#mention of toxic relationships

[kelpermoosee]

My friend labeled this “toxic aromantic yaoi” and I couldn’t agree more

[kriimhild]

Real hunters crouch before the leap

This comic is free to dub, just please credit me

(I will make this note on comics that are free to dub)

[noperopesaredope]

I recently watched a video talking about what your favorite Mouthwashing ship says about you (spoilers: most of them are bad), and one thing I explained in the comments that I think is important to explain to certain people (in general with a lot of fandoms, tbh) is that a lot of shippers in the fandom understand that these relationships would not be good and are in fact deeply unhealthy, but perhaps that's the point.

Like, most of the Jambone x Curly shippers I've seen don't like the ship because it's cute or good, but because it's narratively interesting and would be extremely compelling to see. I honestly get it even if I'm not super interested in it. Jildo and Curly already have an extremely interesting and unhealthy relationship dynamic. It is heavily implied that JarJar acts very emotionally abusive towards Curly, belittling and manipulating him frequently and likely damaging his confidence and ability to stand up to people. But he is also obsessed with Curly in a very fascinating way.

Meanwhile, Curly has not only been friends with Jimbo for a long time, but has a fatal flaw of being too loyal and passive for his own good. As many have said, Curly is like a golden retriever in both a good and bad way.

Curly is Jackass' victim and enabler at the same time, which is why he is one of my favorite characters in the game. You both feel bad for him but also understand that he really fucked up and a lot of stuff is his fault. His most endearing traits are also some of his worst traits. Again, the golden retriever comparison is very accurate. He is friendly and loyal and believes the best in everyone (and very cute), but that loyalty and belief in everyone are also his fatal flaws.

He enables Jello because he thinks that there is good in him, and like a dog, he sees no wrong with most people no matter what they do (until it's far too late). I can't remember the fic I saw this in, but one good line I saw once was something along the lines of: "You believe in people and see nothing wrong with them no matter what until they abandon you at the park in the middle of the night." Curly sees no wrong in his friend because that's the type of person he is, and while it can be cute, it's also dangerous.

It can also often be detrimental to himself, as we see Juice be cruel to him as well, yet Curly excuses it as just Jizz being Jizz. He doesn't see anything wrong with the way he is treated, making him become desensitized to Jive's behavior and seeing it as not a big deal.

I think Curly's status as both victim and enabler would be interesting under the context of an abusive romantic relationship. There is an even greater power imbalance present, and Jojo may do a lot worse things as a result and be a lot more controlling and manipulative. He could be more physically and verbally abusive, make more threats, and even be sexually abusive (since he is canonically a rapist already, and hates Curly more than he hates Anya, thus he would probably put more aggressive hate into it). The whole relationship would be horrible and disturbing, but also interesting to see.

I love fics exploring their unhealthy friendship, so seeing it as an unhealthy romantic relationship could be even crazier to see.

~~~~~~

There's also the nuances of Anya x Curly. Most people ship it specifically in the context of AUs where Curly actually stands up for Anya and helps her out. Their dynamic as characters could be really cute, especially if he puts in the work to protect her.

I personally find the potential of post-crash Anya x Curly to be interesting as hell. I generally find their non-romantic dynamic post-crash to be interesting enough on its own, but I also think it could be absolutely crazy if they developed romantic feelings because those feelings would develop from some really unhealthy places for the most part.

I see Anya as someone who still holds some resentment towards Curly, but also sees herself in him and feels he doesn't deserve what happened to him. Maybe at one point seeing him go through something similar to what she went through might feel a little cathartic, but anything after that is too much to her. She is also his primary caretaker and a nurse, so she feels responsible for his wellbeing and wants to take care of him. She also seems to read and talk to him a lot, which probably feels nice because she can have some company while also being safe because Curly is not in a position to be able to hurt her. Anya doesn't exactly develop proper feelings for him per say, but she still uses him as a bit of an emotional crutch of sorts and becomes very attached to him because of it.

Meanwhile, Curly feels deeply guilty for not helping Anya and feels she deserves better. He believes she has no reason to care for him, but chooses to anyway, and thus he is extremely grateful towards her, possibly idolizing her to a certain degree. He slowly develops his own weird feelings, seeing himself as unworthy of her kindness and wanting the best for her, while also being dependent on her, even if it's in a more direct way.

They never get together or even realize that they themselves have feelings for each other since those feelings are #messy, but do form a weird codependent relationship of sorts. I've seen some cool fanart of Anya hugging/holding onto post-crash Curly, and it made me think about the potential this whole dynamic has and how unhealthy it could be, both for Anya and Curly. I believe they would not work out or be healthy (though probably better than Jazzy x Curly), but could be interesting narratively.

~~~~~~

Basically, what I'm trying to explain is that a lot of people don't ship certain Mouthwashing ships because they think it's good or want to romanticize it, but because it is narratively compelling and can explore complex dynamics more.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Words Collide

[First] Prev <--> Next

[ho-st]

cheater x reader

You saw him kissing the girl you were so worried about. The unnervingly pretty girl he told you not to worry about, the girl he always told you was just his friend. Your heart was wrenched open and you swear you could feel your blood pouring out of it, but despite all things he did you couldn’t find it in yourself not to love him.

The door opened with a click when you were downing a bottle of liquor, tears in your eyes as he rushed to your side in a hurry. And before he could say anything you cut him off.

“What did I do wrong?” you croaked. Your voice painfully strained to the point you could felt the pain in your throat “W-why do you do this to us?” And he finally clicked.

His hands fumbled for your waist, and you pushed him away. Your face contorted, sadness pooling on your features as you cried. “Why?” “Baby I-” “Why!” You were screaming by now, your body almost collapsing on itself as you shook, arms shakily wrapping around yourself to find some comfort. “ I loved you, I loved you faithfully, and you can’t do the same?”

He didn’t think that far ahead, he thought you’d never find out. He just wanted to feel like he wasn’t tied down, to reminisce about the days where you weren’t together. But only now does he realise how terrible that idea was, and how much he hurt you.

“Get out.” you mumbled, his hands tried to lift your face to his but you resisted. “Get out!” “F-fuck, how many years did I w-waste on you?”

----‐---------------------------------------------------------------

proper grammar?!?!?

[rosebridal]

narrative foil antagonism at its best

[cupcakeslushie]

I dont usually send asks, mostly cause im shy and don’t know what to say lol, but I wanted to share my appreciation for your Kendratello AU, cause it’s helped me recognize a toxic relationship in my own life.

I’ve never been a victim to SA or anything of the likes, so I can’t say I’ve been EXACTLY in Donnie’s place, but something that unsettled me early on when reading your AU was how…NICE Kendra would seem when alone with Donnie.

In a lot of media, especially in the media I saw growing up, the manipulative antagonist almost always had very obvious tells that show they’re evil when interacting with the victim. Maybe they’re talking about committing a very clearly villainous deed, keep the protagonist prisoner, something like that. But Kendra didn’t. Well, not always.

Kendra destroyed Donnie from the foundation up, and then rebuilt him back up to be who she wanted him to be, would punish him but then spin the situation around to be his own fault, but the rest of the time she would seem kind.

Only recently have I realized that someone very close to me has been toxic for most of our lives, and the reason it took me this long to realize it was because they would treat me kindly only until it became in their own interest to act otherwise. But I would take it, because I loved them and didn’t want to hurt their feelings, and I assumed that since they loved me, they wouldn’t ACTUALLY (emotionally) hurt me.

Spoiler alert: they did.

I’m not going to get much more into it, but your AU’s been very comforting to me ever since this happened, because it’s helping me come to terms with the fact that what happened wasn’t my fault just because our relationship seemed nice most of the time.

Your depiction of Kendra manipulating Donnie so realistically, and Donnie slowly but surely realizing that Kendra was hurting him is so powerful, and I thank you for that.

I’m so happy for you Anon 💚💚

It’s good to see these patterns, and depending on how toxic the relationship is, to speak up for yourself, or cut the person out, if they are unwilling to change.

Kindness is often a tool used by manipulators. But the biggest thing to ask yourself is exactly what you saw. Is this person only nice to me when they need something from me? And if so, then this isn’t real kindness. Good for you for knowing your worth!!

