#poor reader :(((

[mothwingwritings]

Can we have Ren/Fox (TPOF) and Mc with a child?Long after Fox decided to stay with MC, they both had a daughter (probably not something with consent and a bit of Stockholm syndrome).The daughter asks her mother how she got the scars and this makes MC have memories of post-traumatic stress.

I was so tickled by this ask that I started manically typing out a response for it nearly as soon as I saw it in my ask box (which at this point, was quite some time ago. Forgive me, I am a mess lul). I wrote the whole damn thing in a fit of passion, excited to release it into the world… But ultimately hated it and thought it was garbo, so I scrapped it and tried again. Wrote a second iteration and thought ‘hell yeah, this is it!!! Sick!’, but then I read it AND HATED THAT ONE TOO AAAHHH!!!

I rewrote this… so much…

But I never give up on my dreams, and you shouldn’t either! Persevere! Don’t give up on yourself! Here’s your daily motivation for the day! Keep writing even it makes you cry!!! :D

Anyway, so I wrote this third one, comprised of new stuff and the stuff I actually did like from the first two stabs, and it ended up being the one. Truly it is a Frankenstein of a fic lol. Regardless of all the reworking, I had a lot of fun writing this and enjoyed the prompt very much!!! I I hope you enjoy reading it just as much. :)

I’m sorry if the writing seems a tad too mature for the reader’s daughter in this, writing children isn’t my forte. ^^;

Due to the nature of this fic, IT IS 18+ ONLY!!! Thank you!

WARNINGS: Incessant mentions of abuse of all kinds for reader and mentions of physical abuse for her child!!! Reader is heavily scarred from said abuse and that’s a main theme in this fic so please avoid if that is upsetting to you. Also, though not the main focus, there are multiple mentions of child abuse in this fic, as well a part where reader goes off verbally on her child, so please be mindful of that as well! Other things of note: reader is a parent in this (which you can probably tell by the prev warning lol), reader getting hurt, blood, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, being held against your will/isolation, mentions of noncon, sad family stuff :(

Diminishing rays of afternoon light splayed through the open window of your quaint living room, casting a comforting orange glow over everything they touched. The light gave the environment an ethereal and nostalgic feel, wrapping you in peaceful warmth as the sun sunk lower and lower. The loveseat you occupied was plush and inviting, and a mug of your favorite tea stood at the ready on the small coffee table beside you, steadily cooling with help from the last hurrah of winter blowing in gently from the outside. Besides the slight chill, the wind brought with it the heavy scent of freshly bloomed flowers, a delightful precursor to the oncoming spring.

Relishing the rare moment of serenity, you couldn’t help but wish that all your days could be this lovely.

You smiled down at your daughter who sat perched in your lap, happily flipping through the newest gift she had acquired from her Father- a thick picture book full of bright illustrations highlighting various exotic animals. As it lay sprawled across her tiny lap, her chubby finger pointed out each animal she took an interest in, her high pitched voice chirping away as she explained what she liked about the creatures. She got particularly excited when she spotted the page full of foxes, jabbing at the red one feverishly as she exclaimed “its daddy!”

Spotting the foxes began her down a path of assigning an animal to not just herself, but you as well. She didn’t find it fair that only her father had kin in the animal world, even though you pointed out that she technically did as well by sharing half the man’s blood. Your revelation did little to deter her, she wanted something new, something just for herself, and she wasn’t going to stop until she found her perfect soul animal. So she continued on, scanning each page in earnest until she found a creature that suited her.

She ended up picking a bunny for herself, supplying you with a comprehensive reason as to why she chose it. As she explained in great length, skimping no details, you couldn’t help but hold back laughter. She spoke as if she were a professor teaching a class, and you did your best to keep a straight face as she yammered on with her shoddy reasoning, deep down knowing she only picked a rabbit because of how cute they are.

After she was done waxing poetic about bunnies, she continued scouring the book, coming to a halt once she reached the wild cat section. She stopped with a gasp, beaming up at you as she pressed her finger firmly against one of the images on the page.

“Mommy this one is you!”

Your eyes traveled to the picture she was rapidly tapping, “An African Wildcat, huh?” You smirked down at the little girl in amusement, “Why did you pick that one for me?”

“Because it looks just like you!”

You chuckled at her enthusiasm, “It looks like me? How so?”

“It has marks just like you do!”

Her innocuous words sent a chill up your spine. Eying the stripes that crossed the cat’s legs, you felt a great unease begin to overtake your body. Her reasoning was not lost on you, the cats coat did quite resemble the jagged scars that covered nearly every inch of your body, and just like the feline in her book, your limbs were the most prominent location of said ‘markings’. You quickly shook your head, not wanting to dwell on it further. In hopes of moving on from the subject, the outpouring of words that flew from your mouth were jumbled and messy.

“O-oh, I see,” you stuttered, clearing your throat to steady your voice, “well you certainly picked a cute animal for me! Thank you baby, it was a good choice.”

She smiled at you innocently, a gesture that usually made your heart melt with affection. But as her tiny hands moved from the book to your arms, that smile did nothing but fill you with dread, the realization that you wouldn’t be getting out of this sticky situation hitting you like a brick to the face. 

“Yeah mommy, the kitty’s marks are just like these ones,” her stubby fingers gently traced the old wounds, a look of reverence reflected on her cherubic features. “They make you look like that kitty mommy,” her little voice cooed, “I like them a lot!”

Your muscles constricted at her words, a slight tremor coursing through you as you involuntarily tightened your grip on her. She took note of this, looking up at your strained features with a puzzled expression on her face.

“Don’t be sad mommy,” she spoke assuredly, “I really do like them! I think they are pretty!”

Her words burned you, scorching the inside of your frozen shell of a body, leaving you feeling sickly and discombobulated. The room around you started to spin in a hazy blur, a wave of nausea making you nearly wretch. Your breathing grew erratic as you tried to calm yourself, inwardly repeating that your daughter was just a child, a little girl barely four years of age who had an incredibly limited view of the world. Her words were not meant to upset you. Her opinions were coming from a place of total naivety.

Yet still, the mental assurance did little to help with the extremely uncomfortable position you now founds yourself in. It wasn’t as if this was her first time noticing your scars. She had mentioned them before, her curious mind trying to piece together the reason that her arms appeared different from your own. Each time she brought your old wounds up you couldn’t help but feel flustered, responding with weak explanations and misdirection to try and quickly brush off her questioning.

The marks came from a silly mistake, or a childhood accident, or from a careless moment when mommy should have been paying more attention. It was always excuses on repeat. How many lies had you told her on this topic alone?

But even if they were lies, it beat telling her the truth. You didn’t want to have to explain where the scars on your body actually came from to anyone, let alone a child, and especially not to your own daughter. How could you possibly word it gently, or in a way that she would understand, when you barely understood why you had them yourself? How could you look her in the eye and tell her that these markings were a permanent sign that you had been very, very hurt and that it was her own fathers hands that inflicted the pain?

Reliving the horrific moments that left your body in such a state was overwhelming enough on its own, but to also have to lay bare her father’s sins, relay to her the unsavory proclivities of a man who she idolized and adored, was not something you were keen on doing.

She didn’t know her daddy like you knew him. She was ignorant to the constant state of concern you lived in, unaware of the worries that plagued your mind and kept you up each night. All the troubles of the hell she had been born into were completely lost on the small, carefree girl.

But honestly that was for the best. You had made an unspoken promise the moment she entered your life that you would protect her no matter what. From the day of her birth onward it became your mission to keep her as happy and healthy as possible.

Ren had broken you, but she did not have to suffer the same fate.

At this point in her life, your daughter knew nothing of her daddy’s profession or ‘hobbies’, and you wanted it to remain that way for as long as possible, if not for the rest of her life. You dreaded each time Ren came home from an auction, terrified he may let casually slip too many details about his ‘lively client’ or that he would carelessly step through the door with the stains of his liaisons still littering his clothes. Your daughter was at an age where she was brimming with questions, and she was relentless in getting answers to each question she asked. Everything had to be explained in complete detail for her to be satisfied, drop the subject, and move on. She was a smart little thing, possibly too smart for her own good. You highly doubted a silly joke or wave of the hand would assuage her whirring mind should Ren grow too impetuous in her presence.

And should her questioning become too pesky, you fretted over what Ren’s reaction to it may be. The more you tried to avoid thinking about it the more you seemed to fixate on the topic, pondering just how much goading it would take from your daughter before his temper would rear its ugly head.  You, above anyone, had firsthand experience in just how volatile the man could be, the scars that littered your body a testament to his turbulent emotions and violent outbursts.

Looking back on it now, it’s a wonder you survived any of it at all.

