#proceeds to sob violently

[eatingmarkerz]

holiday sisterz cuz i love causing pain to myself

[nono-uwu]

Alrigthy, I've calmed down amd the chapter is officially out so

Chapter 134 thoughts

Spoilers duh

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•

•

- when I said I wanted to see Crowley again THIS ISN'T WHAT I MEANT T-T

- rip man. At least he gets to see Malron and Jose and all his friends again </3

- well now I have plenty of angst to write for my oc's... silver lining i guess :,)

- also Ferid, what is that mouth. Jeebus that is nightmare fuel

- ok, so shikama is really having a bad time, but it's good to see Shinoa embracing her full potential :)

- aaand Ferid backstory. Wowzers. So his whole deal the whole time was to stop reincarnation? And with Crowley being the 440th... what does that mean. Since it's that chain thing again, I wonder if a vampire is killed that way it will completley stop the whole human-vampire-demon cycle. Or it ouright stops reincarnation from happening. So Ferid has succesfully made 440 vampires just stop existing and never reincarnate? Gah

- So we're in endgame now. One of the more important characters died for reals and I expect for more slightly less important important people to be dropping real soon (guren squad maybe? Narumi?? Kureto??? Idfk)

- also Mitsu supporting Shinoa. Nawwww

- Well honestly this might be the best ending for Crowley. Bro has been through enough. I'm still sad though :(

- ok now this bugs me a lot. Ferid just straight up killed Chess and Horn off screen. When exactly though? Since when we saw them they were just kinda left in Sanguiem. Did he just kill them rq without Crowley seeing it? Bc I doubt he would've had the time to slip back and kill them seperatley. (Not even gonna touch on how stupidly misogynistic it is that they were killed off screen after years of radio silence. Sure, they're kinda unimportant and I'd understand if it'll be like that for other not-so-important characters. But istg it still points to Kagami not being able to write women. Oh well. And the mystery of how they even became acquainted with Crowley is just left in the dust. :/)

- "It wasn't half bad." Man. Win for crowferi shippers ig? Not me though. I guess it does makes sense with Crowley's character of just being very apathetic even to the guy who ruined his entire life.

Art wise, Crowely looked surprisingly decent (mostly, miss his fuller hair tho) and Ferid and Shinoa had some nice panels. That's it really.

Otherwise I'm still devastated but at least Crowely got a slightly somewhat okay-ish ending

Nah I'm lying this is me rn:

Edit: I just remembered. WHERE TF IS KRUL????

[rafecameronssl4t]

Leo is born || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: the long awaited fic of Leo's birth!

Warnings: complications with childbirth, allusion to ppd.

Word count: 1,190

MASTERLIST (forced marriage au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

The hospital room was anything but calm—machines beeping, nurses and doctors moving quickly, their faces strained with focus. The air was thick with tension, a suffocating weight pressing down on your chest. You were drenched in sweat, each contraction crashing over you like a violent wave, sharper and more relentless than the last.

Hours had blurred together in an agonising haze, the pain unyielding, your body caught in a merciless cycle that showed no sign of easing. The baby was still in the wrong position, and every minute that passed felt like a lifetime. You were struggling to breathe through the pain, your vision blurring at the edges. Rafe paced at the edge of the room, running his hands through his hair, his eyes wild with worry. His shirt was crumpled, half tucked in, half hanging loose, as if he had dressed in a rush and didn’t care how he looked.

For once, his usually cool, composed demeanour was completely shattered. His gaze flicked between you and the doctors, desperation and helplessness etched across his face. He had no control here, and it was driving him mad. Another contraction hit, and you let out a sharp cry, your body trembling. Your hands clenched around the bedsheets, knuckles turning white.

Rafe was by your side in an instant, grabbing your hand. But his touch wasn’t soft or reassuring—it was tight, as if he were trying to hold on to his own fraying sanity. “Rafe…” you gasped, trying to catch your breath, your voice cracking. “Hey, hey… it’s okay. You’re okay. Just breathe. I’m right here.”

His gaze flicked to the doctors, his blue eyes narrowing with a dangerous intensity. “What the hell is going on?” His voice was low, tight, like a coiled spring ready to snap. “Why aren’t you doing something?” One of the doctors—a calm, composed man in his forties—tried to explain.

“Mr. Cameron, we’re monitoring the situation. The baby is in a breech position, and we’re assessing the safest way to proceed without—” Rafe cut him off, his voice rising, sharp and angry. “I’m not paying you thousands of dollars to asses the situation! Do something now! She’s in pain. She’s been in pain for hours, and you're just standing around doing nothing!”

His hand gripped yours tighter, though he didn’t even seem aware of it, his focus entirely on the medical staff. You could see the way the doctors exchanged looks—professional, calm, but there was a flicker of unease in their expressions. They were used to pressure, but not the kind of raw, unfiltered anger that Rafe was radiating.

“Mr. Cameron, I understand you’re upset, but we have to ensure the safety of both your wife and the baby. A C-section is becoming increasingly likely, but we have to wait for the right moment.” Rafe let out a sharp, bitter laugh, shaking his head. “The right moment? My wife is screaming in pain, and you're telling me to wait for the right moment?”

Another contraction hit, and your hand instinctively tightened around his. You let out a choked sob, tears streaming down your face as the pain shot through your entire body. Rafe’s attention snapped back to you, and for a brief moment, the anger in his face softened, replaced by something raw—something vulnerable.

He brushed a damp strand of hair away from your face, his thumb trembling as it touched your skin.“Hey, hey, it’s okay. You’re okay,” he whispered, though the strain in his voice betrayed the fear simmering beneath the surface. “I’m right here.”“Rafe,” you gasped, voice cracking, “I can’t… it hurts so much.”

His jaw clenched, and for a moment, he looked like he might break. But he didn’t. He bent down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath shaky, his words barely above a whisper. “I know, I know… I’m so sorry. I wish I could take it away. I’d do anything to make this easier for you. Just—just hold on, okay? You’re so strong. You’re doing so good.”

But the second the contraction eased, his head whipped back toward the doctors, fury burning in his eyes again. “Do something! Now! I don’t care how much it costs. I don’t care what it takes. Just help her!” One of the nurses, sensing the rising tension, stepped forward. “We’re preparing for a C-section, Mr. Cameron. We need just a few more minutes to make sure everything is ready.”

“You’ve had hours,” Rafe snapped. His voice was dangerously low now, the calm before the storm. “If anything happens to her—or to my son—it’s on you. Do you understand me?” You could feel his anger vibrating through his body, his hand trembling in yours. He was terrified, but he didn’t know how to express it except through rage.

And yet, even through the haze of pain, you could see that his fury wasn’t just anger—it was fear. He was helpless in a situation he couldn’t control, and it was killing him. Before you could say anything else, the doctor spoke up, his tone firm but professional. “We’re ready for the C-section. We’re going to take good care of both of you.”