⚠️

sa related ask and discussions of very toxic relationships…

Personal experience rambling below. Toxic friendship and sa mention.

I’ll only be discussing this once, here, in this post. So I’m afraid if I get anyone asking for further info, I’m not going to reply /lh

I’m very sorry for what you’ve gone through. I hope you can find what you need to heal. Everyone’s traumas are so different, so please if you can, and haven’t already, speak to a professional that will give you help catered to you.

But I do want to immediately answer your question and say, yes, I have healed, for the most part. It took a lot of work and self-reflection that I didn’t want to do, because it was scary. But when I finally talked to someone, and realized I needed to take action in order to heal, that was when the process started.

For years, I thought my only options were to suffer in silence, and that what happened to me was my own fault, because towards the end, I was consenting. But I didn’t understand how my mindset and self worth had become so twisted.

My person (let’s call him J) was one of my best friends growing up. But as he got older, and more interested in…mature things, he changed. J would only ever agree to hang out together unless I offered to give him something to make it worth his while. Eventually I started to think these acts were all I was good for, as that’s all that made him happy to be around me. Pretty soon, J didn’t even have to push the ideas onto me. He only had to act uninterested or busy, and I would sit there and beg to do whatever he wanted.

The idea of rejection grew to be so painful and terrifying as he was one of only two friends that I had (the other being his sister. So if I lost one, I was so scared to lose the other). And I’d recently lost one of my closest childhood friends. Which he often used her cutting contact with us in his manipulations as well.

(It wasn’t until years later that she contacted me through Facebook and revealed that it was J that made her feel too uncomfortable, and as she already lived two hours away from us, and only visited once a year, it was just easier for her to cut off contact. I don’t blame her now, but without that knowledge, the thought that it was something I did, only helped J manipulate me.)

As I grew older, and I got better friends, I started to learn just how much I’d been pushed into only ever doing what he wanted, and how one sided of a relationship it was. He moved away, and that distance I was so scared of became a reality. But it was the best thing to ever happen. I still wonder what would’ve happened if he’d stayed in town. If we might’ve gotten married or if I would’ve finally stood up for myself. But all that matters is he is gone. There is always the danger of him coming home and me seeing him—we were neighbors, so his parents and mine still live right next door. Holidays can be kind of a high stress time lol.

That cafe comic is actually probably the most therapeutic piece out of the whole Kendratello AU I’ve done, as it’s always been a fear of mine that I could just turn around and he’d be in town visiting lol. Sending Kendra through that portal was highly cathartic. But even if that were to happen now, I have my coping skills, and I’m in a much better headspace. I think I would be able to handle myself.

I’m still a people pleaser, I don’t think that’s ever going to go away, even with all the work I’ve done. The biggest thing is, I know I’m worth more now. I can see real kindness, and catch the fake stuff much better by looking for those same toxic signs. The real friendships I’ve made have shown me what connection is truly like. It’s not a one-sided negotiation every time you get together. And if it is, then it’s probably not a healthy give and take. I’ve healed, but it is a constant effort.

Every new person sets off some kind of anxiety in the back of my head, but I don’t let that fear control how our relationship will develop. I’ve got the final say in what happens and what I get out of it.

[mayadoesfandomstuff]

Now with reading summaries of the podcast episode and watching some of the clips, it genuinely triggers my anxiety hearing about how Dream treated his friends and especially those who are more vulnerable than him (like Tommy being a teenager), especially since I experienced the same kind of thing with one of my ex toxic friend from about last year this time and it's so unnerving.

Tommy saying that he tried settling things privately, keeps getting empty apologies, and then for Dream to just keep doing what he was doing without changing anything really brought me back to my own conversations where I would basically almost beg her to reflect on how she's hurt me and her apologizing with a "I'm sorry you felt that way." and then continuing on to act the same way.

Tommy and Jack talking about how it was almost like he didn't understood what he did was wrong and it taking so much to explain things to him and in the end the whole thing not clicking, reminded me of long conversations I had with her trying to make her understand why she was being hurtful and still, at the end of it, still not agreeing with me on why her words were hurtful to a mutual friend.

Tommy questioning whether or not he's accurate on how badly dream treats him and only having very few people to vent to really hit hard and it brought me back to when I could only talk about how bad my ex friend was to me to only one person who wasn't trying to play devil's advocate for her. Someone who was also hurt and has also publicly expressed her disdain for her to the rest of the friend group and we honestly felt like conspiracy theorists half the time who couldn't speak about this publicly or outside our most inner circles (i.e. just us and maybe my family members).

There's so much of this that they talked about that I'm seeing disturbing parallels to me and that relationship and it does make me wonder if it was just a toxic friendship or outright emotional abuse or both or am I crazy or whatever because it's not like we had a large age gap and the only thing she may have over me was that she was physically abled while I was housebound and nearly isolated except with my family and online conversations with our same mutual friends and maybe she was lighter skinned and was actively colorist against me and my other friend that she also hurt but man, this is really making me think.

My heart goes out for Tommy and I do hope that he closes this chapter of his life and finds success in his new ventures and hoping that he never has to interact with Dream or his associates again.

[sugurouge]

— i sin too much to pray for you : togame jo x f!reader

alternatively: you asked for my heart, but i didn't know where to start

summary: on another lonely saturday night, an unexpected visitor shows up at your doorstep. amidst alcohol and regret, unresolved feelings cause for a turbulent mix of passion and heartbreak. facing the ghosts of a relationship that never fully ended

wordcount: 2.6k

content warnings! angst, smut, heartbreak, toxic relationship, praise, petnames, mentions of alcohol

a/n: never thought i would return to writing angsty filth. i also never thought i'd write it for togame, but i loved every minute of it. the weeknd's nothing compares played on repeat

Saturday. Saturdays are always such a drag. An entire day all to yourself, with barely anything to do. You already finished your assignments and chores during your loathsome Friday night. There’s hardly anyone texting or inviting you out, so what’s the point in having a day off without anything or anyone to keep you company.

You exhale a deep breath as you stare at the ceiling, the projector casting a movie to keep you occupied, while the cocktails in your bloodstream taint your vision and mind.

Reaching out to your phone, you see a message on the screen. It’s the same guy as always. He’s nice, sweet, and caring, but just… just not him.

“Hey, what are you up to tonight?” is the question blinding your eyes from the brightness of the screen. It elicits a hum from your lips as your brows furrow. What exactly are you up to?

“just watching a movie. you?” Sounds good enough to you.

Another message pops up shortly after, causing the ends of your lips to curl into a small smile. “Can I come over?” At least your night might be a bit more exciting.

It doesn’t take long before you hear the doorbell ring, indicating that your expected visitor has arrived.

You get up and fix your loose shirt, barely caring about the tease you are as your shape pushes against the fabric. Not like you'd let that bore in for anything other than a quick distraction. Your feet carry you over to the door, and you actually feel a sick sort of excitement. At least you’ll feel something again and a little bit of warmth will spread through your stoic body. 

Yet, you’re met with those charming, intensely green eyes. It’s almost like it used to be.

Togame looks up as soon as he hears the door unlock. One arm keeps him leaning against the frame while his eyes greet yours immediately. He’s confident in his memory of your height. If he knows one thing, it’s your body after all.

He’s clearly as intoxicated as you are; it shows in the way he holds eye contact instead of fleeing to his smartphone. It’s the soft smile teasing his lips and his undivided attention all directed towards you.

Yet the silence between the two of you is exactly like it used to be.

Your fingers curl around the hem of your shirt, fiddling with the loose fabric as you press your soft lips into a line, your shy gaze never leaving his curious eyes.

Jo exhales a deep breath he didn’t realise he was holding as he steps over the threshold of your apartment. Deft fingers carefully glide over your arms, along your neck, before he tilts your chin up to look at him once more.

He always holds your face a little stronger than necessary, squishing your cheeks to give you the most adorable pout while he leans in and brushes the tip of his nose against yours.

It’s a teasing game of catch, the way he breathes against your lips without closing the distance between entirely. Togame leaves a ghost of a kiss on the corner of your mouth and feels your fingers fisting the fabric of his shirt.

It rewards you with a lazy smirk.