Ren often told you he loved you, each confession spoken through honeyed words that spilled from his lips easily and often.  And while you didn’t doubt those words (you knew better than to, at this point), you also knew his sweet nothings weren’t merely a term of endearment, they also served as your curse. He loved you, but he also loved your fealty to him, your adoration and worship of him and only him. Should you not reciprocate his feelings as quickly or ardently as he expected, the mere thought of whatever punishment he would concoct was enough to send you into a debilitating panic attack.

There were few things he loathed more than when you flinched from his affection or if you exhibited any sign of distress towards his presence, especially after he had spent so many years going above and beyond to provide for you, devote himself to you. You had learned early on to keel any feelings of aversion you had to his advances, several of your more prominent scars a brutal reminder of that misstep alone.

 If your daughter uncovered the truth and saw her father for who he truly was, if she began to fear him the way you feared him, how would he respond?  If not only his partner, but his own daughter started shying away from him, what length would he go to to correct this behavior?

Dwelling on it made your skin crawl.

But perhaps all of your worries were asinine. Despite his inclination for cruelty, Ren had never so much as raised a hand towards your daughter, even when she did act up. If anything, he was overprotective of her, barely letting her move faster than a brisk jog lest she fall and hurt herself. He hated seeing his little girl experience even a modicum of physical pain, mentioning to you previously that were he able, he’d keep her locked up in a padded room all day and night to prevent any foreseeable accidents or injuries. Surely it was just his idea of a joke, but the insinuation still made you cringe.

It was almost comical, just how greatly the manifestation of his affection for her differed from how he showed his love for you.

His domineering nature shielded her from experiencing any true pain. Every scrape, bruise, and cut she ever received was superficial, nothing that caused major bleeding or left a lasting impression. She had no way of knowing what had been done to you to cause the scars that marred your form, the torment and hell you experienced with each slash, smack, burn. Hell, she probably didn’t even really understand what a scar actually was. All she knew was that her mommy and daddy had strange marks on their skin that didn’t follow any kind of set pattern, weird jagged lines and indents that her soft skin was curiously free from. The mystery of it all was as puzzling to her young mind as it was enticing.

However, some mysteries were best left unsolved, and just as with each other time she brought up this hot topic, you found yourself unable to look into her clear, bright eyes and tell her any semblance of the truth. She may have been forced upon you, but she was your daughter. You loved her, and you refused to be the one to shatter her innocence. You would keep her ignorant for as long as possible, shielding her to the endless nightmare of your daily lives, even if it cost you your sanity.

“Mommy,” her voice jarred you, dragging you from your thoughts, “mommy did you hear me? I said I think they are pretty!”

“T-that’s… I…” You stuttered, struggling to find the right words to say, your voice coming out much smaller than you intended it to. The room felt like it had dropped thirty degrees, your body twitching in response to the sudden chill.

“Daddy told me he gave some of them to you, like this one,” her pudgy, cold finger pressed into the faded heart that resided on your chest, the first of many indelible sins he had etched onto your form. Only the top half of the carved symbol was viewable above the collar of your shirt, so she tugged at the loose hem until she could see it in its horrible entirety.

“Daddy said he gave you this one because he loves you so much,” her voice grew quiet, a thoughtful look in her eye as they drank in wounds you wished you could forget, “Daddy loves me too, right mommy? You think he’ll give me a cute heart someday too?”

You felt as if you had been hit by a train.

“S-top,” the words were forced from your throat, airy and breathless, as if someone was wringing your neck to make them come out, “p-please, just stop talking.”

“What did you say mama,” your daughters sing-song voice responded as her fingers continued to trace and prod your scars, “You are whispering, is it a secret?”

“I told you to SHUT UP!”

As if following your command, your booming voice instantly silenced the small girl. Unused to such a violent outburst from her mother, her happy-go-lucky nature quickly shifted to one of alert, her tiny body going rigid as she stared up at you with fearful eyes.

Seeing her in such a state and knowing that you were the cause of it would normally have killed you inside, making you fall to your knees to beg for the child’s forgiveness. But right now, the thin thread that had been holding you together had snapped, and your words rushed out in a torrent you couldn’t begin to quell.

“Shut up, shut up, shut UP!” You seethed, clasping your hands to your ears to try and block out your own intrusive voice, “Just STOP TALKING about it! What are you even saying? Why would you ever want to look like this?!”

Tears started to flood your eyes, blurring the image of the girl who had quickly jumped from your lap and was now cowering before you. Through your bleary vision, you could see tears were brimming her eyes as well.

“You… You have no idea,” your voice warbled, shaking in equal parts grief and frustration, “You have no clue what you are saying, so just STOP IT. KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT AND DON’T YOU DARE SPEAK OF IT AGAIN!”

You slunk from the chair down to the floor, burying your face in your cold, stiff hands. The soft blubbering of your daughter could be heard through your own sobbing.

“I-I’m sorry mommy. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Hearing her broken voice began to shatter the spell you had been under, instant regret jerking you roughly back to reality. Your head sunk lower, your body scrunching itself up as tightly as possible to hide from this cruel reality.

Your screams were born from deeply buried feelings of hatred, tucked far, far away as a means of self-preservation. For a moment, you felt as if you despised your daughter, her existence tethering you to this wretched excuse of a life, binding you irrevocably to Ren. But as you lifted your heavy head, glancing up to stare into her young face, a face so very similar to your own, a face contorted in panic and sadness over her mother’s abrupt descent into madness… you realized it wasn’t her that you hated.

It was yourself.

Your daughter didn’t deserve this. She deserved normalcy. She deserved a father that didn’t pose a threat to her. She deserved a mother that wasn’t ruined by his hands. She deserved a happy and untroubled life, not to be stuck being raised in a barbed cage, navigating her way through life with nothing but the shattered remains of a battered woman to guide her.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked under the weight of your overwhelming emotions, snot and tears running freely down your ruddy cheeks and chin, “I’m so, so sorry baby…”

“What the hell is going on?”

You hadn’t heard the front door open, nor had you heard Ren’s jubilant greeting as he entered your home. He had no doubt been upset by the lack of welcome-it was one thing to be ignored by a child, but his doting wife? That was not something he was not apt to look past.

But surely any feelings of annoyance or frustration fled from his mind the moment he entered the room, his eyes falling upon your crumpled, messy form collapsed on the floor. You cursed his arrival, upset that he entered the scene at such a compromising time, right as you were struggling to regain an ounce of composure and properly apologize to the little girl who had done nothing wrong.

“D-daddy,” your daughter’s voice warbled as she barreled towards him, colliding into his waiting embrace. You wiped at your face in a desperate attempt to hide your previous outpouring of emotions, doing your best to avoid eye contact with Ren as his sharp gaze quickly flicked from you, to his daughter.

This had already become enough of a scene without Ren’s interference, it was best to try and begin damage control now. 

“Daddy I-I made mommy cry!” Tears continued to pour from your daughter’s eyes, her face twisting into a look of pure dismay. Her misguided admission of guilt made you recoil, knowing full well it would grant her no favors with the person she seeking comfort from. “I’m really sorry daddy! I didn’t mean to!”

After several endless seconds of silence, Ren spoke.

“… You made her cry?”

His voice was far sharper than it needed to be, further agitating the precarious state of affairs. In most cases he would have offered your daughter leniency, letting her get away with far more than she probably should. However that leniency was null and void if you ended up suffering in the process.  Ren could not forgive anyone that caused you any duress (himself, of course, being the exemption) even if that person was his own flesh and blood.

“What do you mean you made her cry? What the hell did you do to her?”

“I-I don’t know,” she wailed, a fresh wave of tears spurred on by the accusatory tone of her father’s voice, “I just told mommy I thought her marks were pretty and then she started crying! I wasn’t lying daddy, I like them! I think they make mommy look really pretty!”

“Her marks…?” Ren’s look of vexation began to dissipate as the meaning of her words donned on him. He lifted his arm, rolling up his sleeve to reveal his own scars to the little girl. Pointing a clawed finger to them, he leaned down until he was looking her in the eye, “You mean like these?”

As she nodded her head vigorously in confirmation, Ren tutted, “That’s the reason for all the water works? An innocent compliment started all this fussing?” He scoffed, shaking his head, “Isn’t that a little bit… silly?

You tensed at the sound of his barking laugh, your frown deepening as an amused grin spread wider across his lips. You wished that you could say it was shocking for him to have such disregard after finding the two of you in such an agitated state, but it was painfully in character of him to shrug off your misery and suffering as inconsequential.  How he could so nonchalantly normalize this hellish situation he kept you and your child ensnared in, you would never understand.