Rafe’s eyes flicked back to the doctor, his jaw still clenched, but he didn’t say anything more. Instead, he turned back to you, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles, trying to offer you the only comfort he could. “You’re going to be okay,” he whispered, his voice soft now, almost pleading. “You’re so strong, and I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” The next moments were a blur. The pain, the fear, the cold sterility of the operating room.

But Rafe never left your side. Even through his anger, through his fear, he stayed with you, his hand in yours, his eyes locked on you, as if you were the only thing tethering him to this world. And when Leo’s first cry pierced the room, Rafe let out a breath he hadn’t even realised he was holding. His grip on your hand tightened, and he leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead, his voice choked with emotion.

“You did it,” he whispered, his voice breaking. “He’s here.” You let out a breath of relief. “Here,” a nurse approaches with your newborn son, freshly cleaned and swaddled. “Hm?” Your voice is distant as she gently places him on your chest. The weight of him feels foreign, almost surreal. You suck in a shallow breath, your shaky hand reaching up to stroke his delicate back, but you pull it away, unable to hold it there for more than a second.

The room feels heavy, and a hollow ache settles deep within your chest. You avert your eyes, swallowing the lump forming in your throat. “Can I… Can I just rest?” Your voice cracks. “I-I want to rest right now.” The nurses exchange quiet glances, their eyes flicking toward Rafe, who is watching you closely, trying to understand the distance in your expression. His brows knit together in concern, but after a beat, he nods slowly, saying nothing, his gaze lingering on you as if he’s waiting for you to come back to yourself.

[rubra-wav]

[ Entry #10 ] What it would be like actually dating Vox hcs

A/N I love Vox, but the reality of it is that he'd be terrible for a lot of reasons and I'm not gonna sugarcoat it in here like at all.

Me when theoretically very complex but ultimately still extremely problematic character: *foaming at mouth*

I love him.. but God I also hate him... but I also love hi-

This is a long one jfc.

Cw: Nsfw - no smut but strong themes, discussion of toxic relationships, manipulation, discussion of emotionally abusive/controlling behaviour, insecure aa toxic cis man behaviour, suggestive at one point

Someone asked me what I thought he'd be like with a yes-man reader so here it is

The worst out of the way first

The thing about Vox is that he's got a fuckton of baggage and bad traits that need desperate management, and they would sure as hell not be being managed by him on his own choice.

As his partner, you would NOT be able to be a pushover or shy away from any kind of confrontation about actions that have upset you because if Vox had a partner like this? He'd become the absolute worst version of himself in your relationship because you would not be calling him out or enforcing boundaries with him.

- He's insecure, and it's in the worst way possible.

And not in the 'aw he just needs to be loved and then he'll be healed' way. I'm talking in the 'toxic, refuses to remedy his own behaviours, becomes very emotionally abusive abt it if you don't pull up your boots and confront him abt it and make sure he actually does shit about it' way.

The fanfic community likes to portray him as a victim in the relationship with Val, and while it's true Val is certainly worse for obvious/overt reasons - He's still not just a victim in that situation. He's also terrible.

Just for reasons that are less overt and are thus overshadowed a lot. Acknowledging that doesn't make the shit Val (at least seemingly thus far. Vox side-stepped the drink being thrown pretty fast and seems accustomed to violent tantrums) does to him any less terrible, it's just the truth he's not a poor defenceless victim in that. (Vox literally goes to try use his mind control power on Val the second he seems like he's gonna damage their image then throws his lowest earners under the bus.)

- In the beginning if you aren't giving him attention at all times, do something that reminds him of Valentino even slightly, or if you do something that he just mildly doesn't like; then he will be passive aggressive or straight up aggressive as absolute fucking hell.

The second he feels slighted even a little bit, he's going to be so pissy.

- And he can't communicate for absolute shit. He thinks you are doing shit on purpose to piss him off or hurt him. This is due to his relationship with Val, but it's not him being a sad sob story kind of thing (not all around at least), he will be awful to you if you allow him to ever be just a victim who can do no wrong.

- He will project all his bs heavily onto you in the beginning with complete self awareness and no thought given to managing his own shit.

If you ask what's wrong when he's acting up he probably would be the type of bitch to go 'nothing's wrong' and will then proceed to ruminate upon it until he ends up exploding about it later on. Or, maybe he'll even do the 'you know what you've done' type of shit.

- He would probably expect you to be a mind reader and when you inevitably aren't aware of wtf is happening because he hates being emotionally vulnerable at all and can't describe what's going on properly for himself, he will be an absolute bitch about it. (Carried here from my other hc that he has a bunch of self-imposed toxic masculinity he needs to deconstruct)

- If you call him out, he will likely try to convince you he's not doing it.

- He'll become increasingly more self-aware of his behaviour you are aware of and will just be even worse because he hates that you could see something about him he doesn't want you to see.

Basically, he feels embarrassed as fuck about it, and cannot apologise because that's humiliating as all hell to him, so instead of turning inwards and dealing with his crap he then proceeds to consciously project shit onto you even when he knows he's in the wrong.

He'd rather argue the wrong point and behaviour than admit he's capable of making mistakes.

He will probably also try to hypnotise you into forgetting anything he thinks is undesirable you know about him too.

- You will need to actually teach him real consequences for his actions, but also need to be assuring him that you aren't going to do shit like Val would have or leave him for someone else and shit like that simultaneously.

He needs to essentially be taught consequences, boundaries, healthy relationship behaviour, etc. From absolute scratch. I would literally pay for this cunts therapy atp istg.

- And this is gonna be an absolute fucking nightmare because again, he doesn't want to admit that he doesn't know what the fuck he's doing and that he's in the wrong. All that interferes with his image he wants to put out at all times in your relationship with him.

He's got masks on masks. Even one for your relationship. The second that cracks in any regard, he's gonna be rushing to compensate for that, and if that doesn't work, he's gonna be pissed and most likely end up pushing that onto you.

- Speaking of image. I mentioned this in a fic, but he'd most likely be extremely controlling over your freedom to disclose your relationship, too. If he thought you would look poor as a partner for his reputation (ie. Low status, bad reputation), he'd most likely never want to publicly reveal your relationship no matter how much he loves you - he'd likely hide this completely behind you having privacy but if you say you want people to know anyway he's going to slowly become more and more overtly pissy about it.

And, if you are openly known to be in a relationship, he will be wanting to control your own image as well.

If you step one foot out of line of what he deems perfect, good lord he will be an absolute nightmare.

- Also mentioned in another post, but he would absolutely also watch you through cameras you don't know are there. Same as what he's seen doing with Val.

- He's got practically zero qualms in the beginning of your relationship with violating your privacy or boundaries if he thinks he'll get away with it/that you won't find out about it. This also likely goes for things like checking your texts, calls, and search history without permission.

