little baby in you… barely a twinkle. Joel would keep you safe, Joel would keep the baby safe, everything would be fine… As Joel played the song from this morning again, you didn’t bring up what Lorenzo said. Joel was the one singing it to you, so it was his song…

You rested on his lap. “Do you know Red River Valley?” You ask, looking up at him as he clumsily strummed his guitar.

“Yeah a little, it’s a pretty popular western song. You like that one?”

“Yeah, my… my brother played it.” Shit.. you froze again. Would that upset him? There was an unspoken rule not to talk about your life before him…

“Ah, well, I think I can get the chords out, dunno the lyrics though.” He began to plunk around to get the tune, teasing the chords out of the 6-string.

“I know the lyrics.”

You watch him smile softly at you, eyes sparkling as he brushes the side of your face with the back of his hand. So gentle, so tender… “Sing away then, pretty one, I’ll match your speed.”

And you did. You sang all the verses you knew while Joel strummed along, carefully to your pace. You weren't a great singer, but it brought you comfort… You were scared, so scared, but it would be alright, wouldn’t it? The tears rolled down your cheeks, and you smiled at Joel so he would think they were tears of Joy.

“From this valley they say you are going

I will miss your bright eyes and sweet smile

For they say you are taking the sunshine

That has brightened our path for a while”

“Come and sit by my side if you love me

Do not hasten to bid me adieu

But remember the Red River Valley

And the cowboy who loved you so true”

*******************

Okay so i know this is a boring chapter but i was looking at the initial pacing of the chapter timeline and i didnt like it, it felt rushed but now i fel like this chapter makes it too drawn out??? But here we are

I knowthis focuses more on Lorenzo and Little one but I thought it was fun at least. plus, baby?!?!?!?!

If you had theories on how this ends, or where its going, does baby and joels reaction to baby change it? lets here it!

New header, pictures of LO tied up are replaced with pictures of her as a "little house wife" as Lorenzo says. and of course, Tommy is gone, replaced with Lorenzo;-;

Since the last poll was SO FUN lets do another!!!!

As always, thank you sooooo much for comments and comment reblogs and asks!!! it makes me sooooo happy to see how engaged people are with the story!!! makes me really happy and keeps me writing.

Im tryna work on dark!nathan bateman but joel distracts me!

Also I really need to work on my normal non dark frankie series on my main XD

@my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel @tidlewav3 @bunnnyy-dummy @slutfortimotheechalamet @foggymoonbanana @dinsbaby @miraclesabound @jenna-ortega @primosworld @marclovers @threeheadedlamb @secretwriterpp @the-fox-den

@bitchyglitterfox @0bsessedwithfictionalcharacters @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @lunar-ghoulie @pedritosdarling @dreamonseems @alwaysdjarin @amoramorquetepintas @milla-frenchy