𓍯𓂃

The two of you broke up a little while ago. At some point, it just stopped working out. Old, domestic habits became a bother, rituals were abandoned, and conversations left unspoken. Something simply fell apart without further explanation why. Your friends assured you that, with time, things would be fine. Your heart would feel lighter again, and your smile would be brighter than it used to be during your relationship.

But somehow you never made it to that stage. And neither did Togame.

The emptiness inside your bodies left you growing bitter and petty. Both of you went as far as refusing to acknowledge your ex-partner if you ever met on the streets, fixing your gaze on the asphalt instead of at least greeting one another. You both forced yourself to move on to flirting with new people, going on dates—pretending to be perfectly fine. Yet sadly you could never fool yourselves.

Not when you continued to moan his name whenever another guy brought you to your orgasm. Or when Togame refused to acknowledge the girl he was balls-deep inside, instead opting to hide his face in the curve of her neck, a scowl plastered on his features and eyes squeezed shut as he imagined it to be you.

Then, how did you end up here? 

𓍯𓂃

One lonely night you called him, alcohol-confidence bringing out that little fighter in you. Apparently, your intoxicated self knew better as you slurred words of hatred towards Jo. How tired you were of his behaviour, how childish he was treating the girl he pretended to love, how he failed you. The rant was nearly endless, he listened to it all while hurried steps brought him over to your apartment. Only the repetitive knocking on your door and his order to open forced you to stop.

And once he was finally standing in front of you, there was no fire left inside your body. Instead, water took over, tears you held back for weeks running free once he embraced you. Hugs turned into kisses, and kisses turned into demanding touches. Clothes were ripped off along the way to your bedroom, marks of his love painted on your skin. It became a habit. A toxic habit to call his name like he was still yours, but resume to ignoring each other in broad daylight.

𓍯𓂃

Tired of his teasing, you stand on your toes, your eyes staring into his challenging gaze before your lips finally meet his.

Togame kisses you like a man starved, hovering above you like he wants to squish you, his own chest pressed against yours as if he didn’t tease you before. He knows his way around the apartment, knows how to guide your body while continuing to push his tongue between your lips. Past the hallway and your roomie’s door, the living room, until you finally arrive at your own little haven.

You’re pushed against the closed door, a warm hand resting on the back of your neck while the other teases your outer thigh, effectively stealing a soft whimper between your shared kisses. Your smaller hands clutch onto his broad shoulders, desperate to keep him as close as possible. Togame withdraws his touch as he feels your need increase and immediately twists the door knob, causing your bodies to almost tumble inside your room.

He’s swift to rid himself of his shirt, jacket long abandoned in the hallway, to bless your hungry eyes with his broad built. Don’t stare at him too long or you’ll drool. 

At this point it becomes muscle memory: The moment Togame approaches you, your arms wrap around his neck like they always did as he picks you up to carry you over to your bed. He lays you down right next to the plushie he got you—the stupid bunny he won for you during a summer festival.

His lips attach to your neck, leaving trails along your throat and collarbone before he tugs off your shirt and exposes your full figure to his advances. It’s his favourite body in the entire world—only covered by panties now. Those awfully cute pink panties. He bites his inner cheek as he hungrily eyes your curves, a different warmth now heating up your figure as big hands roam delicately along your body. Following the shape of your chest, rib cage, and waist, and digging into your hips to pull you closer to his growing erection.

The feeling of your body against his makes his breath hitch slightly, yet he never stops planting wet kisses along your breasts. His moans are drowned by your soft skin before his hot tongue plays with your nipple, teeth grazing the sensitive area until you become a mess of whimpers, nimble fingers tugging at his roots like you always did when he gave you too much.

Togame’s kisses lead further down, one love mark after another running from your collarbone down to your sternum. You arch against him, your hips gently moving to feel his growing cock, cheekily applying further pressure on your pulsing slit until you can’t keep up with this teasing any longer. “Jo, please no more teasing, I need you in me,” you whimper beautifully against his dark hair.

You were always the one to say what was going on in his mind whenever he struggled to voice his thoughts. Just like now. How could he not oblige.

Togame refocuses his attention to your face, breathing you in with an open-mouthed kiss, his tongue easily winning dominance over yours while your nails run over his back, tickling his sides and exploring his abdomen to finally unbutton his trousers.

Yet you can’t shrug off the feeling of the unusual atmosphere that night. Togame doesn’t let you push him back, doesn’t let you take control but opts to undress you and him entirely. The familiar, playful game your intimacy once was is completely replaced by providing you with pure bliss.

Deep thrusts inside your fluttering walls reward Togame with praises to his name, your hands resting on his back with your delicate fingers digging crescent shapes into his muscles as he continues to pound into you without ever breaking eye contact. Your bodies have rarely been so much in sync as they are in this very moment. It’s frightening how he leans into your touches, how your moans complete each other’s shaky exhale and his eyes fill with a pained expression.

Togame’s brows furrow deeply as he dips down and lays his lips atop yours, swallowing the waves of your orgasm as he paints your walls white and grips tightly onto your bedsheets.

Nothing compares to the emptiness you both share.

He holds your body close, arms wrapped around your exhausted figure tightly as he whispers sweet nothings into the crown of your hair. The sounds of your soft breathing turn his heart mellow. His teeth bite into the inside of his lips, dragging along the flesh and digging deep as he refuses to accept he is about to cry. He guards your sleeping figure, soaks in the affection you show him while dreaming about sweeter things. Your calm expression makes you almost appear angelic, and how cute you are once you nuzzle closer against his body as he teases you with a cool blow of air.

Only a kiss to your forehead takes the soft smile off his lips a moment before he unwillingly exits your apartment. Attempting to finally make you let go of him, to have you move on and to move on himself as the unsettling feeling of the dead ‘us’ spreads inside his body.

Leaving you to wake up alone again. His cologne still lingers on your bed sheets, causing your half-asleep body to further hide beneath your pillows and blankets—drowning your sorrows and thoughts in the final remains of his comfort as you try to drift off to sleep like you did so many mornings when you let him back in.

𓍯𓂃

Your meetups ended after that night. Neither of you contacted the other person again. Your chat got pushed down by conversations with other people, and you never touched a drink ever again. Instead, you faced your dull life, going from your daily obligations to the library, a café or bookstore until you eventually bumped into one guy one too many times, you couldn’t help but accept his advances.

Which brings you to sharing a piece of cake with him in your favourite café. The hot tea warmths you with its deep aroma while you finally enjoy the way this new promise of love enriches your life.

Until the little bell of the doorway chimes. It tears your attention away from the man in front over to the tall guy entering the shop. His eyes meet yours in an instant, as if he is searching for you. Well, Togame is always looking for you wherever he goes, but doesn’t really expect to find you.

Yet here you are, in all your glory, sharing a table with that literature guy he saw around the streets more often than he likes to admit. It’s a macabre joke how fate only allows him to meet you once you’re on a date. Togame curses the universe as he tries to appear nonchalant, approaching the counter to order himself a hot tea to fight the cold autumn winds.

The repetitive chants of his inner voice try to remind him of his motives for coming to the café, grab a drink, head back out. Yet they are drowned by the view of your hand coming up to rest on another man’s arm. He can almost hear your sweet laugh ringing through his ears as his lips press into a thin line. But this is what he wanted.

Yes, he brought so much struggle into your life, he can’t allow himself to be jealous. Not now. He hurt you more often than he made you happy. And by now he can admit that you stopped being his priority. But gods, does it hurt to see you with someone else.

The voice of the barista falls on deaf ears. Togame struggles to breathe calmly as the air gets stuck in his constricting throat. He’s suffocating on his feelings, his eyes burning in their sockets. The repressed emotions he held inside threaten to spill in public, in front of twenty other people in the café—in front of you and your date.

“Excuse me!” The stern voice of the barista jolts his attention forward.

He mumbles apologies and hurriedly places the money on the counter, grabbing his order and fleeing out of the shop. His signature glasses a desperate measure to hide his faltering facade, eyes locked on the grey asphalt of the cold streets.

Moving on was exactly what he wished for you, wasn’t it? That’s why he said goodbye to you in the most comforting way he could come up with. He’s not the guy destined to make you happy. Not the best version of a human to pretend to have a claim on you. But it’s the mellow ring of his name falling from the lips he misses most that causes the tears to spill from his eyes.