- The possibility that he'd try to interfere with your personal relationships if he thought they would try drag you away from him or if they take up a lot of your attention is also pretty present.

He's an incredibly jealous person (as seen by him seeming jealous of Angel with Val of all people), so the second he sees you giving someone else positive attention? He's gonna be fucking furious.

- Again, you could not be a pushover in your relationship with him because he'd be absolutely awful. You'd have to basically be reality checking him every three seconds - it's NOT for the faint of heart and even if you're incredibly patient you will probably be going insane from it at points.

Implying you can actually get him to change tho he would become a lot better - he's gonna be fighting you on practically everything because the second he feels out of control of a situation or himself he's gonna be freaking out.

He will probably be straight up terrified if it seems like you are making him 'change', even if it's for the better and will ultimately ALSO benefit him too.

The SECOND he feels out of control of a situation in any way, he will be terrible.

- Also, if you manage to push him on the path to behaviour management this cunt will be looking smug and proud of himself as all hell the second he even slightly does what you ask and will be a bitch if you don't rain down praise on him for it. 💀

- He's so positive attention motivated it's actually pathetic lmao

With that out of the way - the slightly better/good other stuff

- Vox works fucking nightmare hours with his position in hell, and he hates not being able to be around you much so he's almost always trying to make it up to you.

- He'll be on calls with you or texting you most hours of the day (even when he probably should not be) because he's honestly clingy as hell.

If you don't like having a million notifications from someone blowing up your phone with random shit then you are not going to like being apart from him because he is chronically on his phone.

- Another thing is the gifts.

If you want a sugar daddy aa boyfriend? This is the man for you because my God will he shower you with the most expensive gifts you have ever received. New phones, cars, jewellery, clothes, so on so on.

It's bad if you don't like consumerism and want to keep devices even if newer ones come out because the second something new comes out he's getting it for you - even before it becomes publicly available to the rest of hell, it's in your hands. He wants the best stuff and only the best stuff for you. How would that make him look if his partner didn't have all the best stuff? To you and also others

- Also, the second you mention you actually want or need something? It's there right in front of you. Bro has personal delivery drones, and it will be there in under 15 minutes delivered to you or someone's getting shot.

- I've seen a few people imply gift giving is his primary love language, and it's certainly up there, but I personally think that it's more likely acts of service.

This man never does anything for anyone unless it's to keep things from being annoying to him, self gain, or damaging his image. So for him to do things for you that he knows you want from him even if he doesnt particularly want to? He is well and truly in love with you, and that would be how he'd let you know that even if he isn't self-aware of it, lmao.

He doesn't like being told to do things, but he's really good at picking up on what people want usually (unless he's being delulu) so if he notices something or you mention stuff off-hand? He'll try to do it/get it/whatever it is for you.

Material things are just material things. He's rich, it doesn't mean that much to drop thousands for him. Him actually doing things for you, though? Even if it doesn't benefit him at all? That's something else entirely.

Will be annoying asf if you don't thank him enough for it, though. Ie. "Well, you're welcome then." While pouting at you.

- As for spending time with him:

I believe he constantly wants to be alone with you and only with you when he actually has time to do so, so he only wants dates to be one-on-ond most of the time.

There aren't exactly limits upon that, though, like at all.

He's absolutely rich and has ridiculous privileges so you could be on comfy home dates where you two just stay in and cuddle after eating dinner, or seeing concerts/watching movies/etc exclusively where they are not available to just anyone, or something fucking ridiculous like eating a fancy dinner at a custom designed restaurant just for dates under a goddamn aquarium (very likely ngl)

The second he gets to show off his power, he's gonna do it with a smug grin.

- He's also extremely big on physical touch but would never admit it. I already go over this in another entry, but he's gonna have a hand on you at all times (hand on your waist, hip or shoulder, purposely brushing against you more then he logically has to be, etc)

Brief mentions of sexual stuff here

I feel like he'd love someone big on physical touch - both in a sexual way but also especially in a non-sexual way.

He's not used to getting someone cuddling him or holding his hands or literally just touching him at all without some underlying ulterior motive, so he'd probably just melt into your touch.

Also I'll link the post bc there's further takes on this in it but they are ✨️sus✨️

- He would be extremely protective of you- this can absolutely become one of the blue sections really easily- but if you're in a relationship he's gonna be constantly concerned about your safety and whether you are at risk.

I mean, you're in hell. Just about anyone could turn out to be some maniac (ironic he would think that 🤨)

Anyways, point is, you'd be safe from any other maniacs. He would give you the best security and protection probably in hell.

Another thing is that he's gonna be super paranoid at all times about whether you're safe or not. Which would probably get honestly annoying rather than endearing at a point. 💀

- Even though he's really against revealing his more vulnerable parts and what he doesn't think are desirable of himself, he's absolutely craving emotional security with someone.

So when you get him passed that? He's gonna be so goddamn clingy - even more then before lmao.

Ending note

He's an absolute nightmare who's high maintenance asf and could become extremely abusive emotionally, but he really also needs to be romanced properly for that to actually get better by a partner who won't take his bs and knows how to take him down a peg and put him in his place when he's being awful.

And definitely therapy.

The fact that I think all this and know how much an awful person he is and still love him this much as a character has gotta indicate some sort of insanity/j

[ Masterlist ]

[c00kietin]

BRO. LITERALLY GOBSMACKED. HAD TO ACTUALLY CLOSE MY LAPTOP TO TAKE IT IN GOODNESS-

I HAVE NO WORDS-

so have a comic instead :D

(Tenebris secretly orders somebody to photocopy these images and have them framed. This art boosts their huge ego.)

Brittany blast 💥

(might draw 🎾 later :D)

HDAHDAAHHGDSJFGDGSJSHAKAFHGGHHGGHGHHGHGG OMGGGGGG

I LOVE THIS SO MUCH OHMYGAH

I AM YELLING AT YOU RIGHT NOW AND GRIPPING YOU BY THE SHOULDERS/VPOS

DEAR FRIEND ILYSM/P

The hair!! The EVERYTHING asashhghjds I just love the way you draw bro ;v;

[lxstfathier]

Animals

Phillip Graves x Reader

Summary: you knew your commander was interested in you, but you don’t like him in the slightest, and he’s not used to being rejected. You will be his, one way or another.

Warnings: non-con, unprotected sex, p in v, porn without plot, slapping, choking, manhandling, implied kidnapping.

A/N: i wanted to write non-con for sooo long and now i finally got the courage to do it. But, if i’m being honest, i think it fits more as dub-con. However, this fic is inspired on the song Animals by Maroon 5, give it a listen if you can. That’s all i had to say lol, sorry for any errors english is not my first language, and thanks for all the support, hope you enjoy this as well 💗

Read at your own risk

“Did you really think you could run away from me?”

Graves’ voice is dark, low, and filled with lust, much more frightening than anything you ever heard before. His whole weight is pressing against your back, pinning you to the ground, and one of his hands grabs a fistful of you hair, forcing your face to the dirt.