Your daughter was apparently sharing similar thoughts, as her face began to once more morph into a pre-sobbing scowl. She was no doubt wounded that her father was not offering her the comfort she was seeking, her emotional state already greatly weakened by her mother’s venomous tantrum.

To help quell another round of tears, Ren pulled the child closer, wrapping her up in his arms so that her tiny form was nearly enveloped by him.  “Shhh, no more tears angel,” he cooed sweetly, patting her head gently to appease her, “There isn’t any reason to cry, especially because… Well, you’re right! Mommy’s whole body is pretty, isn’t it? Her marks just compliment the beauty that’s already there.”

Slowly but surely, her tears began to dissipate. Hunched over shoulders loosened, and sniffles and hiccups gave way to even breathing. Like clockwork, her father’s gentle handling soothed her, the same touch that destroyed you offering her salvation.

As if under a spell, the turmoil that had overcome your daughter quickly began to vanish, her sobbing fading into quiet sniffles. Once she was fully calmed, Ren continued speaking, “That’s all you meant to say to mommy, right angel? I’m sorry she took it the wrong way, she’s probably just tired or hungry, you know how mommy gets. She’ll get over it in no time flat!”

Heat spread through your body at his flippant dismissal of your feelings, an indignant blush lighting your cheeks as you gripped your hands tightly at your side. Your previous emotional episode left you all but drained, but your will to fight back against his callous commentary could never truly be contained.

“In fact, I bet she is already over it now,” Ren’s voice took on a jovial tone as he directed his focus solely on you, “Aren’t you, pumpkin?”

With the ball suddenly in your court, you flinched as both sets of expectant eyes fell on you. Your own eyes darted from Ren’s piercing glare, down to your daughter’s wide-eyed look of unbridled hope. You felt much like the rabbit that had been caught by the fox, stuck in a lose-lose situation. Seeing him hunched over her small body as she clutched to him as a life line, openly concerned that her mother may once more reject her while her father remained a bastion of strength and understanding, left you reeling. Either you would get heated again and stay the villain, but possibly hold on to an ounce of your dignity, or concede to Ren and have yet another piece of your soul wither away and die-the price to pay so that your daughter could remain in blissful ignorance for another day.

“Aren’t you, pumpkin?” He repeated himself slowly, enunciating each word. The kindness in his voice serving only as a mask for the threat buried beneath.

“Y-yes,” you responded quickly, shooting them both a smile you hoped was convincing, “I am very sorry, baby. Daddy is right. Mommy is just… tired.”

A serene smile lit her face, your words placating her. Seeing her happy once more helped relieve a bit of the ache in your own heart, making the lie worth it.

“Good, good,” Ren affirmed with a nod, carefully detaching himself from your daughter as he stood, “but you know little one, mommy deserves some love too, don’t you think? She may have been in the wrong, but it’s not nice to make her cry like that. Why don’t you go give her a hug, hm?”

With no further persuading necessary, she quickly padded over to you, hopping on your lap with so much enthusiasm that it nearly knocked the wind from you. Her arms tightly latched around your torso as she smushed her face into your chest, rubbing it back and forth like she was trying to burrow beneath your skin.

“I love you mommy,” her voice spoke clearly, any hint of previous sadness long gone. You sighed, relieved that this dramatic chapter was over as you pulled your daughter closer to you.

“I love you too.”

During this show of affection, Ren had made his way behind you, slinking so deftly you hadn’t even known he had moved until you heard him chuckle softly behind you.

“This is what I like to see,” he spoke with a sickeningly dreamy sigh, “nothing makes me happier than when my two girls are happy.”

He placed his hands gingerly atop your shoulders, trailing them down until they rested on your arms. His thumbs pressed gently against the marred skin, rubbing in a small circular motion in an attempt to subdue you. His claws grazed your flesh, uncomfortably scratching against you as they snagged against your skin.

He planted a firm and lingering kiss to the side of your head, pulling away just enough that his lips grazed the shell of your ear. “There really was nothing to cry about,” he whispered breathily, his words quiet enough that despite your daughters’ proximity, she would have no chance of hearing them. “It’s almost unfair how gorgeous you are, scars and all. But you must know that, right my sweet pet? I tell you all the time.”

Ren took in a deep breath, releasing it in a shaky sigh, “Seeing these scars reminds me of all we have been through, all that we share. They are a symbol of our bond.”

One of his claws pressed down sharply, a small bead of blood pooling around the piercing. Leisurely he began to drag his finger up your arm, a thin red line following in its wake. You shivered at the burning sensation, but deigned to give him any reaction further than that.

“Don’t forget pumpkin, these pretty marks are a reminder of my constant love for you.” He chuckled softly, peppering a few kisses to the back of your neck while his claws slowly sunk deeper, “And right now I am feeling  terribly sentimental, so for old times’ sake, why don’t I add a few more to remind you just how precious to me you are~?”

[sublimetragedychopshop]

Ever think about those desperate stalker yanderes that are desperate af to get the attention of their “idgaf” darling? I think about them a lot. How the darling doesn’t even bat an eye when they wake up with company in their bed (when they KNOW they locked the door with brand new bolts) just rolling over and get ready for work with a sigh. The tired darlings who apologize to their boss in advance for that weird person that has been standing outside the (store/company building/wherever you work) saying that it’s a complicated situation. Darlings that gaze straight at the camera that they know is being pointed at them. A tired look on their face.

They are just too tired with life’s problems to asses the actual THREAT that is right in front of them (nobody should be this chill when confront with a stalker). Their work makes them unable to make themselves proper meals. Now their yandere always manages to leave nutritious lunchboxes on their counter every morning next to a plate of fresh breakfast. Their family takes most of their money, being told that darling needs to repay them back after years of raising them, which leaves them being constantly near broke. Only for lovely yan to gift them various presents all ranging from luxuries to actual necessities. Of course the sickly sweet nauseous notes the leave with the gifts are hard to read, but reader appreciates every single gift. They really couldn’t afford to be picky. Next was the crushing loneliness of a person living day to day, just trying to afford being alive but not living. The yandere constantly leaves them sticky notes with positive affirmations in their home all the time. Often texting their phone with love messages, and paragraphs and essays about how they love them so much, how no one amounts to them, if someone so much as breathes near their darling then they are as good as dead. It’s oddly comforting in a sick and lonely way.

Darlings who know this is messed up. It’s wrong and sick and NOT NORMAL. they tell themselves that they need to get rid of the yandere but know they can’t. They can’t they can’t they can’t. What are they going to do if their yandere suddenly disappears? What fucking life are they going back to? The one that made them miserable and numb? Besides it’s not like Yan actually has down any real damage to darling. They act more like a house spouse in a way, loving and caring. But so blood thirsty to the people who get close to their darling. Two sides to the same terrifying coin. Nothing that they would be able to prove to anyone. Their yandere is smart-desperate and stalkery but smart.

Darlings who give in after finding the yan in their bed after coming back home from work. It was the third night that they have seen them, not often because Yan said they would melt under your overwhelming gaze. At first they greet you with a smile and a “darling! Your back, I missed you sooo much!” It was almost loving, childish and innocent how they looked. Like you were both a real couple. Without a word you just walked to them on the bed and slumped against them. Arms wrapped around them as you took them down against the bed. Full body going limp from exhaustion. They were surprised at first, but expecting you to just do that (though that have been surprised by your reaction to most things) smiling a little they cuddled you as you just closed your eyes for a little. Relishing in how soft and nice smelling they were, how warm and comfy this position was.

Somehow this brought you to tears, silent tears streaming down your face as you stayed their emotionless. Your hand gripping their clothes to stay as close as possible. God this was fucking pathetic of you, seeking comfort from a fucking stalker? A creep?…… it didn’t matter anymore. If this person was willing to have you, better yet be so obsessed with you that they would die without you, then you would just give yourself to them.

(In the end this turned a little sad but I like it anyway!)

[peachm1lkk]

『 A Special Donation 』

Synopsis — Marcus gets a unique requests regarding his favorite-least-favorite pain pig

Warnings — NONCON, Size Difference, Belly Bulge, you wear a Collar, Degradation, reference to past Torture, choking, Abusive Relationships, past Stalking mentioned, Mild Painplay, Face Slapping, Canon-Typical Behavior, Porn Without Plot, Facials, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, He cums in your hair, Verbal Humiliation, You're not a good person lol

Pairing — Marcus x Reader

A/N — Cross posted this on AO3, I love Marcus so much... My second favorite ball of hatred who'd I'd let break all my bones.. Can you tell this is loosely based off his Patreon Audio?? Maybe

It's uncomfortable, you note— The collar snugly tied around your neck. Another thing you note, other than the fact that you probably missed a ton of work in your classes, was that he hasn't been back in a while. You weren't really used to this… silence, that overcame the apartment when you weren't sobbing or pleading with him not to hurt you.