When has Togame ever shown emotions like this? Crying like a little kid? Laughing from the top of his lungs? Yeah, that’s not really his style. It catches him off guard, making him feel pathetic, lost, and overwhelmed.

Nobody cares like you do. The expression you’re met with as soon as you catch up to him mirrors the pain inside your heart. Your face softens as you see the tears roll down his cheeks, his alluring eyes glazed with a layer of pain.

“Jo…” you whisper, afraid your own voice might fail you if you were to raise it.

You stand on your toes—like you always have when he struggled to close the distance between your bodies. Your arms snake around his neck to draw him further in and allow yourself to hide in the familiar shape of his neck. The rapid speed of his heart pulses against yours while he tries, again and again, to swallow the lump in his throat before his arms engulf you tightly, surrendering himself to you and his emotions as his fingers dig into your coat.

Togame decides at that very moment that he won’t ever let go of you again.

Until your little voice tears his heart right out of his chest. “I’m sorry, Jo, but… I’ve got to let you go. I just wanted to say thank you—” Your sniffs force you to stop talking for a moment, and he wishes he heard wrong. “Thank you for trying to love me.” This is your last farewell to the first man in your life.

A soft peck on his cheek seals his fate before he watches your retreating figure walk off with another man.

dividers by @/cafekitsune

[fascinationstreetmp3]

personally i think they can do 70s/80s devil's minion while keeping it so that modern dm still needs a ton of development to Work, because they both have to navigate their feelings now even if daniel gets his memories back. there's the layers of betrayal and resentment they both feel; the fact that they've been apart for decades and have gone through life since then being shaped separately; the circumstances of daniel's turning— theyre all things they still have to work through, with or without an extended history between them.

for daniel, just because he might remember what he felt back then, it doesn't mean he automatically feels the same because of it now. maybe it could even be that he doesn't remember everything all at once; only the cat and mouse game at the beginning of their relationship, or the hopelessness and ruin at the end of it, or the addiction, and for a long time that's all he can remember. maybe he remembers it all but he can't connect what he felt then to what he feels now. it doesn't have to be a switch that flips and suddenly brings back all his old feelings and erases everything else.

for armand, there's an aspect to it that he has to come to love this more experienced version of the boy he once knew, one who is extremely sharp and much better at seeing right through him, one who is not dependant on him or his blood, one who has utterly dismantled everything he was clinging onto for decades, and, now armand's turned daniel, one he can't read the mind of like he used to. even if some things have stayed the same, their entire dynamic has shifted from what was once familiar.

so, even though past dm could be an easy way to go "they were in love once so of course they'll fall in love again", i don't think that's what would happen. in my opinion them having a history would add to their present dynamic but things are so different now it's pretty much brand new territory for them going forward.

[inkblot22]

Give You Something To Cry About

Yay, my time management skills continue to be straight ass. Sorry to the anon who has waited so patiently for this, and thank you so much for giving me an excuse to write this depraved ball of snot. Headers by @/cafekitsune. Also don't believe everything you see on the internet, there's no scientific proof that certain things work for your skin. I think Vil would know that, considering.

This Fic Is For: Anyone who can handle it! Once again, I tried to make it as gn as possible, considering Rook's use of Franglais, but I'm delusional and will say I did exactly that. Reader is referred to with they/them pronouns, and no real allusions to specific body parts are made for them.

TW for DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT, forced dieting, non/dubcon, mentions of death, questionable use of magic, captivity, someone has a case of dacryphilia and a strong sadist streak, won't say who, Rook Hunt because he freaks me out, unhealthy relationship dynamics, abuse, forced BDSM if you squint, I feel so bad for the reader in this one, toxic relationships, possibly OOC characters.

“I am not going to tell you again, my love.” Vil bends down to get in your face, already wearing his ceremonial robe and heels. He points a finger in your face, like you’re a small child or a dog, “If you continue to pick at your skin, I am going to let Rook punish you this time.”

You swallow and look away, and Vil pinches your cheeks between his thumb and fingers, pulling your head so you’re looking at him again. His violet eyes bore into you, and you swallow again.

He looks offended, almost, “Well? Have you forgotten basic manners? Speak.”

Your voice sounds dry and weak, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

He seems satisfied enough with that, moving around as he continues to prepare for whatever school-wide assembly is happening today. He elegantly tucks his hair behind his ear and sighs, scrolling through some page on his phone.

You remain standing where you are, turning your head to look out the window. It’s so pretty outside, but you only get to leave this room whenever Rook is watching you or Vil sends you on an errand. It’s always spring, never too hot, never too cold, but you’re sweating anyway.

Vil approaches you again and tilts your face back so you’re looking at him with a hand on your cheek. His eyes narrow a fraction.

“Your skin doesn’t seem to like this foundation. Make sure you discard it today; I’ll get you a new one.” He bends down again, this time to press a chaste kiss to your lips. He rubs his own together after pulling away and smudges his thumb over your bottom lip, “Hmm. What lipgloss is this?”

Your voice doesn’t sound so dry, but it still doesn’t sound like you, “Uh… The dark red one with the metallic purple? ‘Electric Berry’?

He’s silent for a second, just staring down at your lips as he cups your chin, and then he sighs and turns away, “It’s sticky. I’d tell you to wash your face and reapply your makeup, but that’d be a waste. Make sure you put on lip balm next time.”

You swallow, “Yes, Vil. I understand.”

“I have to get going now. You’d better be at least halfway done with that list by the time I return.” He breezes towards the door and gives you a last, long look. He’s completely silent before he leaves, closing the door behind him.

Your palms ache. You stiltedly wander towards the list pinned in the closet, glad to see it’s not insane today. All you need to do is tidy the bathroom and skim through Vil’s mail to see if it’s anything but hate mail or advertisements. Tack on getting rid of that foundation and that’s it, at least until he returns at lunch.

You relished this time to yourself, even if it was just cleaning or whatever else. Vil always said that motion is good for you, a structure does the mind good. You didn’t care much anymore. As you sat down to search through his mail, finding nothing but the usual hate mail and what appears to be a poem from Rook (why did he even mail that? He’s not even down the hall from this room,) you catch yourself craving something sweet.

The diet Vil has you on sucks. He has assured you that your body is lovely, and he is having you eat like this to help clear your skin, but really you just want something. Anything, you’d even take a breath mint over this lack of junk food. You’re young, what young person doesn’t enjoy gratuitously unhealthy food? A basket of french fries? Ice cream? 

You frown to yourself and toss the last of the mail into the recycle bin. You know he’s just going to check it over again anyway, but at least you’re moving around. That’s what he would say.

By the time you’re almost done scrubbing the tub, you hear the door open. You don’t want to go greet him, so you pretend you didn’t hear anything and keep cleaning, making sure to disinfect the non-slip mat that resembles a bunch of ugly gems glued together. 

You hear him clicking towards you, and his hand rests on your shoulder, “Going above and beyond today? I have lunch, come eat.”

You school your expression and stand up, pulling off your cleaning gloves and hanging them on the rim of the tub before you follow Vil. He ensconces himself in his desk chair, leaving you to awkwardly lift the stool near his vanity. He hates it when you push the furniture.

He clucks his tongue, not even looking at you, “Lift with your knees, darling. As much as I’d love to massage your back if you pull something, I simply don’t have the time.”

You can’t help it. You shoot him the nastiest glare you can muster as you lift with your knees, right as his eyes flick up to meet yours. You nearly drop the chair as his lips curl into a cold smirk.

“Do you have something to say?”

You hastily shake your head, “No, Vil-”

“Then don’t allow me to see that expression on your face again.” He bites, “Come sit down.”

You put the stool down a little harder than you mean to and take a seat beside Vil at his desk. He passes you your nice little container containing one of several things he gets you- a pile of leafy greens and chopped veggies on a bed of quinoa, fresh fruit, and a murky green smoothie topped with chia seeds.

 You don’t like chia seeds. They remind you of frog eggs- a bunch of slimy lumps, sliding down your throat. You accept the straw Vil passes to you and stir the smoothie before eating in silence.

Vil doesn’t mind if you don’t thank him for feeding you. Since he’s keeping you here, it’s pretty much the least he could do. Still, it doesn’t make up for hearing about his boring day.