“Let me go, please!” You beg, crying and shaking in pure fear, now regretting all those times where you rejected his romantic interests in you.

“Are you scared now?” He coos, mocking your desperate cries. “Too bad darlin’, cause i won’t let you go until i get what i want.”

And you know exactly what he wants. He’s gonna get between your legs and do all those gross things that he has fantasized about for months. And there’s nothing you can do to stop him right now, he’s bigger and stronger than you, he’s gonna take whatever he wants, whether you like it or not.

Without wasting no more time, Graves grabs both of your wrists, tying them together with a zip tie behind your back, and then proceeds to cut your pants and underwear with his knive, leaving your ass exposed in the cold air, all while you cry and whine at him to stop.

“Go ahead and scream all you want baby, no one’s gonna hear ya’ “ he says, leaving his knife aside and undoing his pants. Hearing your pretty cries has made him hard as a rock, and he can’t wait to claim you.

But, as desperate as you are, you know he’s right. You’re both too far away from the military base, in the middle of nowhere, surrounded only by trees and bushes. No one will hear you even if you scream at the top of your lungs. So you decide to save your voice, accepting the fate that your commander is creating for you.

Just let him satiate his needs and it all will be over soon.

Graves positions himself between your legs and grabs you by the hips, lifting you up a little bit. The pink tip of his cock already prodding at your bare pussy. And, without a warning, he slides into you with one powerful thrust, grunting in pleasure as you sob in pain.

He sets a brutal pace, abusing your tight little cunt with his big cock, slamming against your cervix over and over, his strong hold on your hips bruising your delicate skin.

“I knew you’d feel so fucking good. Fuck- you were made for me baby, even if you think you’re not.” He growls into your ear, resting his chest on your back. And a sweet moan scapes your lips. “What’s that? huh? are you enjoying my cock?.”

You know you’re wrong, it’s sick to moan in pleasure when he’s taking advantage of you like a fucking monster, but the way he stretches you open and hits all your sweet spots is way too good to ignore. The pain has faded and now your cunt is begging for more, coating his length with your slick, and arching your back to give him a better access.

Graves lets out a dark chuckle, knowing that he somehow managed to break you and make you forget that it’s all against your will, just lifting his ego impossibly high, feeling like the proudest bastard around.

What would your colleagues say if they saw you both fucking like animals in heat?.

You moan again, clenching around him, getting that familiar sensation building up in the pit of your stomach, closer to your release with each one of his violent thrusts. But he suddenly stops before you can reach it, pulling out just to quickly manhandle you into a new position.

Now with your back on the damp forest dirt and your legs spread open, you can clearly see him leaning on top of you as he slides inside your wet heat again. God, he’s handsome, but so damn evil.

“You like getting used like a whore, don’t ya’?” He asks, staying still, looking down at you with his pretty blue eyes. But, when you don’t answer, one hard slap against your cheek makes your face go red. “I asked you a question.”

“Y-yes, i like it sir” you say, kinda enjoying the burning sensation on your skin.

“Such a nasty little girl” his voice sends shivers down your spine, and his right hand finds a place in your throat, squeezing tight as he starts thrusting again, this time harder than before.

You squirm under him, feeling his thick cock pounding your tiny hole in the most delicious way, gasping for air while your orgasm comes closer again. But he’s choking you hard enough to cut all your airflow and fear washes over you once more. He could kill you right there if he wanted, there’s nothing to stop him, not even your own hands to push him away.

It’s a weird feeling. You’re scared to death, you don’t know if your commander will be kind enough to let you live, and still you can’t help but feel extremely aroused, bucking your hips to meet his thrusts, making your clit brush against his pubic bone.

Graves grunts in your ear and you finally come undone, writhing and spasming in pure bliss, soaking his cock in your sweet juices. And he follows right after you, swearing under his breath, filling your womb with white spurts of cum, loosening his grip on your throat just as you’re about to pass out.

You both stay still for a few seconds, panting and riding out your orgasms.

“I hate you” you say once you can speak again, looking up at the bright blue sky above, angry at him for what he just did and way too disgusted with yourself for enjoying such thing.

“Don’t lie princess” he speaks, a sick smirk appearing on his face. “If you hated me, you wouldn’t be creaming all over my fucking cock.”

Tears stream down your face and Graves pulls out of your poor pussy, staying on his knees while he admires the mess he made. His hot cum slowly dripping out of your abused hole, your bruised hips, the red skin of your neck and your sad eyes filled with tears. Way more beautiful than anything he had ever laid his eyes on.

You sit up, trying to get away from him, silently begging him to untie your hands and let you go, not even caring if your legs are still weak, you’re ready to run away as soon as he cuts the zip tie on your wrists.

But what a naive and innocent creature. Did you really thought he would fulfill his promise of letting you go? Did you really thought that you could give him a taste and then expect him to cut you loose? Oh, darling, what a shame.

“You know what, baby?… i’m gonna keep you all to myself.” Phillip says, caressing your cheek, the rough material of his black gloves absorbing your tears. “Just as a pretty toy for me to fuck whenever i want.”

Say bye to the army and your old life, you’re his now.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 37

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, allusions to abuse, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: Get ready for Andrew Barber's masterclass in manipulation.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

Your disbelief gives way to panic. You gulp and gasp for breath as you collapse onto the carpet, hugging yourself as you sink into horror. You’re repulsed by your own body, trapped in your own skin. A monster. Just as horrible as you always suspected.

Selfish, worthless, thoughtless. Your doubts calcify to certainty. You are a bad person.

But you don’t want to be. You never wanted to be. How can you be so terrible despite your best efforts? You have to be better. You have to try harder.

You heave and lift yourself on a shaky arm, rubbing your damp cheek as you sniffle and look around. Your head throbs but you won’t be sleeping that night. The violent churning in your stomach won’t let you. You don’t deserve to rest. You have too much to do.

You get up on tremulous legs. You find it hard to balance as the swirling haze of wine turns to a groggy pulsing in your temples. You massage them as each step sends a thump through your skull. You try to shake it off but it only gets worse.

You move carefully. You did this to yourself. You drank even after Andy warned you not to. You ignored him all day like a spoiled child. You did whatever you wanted and then you… hurt him.

You start with the kitchen. It’s already tidy from Amber’s help but you wipe down the counters to be certain, then you get out the mop, leaning heavily on it as you sponge the tile to sparkling. You move on to the dining room; surfaces, floors, and even the curtains. You sus out every speck of dust and dirt.

You find yourself sitting, folded over as you cradle your head and catch your breath. You’re weak and shaky but you keep going. You get up and return to the front room. You give pause before the couch, the throw pillows knocked this way and that, one on the floor. You tidy them and refold the blanket on the back neatly.