You glances down at the amateur attempt to wrap broken fingers, your begging never really worked. A soft sigh escapes your lips as you stand up, wobbling slightly from the bit of malnutrition you've been experiencing from eating only microwave meals and cup noodles— the brief dizziness isn't helped by the fact that you usually don't eat much anyway.

On the bright side, if you can even call it that, you've been picking up baking! Making a variety of sweets whenever he wasn't paying attention to you, those days tended to be the best because other than a few random photos he left you to your own devices.

Just as you were about to walk to the living room, the door to their shared dorm rattled, a few frustrated attempts being made before Marcus finally opened it. He was probably fumbling with the keys.

“U-uh… welcome home,” you softly said, keeping your eyes on the floor.

Marcus grunted in response, tossing his backpack onto the couch. “Your friend asked where you were today.” He informed, walking up to what used to be your camera to examine how long its been recording. A hint of a smile on his face as he hit the mute button, “It's actually kinda funny how worried she seemed… Do you think she knows that she used to be featured on your blog?”

Oh he’s in that mood it seems like, you don't even know what to say. What could you say? Usually any time you spoke— whether it be to apologize or say some shitty excuse it ended with you on the floor crying.

Thankfully, he seemed content with your silence, “You can speak y’know, they can't hear us speak right now… you're little white knight saviors I mean.”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry and constricted by the collar. you kept your gaze fixed on the floor, afraid to meet Marcus's eyes.

"I... I don't know," you whispered, your voice hoarse from disuse. "I never told anyone about it."

Marcus chuckled darkly, stepping closer. You instinctively flinched away, but the wall behind you left nowhere for you to retreat.

"Oh, I'm sure you didn't," he said, reaching out to run a finger along your collar. "Our little secret, right?" His touch made your skin crawl, but you forced yourself to remain still. Any reaction could set him off.

"You know," Marcus continued conversationally, "Someone made a donation today— A uh, what do you call it again? A commission, right.” you eyed him nervously as he walked over to the computer reading over past comments and forums regarding the live stream.

“Hey Piggy, you ever had sex before?” The question was as sudden as it was startling, “Pardon..?”

“I'm assuming you've had sex at least once since you have an ex and all that, but y'know… you're also you so I wouldn't be surprised if you've only seen two dicks in your life.” He goes on, much too casually for how personal the subject was— But maybe you didn't have a right to complain about privacy, god knows how many other people's privacy you've violated on those now privated posts.

“Hey pig, answer me.” The irritation in his voice has you tripping over your own words to get an answer out "You're right u-uhm… only done it with my ex.” you stammered, messing with the hem of your shirt with your good hand. “ No one else after that…”

Marcus's eyes gleamed with a mix of cruelty and excitement that made You's stomach churn. You could sense something terrible was coming. "You know how many times I thought about killing you when I found your little stalker forum?” He said changing subjects, grabbing the camera perched upon its stand. “I mean— It's disgusting, even now I still think about strangling you to death… Just the thought that you probably touched yourself to my photos makes me sick.” He takes a deep breath, his finger hitting a button on the camera that you couldn't remember the function for.

“How many times have you cum at the thought of my dick inside you?”

You felt sick, knowing that he wasn't entirely wrong “M-Marcus I'm sorry,” you whispered, even knowing it was futile you can never get rid of the instinct.

"Well, looks like today's your lucky day," he said with a smirk. "Our generous donor wants to see you fucked." Your eyes widened in horror. "What," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I-I can't...”

Marcus ignored your plea, grabbing your arm roughly. “And even if I can't kill you— I might as well fuck you like I'm gonna, right?”

He dragged you towards the bedroom, You stumbling behind him as you tried to resist. But months of captivity and malnourishment had left your weak and unsteady.

"Please, Marcus," you begged as he shoved you onto the bed. “I’m sorry I'm so sorry— please don't do this."Marcus laughed coldly as he loomed over your trembling form on the bed. "Sorry? You're sorry?” He mocked, “Sorry doesn't fucking pay for all the gross ass photos you’ve taken of me does it, pig?"

He set up the camera on the nightstand, angling it to capture the entire bed. Your heart raced as you heard the telltale beep of it starting to record.

“C'mon, Let's give our viewers a good show, I know how much you love their attention after all." Marcus whispered against the shell of your ear, You shuddered as Marcus's breath ghosted across your skin. Your mind raced, desperately searching for a way out of this nightmare, but you were trapped - physically and psychologically. Months of captivity and abuse had worn away your defenses.

"Please," you whimpered one last time, even as Marcus began pulling at your clothes.

He ignored your feeble protests, methodically stripping your bare. The camera's unblinking eye recorded every moment of your humiliation. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to retreat into yourself, to find some quiet corner of your mind that this wasn't happening. But Marcus wouldn't allow you that small mercy. He grabbed your face, forcing you to look at him. "Eyes open," he growled. "I want you to see exactly who's doing this to you."

Tears streamed down You's cheeks as Marcus positioned himself over your. Tugging his own pants down to let his thickness free, “Ha… ha— You're just meat…” He mumbles slowly stroking himself to full hardness, “Meat that was born to be taken advantage of, it was only a matter of time before someone found out… I was just the less cruel option.”

You choked back a sob as Marcus's words cut through your like knives. you wanted to argue, to insist that you weren't just "meat," that you were a person with hopes and dreams and dignity. But Maybe he was right. Maybe this was all you deserved. Marcus lined himself up, his eyes locked on You's tear-streaked face. "Remember," he whispered, "you brought this on yourself."

With that, he thrust forward brutally, burying himself inside your unprepared body. You cried out in pain, your back arching off the bed. It hurt - oh god, it hurt so much. But the physical pain was nothing compared to the crushing weight of shame and despair.

"That's it," Marcus grunted, placing a hand on your lower stomach "Cry for the camera. Show everyone what good rape bait you are.” He cooed, setting a brutal pace forcing his cock as far as your gummy walls allowed it — “ For once you being small is actually a plus,” he panted in between thrusts, watching the small bump in your stomach appear and disappear in time with each thrust.

His eyes glanced over at the camera, a part of him feeling truly disgusted at the type of people watching— But at the same time it made his dick throb so much harder, “You like that? Showing everyone that you're just a flesh light, hm?”

Your body shook with each brutal thrust, pain radiating through your core. Despising how despite the pain his deep fucking was enough to tickle the instinct out, to pull wetness that with each slap of his pelvis pressing against your ass a damned embarrassing wet squelch was made.

"Answer me," he snarled, grabbing your hair and yanking your head back. "Tell the camera how much you love being used like the worthless cum dump you are."

A strangled whimper escaped You's lips. "I-I..." you gasped, barely able to form words through the pain and humiliation. "I luh—love being- being u-used."

Marcus's pace grew even more frantic, his grip on your hips bruising. "That's right," he panted. "This is all you're good for. Just meat to stick my dick in…” Holding your hips up with one hand his free hand snakes down to your throat- applying pressure slowly

“Meat that doesn't need to—shit—breathe.” He mumbles, You's vision begins to blur as Marcus's hand tightens around your throat. Her lungs burned, desperately craving oxygen. Panic overwhelmed you as darkness crept in at the edges of your sight. Just as you thought you might lose consciousness, Marcus released his grip. You gasped and coughed, gulping in air. The brief respite was short-lived as Marcus resumed his relentless assault on your body.

"Fuck," he grunted, his thrusts loosing pace and becoming erratic. “You felt so tight just then, do you really get off to me raping you? Are you that cock hungry?” He teased, letting his hand fall to your puffy clit- rubbing cruel circles all over the ball of nerves “Fuck… I'm close. Where do you want it, pig? Where should I mark you as mine?"

You couldn't answer, still struggling to catch your breath. Her silence seemed to anger Marcus further. The burning sensation of his hand registering first before you realized he'd slap you, cruel fingers digging into your cheek, forcing you to look at him. "I asked you a question," he snarled. "Where. Do. You. Want. It?"

With pained moans you refused to believe came from genuine pleasure you stammered out a shaky response, “O-out— puh-please, not in- in me.” you sobbed,

Marcus's eyes glinted with cruel amusement. "Not inside, huh? Well, since you asked so nicely..." With a final brutal thrust, he pulled out of your abused body. You barely had time to feel relief before he was straddling your chest, his hand gripping your jaw tightly.

"Open wide," he commanded, stroking himself furiously. Too broken to resist, You parted your lips. Marcus groaned as he reached his climax, his release splattering across your face and into your open mouth. You gagged at the thickness and slimy texture, but Marcus held your still until he was finished.