“This morning’s assembly was complete and utter chaos, as usual.” He muses, sipping his own smoothie. It’s a soft purple. “It’s ridiculous. Those brutes never wear their robes correctly.”

You don’t respond. There’s two reasons: first of all, you don’t care, and secondly, there’s a knock at the door. Vil hums, as though he’s been waiting for someone, and turns to face the door.

“Who is it?”

That boisterous voice you are so used to hearing echoes past the door, “‘Tis I, Roi du Poison. I have come to join you for lunch.”

You can hear the smile in Vil’s voice, “Oh, of course. Come in.”

As Rook walks in, you feel a stab of jealousy in your chest. He takes a breezy seat on the loveseat in front of Vil’s bed and glances at you. You break eye contact and dully pick at your salad.

Vil treats Rook so nicely. He considers his feelings and opinions, although he doesn’t always listen. He speaks to him as though he’s a person. You suppose Vil’s obvious care for Rook trickles down to you in some capacity, but it hurts. Vil claims that the two of you are lovers, but really you’re more like a doll.

“Do you mind meeting me in the lab later on, Rook?”

Rook chuckles from where he is and you cast another glance at him. His eyes meet yours, again, and you look away, again.

“I can always make time for you, beautiful Vil.”

You lamely pick at the fruit, having finished the salad, before you decide to save it for last. You take a sip of your smoothie after stirring it again and openly recoil, trying not to cough. You didn’t smell it, but there must be ginger in there, because there’s a mellow burn alongside the bitterness from the kale. It makes your eyes water and settles in behind your nose.

“Mmm. Something wrong?” Vil smiles at you.

You shake your head, blinking rapidly so you don’t start crying. There’s not enough tears to fall, but taking your chances is stupid, “No, Vil. The ginger just caught me off guard.”

“Oh. My apologies, I should have warned you. I don’t want you catching a cold, and you’ve been a little irregular. The smoothie also has spinach, kale, avocado, chia seeds, and, of course, a little mango.”

You nod and force yourself to smile, taking another sip and soldiering past the rush of that aromatic pain in your sinuses. “Oh, thank you.”

“You’re very welcome, darling.” Vil turns away from you to speak to Rook again, “What else did you have planned?”

“I thought I might take a walk. It is a wonderful day, non?” There’s a slight mocking tone to Rook’s voice, “Hardly the type of day to be cooped up all day, hmm?”

Vil furrows his eyebrows as you choke down the last of the smoothie. His voice is curt, “You can say what you mean.”

“Est-ce que je peux? You are not very open to suggestion.”

Vil narrows his eyes at Rook, taking a deep sip of his smoothie before he places it on the coaster sitting upon his desk. He uncrosses his long legs and stands, walking over to sit with Rook on the loveseat. Rook watches him approach with a smile, the same pleasant one he usually wears before he shoots you a beaming grin and turns to look at Vil.

Their conversation is hushed, and you can’t really make out all of what they say. You can hear someone say your name, Vil’s tone swiftly turns vitriolic, then sweetens once more, and Rook chuckles under his breath. When their little meeting is over, Vil walks back over and finishes his smoothie before petting your head like you’re some kind of cat.

His hand strokes the crown of your head, then smooths over your cheek, he cups your jaw and thumbs over the swell of your lip, all while staring at you with a look you cannot read. And then he tilts his head, and smiles.

“Make sure you thank Rook. And you mistook a letter from my father as garbage.”

“Yes, Vil.” You reply obediently, “Sorry, Vil.”

He smiles. Your palms ache, and you have to bite back the urge to move, to peel at your cuticles or scratch the sides of your fingers.

“I’ll see you in class, Rook.” Vil says politely before he tilts your face up and pecks you on the lips.

You’re left alone with Rook. He doesn’t get up, not yet. You remain where you are, looking at your slippers. You hear Rook stand up and discard his garbage. You can feel him come up to stand behind you. 

“Has today been particulièrement difficile? My poor dear… You seem so sad today.” His arms wrap around you, looping them around your shoulders so they warm your collarbones like a scarf and he can rest his cheek against the back of your head. You hear him take a deep breath in.

With Vil, you don’t even try to speak anymore. You know he won’t really listen to you, because he knows better than you… But with Rook, as long as you wait a moment to make sure he is done speaking, he welcomes and even encourages you to speak your mind.

Your breath hitches and you swallow, “Uh, I mean… I guess I’m just having a bad day. It’s really been the same as usual.”

“Hmm.” Rook hums, completely devoid of emotion. You feel him turn his face so his nose is buried in your hair. He presses a kiss against your hair and sighs, “Ah, yes, the monotony of life is très épuisant, mmm?”

You wait for a second, then deliberately don’t answer the question in favor of asking your own, “Um, he said I should thank you?”

“Perhaps you should ask why more clearly. I have convinced our very own Vil to allow me to arrange a surprise for you.” Rook removes himself from your back and turns you around to face him, “And thus, I believe I have earned a kiss from you.”

“Wait, what?” You don’t get time to really back away or tell him to explain, as Rook squishes your cheeks with one of his gloved hands until your lips part.

His grip isn’t as harsh as Vil’s, but this is still something that only happens when you’re in more trouble than usual, so you involuntarily wince and close your eyes, cowering away from Rook as he dips his tongue into your mouth and slithers it between your teeth.

It is very easy to like Rook. He is passionate, and he’s far more kind to you than your supposed lover is. He’s intelligent and has an adonis-like form, and if not for the taste of blood on his tongue from whatever he ate for lunch or the grip he has on your face, maybe you would enjoy this kiss. But the big issue is that Rook honestly frightens you a little.

It’s absolutely not his fault, not entirely. Upon first meeting him, it was hard to tell if he was being genuine. He’s difficult to read, as he is often wearing the same set of expressions and his tone is always a bit melodramatic.

His hand releases your face to clamp around the base of your head, his tongue twisting in your mouth, pressing against the crevices in your teeth.

Not only is Rook hard to read, he is also uncannily observant and will not hesitate to ask somewhat invasive questions about his observations. The fact that he dresses in a way that conceals his mass is also disconcerting, as you were unaware that he had such a build until you saw him roll up his sleeve one time. You were aware Vil could do a lot of damage, but that was the day you realized that Rook was capable of doing about as much as Vil, if not more.

He purrs into your mouth, the vibrations feeling oh-so-wrong, and his other hand clamps down on your shoulder. He sucks your tongue into his mouth. It’s not a good feeling, as he is literally stealing what little air is in your mouth. When you feel something feather light flutter against your lashes and cheek, you feel a bit confused for just a moment, not even a second, before you realize that Rook just blinked. His eyes are open. 

He pulls away and sighs, almost dreamily. You suppress your distressed sputtering, holding your breath as Rook stares at you.

“Ah, enough time has passed. I will need to leave you, mon lapin. Thank you for indulging me; your kiss was divine and tasted sweeter than the finest fruits!” He presses something into your palm and adjusts his hat before he casts you a wave and shuts the door.

You stand there, your lips drying out from the saliva left on them and your cheeks feeling a little odd from the way he was holding your face. You’re processing, because, ever as always, Rook is simulated spontaneity. So many things just happened, and you don’t… 

You blink a few times and look down at your aching palm stupidly. The crimson cellophane crinkles as you unclench your fist. He gave you a piece of candy.

Just looking at it makes you start crying. One second you’re staring wide-eyed at the little lump of sugar, and the next your vision is blurring and you’re crying off your makeup, plump tears cascading down your face. Your nose begins to run and you sniffle. You can’t find it in yourself to sob, because you’re mostly certain that these are happy tears. 

Unfortunately, you can’t eat the candy now. If you threw the wrapper away, Vil would notice it in the garbage and you’d get in trouble for “breaking your diet plan.” So you hide it in the very back corner of the drawer of Vil’s armoire. You’ll be tidying it on your own anyway, and Vil never reaches all the way into the back of it.

Once your tears have stopped, you stand up and go back to cleaning the bathroom. It’s spotless and smells like lavender and lemons about an hour before Vil gets back, so you decide to skim one of the books on the shelves. 