It’s too late to vacuum but you do your best to sweep around the edge of the carpet. You go to the mantel and straighten the ornaments that seemed to distract Steve that day. You stop at the thought of the doctor and nearly sob. What do you tell him? How do you tell him what you did? He would know what you are. What would he think?

Your teeth chatter despite the warm air. It’s not the temperature but your own fatigue that sets you to shiver. You carry on, making a careful progress through the large house. You suffer over every inch. You don’t know how else to show your remorse but to make everything perfect. Everything but yourself. You will never be perfect, you are inextricably broken.

The dawn rises and you let yourself rest in the bathroom. You rinse your face in cold water, trying to wake up. You take some painkillers for the beating in your skull and grip the sides of the sink, weary and worn.

A flicker catches your eye. You glance over at the white shower speaker. He must’ve replaced the batteries. You stand straight and roll your shoulders back. You’re not done. You will never be done. This task, not the cleaning, no, but you, trying to fix you, that’s something you’ll always have to work on. 

You go back to the hall and stop short. You peer down towards the bedroom door; Andy’s. It’s silent and the edges are dark. You shudder out a breath and cross to the guest room. 

You enter the solemn space and search for a new outfit. You pick out something he bought for you, that you know he’ll like. You tuck a white blouse into the brown corduroy skirt that buttons up the front. You match the outfit with a pair of stockings to warm your tingling legs.

You emerge, feeling stronger but hardly better. You descend the stairs, his silence and the stillness of the house suffocating you. You drag your feet into the kitchen and tie the apron on as you begin. You take out one of the cookbooks and search for the perfect breakfast.

The hours pass swiftly as you set to work. You focus on each ingredient, each step, as you put together the pieces. A quiche with the most perfect savoury crust. The scents rising around you tug on your stomach, the dregs of wine leaving your stomach barren and acidic.

You brew coffee and put together a tray. A mug, a plate of quiche, fruit salad, napkins, and cutler. You balance it all and turn to the long journey upstairs. It feels like a treacherous path. You fear you might not reach your destination and you wouldn’t be surprised if you’re turned away.

You stop at Andy’s door, like the gates of some vaunted castle, and swallow down your fears. You knock with your foot, careful not to cause too much of a clatter. No answer comes as you stew in the silence of the large house.

You turn your shoulder to the door and lean in, “Andy?”

Your call wilts into the still air and you wait. You clear your throat and try again, speaking louder this time. The crackle of your voice is harsh amid the empty lull. You listen, a rustle coming from the other side, and a sniffle. 

Your heart catches in your throat as you face the door head on. The lock clicks as the handle turns back and a small slat of space opens between the edge and frame. Your eyes meet Andy’s single on, peeking out sheepishly.

“Good morning,” you try to be chipper, “can I… I brought you breakfast.”

He stares and blinks. His gaze falls to the tray in your hand. There’s a glisten across his iris.

“Andy,” you sniff, “I’m very sorry about last night.”

He closes the door and you stand dumbly in your dejection. You look down at the tray. You’re stupid to think food could solve the problem. That you could ever apologise thoroughly for your offence. You can’t take back what’s been done.

You take a step back but stop again, the tray rattle treacherously as the handle twists back again, this time with more force. Andy still wears the same clothes as the day before. His hair is dishevelled, his beard with short shanks jutting out at the chin, as he keeps his face down. With slumped shoulders, at a slight angle, he stands back.

“We can talk,” he utters in a fractured timbre. He sounds like he’s been crying.

You bow your head and step into the room. You go to the console table and lay the tray there as it starts to shake with your nerves.

The bedsprings compress as he sits with a heavy sigh. You keep your back to him as you try to sort out the pangs in your chest and stomach. You turn slowly on your heel. As he sits on the side of the bed, the glare of the lamp illuminates his features and the dark bruising along the left side. His eye is almost entirely swollen shut.

You gasp and cover your mouth. He keeps his eyes down meekly, as if trying to hide. You can’t believe you did that to him. How could you have done that? With just one hit?

“I’m so sorry,” you creak out through your dry throat, “Andy, I’m so so sorry. I didn’t mean to– I didn’t sleep all night, I feel so rotten–”

“Enough, dove,” he hisses, “enough.”

“Please,” you beg as you step forward only for him to flinch. You stop and clutch your hands in front of your chest; he’s afraid of you.

“I…” he begins and swallows thickly. He shakes his head and reaches to brush his fingers through his beard, only to wince again. “I… I love you, dove.”

Your eyes gloss as you watch him. You see how he musters his strength to look back at you. Never had anyone looked at you like that. Afraid. 

“I love you, too,” you eke out.

“So…” he quavers and clears his throat, “so let’s move past this.” You see him struggle as he grips his thigh and forces his posture straight, “I won’t make you mad again and you won’t hurt me, right?”

It’s like a punch in the gut. You could keel over right there.

“I wouldn’t ever–”

“You did,” he insists, “dove, it’s not that you hit me, it’s… you broke my heart last night.”

“I’m sorry, I really am–”

“Sorry… doesn’t always fix things. I can’t forget last night, but if it doesn’t happen again, I can live with it,” he utters each word as if it hurts, “promise, dove, promise you won’t ever hurt me like that again.”

“I promise,” you spit out desperately, “please, I never meant to hurt you. I wouldn’t ever– Andy,” you bring your hands around your throat, trying to pry away the invisible fingers squeezing you, “there’s something wrong with me. I want to fix it. I… someone hurt me…and maybe that’s why…”

“I understand but it isn’t an excuse,” he reproaches, “you can break that cycle, that’s why you go to therapy… I’m starting to think that’s not working though.”

“N-no, it is– I–”

“Have you told Steve about who hurt you?”

You reel and shake your head, digging your nails into your own throat, “no…”

“So how are you fixing yourself, dove?”

It’s an accusation. That softness is gone and the razor is back in his voice. You frown and shrug.

“I’m trying–”

“Not hard enough,” he says, “look at me.” You do, you see the purplish blue bruises and his swollen eyelid. You see what you did. “If this happens again, you have to go. We can’t stay together. I won’t let you…” his timbre turns sandy and lowers his chin, “do what my ex did to me.”

He sniffles as he hides his face. Your heart clenches and you slowly inch towards him. Before you can get to him, he stands and staggers around the bed. You freeze as he clamours into the attached bathroom and the light flicks on. The harsh yellow blaze shines into the bedroom.

You daintily pad around after him and stop just before the doorway. He grips the frame of the mirror as he looks at his reflection. Tears trickle out down his cheeks and he looks down, gulping tightly.

“I didn’t… I didn’t look before,” he wipes his nose, “Dove, I couldn’t…”

“I’m so sorry,” you murmur, “I… I’ll leave. I’ll…” you blink furiously at the thought. Where do you go? You can’t go back to Amber, she doesn’t deserve someone like you. “I’ll go–”

“Where?” He asks.