"There," he panted, wiping himself clean on your hair. "Now everyone can see what a filthy little whore you really are."

He climbed off your, tucking himself into his pants. And walking over to the camera to stop the recording, leaving You trembling and soiled on the bed. you curled into yourself, trying your best to tune it all out and just go to bed.

“Oh, piggy—” He started grabbing your attention, “You have an essay due or something, your professor stopped me earlier today to tell you that.” He casually explained, as if he didn't just rape you.

“I should probably go work on that project... Pretty sure it's due soon,” He said to himself, lifting the camera up to eye level. You flinched at the familiar clicking sound of the camera, trying to keep your soft crying to a minimum even after hearing him mumble something about the picture probably not printing well. You lay motionless on the bed, your mind struggling to process the trauma you had just endured. Every part of you ached - your body from the brutal assault, your throat from Marcus's choking, your very soul from the depths of degradation you had been forced to.

you could hear Marcus moving around the apartment, the casual sounds of everyday life a stark contrast to the horror of what had just transpired. The urge to scrub yourself clean was overwhelming, but You couldn't bring yourself to move. you feared any motion might shatter what was left of your fragile psyche.

Time passed in a haze. You drifted in and out of consciousness, your exhausted mind seeking escape in fitful snatches of sleep. You were vaguely aware of Marcus returning to the bedroom at some point, muttering about needing his textbook.

"You should really get started on that essay," he remarked “It's due in a few days.”

[navybrat817]

You have to get away from the city. You're not sure how long you plan to stay in the cabin. Long enough to forget about your ex-roommate's handsy boyfriend.

It's too bad you caught someone's attention.

Someone who doesn't want you to leave.

So, who's watching you?

[iexistapparantly]

'What the fuck is this supposed to be?' -Human!Reader X Madness Combat-

TW: Strong language, blood, violence (obviously)

Short stories, yay.

It's the dead of night, the dimly lit street stretches ahead, a solitary path occasionally punctuated by the distant hum of passing cars. You've just wrapped up another long, exhausting day at work. Your sister, in her infinite wisdom, decided this was the perfect time for a meetup at some bizarre restaurant you've never heard of. Gripping your phone like a lifeline, you mutter to yourself. "Why couldn't she pick a normal place? She always has such weird taste” 

You squint at your phone's screen, the glow reflecting in your irritated eyes. With your pockets feeling as empty as your bank account, you decided to save gas and hoof it. Just your luck, though – as you walk, the weather decides that no, you may not have a good day. A tiny, singular drop of water plips on your nose. Then another lands on your phone. It's not long before multiple tiny raindrops start pelting down. You groan, pulling the hood of your jacket over your head. "Great, just great. I'm soaked already. This can’t get any worse." 

But wait, there's hope! You're not entirely helpless; you had the foresight to bring an umbrella. Blessings upon blessings for not being a total dolt. However, your moment of self-congratulation is short-lived. As you're strolling along, raindrops gently bouncing off your trusty umbrella, things do indeed get worse. 

Your foot snags on a crack in the pavement and you unceremoniously plummet face-first onto the concrete, your phone catapulting off into the nearby bushes. With an exasperated sigh, you pick yourself up, your now damp and filthy clothes clinging to your skin like glue. Cold, wet, dirty glue. "...I should have kept my mouth shut" Grumbling and swiping at your now mud-stained clothes, you begin your quest to retrieve your precious phone. You gaze around for a sign of its whereabouts, your frustration palpable. "It’s dark as shit out here, I can’t see anything- wait." Your eyes zero in on its location, and your heart drops as you realize it landed in a ditch. 

Without a moment's thought, you lurch forward, desperation propelling you as your shoes kick up mud and leaves. You scramble toward the edge of the ditch, praying you can reach your phone before it meets a watery grave. But alas, you're just a hair too slow. It splashes into the water and floats away into a tunnel within the mountain. With a helpless gasp, you watch as your beloved slips from the ledge and disappears into a yawning tunnel leading deep into the mountain. 

Panic surges within you. You unleash a shout of frustration. "No, no, no!" Ignoring the darkness and your complete lack of a plan, you blindly plunge into the tunnel, your hands frantically sweeping the water's surface. Your heart races as you grope through the murky depths, searching desperately for your precious device. You keep scrambling along in the never-ending tunnel, feeling like you're stuck in some sort of bad dream. 

Your fingers scrape against the wet ground as you scuffle along on your hands and knees. It's dark, creepy, and your heart is still racing from the loss of your phone. You squint through the murky tunnel and spot a faint red glow. Your heart skips a beat. You squint your eyes further, your face scrunching as you step forward, hoping for a miracle. As you approach, the only thing you are able to see is the large hole your phone is floating towards. Without thinking, you lunge forward, thrusting your arm through the hole to snatch your phone before it slips away for good. 

But your fingers grasp at empty air, and you're left with nothing but failure. "Damnit!" Frustration fuels your determination, and you stick your head out of the small opening. The first thing that hits you is the sand, and not in a fun beach way. It flies right into your face, getting into your eyes, your nose, and your mouth. You grunt and stumble backward, falling back into the water with a splash. 

You're now completely drenched, adding insult to injury. “Great. Just fucking fantastic.” You try to get the sand out of your eyes, but it feels like your eyeballs have turned into scratchy sandpaper. You curse your luck once more, all while sitting in the water, soaked to the bone and feeling like the universe decided to just take a massive shit on your life. Tears mix with the sand on your face as frustration consumes you. You're drenched, irritated as hell, and your eyeballs feel like they've been through a desert sandstorm. But you can't give up, not when your precious phone is at stake. The files stored in that thing are irreplacable.

You take a deep breath, wiping your face with a soggy sleeve. "Alright, let's do this." After a quick check to ensure you can get back out of the hole, you stick your legs through and awkwardly plop down. The rocks dig into your skin as you slide through the narrow gap. Your hood gets caught on the jagged edges, exposing your midriff to the cold wind as you slide through. With an undignified yelp, you dangle in the air for a moment before dropping down onto your butt with a grunt. A small smile of relief graces your face as you retrieve your phone and attempt to power it on. That smile very quickly falls into a scowl when, with trembling fingers, you press the power button, praying for a miracle, but nope. It's as dead as hell. No matter how many times you jab at the power button, it refuses to cooperate. 

You let out an indignant sigh, looking around the semi-lit cave you've ended up in. Your body goes lax in defeat and you decide it's time to climb out of this strange, semi-lit cave. But just as you're about to make your move, something catches your eye. An exit, a little farther away, bathed in the same eerie red light that you just fell through. But this one, it's definitely the source of that crimson glow. 

You pause, your eyebrows furrowing as you take in the unsettling scene. The silence in that direction is deafening, save for the occasional flutter of sand in the stagnant air. But that's odd; there shouldn't be any wind down here to stir up the sand. Your gut twists with unease – something isn't right. You swallow hard, the lump in your throat refusing to budge as you contemplate your next move. Your curiosity led you into this mess and it's not about to let you walk away now. 

You're faced with a dilemma: A) Climb back up and save your precious sim card, or B) venture into the weird glowy exit. The answer is as clear as day, at least to your curious, slightly daft mind. You choose the latter. Crawling low to the ground, you cautiously poke your head out of the exit once more, squinting your eyes this time to block any sand. What you see makes your jaw drop "What the hell is this place supposed to be?!" 

Before you stretches an expanse that can only be described as a whole ass desert. Well, you think it's a desert, given the vast amount of strange black sand, sandstone formations, and tge complete absence of trees. You're no expert though, so this might just be some really, really fucked up cave system. It’s an ominous change to the lush foliage back in your town. What truly boggles your mind is the sky – it's this strange, otherworldly shade of red. 

You don't hesitate for long. You squeeze yourself out of the hole and stand up, fully taking in the surreal landscape before you. It seems almost endless, like you've stumbled into some sort of bizarre world. And you, being the curious (stupid) soul you are, feel compelled to explore it. 

As you wander through this odd terrain, you start to notice more peculiarities. There are what appear to be tattered pieces of metal scattered about, and you catch glimpses of small skeletal remains poking out from beneath the sand. A heavy sense of dread gnaws at your stomach the whole time, that sense of dread soon becomes unbearable, intensifying with each step away from the cave exit. 

After just a couple of minutes, you can't take it any longer, and you decide to turn back. But there's a problem – you can't find the cave. Dread sets in as you try to retrace your steps, only succeeding in getting yourself more lost. Everything looks the same, and there's not a single recognizable landmark in sight. You mutter to yourself, "Of course, this had to happen." You're in full-blown panic mode now, and that overwhelming sense of dread has you sprinting like your life depends on it. But let's be real – you're not exactly running far, just sort of scuttling in circles, hoping to stumble upon something familiar. Spoiler alert: that doesn't happen. 