It’s not long before you’re bored with that as well. You carefully put the book back and wander over to the lattice window, staring out of it. The window, paired with your usual low mood, made you sort of feel like a bird in a very ornate cage. 

From where you are, about three stories up, you notice a familiar figure notching an arrow before he unnotches it and takes a knee. You blandly spectate as he fiddles with the bow.

Partway through him notching the arrow again, you see his hat tilt. He’s far away enough that you can’t see his eyes, but you can feel his stare. His gloved hand bends his brim and you jerk away from the window, only to bump into someone.

You don’t get to shriek, as a hand clamps over your mouth. It’s just Vil, but you don’t relax yet as he drags you towards the bed and deposits you there.

“How many times must I tell you to stay away from the window?”

He’s never once told you to stay away from the window. Not as far as you can recall, at least. Your lips tremble and you decide it’d be more wise to keep silent.

Vil glares down at you and you feel the rest of your body start to tremble. His lips curl into a displeased sneer, “You didn’t wash your face after crying?”

“N-no, Vil-”

“We do not stutter.” Vil hisses, bending to get in your face. He stares at you for a moment before standing straight again, “Speak up.”

You swallow and clench your hands into fists, “No… Vil. I… got rid of the foundation like you, um… asked me to. I wouldn’t have been able to redo-”

“Alright. Go wash your face.” Vil interrupts you again.

You jump up and rush into the bathroom, going through your skincare routine. You can feel Vil staring at you, your skin crawling under his gaze. As you rub moisturizer into your skin, Vil finally says something.

“Did Rook do something to you, darling?” His tone is soft, tentative.

You glance at him, blinking a few times. What does he mean by ‘something’? He did do something, but it wasn’t bad, or particularly different.

“Um… Not exactly.” You say, massaging your forehead.

“I see. What did he do?” 

You look down at the sink. You’re not saying anything about the candy. “Rook kissed me?”

“That should not be a question.” Vil says. You see him shake his head through your peripheral, “Would you like to change your clothes before I redo your makeup?”

You’d like to ask what he’s talking about, but instead, you look down at your clothing. You don’t have a proper Pomefiore uniform because you’re not a part of this dorm. You’re an interloper- or a caged bird.

You don’t know what to do here. You don’t want to say something wrong and unintentionally offend Vil. Your palms ache. You give him a confused look from where you are.

He doesn’t look impressed, but before he can say anything about you gaping at him, you speak up, “What… am I supposed to do?”

You’ve only seen Vil surprised a few times. He raises his eyebrows and looks at you as though you’ve grown two heads, then sighs, “Well, I suppose I’d like to see you in something else. I’ll choose your outfit.”

That’s nothing new, he always does that. You wait in the bathroom for him to return. He strolls back in with a mockery of the Pomefiore uniform. There’s a deep purple cloak and capelet, which Vil drapes on the bed before handing you the actual clothes. It’s a very ruffled dress shirt, the long, puffy sleeves cinched into more ruffles at the wrist paired with a pair of black bloomer-style shorts. The buttons are all white and gold, marbled together. 

Vil leaves the bathroom and you change, neatly tucking your previous clothing away in the hamper. When you leave, as usual, Vil picks at your clothing, making sure it looks as good on you as he pleases, and then he steers you to sit down.

For however vicious he can be, Vil can be oddly gentle. For every time he grabs you roughly, his touch is feather-light ten more times. He hums a soft tune as he puts light makeup on you, just your eyes and lips, and then he drapes the cloak around your shoulders and places his hands on his hips.

“You look lovely. Go put on the pair of gold boots with the black decals.”

You do as told. He very likely wants to just take pictures of you or something so he can ask that Mira app about it.

Except when you stop in front of him, he doesn’t tell you to go sit in the loveseat or on the table near his window, no, he scoops you up and presses his forehead against your jaw.

“Oh, when did you put on this cologne? What a ravishing smell on you.” He presses a kiss on the column of your throat and breezes out of his dorm room's door.

Almost immediately, you go limp in his arms, like a doll. He never gave you explicit verbal permission to leave this room, so the curse he placed on you when he decided you should be his smashes into you like a giant wave at the beach.

Vil carries you all the way outside and looks at your face, then happily struts along the path behind the dorm. Since you can’t turn your head, you can only go off of the view of Vil’s neck and chin, the sky, and whatever you can hear.

“Ah, I am glad to see you did not change your mind, Roi du Poison. J'aurais été très déçue et triste pour notre chéri.” You hear Rook say. 

You can almost feel Vil get a mite warmer, “Yes, well. Hand me the basket. Since you want to make out with them and make them cry, you get to carry them as an apology.”

Rook happily scoops you out of Vil’s arms, giving you a cloying look as he strolls along. He and Vil chat as they walk, something not really worth listening in on, just boring musings about class and “this teacher did x” or “that student did y”. An insect lands on your cheek and you are incapable of batting it away or expressing your discomfort. Its legs tickle the peach fuzz on your face and you remain still, like a corpse.

Rook slides you into a seated position, posing you like a toy before shooing the bug off of your face. Now you can see that you’re in a clearing in the woods, seated on a picnic blanket. There’s a few lanterns staked into the ground, and Rook and Vil are busy with whatever is on the floor. You can’t look down, so your best guess is that it’s a picnic.

Vil leans over and snaps in your face, smiling kindly at you, “Now. If I release you, you are not going to run. You are not going to so much as consider running. We are going to have a nice picnic with no shenanigans from you.”

You can’t nod, so you just stare at him, trying to telepathically communicate.

He looks pleased enough, “Wonderful. I give you permission to leave our room.”

Your muscles relax and you look back, finding that you’re leaned against a log. The picnic spread is very nice, as well. It looks like finger sandwiches. You’re not expecting to get to eat one, as you haven’t had bread since Vil switched up your diet. Vil passes something to you.

“Oh.” You mumble, staring at the plate Vil hands you. 

It’s a sandwich. A very wonderful looking sandwich, cut into triangles and with the crusts still on. You blink at it a few times and look back up at Vil.

“Don’t expect this to be a pattern. This is a treat for good behavior.”

You look back down, “Yes, Vil.”

“There’s no need to remind them. They’re being obedient.” Rook’s voice is more firm than you expected to hear him ever speak. Usually his tone is buoyant, and you’ve never seen him outright pick a fight with Vil like this.

“Please. You give anyone an inch, they’ll take a mile.” Vil cuts back, then turns to you and pets your head like a dog or a cat again, “Eat your food, beautiful.”

You take a bite. Bread is just as good as you remember it. The air feels thick, like you’re in a bubble as Vil and Rook communicate through eye contact alone. Before you know it, your sandwich is gone and your hands are covered in crumbs. Rook, still staring at Vil with that happy little smile, wipes your hands and places a glass in your hands. Whatever is in it smells sweet. You take a tentative sip.

Were it Vil, you would have never drank whatever this is. It kind of tastes like a mellow mixed berry juice. It’s very pleasant, actually. Better than the potion Vil used to lace your food and drinks with. You smile into the cup and Vil snatches it from you.

He takes a sip and frowns, handing it back, “Mmm. I have an even better surprise.”

Rook pulls your legs into his lap and gently kneads your calves as you watch Vil rifle through the picnic basket. What is happening? You sip your juice and Vil produces a triangular container. He places a fork on top and hands it to you.

You finish the last of your juice and accept the box, looking conspiratorially at Rook. Something you can’t put your finger on dances in his eyes and he digs his thumb into your shin a little strongly. You flinch and cautiously open the box. It’s a piece of fluffy white cake, with even fluffier meringue and an uncannily perfect cherry wedged into it.

You look at Vil, expecting some kind of trick. Not that he’s ever done that before, usually he’d just take it from you or make some snide comment, things like that, but he and Rook are acting really strange today, 

“I know how much you long for junk food, so I spent some time after club activities today whipping up some angel food cake. It’s got agave instead of sugar so it won’t completely break your diet and your skin won’t suffer as much.”

Yeah, this is weird. The cake is good, though, it’s fluffy and sweet. You pace your bites so that Vil won’t make a comment and you can savor this. You can feel both of their eyes on you and it makes your skin crawl.

You lower the cake box and look at Vil, who looks a bit offended for just a second. The fleeting expression is replaced by a pleased little grin, the mauve lipstick making the curve of his lips all the more sinister in the dimming light.