You don’t have an answer.

“Then I’m the bad guy,” his words grit, “no, we’ll… work on it. Promise, dove, promise you’ll do better.”

“I will, I swear,” you plead, “I… will you eat breakfast?”

He flinches, slowly turning his head to peek at you, “breakfast?”

“I… I wanna take care of you. You need to eat. I… I made it for you. Special.”

His lashes flutter and he looks down at the sink again. He nods as if steeling himself. He pushes himself straight. 

He turns to face you completely but before you can back away, not wanting to crowd him, you’re swept up in his arms. He hugs you to him, smothering you in the scent of his sweat and deodorant. You lock up as you let him squeeze you.

“I couldn’t sleep without you,” he whispers as he rocks you with him, “as much as you hurt me, I couldn’t. Dove, I need you.”

You slowly bring your arms up and wrap them around him. You feel how big he is. For a moment, you’re in awe that you could ever make him so afraid. You? How? His strength tightens around you, tight enough to force the breath out of you. Tight enough to break you if he wanted to.

“I didn’t sleep either,” you confess.

🕊️

You clean up the tray. The shadow of the previous night looms over you but you try not to let it consume you. The plate is clean but for a few crumbs, the fruit salad was quickly snapped up, and Andy is sipping his second cup of coffee as you lift away the remnant of his breakfast.

“That was good,” he praises over the brim of his mug.

“I’m glad you liked it. Happy you ate,” you say as your own stomach growls painfully. 

“I got you to take care of me,” he smiles even as his cheek ticks. You’re both thinking of the unsaid, trying to ignore the ghost in the room with you.

“Can I–” you focus on his mussed hair, an unusual sight, “can I run you a bath?”

He seems taken aback. He tilts his head and sips again. You hold the tray in front of you, fearing his rejection.

“Of if you need space…”

“No, that would be… nice,” he rasps, wetting his throat with the coffee before continuing, “dove, I’d love a bath,” he licks his shining lips, “with you?”

Your mouth falls open and your eyes round. It isn’t just the idea of sharing the tub, but the hope of his offer. It isn’t forgiveness but it’s a start. He’s not casting you out.

“Y-yes,” you squeak, “y-yeah, I’ll go… I’ll go clean all this up and get the tub going.”

“Honey,” he pats his stomach in content, “you’re so good to me.”

You can only nod. It’s another reminder. You weren’t good to him last night. You paint a smile on your face and step back on your heel.

“Let me just get this to the kitchen–”

“Don’t I get a kiss?” He prompts before you can back up.

“Oh, uh, yes, I’m sorry, I didn’t…” you carry the tray closer, “I didn’t know if you wanted… one.”

“Always, dove,” he leans over and offers his puckered lips. You give him a peck as he hums. As you draw back, he purrs, “perfect.”

Your smile quivers on your lips. He watches you as you glance down at the tray. It’s awkward. It’s going to be for a while. You won’t ever forget this. He accepts you, even the bad parts. Even when it hurts.

“Love you, dove,” he says.

Your eyes flick up to meet his, “love you too… honey.”

His face brightens, “I like that,” he beams, “when you call me honey.”

“You do?” you bat your lashes.

“It’s like a song,” he says and teethes his lips, his eyes drifting away from yours, “beautiful like the rest of you.”

You squirm and squeeze the tray. You slowly turn away, the empty dishes rattling with you. The knot in your chest just won’t untangle. You want it to be alright but it still feels so wrong.

[dishesoap]

i like the Hunger Games a lot but im always gonna be a little bitter it took off when her Underland Chronicles never did. those books were so good and so fucked up. snippets of spoilers for a 20 year old book series for middle schoolers ahead:

cockroaches the size of horses who talk and are actually super chill and great babysitters for human toddlers. these books are the only reason i dont have nightmares about cockroaches anymore

cannibalism happens a lot. at one point a rat the size of a bison says "man go ahead and eat your dead friend, we wont judge" to a spider, who then proceeds to eat her dead friend. everyone but the rat judges.

another rat, who is still relatively a baby, is found later eating his babysitter's liver in an attempt to hide the body.

dude, pandoras death was so fucked up. "wow an island! im starving im gonna have a snack. brb guys" flies a little bit over, is immediately devoured in seconds by bugs and her skeleton crashes into the jungle below

plague book! humans try to commit genocide and blame it on bugs

hey. hey eleven year old. kill this tiny baby screaming for his mother. he sounds just like your baby sister you think just died horribly. kill this baby with a sword. you didnt? you didnt kill a sobbing baby who watched his mother die? we're putting you on trial for treason and will execute you

baby rat gone insane, now 15' tall and leading an army, ripping the head off of his friend/gaslighter, immediately heartbreakingly asking where she went, and then finding the head and accusing a twelve year old boy of doing it

dude gregor is eleven and in the first book willingly leaps off a cliff to his death (despite it being his worst fear) in the hopes itll stop his two year old sister boots from being graphically torn apart and eaten, like he has seen happen to others

thalia's death. they dont just kill unnamed children (they do absolutely kill a lot of unnamed babies onscreen) they also kill beloved named children

"the fireflies had to gnaw ares' claw off of his corpse bc you wouldnt let go of your friends claw. its been almost three weeks and the viscera has dried and glued it to your grip. we cant get it off without breaking your finger. you gotta let go of your friends corpse, twelve year old boy"

twitchtip.

forcing the twelve year old into a prophesied battle where he will die, and making him dissociate so hard for months he blankly allows others to make him cause/be complicit in war crimes

HAHA HEY THE SAPIENT, INTELLIGENT MICE DYING BY THE HUNDREDS SUFFOCATING ON POISON GAS WHILE A TODDLER SINGS A NURSERY SONG ABOUT THE MICE DYING.

the six year old boy losing literally everyone hes ever known and cared for over and over again

just so much violent gore and death for middle schoolers, man. i love it.

hey that was objectively a good and well done ending. and i also loved it. but "hey gregor my husband was in the war. he had ptsd that will never go away just like you" hey hes twelve :( someone help him

prim's death in the hunger games has nothing on the shit collins pulled in the underland chronicles this is like a tiny chunk please read them

[sparklesandpudding]

Aphrodite : so...what makes you come to me...?

(Name), ugly crying : I need-*sniffle* a makeover- *hiccup* bad bitch come back- *sob*

Aphrodite : ...why is that...?

(name) : cus Hercules doesn't wanna be my boyfriennnndd!!! WHAAAA!!! *Wailing proceeds*

_______________

literally when (name) approached hercules

(name), on all fours : please be my boyfriend!!!

Hercules : ah- I'm sorry...but- wait..where are you going- *(name), running out wailing*

(Name) : HE REJECTED MEEEE!!! *Sobs violently*

[egotisticaleverything]

madpat smut fic plssss (just go wild atp)

Great To Be A Liar

WARNINGS: Violence, descriptions of dead bodies, mental manipulation, gaslighting, kinda/not rlly dub-con, P in V, unprotected sex, praise kink, degrading kink, oral sex (f receives), Heathers references, sex next to a dead body, in the words of an AO3 author DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT.