It becomes painfully obvious that logic is not your strong suit as you continue your amazing plan of walking in random directions. You start to question your life choices and contemplate just what made you decide to enter an unknown, dangerous looking and unexplored area with no second thoughts. "Why am I like this?" you mutter between panicked breaths. Finally, you spot something up ahead. Is that... a wall? Yep, it definitely is. You approach it, taking note that it's not particularly imposing. 

It reaches up to your head in height, and you can't quite gauge its thickness. It's constructed from an odd mishmash of small metal scraps, toothpick-like poles, and a generous sprinkling of menacing barbed wire. The dread in your gut grows, but so does your curiosity. A sensible person might think twice before attempting to hop over such a fence. But are you a sensible person? Hell no. 

You decide to defy all reason and logic you've chastised yourself for not having a few moments ago. Instead of listening to that tiny voice in your head that's just trying to look out for your well-being, you opt for the best route possible. Circling around the wall, you scout out a sturdy rock, clamber onto it, and attempt to scale the makeshift barrier like a newborn baby learning how to stand. Spoiler alert again: it's not the most graceful climb. Your utter lack of upper body strength becomes painfully evident, and you end up resorting to rolling onto your stomach, then flopping down onto your back, landing on the ground with a resounding THUNK. 

Gritting your teeth and grunting in pain, you squint your eyes open, half-expecting to find yourself in some sort of absurd fever dream. But instead, you're met with the sight of a large... city? Well, it's not exactly "large." In fact, it's pretty damn small, but there's a whole lot of it, considering it's dwarfed by your presence.

You sit up, wincing as you rub your sore back with your palm, and take a closer look at your surroundings. Most of the buildings around you reach only up to your shoulders. "Well, this is one way to feel tall," you mutter with a bemused grin, not quite processing the absurdity of it all. Your eyes drop to the ground where you landed, and you're met with the sight of a tiny truck. A really tiny one. 

Your curiosity gets the best of you, and you crouch down to examine it more closely. That's when you notice something oozing out from the crushed vehicle. It's... yellow? And is that... blood? Your eyes widen, and you can't help but exclaim, "Wait, what the hell?" Your gaze locks onto a severed hand lying amidst the gruesome mess. It's not attached to anything, and it's got an odd light gray skin tone. 

You can't help but mumble words of confusion as you pick up the surprisingly heavy miniature truck and inspect it more closely. In an utterly bizarre turn of events, when you lift the truck, the hand that shouldn't be attached to anything follows it. "No way, this can't be real," you mutter, pinching the disembodied hand between your fingers and tugging at it. To your bewilderment, there's resistance. 

After a few moments of perplexed contemplation, you muster up the courage to pry open the crushed roof of the tiny truck and peer inside. Your heart races as you're met with the sight of a very squished, bloody, and rather unpleasant-looking pile of mush. Or at least you think it's blood – it sure as hell smells like it. You recoil, scrunching up your nose in disgust. 

Panic sets in once more, and you start to freak out. Did you accidentally squash some bizarre mutant rat creature? Where the hell even are you? And why in the world are these buildings so ridiculously small? Questions swirl through your mind as you stand there, completely bewildered and utterly freaked out. 

Before you can wrap your head around the bizarre mushy encounter, the soft thuds of approaching shoes catch your attention. You whip around and lock eyes with... well, whatever the hell it is that's staring right back at you. Your jaw drops, and so does the, uh, "rat," for lack of a better term. Your eyes widen like saucers as you take in this unprecedented sight. This creature is like nothing you've ever seen – not even in your wildest nightmares. It doesn't possess any eyes, but you can feel its gaze piercing through you. It's an eerie shade of gray, maybe about 16 inches tall, or possibly even smaller. The weirdest part? It has no limbs to speak of, just two floating hands and a pair of shoes awkwardly stuck to its lower body. Its clothing is oddly fancy – a snazzy suit that's completely out of place. Its "face," if you can call it that, is just a cross on the center of its head, topped with a pair of sunglasses. Sunglasses! It doesn't even have a nose! Oh, was it mentioned that it has floating hands? Because it totally has floating hands. 

Your mouth hangs open in shock as the creature points at you and screams in bloody horror. It makes a break for it, disappearing into the miniature cityscape. Honestly, you can't blame it. You would run like hell if you saw a giant, homeless looking stinky ass homosapien too. 

"Wait!" Without thinking, you scramble to follow, your curiosity now competing with your terror. But your curiosity takes a backseat when you round a corner and come face to face with a gaggle of more of these bizarre beings – all of them brandishing tiny guns.

"Oh, shit." 

You stumble backward just as a hail of tiny bullets whizzes past you. Surprisingly, it hurts – like getting pelted by a thousand miniature sandblasters that actually penetrate your skin and make you bleed. Your flight-or-fight instincts kick into overdrive, and you choose the latter. Again.

You spring forward, channeling your fear and a touch of anger into a dropkick that sends one of the creatures soaring through the air, colliding with the miniature buildings. But the rest of them? They don't run away. Instead, they seem even more determined to kick your ass. You quickly become outnumbered, losing count of how many times you feel one of them mounting you and stabbing at your skin with their blunt instruments. 

Realization dawns on you – you can't win this way. So, in a desperate bid for survival, you do the smartest thing you can think of and should have done originally: run like a bitch. But the situation takes a turn for the worse as more of those little shits start swarming in, all armed to the teeth and refusing to let you escape. The worst part? A much larger version of these creatures joins the fray, their guns looking closer in size to what humans use. You don't want to find out what it feels like to get shot by one of those. 

That's it. No more curiosity. You want out. Your clothes are shredded, drenched in blood, you're riddled with pain, hunger gnaws at your gut, your phone is still a dead weight, and you're scared shitless. You'd give anything to be anywhere else right now. So, you leap over the wall and sprint down the empty, dark desert, leaving the madness behind. Even when you've put a good distance between you and the chaos, you can still hear their war cries echoing in the distance. 

Just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, you come across a larger building, looming ominously in the distance. Instead of approaching it, your instincts scream at you to stay as far away as possible. Unfortunately, the residents inside don't seem to share your sentiments. A tiny red dot appears between your eyes, and you have mere moments to react before a bullet slams into your skull. It doesn't pierce the bone, but the force of the impact sends you tumbling to the ground, your vision blurring. You groan, blood now mixing with the mess of dirt and sweat on your face. 

You manage to prop yourself up, your hand clutching your now even more bloodied and injured head. Gazing up at the roof of the building, you spot another one of those little creatures perched on the edge, aiming a sniper rifle right at you. This one looks different from the others, with what appears to be a black mask, red goggles, and... is that a fucking mohawk? You can't be entirely sure from this distance. 

Another figure with circular goggles appears beside the sniper, smacking the rifle's barrel away from you. A spark of hope flickers in your heart, but it's quickly extinguished when the creature slides down the wall, using a knife to slow its descent, and starts sprinting toward you with a katana in hand. Mercy is clearly not on the menu. 

You scramble to your feet, but your many injuries slow you down. The adrenaline surging through your veins helps, but it's still a challenge to get up and run for it. The creature proves to be surprisingly swift, easily closing the distance. Its first target: your heels. It slices through the tendons of your foot, sending you tumbling to the ground once more. With only a spare second to react, you instinctively cover your neck, anticipating the worst. Your arms are nearly shredded as the creature's blade flashes down in a millisecond.

All you can see are two glowing red dots staring down at you and the fluttering of a coat. Before the creature can bring the blade down on your eye, you swing your injured arm out, but it's too late. The creature leaps and dodges your rather pathetic attempt, landing on your face and impaling your left eye with its katana. 

Pain surges through your body, and you let out a guttural cry. Pain engulfs you as you scream, the creature's weight pressing down, creating a scorching heat from its blade searing through your flesh. It's a level of agony you've never known, and it feels like your world is being consumed by fire. 

The blade twists to the side, mercilessly slashing through your skin like it's cutting through butter, running down your eyelid and part of your cheekbone. Tears pour uncontrollably from your only good eye, the sight of the blade lifting, poised to strike your other eye, reigniting your survival instincts. 

This time, when you throw your hand out, it connects with the creature, and you manage to hit it off your face, its back hitting the ground harshly. Another cry escapes your lips as you clutch your injured eye, trembling and shaking uncontrollably. Scrambling backward, you avoid the creature as it stalks slowly toward you, its gloved fingers twirling the now bloodied blade in its hands, clearly relishing in your fear, panic, and pain. 