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, Vil.” You glance at the cake and then back at him, “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m a little confused.”

“Why?” Rook asks.

Your shoulders jerk as you turn your head to look at him. You weren’t expecting him to say anything. His chest swells in what appears to be a suppressed chuckle as he squeezes your knee. It seems his hands have climbed.

“Uh…” You swallow, “This is just… not what I’m used to.”

“The cake?” Vil looks hurt. Why does he look hurt?

You shake your head rapidly, “No! Oh- No, Vil. I… It’s just been so long since I’ve been out here…”

“Do you want to go inside, chéri?” Rook murmurs.

You do, but you also don’t really want to risk sounding ungrateful. Being outside has stressed you out more than you’d like to admit. You’re not really sure what to do because Vil has you trained like a dog, and none of what he’s hammered into you involves picnics. You’re scared.

Rooks eyes narrow as you just stare at him. Your chest hurts from how hard your heart is throbbing, and on the other side of you, Vil sighs.

“Well, I’ll start cleaning up, then. When we get back, I expect you to take a seat on the bed.”

That sounds like what happens every time you get in trouble. A terror shudders through you and your eyes water a bit as you gnaw on your lip. Your palms ache as you fight to keep from picking at your cuticles. Vil packs up everything and Rook offers you a princely hand to help you up.

You can feel the calluses on his hands through his gloves as he essentially lifts you to your feet. You keep between Rook and Vil as you walk back to the dorm.

It’s quiet, since everyone else is winding down for bed. For a moment, you think you spot Epel, but you’re not sure. It doesn’t matter anyway. None of your old friends talk to you anymore. Not since Vil started having eyes for you.

Just as you were told, after taking off your boots you take a seat on the bed and retrieve the silver ruler from the side-table’s drawer. You place it beside you as you look down at your feet. You look down at the streaky bruises on the lighter skin on your palms and try not to start crying. It’s always worse when you cry.

He adds smacks by twos. Depending on what you did, you start with four or six, and then any time you flinch or pull away or make a loud noise, he adds two more. Last time, you spilled one of his nail polishes, and after watching you clean it up, you ended up getting ten lashes.

At least Rook didn’t do it then. He tries to make it quick but that just makes it hurt more. A tear slips down your cheek.

You don’t even know what you did. You tap the tear track dry with one fingertip and Vil and Rook fully enter the room.

“Why is the ruler out?” Vil asks, and then his voice goes sharp, “Are you crying?”

“I’m… I’m sorry, Vil.” You sob.

“I don’t know why.” He grabs the ruler and shoves it away before you can raise your hands, “Go wash your face.”

You stand up and shakily do as told, returning to sit on the bed. Vil goes into the bathroom after you and Rook takes a seat next to you, his hand on your shoulder.

He smiles at you, rubbing your shoulder, “You are très précieux, chéri.”

You look at him in a state of hollow bewilderment as he brushes his cheek against yours and presses a soft kiss to the shell of your ear.

You hear the bathroom door close and a tired sigh from Vil, “Do you have no patience?”

Your head jerks to look at VIl, “Rook is…?”

“Yes, he’s joining us tonight.” Vil plucks the loop of his sleeve from his middle finger and loosens his belt. You get the feeling that the next words he says aren’t for you, “Well, go ahead.”

You feel Rook’s chuckle more than you hear it. With his lips against your neck, his hands begin to slide. The hand on your shoulder rests on the nape of your neck and his other hand slides down to your thigh, then up to your waist. You try not to cringe against his touch, but it’s difficult.

His hand slides down again as he trails his teeth against the back of your ear. His thumb hooks in your pants and starts yanking them down. You outright flinch.

“Wait-”

“Relax, darling.” Vil mumbles, hanging his clothing in the armoire.

You try. You absolutely try. Rook throws your bloomers aside and rests his hand on your lower belly for a moment. He sighs into your ear and reaches up to unclasp your buttons.

You feel stiff. You want to push him away but you can’t move. It’s as though your body is frozen. It’s not due to a curse, so the only possible solution is that you’re quite literally scared stiff. 

He pulls away your shirt and glances at Vil, “Are you prepared?”

“Please.” You can hear the smile on Vil’s lips as Rook turns back and kisses you again, his hand smoothing along your collarbone and shoulders.

Your underwear is the next to go. Of course it is. You fight to keep from breathing oddly, because you’re aware that if you pass out, Vil will get annoyed.

“Mmm.” The devil’s hand glides up your back and you fight back a shudder as Rook leans you backwards into his arms. “How are you feeling, darling?”

You’re honest, “I’m scared.”

“I thought you would say that.” Vil freely manhandles you, shifting you so you’re leaned chest to chest. He slides something off of the side table and passes it behind you, then cups your cheek, “You would save a lot of time and stress if you’d just learn to trust me.”

“I…” You hate him. You hate him so much. He keeps you here like a pet, and you don’t know how he’s supposed to expect you to treat him like a lover when he treats you the way he does. 

Before you can articulate an answer that pleases Vil, a wicked burn besets your sphincter and you clench your jaw. 

Vil’s voice is sharp, “Rook, please.”

You hear Rook make a noise underneath the harsh sound of blood rushing in your ears and your own heavy panting. Something cool oozes around the ring of your ass and you press your face against Vil’s chest. His robe is lazily tied, which is not particularly like him, and you can see his cock poking out where the fabric separates. You let out a strangled noise and Vil shushes you, rubbing your back soothingly.

“Relax. I know, you weren’t prepared. Relax.” Vil soothes.

“I don’t mind if you remain tense, chéri. Mon plaisir n'en est que plus grand. And your little cries and whimpers sont terriblement mignons.” Rook mumbles behind you.

Rook is better than Vil in most areas, but once he gets his dick inside of you, it’s as though he forgets to be caring and kind. The tables flip, with Vil acting the part of a caring lover and Rook becoming a sadistic bully. You let out a ragged sob as Rook rolls his hips and Vil hisses something that you don’t quite catch.

It almost sounded like he was telling Rook to slow down. That very well could have been the case, as Rook eases back a bit and only shallowly thrusts.

Vil continues petting you, coaxing you so your cheek is pressed against his thigh. He is always a perfect warm. He is always perfect, so it sort of makes sense, but his skin is a pleasant temperature. He feels alive, a perfectly human temperature that tells you he’s breathing and his heart is beating. As he fingers through your hair, Rook gives a harsher than usual thrust and you cry out.

“Rook, if you’re impatient then you’re going to hurt them, and neither of us have the time to take care of them all day.” Vil chides, and then his tone softens as he rubs the space between your shoulders, “Are you ready for me as well, darling?” “What…?” You ask, blearily. Somewhere in the back of your awareness, you know what he wants, but you can feel Rook’s thrusts growing impatient and seeing as you weren’t given any prep, you’re in a bit too much shock to think straight.

“Mmm… You’re awfully cute but I need you to be a bit more lucid.” Vil snaps in your ear and resumes his petting, “This isn’t the first time, sweetheart. I’m not going to hold your hand.”

The soft tip of his member spreads his pre like lipgloss against your lips. As you shakily open your mouth, you figure you’re lucky that Vil doesn’t have a chaotic, unhealthy diet like Leona or Ace, that he doesn’t drink coffee for fun or often like Deuce does. The taste of his skin is lightly floral and dominantly human, likely thanks to the body lotion he applies daily. 

He hisses and presses against your forehead, “Ah-ah. You’re taking enough from Rook. Just the tip for me is fine.”

From behind, you hear Rook grumble under his breath, “Je n'en peux plus de cette merde…”

“Watch your- unf- watch your language, Rook.” Vil snarls, massaging the nape of your neck as you carefully lave your tongue over his glans.

Rook’s patience breaks, his hands clamping down on your waist, just above your hips. You have the sense to pull Vil’s cock out of your mouth as Rook begins battering into you.

As much as you feel okay about Rook, he is not a doting lover by nature. He’s mean and brutal, chasing his climax, and only after he cums does he bother to think about you or your needs. Your palms ache as you grab Vil’s member and gently tug on it. Vil flinches and snaps at you to get your attention.