A/N: I was so glad to get this because oml I need to make more egos content lmaooo hope you enjoy.

Word count: 1.5k

"You’ve ever taken German?" Your boyfriend perked up, still holding the gun, loose in his hand as he waved it around almost carelessly.

"No, French." You responded quickly, shooting your attention in his direction, worried by his sloppy grip on the firearm.

"Okay well, these are Ich Lüge bullets," He continued, "My grandfather snagged a shitload of em' back in WW-Two." He carried on as you listened intently, "They're like tranquilisers. Except they break the surface if the skin, enough to cause a little blood but no real damage."

"So it looks like the person's been shot and killed, but really they're just lying there unconscious and bleeding?" You ask, assuming the rest from his explanation.

"Right." He confirms, sitting back down on your bed, "See, we shoot Nate and Mark, make it look like they shot each other and by the time they regain consciousness, they'll be the laughingstock of the whole town."

"Are you sure about this?" You ask one last time, running a hand through your hair still slightly shaky.

"I've never been so sure."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

You stood there shaking, unsure of how to proceed. You were stood over the body of your former colleague as blood pooled out from the wound on his neck, the shot you took wasn't pretty, It was a violent one. It was point-blank. In addition to the bullet itself causing damage, the exhaust gases trailed behind and caused additional harm. It looked like something out of a horror film, but no. No this was real. You did this. Not just you but-

"Sweetheart!" Your boyfriend called out in a sing-song voice, "I caught the runner." He smiled, dragging Mark by the collar of his uniform and practically tossing him onto the tiles.

Another wave of shock washed over you as the second man's body collapsed.

"You lied." You finally spoke, voice hoarse and weak, pathetic.

"Pardon my dear?" He asked in the same chipper tone, unsettlingly happy.

"You lied!" You practically screamed, bolting towards him and punching him in his chest. It was a fruitless effort, yet you continued punching him, repeating those two words like a prayer as if it would undo what you've done. After about a minute your punches fell weaker and your knees buckled as you collapsed into him with a soft sob. "You lied..." A final shaky whimper left your lips as his arms curled around your waist, settling with a loose grip.

"You only believed me because you wanted to Darling." He looks down at your weaker stature, "You've wanted them gone for months, you knew I was lying. You lied to yourself, even if you didn't know." his usual psychotic smirk returned to his face as you looked up, finally looking him in the eyes.

"I- No, I didn't." You retorted as you attempted to shove him off you as his grip on you tightened.

"You don't have to lie, Dear, it's me." He smiled, bringing up one of his hands to stroke your hair, "I know you, you know me." his tone made a shiver run down your spine as he continued, "You don't need to hide yourself from me."

The more he spoke the more unsure you felt, did you want this? You weren't quite sure anymore, the more words he fed you the more you believed you wanted it. The more you believed he was right. Just like he wanted, almost as much as you secretly deep down wanted them dead. Even if you never knew it until he told you, you did. you always did. As his words lulled you back into a sense of twisted security he continued to stroke your hair, loosening his grip on your waist again he stepped back slightly.

“See? Everything is alright,” He moved his hand from your hair to place it under your chin, tilting your head to look up at him as he spoke, “That’s it… Good girl.” He coaxed, rubbing his thumb along your jaw, spreading the still warm blood that covered his gloves as he leaned down and pulled you in, kissing you softly.

A weak moan escaped your lips as he moved his hand from your waist to cup your ass, placing you up on the desk as his kisses grew more frantic and hungry. Your arms reached up and wrapped around the back of his neck as he slowly made his way down, your jawline to your collar and eventually just above your shirts neckline.

“May I?” He asked, as if it was even a question at this point. He had you wrapped around his finger like the pathetic shell of a woman you were.

You frantically nodded, causing him to practically tear open your shirts buttons, leaving small bites and kisses as he went. The cooling sensation of his saliva trailing down your abdomen sent shivers through your entire body, every hair felt as if it was standing on edge. He soon found himself kneeling between your legs as they dangled off the edge of the table, he looked up once more for approval causing you to instantly undo your pants for him, granting him access.

“You’re eager aren’t you?” He teased, pulling down your pants tantalisingly slow. You impatiently whined as he did so, before being met with his hot breath against your wet pussy as he looked up at you. “So wet for me eh? Or did all that murder turn you on?” That smug look still displayed before he suddenly buried his face in your cunt not dating to give you time to think about what he said. He mercilessly lapped at your pussy, nose bumping into your clit as he did. The mixture of sensations sending waves of pleasure through your body, the low vibrations of his groans added an extra layer of energy causing you to let out an ear ripping moan. You buried your hands in his hair, pushing his head deeper between your wetness as you gridded up against him. No coherent sentences were anywhere near being formed in that brain of yours, you were practically short-circuiting as he ravaged you. Soon a tightness in your core began to build and you felt your movements gaining franticness as you approached your climax. Your thighs wrapped around your boyfriend’s head, so hard you were surprised he didn’t burst. A wave of bliss washed over you as you reached your high, cum drenching his face as you rode it out. The only thing leaving your mouth was an unintelligible string of curses and blubbering as Mad finally detached himself from you, face drenched and chest heaving.

He stood up and slowly undid his belt, “We aren’t even close to finishing.” He breathed, still slightly puffed out. His pants soon hit the floor accompanied by the metal clash of his belt, as he stepped back between your legs he loomed over you. Slowly he pulled down his boxers letting his cock free, leaking pre-cum like a faucet as it lay flush against your thigh. “Ready?” He asked one last time, a hand travelling to your hip as he spoke.

“Yesyes-Fuck yes.” You sputtered as he lined himself up before slamming into you without warning. The sudden sensation and fullness sent a shockwave of sensations through your body as he began to thrust causing you to release a loud high pitched scream from the mix of pain and pleasure.

“C’mon Doll, you can take it.” He mutters to you, pushing you back down on the table, “Atta girl, fuck you’re tight…” he continues to thrust, unapologetically hard and fast, absolutely destroying your g-spot as his sweat covered upper body wains over you like a giant, one hand on your waist and one holding him up on the table as he fucks into you. “God you’re such a slut eh’?” He teases sensually, “Letting me fuck you next to two dead bodies. Sick fuck.” He’s degradation causes you to let out another ear-ripping moan. He was right. You’re so dirty, letting a man who tricked you into killing your colleagues fuck you next to their dead bodies? How much of a slut were you?

Soon you felt the same sensation as before, you were coming close to your climax. And by the now franticness of Mad’s thrusts, he was too. As his thrusts grew more sporadic the knot in your stomach tightened before your back arched up, letting out a high pitched groan as you hit your second orgasm. Soon your boyfriends thrusts sped up even more, as he worked you through your orgasm the sudden tightness of your pussy caused his to crash through him, letting out a low groan as he slumped over on top of you.