Your back hits the building you had been trying to avoid, and you look up, catching sight of the other creature observing from above. Desperation courses through you, and in a swift, instinctual movement, you reach up and grab the head of the creature in your hand. It's a race against time, and your grip tightens as the creature attacking you hesitates. "I-I swear," you stammer through your sobs, your voice quivering with fear but laced with determination, "I'll crush his damn skull if you come any closer! Back off!" 

The creature slowly backs off, still harboring a desire to attack. Meanwhile, the one in your grip struggles fiercely, its strength surprising you as you grapple to keep it restrained. There comes a point when it manages to draw a knife and stab your fingers, but you refuse to relent. If you let go now, you'll lose your other eye and, quite possibly, your life. 

With your fingers aching and bleeding, you slowly step backward, tossing the creature's weapons aside. Once you're a safe distance away, you pivot on your heels and break into a limping sprint, faster than you've ever run before, adrenaline coursing through your veins like a raging river. 

You glance over your shoulder, confirming that the creature is still in pursuit, and the other one is struggling to free itself. Gunshots ring out, and most of them seem to find their target. Despite the searing pain you feel with each hit, you refuse to stop running; you only push yourself harder. 

You take as many twists and turns as possible, desperately trying to shake off the relentless pursuer. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you succeed in losing the creature on your heels. As soon as you're out of immediate danger, you lean against one of the many rocks scattered across the desert, clutching the creature tightly to your chest for comfort. 

Overwhelmed by fear, pain, and helplessness, you can't hold back the sobs that wrack your body. You tremble uncontrollably as you wallow in self-pity, tears and blood streaming down your face. You clutch onto the tiny creature tightly, your nose pressed against its head, the hair on its scalp tickling your skin as you choke out pitiful hiccups and sobs. The creature in your hands is now silent, having given up its futile struggle a little while ago when it realized escape was highly improbable. After your intense sobbing fit subsides, you find yourself sitting in the desert, still clutching the creature you'd been struggling with moments ago, the searing pain in your eye still has not faded.

The adrenaline has left your body, leaving you drained and trembling, but you manage to regain your composure. Taking a few deep breaths, you turn your attention to the creature in your arms. "What the hell are you?" you manage to croak, your voice shaky. 

The creature stirs slightly in your grasp, and it's deep, resonant voice cuts through the eerie silence of the desert. "Call me 2Bdamned," it responds bluntly.

 “I said what are you?” 

2Bdamned shifts his body, trying to adjust into a more comfortable position, “a grunt.” You blink in surprise at its straightforwardness. 

"A grunt? Like from some weird fucked up animal?" 

"Something like that," 2Bdamned replies, his tone cold and calculating. "But I've never seen anything like you before. What are you, and how did you end up here?" You take a moment to collect your thoughts before you begin recounting what you are and your bizarre journey, starting with the inexplicable fall through the tunnel and ending with the chaotic encounter with the other creatures.

"I honestly have no idea where 'here' even is," you admit, your voice tinged with frustration. “This whole situation has just been so fucked up.. And now I've lost a damn eye because of it.” 2Bdamned remains silent for a moment, processing your story. 

"You’re in Nevada. You will never find anything but ‘fucked up situations’ here." he explains, sounding almost bored.

You nod, beginning to grasp the gravity of your situation. "Is there a way I can leave..?" 

2Bdamned's voice remains as cold and pragmatic as ever. "Escaping Nevada won't be easy, but it might be possible if I figure out what brought you here in the first place." As you continue your conversation with 2Bdamned, you realize that despite the chaos and uncertainty that surrounds you both, he may be your best chance at navigating this surreal realm and finding a way to break free from the grip of Nevada's relentless madness. 

As you sit there, trembling and lost in the madness of Nevada, 2Bdamned appears to grow tired of your sobbing and finally acknowledges your existence. His cold, calculating demeanor slowly gives way to a begrudging curiosity about what exactly you are. "Fine," he mutters with a resigned sigh, his reluctance palpable in his tone. "I'll help you, but don't expect any hospitality." You readily accept his offer, your eagerness to find a way out of this nightmarish Nevada outweighing any concerns about his demeanor. Together, you make your way back to the building, where the atmosphere is anything but friendly. 

Inside, 2Bdamned confronts Hank, the grunt who had originally attacked you, his voice carrying a stern message, "Don't do that anymore." Hank, visibly displeased, gives you a death glare that could curdle milk. Despite his clear displeasure, he begrudgingly listens to 2Bdamned's command. You can practically feel the waves of bloodlust radiating off him, sending a shiver down your spine. 

While you're sitting outside the building, anxiously waiting for some glimmer of hope in this bizarre desert, 2Bdamned finally emerges with news. He informs you that Deimos, another one of his mercenaries, is poring over the data and information he had provided, desperately searching for any anomalies within this bewildering desert to locate an exit, or something like that. 

But in the meantime, 2Bdamned decides he should patch you up to prevent you from bleeding out and to prevent infection. With surprising skill, he tends to your wounds, you still wince and grimace at the pain like a complete baby. But you're grateful nonetheless, considering the alternative would involve a lot more bleeding and a lot less being alive. 

When he's done, he offers you a miniature hotdog, which you can really only lick, it's like a damn crumb. It's a tiny snack for a big problem, but it'll have to do. As 2Bdamned starts to ask you questions, another grunt unexpectedly pokes his head out of the building. He’s wearing a cute little visor, the cap shifting as he flicks it up with his finger and eagerly informs 2Bdamned of his findings. But when he spots you, towering over both him and the entire damn base, he stares, slack jawed, "...what… the fuck…?" 2Bdamned simply gestures for him to leave, and the unfamiliar grunt’s cross scrunches with what you can only imagine to be irritation and a bit (a lot) of surprise.

Not one to pry into matters that don't concern him (for now at least), he decides to keep his questions to himself and retreats back into the building. 2Bdamned, a little bummed that his conversation got cut short, heads back inside to review the information Deimos brought him. Soon enough, he returns with a tracker and a map, indicating that it's time to embark on your journey.

The walk is excruciatingly slow, thanks to the vast difference in stride length between you and the grunts. After some time, you decide to take matters into your own hands – literally. You pick up 2Bdamned and ask him to point you in the right direction, much to his chagrin. Meanwhile, Hank, who had decided to tag along uninvited, scuffles up to you (without asking) and opts for a more unconventional mode of transportation, climbing onto your foot for the ride. (again, you did not offer. You still haven’t forgotten what he’s done to your eye and ankles.)

Eventually, all three of you reach the familiar cave entrance. You breathe a sigh of relief, grateful to have found your way back. At this point, you're exhausted beyond belief, and passing out seems like a very tempting option. You express your gratitude to the grunts for their assistance in finding your way back and for patching you up. 

You turn to 2Bdamned and give him the best smile you can, though it does end up looking like a grimace, "Thanks a lot, 2Bdamned. Your help means a lot." 2Bdamned grumbles in response, still not quite fond of wasting his time on such inconvenient and meaningless things, but he does offer a nod of acknowledgment. Hank, on the other hand, has been silently staring this whole time, his unblinking gaze locked onto you. It's a bit unsettling, to be honest. You decide to give him some recognition too, albeit in an awkward manner. 

You give Hank a small wave, "Uh, thanks, Hank. You...uh, did a great job not attacking me again." Hank remains silent, but he does cock his head to the side, which you take as a sign that he acknowledges your thanks in his own way. Or maybe he's just silently mocking you. It's hard to tell with this dude. 

The cave entrance looks similar to the way you remember it. The walls of the entrance is barely big enough for you to fit. The air is damp and filled with a strange, earthy scent that lingers in your nostrils. With the less than pleasant goodbye to your.. Companions? Acquaintances? Weird midget alien frenemies? You're not really sure.. 

You take a moment to survey your surroundings. Sending a final wave to 2Bdamned and an awkward nod in Hank's direction, you decide it's time to make your way back into the cave. You leave the two grunts to their own devices, whatever those may be, and begin your journey back through the dark, damp tunnel. 

Limping your way through the ditch, you can still feel the persistent drizzle of rain soaking through your clothes. It's as if the weather has decided to join in on the absurdity of Nevada. As you finally emerge from the tunnel and take that crucial step onto the surface, rain once again greets you. The shower immediately intensifies, turning from a drizzle to a downpour. You can't help but roll your eye at the timing. "Great," you mutter to yourself, drenched and shivering from both the rain and the bizarre events of your journey. "Just what I needed." Through the entire experience you just went through, you can say for certain.. You’re never walking into weird ass caves again.