You look to the side and for a second, as the pain ebbs, you assume you’re having an out of body experience, and then you realize that you’re staring into his vanity mirror. Rook’s hair exaggeratedly sways with his motion. He removed his hat but just haphazardly displaced the rest of his clothing. He’s not smiling, he’s making some sort of smug expression.

It’s funny. As Vil is satisfied with you weakly jerking him off, his touch gentle, Rook is wild on your other end. Every time you just barely begin to relax, he thrusts harder, which makes you tense and a spike of pain batters through you. 

You endure as best you can. You endure every day, enduring through eating the same unfulfilling food, enduring through walking on eggshells around Vil, enduring getting your palms beaten to hell for the most human of errors, so what’s getting sodomized in the face of everything else you can handle?

You bite back a shriek as a harsh pinch on your bottom, followed by a smack administered by Rook. He leans down and blows in your ear, snickering as he leans back, “I thought you had given up the ghost for a second there.”

Vil sucks in a breath and you quietly mumble against his thigh.

“Hmm? I didn’t hear you, mon chou.” Rook’s voice is almost mocking, like before.

“P-please… Rook, I can’t-”

“You can. You’ll live.” He grunts, the steady clap of your ass against his body punctuating his statement.

“It hurts.” You sniffle. You’re not particularly prone to crying, but, then again, Rook and Vil usually prepare you before deciding to fuck your ass.

You sob and Rook’s grasp tightens on your waist, a ragged moan punching out of his chest. He pulls your body flush to his and jerks his hips into you, drilling a bit harder for all of four or five thrusts. And then he’s no longer on you, and you feel your body getting shifted so your head is still in Vil’s lap but you’re lying prone.

You tilt Vil’s dick down to massage the head with your tongue and something warm drips on your back. You hear a noise of disgust from Vil, capped by a quiet moan.

“Absolutely not. All three of us are getting in the tub if you don’t clean that up right now.”

Rook chuckles and coos, “Hmm, but it looks so lovely. My alabaster essence creates a wonderful contrast with their soft and supple skin.”

A flush of humiliation crawls up the back of your neck and you hide your face against Vil’s belly, using your own arm to hide the other half. Vil shudders as he pushes your head down a bit, but his voice sounds incredulous.

“That’s vile. It doesn’t have any proven health benefits, you know that.”

You felt Rook’s hands spreading his semen into the skin on your back and your palms ache as Vil cums in your mouth. He doesn’t do that often, so it hits you like a shock.

You gag but force it down and Vil shoots up, fretting over you.

“Did you just swallow that?” He bends down to look into your eyes.

“Yes, Vil.”

“You didn’t need to do that.” Vil snips, sounding much harsher than he might intend, “I’m going to run us a bath, alright, darling? I’ll make sure you can brush that icky stuff out of your mouth.”

It didn’t taste bad. Vil usually cums on your face as an incentive for you to wash your face very well after a day of wearing makeup, or he has you jerk him off until he cums, but the few other times you did taste it, it was the same as this time. It was mostly salty, not too bitter, likely from his good diet. Regardless, he breezes away and Rook gives your bottom a light tap. You stand up and glance at Rook, who is looking a bit disheveled but pretty pleased with himself.

“How are you feeling, cheri?”

“That hurt.” Your voice is quiet, and your throat is still lined with tears.

“Does it still hurt?” He smiles and tilts his head.

The sound of the tub running is thunderous even where you are. Vil would never tolerate you complaining, but Rook is amicable, “A little.”

“The bath will do you good, then. Come.”

You let Rook guide you into the bathroom, his hand on your elbow. As he undresses and joins Vil on the edge of the tub, you look down at your bruised hands and glance at the slowly closing bathroom door, then at Rook and Vil where they stand near the tub.

You can’t say you prefer either of them, really, but you don't get an opinion. Do dolls at tea parties get to ask for a different kind of tea?

[howlsofbloodhounds]

biggest fear is that one day the fandom will move from having killer simping for nightmares abuse to having him absolutely hate nightmare and want to kill him and sexualize that too

[mikeru6]

im the jalpha im the leader im the one to trust

[it’s currently 2 am, final exams are in 5 hours]

[sera8273]

“I see now why you were so adamant into freeing your mortal now.” He joked as he smushed more insects in his hand.

When Athena practically promised that her Mortal would make everyone bleed he didn’t at all think that it would also, literally, include everyone.

Said Goddess was currently choking on those bugs of hers in her Talon whist shaking like she was having a nother seizure. Trying to stop any other laughs that hurted her so.

A gurgle of anger caught his attention as he stared in amusement at his now bandaged-up-like-a-mummy uncle.

“Shut….your….fucking…mouth….” He hoarsely replied when one of his tentacles twitched uncomfortably as he coughed up more blood.

Just like Athena, who became her more Owl like form and acted more like one with talons, feathers, and more beak like mouth. Poseidon was more sea creature like. Tentacles, fins for ears, gills for hands, and he was glowing.

A smack on the Sea God head made him stare directly into glowing yellow and irritated eyes.

“Fates above Uncle, when I say to not talk I mean it! That mortal did more damage than we all have realized. One more strike and he would’ve pierced through your skin-“

“Like a fish kabob!” A certain messenger piped in resulting in more laughter from the War God.

“Or worse, your heart and skull would’ve smashed open! Now drink!” Apollo finished hastily as he placed a mint-green and blue potion in the unwilling lips of his Uncle. Not at all caring if he choked on it or not.

“And to think that my own bloodline did that to you.” A chuckle escaped from Hermes who looked at his two other siblings. His eyes turned to pity as he saw his dear sister eyes twitch while her smile looked crooked, forced, and lopsided. Shaking his head, he stared at the War God who was feeding, or trying too atleast, feed their dear sister smashed insects, the only thing she could stomach at the moment. “As much as I despise you with every bone in my body, that was amazing darhling!”

Ares let out a ‘tched’ at that. “He had a lot- and I mean a lot of pent of rage mixed with guilt built up in him. I just gave him one final tipping point for it to break.” His eyes wandered to his bandaged uncle who coughed weakly. Another chuckle escaped from him. “I was not at all expecting for Athena’s Mortal to do that to him however.”

“I have never seen that much loyalty in one singular human before, and that’s saying something.” A certain peacock piped in while sipping at her wine. She was standing in a corner watching both Poseidon and Athena. Mostly the latter however. “And to do this for said loyalty, now that’s a deal.”

“Hah! I heard that he broke off Circe’s spell because he thought of his wife! No wonder Ody got pissed off when Uncle over here said that he would never see them ever again!” Hermes, now with a bag of popcorn, Hermes looked over to his uncle again. Rolling his eyes as Poseidon groaned in pain once again. “I still don’t get how he managed to even hurt you, more or less make you of all Gods bleed red.”

Said God let out a shaky pained filled laugh. “Don’t….fucking….start….with me…..” more blood flowed from his mouth. “He used…my own fucking- ack! Weapon….of all things!” Apollo stared at him with disregard as he turned to his siblings. “From what I’m able to gather. Our dear Athena was able to bleed red because she showed emotions:remorse, guilt, teasing, anger, and will power. Our Uncle also showed emotions, however, not ones that Athena got;Pain, Fear, a taste of his own medicine.”

Poseidon groaned once again in annoyance as Hera and Hermes laughed. Apollo shared a smile with them.

Ares watched and then commented - “Heh, now we just need to try that on dear old Father.”

[toddtakefive]

breaking my silence: i think a lot of anderperry angst mischaracterizes them so badly it’s impossible to take seriously or enjoy. neil in particular is almost always made into some raging asshole for… some reason? and it makes him so unrecognizable it’s almost insulting to his character

[bumblingbabooshka]

Tuvok & Janeway being normal close friends pre-delta quadrant but becoming irreparably inseparable over the course of their time on Voyager is actually a very funny alternative to them having been besties. Before the horrors they were close but now in the delta quadrant all their neuroses are coming out and new, worse neuroses are being added every day. Janeway's trying to kill herself in increasingly spectacular bouts of heroic sacrifice and Tuvok's too busy proving that he knows her best/will always be by her side to effectively stop her. And for that? He's her best and dearest friend and can have the honor of being the only one to die by her side [which he willingly asks permission to do, btw] ♥