Edited - 12/16/2023

[i-cannot-spell-chaos]

I slept for 5 minutes and my dream choose violence. It also gave me an idea for the spider verse fanfic. So I'll be writing the spider verse fanfic and it should be posted in about a 2-4 days.

I give you Incorrect quotes today

Miguel o hara: you are grounded

Gwen: but what about work?

Miguel: fine other than work and no universe traveling watch

Gwen: the watch is broken

Miguel: then no computer

Gwen: I need the computer for school

Miguel looking around seeing villain reader trying to fix their very broken teleportation device: no...reader

Villain reader: what no reader?!

Miguel: no reader!

Also villain reader is the definition of the one uncle who everyone loves but never knows what they actually do for a living. You just know their already at the family gathering and will convince someone to do something dumb with them if left 10 minutes unsupervised.

I will be giving you updates on the story through funny haha post.

[mists-reading-nook]

Do you ever feel that sagau reader feels great envy towards the old creator or their previous self

Referring to the song "the moon will sing"

They feel as if, without what the old them did they wouldn't be as special as they are

~moth anon

Yooo it's moth anon! Heyoo! :D

****

They definitely do. I mean,imagine finding out that you are a literal god...and then you look at what "you" did and it's all this awesome stuff that you don't remember and can't do anymore. It's demoralizing. Everyone has to protect you,dispite the fact that you should be able to protect yourself.

Not only that,but your acolytes are worshipping not you,but the idea of you. A person you once were,but no longer have the ability to be. Constantly being told of "your" feats of greatness,and being expected to do things like that again.

The creator you apparently are is a completely different person,and you feel like a shell. Simply a body of this great deity.

****

[haeryna]

i rly love everyones takes for reader's career but i rly hope you take on the realistic approach for her job like maybe she works at a small family shop since it sounds like a small town setting or maybe she just took the first office job that gave her a good salary bc she decided to put her focus solely on her parents to avoid confronting her emotions AHHH i can't wait 😭❤️

i'll probably use this ask to mention what exactly reader has been doing since satosugu left.

after graduating high school with shoko, reader was set to go to a four year uni, but with the diagnostic of her parents' illness, she quickly scrapped that idea. instead, she took community college classes online, and works both a remote office job as well as shifts at the local coffee shop. i know a ton of people wanted to see reader do more with music, however, reader is very burnt out with her jobs and with the sad memories music leaves her :( a lot of what people were telling me felt great for storytelling but i also wanted to go along with the modernday!au as much as possible, yk?

but thank you for your ask anon! i appreciate you :)

[dulcewrites]

Omggg I just thought of the funniest (and saddest) thing. All my #gleeks out there will get this reference. But I’m thinking about how modern/djats au reader and aemond tell their parents about her being pregnant

- it’s the first time both families are meeting each other. Viserys and Rhaenyra included (both Aemond chose not to be around with if he can help it).

- reader’s parents are already :/ about the relationship bc they hear about Aemond being a musician in music school. They want their little girl with a lawyer or doctor I fear. But they pull up to this huge house, one Alicent got in the divorce love that for her, and are like okayyy 👀👀👀

- dinner is pretty awkward. Viserys is trying to tell stories about Aemond when he was kid. Mind you Aemond is trying to blow his dad up with his mind

- Alicent offers reader wine and she panics for a second. Lies and says red wine makes her break out. Rhaenyra comments on her being so pretty… glowing really.

- suddenly, aemond asks everyone to move to living room. Reader starts getting cold sweats bc she thinks they are just gonna sit down and tell everyone

- but then he brings out his bass and an amp and she’s like ???

- guys he wrote a song about her being pregnant. Like a cringe worthy song about them making love and that love turning into a baby. It’s bad (and sweet but mainly bad)

Very much this:

- reader is MORTIFIED. Aegon thinks it’s hilarious (he always thought he’d be the one bringing home a pregnant girl), Helaena is shocked. Daeron is excited to be an uncle. Viserys is just bopping along not getting it bc he’s an idiot. Alicent wants to cry. Rhaenyra wonders why she never hung out with younger siblings before.. they’re hilarious.

- the funniness of the sitation dissipates when reader’s father basically disowns her in front of them. Alicent tries to step in but her dad is pretty adamant about if she keeps the baby/stays with Aemond, she can’t expect them to be there for her :(((

- viserys does something right for once in life and kicks them out

- Alicent ends up going to every appointment with them. Rhaenyra recommends the doctor she used to have jace Luke and joff

[icycoldninja]

Gone (Kuja x Reader angst)

You lay in your bed at 2:00 A.M., staring up at the ceiling aimlessly. Despite your tiredness, there was no chance of you falling asleep tonight. Your brain buzzed with energy, energy that seemed to always leave you in the morning. This was because your heart was troubled; your mind refused to quiet its worries. You rolled over to stare at the empty sea of sheets before you. Just seeing how alone you were in that room was enough to make you want to cry. You missed him, you missed the man who would often curl himself around you and hug you to sleep; you missed how he would kiss you on the forehead and whisper sweet nothings into your ear. You shut your eyes, trying to stop the flow of nostalgic memories as they rushed into your brain, filling you with a sort of sad warmth. You knew you'd never get to experience anything like that ever again, which made you sad, but at the same time, those memories brought you comfort. It was a paradox of feelings, one that continued to keep your exhausted brain awake. "Kuja...." You whimpered into your pillow. Why did he have to leave? Why hadn't he come back? What was he doing for the past 4 years?! Your lonlieness and sadness soon shifted into anger and hurt. He always made a promise before he left, for whatever reason--he swore that he'd return to you. But he hadn't, and it had been so long. Why?

You knew the answer, you knew it, but you refused to admit it. You tried to bury the revelation into the darkest depths of your mind, you tried you best to distract yourself with different thoughts, but you knew. You knew why Kuja hadn't come back yet.

He was dead.

The truth had broken past your mental barriers and filled your mind, clouding it with anguish. You curled up and sobbed into the sheets as your gloominess overtook you. You kept weeping until you felt a smooth hand glide over your forehead, wiping your tears and pushing your hair back. You immediately froze up when you heard a familiar voice whisper your name. "Y/N, did you miss me?" Your ears perked up and you rolled over, only to feel a warm hand cover your eyes. "You can't look at me, I'm afraid." You sniffed and grabbed his arm, running your hands over the smooth skin. "Why not?" Kuja sighed; you felt him slide onto the bed and take you into his arms. "Because...if you look at me....I'll dissappear." Your heart stilled; your body tensed up. "What? You'll...dissappear?" Kuja sighed and ran his delicate fingers through your hair. "Yes. I'm sorry." He sighed again and pressed a soft kiss to your cheeks. "I don't have long." You gripped him as tight as you could, feeling your tears start to accumulate again. "It's not fair!" You whined, squeezing your eyes shut and burying your face into his torso. "I want you to stay longer! I want you to stay forever!" Kuja chuckled lowly and kissed your forehead. "I know, darling. I want to stay forever, too. But....I can't. And I'm sorry." He kissed you again, though for some reason, his lips were cold. "Wh-Kuja?!" you cried, shocked. "You're cold!" Kuja sniffed; it sounded like he was crying. "My time is up. I'm sorry, darling, I really am."

Forgetting all about what he said earlier, you opened your eyes and stared at the disintegrating ghost of your lover. "Kuja..." You mumbled in disbelief, watching his slender frame and elegant features turn transparent and dissolve like salt in water. It looked as though he were being absorbed by the air itself. Tears streamed down what was left of his beautiful face as he clasped your trembling hands with his own cold ones, and said what he'd returned to say.

"Goodbye, my darling Y/N. I love you."

"No! No, don't leave me!" You wailed, clawing at his dissipating body. "Please, Kuja! Don't leave me!" It didn't matter how loud you screamed or how long; it didn't matter how much you grabbed at the air.

Kuja was gone, and there was nothing you could do about it.

[astaldis]

Poor reader

The “shittiest” reason why somebody read one of my fanfics, it’s really funny, but poor reader! 

[valleynix]

do you really have mommy issues if you're not constantly doubting that they could have changed

[navybrat817]

Me: "How much can we traumatize our sweet florist?"

My muse:

[kiiwiigii]

Completely out of left combination but threesome with emmet and felix 👀

I have questions... but ok!

[i-cannot-spell-chaos]

Yandere College students trying to get in all professors darlings classes. Extra points if one is a Spanish learning class.

Professor darling: Hola estudiantes!

Yandere students:Maté a un hombre por ti hoy

Professor darling: muy buena?

Translation: hello students , I killed a man today for you , very good?

[boop-le-snoot]

“negan making rick eat out a girl that he's holding in his lap” is hands down the most genius way to write a regan blowjob scene. homoerotic heterosexual sex for the win!!