The room fell silent, the only noise heard was heavy breathing. Soon enough Mad pulled out, quickly tucking himself away with a simple, “we’ve got to go.”

[misteria247]

2012 Northwest Manor:

It's eerily quiet in the Northwest Manor. Pacifica Northwest, only daughter of her parents. And given the title, she was used to the silences that were inside her family home.

But this silence was different.

There was something.....heavy about it. Like an ominous dark cloud has come over the manor. It was unnerving, to say the least. Pacifica shook her head, a scoff slipping out as she dressed for bed.

'You're just being paranoid. There's nothing but you, the servants and mom and dad. Everything's fine-'

The preteen's reassurances went dead as the sounds of shattering glass was heard coming from the bathroom down the hall. Pacifica froze, her heart loud in her ears.

'There's something in the manor.'

The thought whispered, certain and full of a chilling weight. Pacifica slipped her nightgown on, being quick and quiet as she strained to hear. More sounds of shattering glass came from the bathroom, right before another sound followed it. The sound of the bathroom door opening. And footsteps, slowly limping towards her bedroom. Pacifica didn't think, she acted. Lunging for her bedroom door, she flipped the lock. She had just managed to do it when the doorknob turned. Realizing the door was locked, whatever was on the other side let out a bone chilling snarl.

"Norrthhwessttt....."

The deathly rattle hissed, making Pacifica's skin break out into goosebumps. A clammy sweat covered her as she felt the room begin to drop in degrees. Soon she could see her breath due to how cold it was. Terrified the blonde quickly bolted towards her bed, sliding under it as her bedroom door began to shake and rattle.

"Norrtthhwessstttt-!"

The voice howled. Pacifica let out a sob.

'Where were her parents? Why weren't they coming for her?? Did whatever was on the other side get them?'

Questions built but no answers were given. Again and again the bedroom rattled and shook as whatever was on the other side grew angrier and angrier.

"Leave me alone-! Or I'll sue-!"

The preteen screamed at the door, the threat falling flat due to her voice shaking and full of terrified crying. Just as she was accepting the fact that she was probably going to die, she heard it.

A twang of banjo music, before a voice. Deep and firm but staticy came from her phone. It took a moment before the broadcast was finally coming through somewhat.

".....Ghosts can be dangerous creatures. Especially category 10. Category 10 are extremely violent depending on their grudge. However there is a way to combat them! All you need is a mirror made of silver..."

The voice, cutting in and out. Pacifica listened, feeling as if if she didn't, it would cost her dearly. Keeping her phone close, the blonde crawled out from underneath her bed before sprinting for her personal bathroom.

"Come on, come on I know it's here-!"

Pacifica muttered in a rushed panicked voice. Her eyes stung from her tears and her heart was racing frantically. After a desperate beat or two she finally found it. Her silver hand mirror. Gripping its handle she turned towards the door, the reflective part facing it.

".......Remember you have only one shot in close encounters. Proceed with caution......this is your host Sixer, coming from you live at the......"

The door rattled before bursting open.

Pacifica took a deep breath and, with a hardened gleam, braced herself.

[badjokesbyjeff]

A man has a week off from work and decides to play a round of golf every day.

On Monday morning, he tees off and soon catches up to the person in front of him. He notices that she's a rather attractive woman and suggests that they play the rest of the round together. She agrees, and a very close match ensues. She turns out also to be a very talented golfer and she wins their little competition on the last hole. He congratulates her in the parking lot then offers to give her a lift when he sees that she doesn't have a car.

On the way to her place, she thanks him for the morning's company and competition and says she hasn't enjoyed herself so much in a long time. "In fact," she says, "I'd like you to pull over so I can show you how much I appreciated your company." He pulls over, and she proceeds to give him the best oral sex he's ever had.

The next morning, he spots her on the first tee and suggests they play together again. He's actually quite competitive and still slightly irked that she beat him the day before. Again, they have a magnificent day, enjoying each other's company and playing a tight, competitive round of golf, and again she ends up beating him on the final hole. And once again, he drives her home and she shows her appreciation by giving him mind-blowing oral sex.

This goes on all week, with her beating him narrowly each day. This is a sore point for his ego but he nevertheless has a fabulous time. On the car ride home after their Friday afternoon round, he tells her that he has had such a fine week that he has a surprise in store: dinner for two at the finest restaurant in town followed by a stay in the luxury suite of the nearby hotel.

Surprisingly, she bursts into tears. "You see," she tearfully sobs, "I'm actually a man."

The man is aghast. He swerves violently off the road, pulls the car to a screeching halt, and curses, overcome with emotion. "I'm so sorry," she sobs repeatedly.

"You bastard," he screams, red in the face, "you've been playing from the women's tees all week!!"

[frogwithgun]

Very early writing time!! Again!!!

------------------------

Gojo isn't sure when he got home. Or even how he got home. The only thing he remembers is fighting Sukuna and waking up in Shokos. Eyes slowly having to adjust to the bright blinding lights. And having to ensure getting checked out by Shoko.

All he wanted to do was go home to his girls and his husband. So he did. And when he came home, he saw his girls having to console a crying Geto. Sobs racked his body. Violently jerking it this way and that. His arms wrapped around his own stomach trying to find some comfort.

He thought he was gone again. Thought he lost him. His eyes were squeezed shut tightly together. Only bringing about a fresh wave of tears. The girls were also crying. And upon seeing Gojo only cried more.

He never thought he would matter this much to some people. Oh how wrong he was. Because the moment Geto opened his eyes and saw him, he had to know how much he mattered.

Had to know as Geto slowly stood up. Looking at him like he had seen a ghost. "Satoru?" He walked towards him. Studying his face. "Suguru." And tears welled in his eyes again as he realized, he's alive.

He threw his arms around Gojo and hugged him tightly. "Satoru!" He cried and buried his head into Gojos neck. "You're alive! But how? You got cut in half?" He's cupping Gojos face and turning it side to side. Gojo has a smug smile on his face. "I couldn't leave my husband alone." Geto scoffs and rolls his eyes.

He kisses Gojo with all the passion of a man who would never see him again. Then proceeds to slap him across the face. "Don't do that again! You idiot!" Gojos just laughing and pulling him in for another kiss. "Oh shut up. I'm alive right?"

Then the girls rush up to him. Hugging him tightly. "Dad!" They cry at the same time. "Don't leave us!" Pleaded Mimiko. In the most broken voice he's ever heard her speak in. And Nanako couldn't even speak. Crying far to hard to form words.

He doesn't want to admit it but Gojo did start crying as well. And slowly all those tears turned to tears of joy and hope. "I'm never leaving you guys." He whispered. And proceeded to wrap his arms around his family tightly. Not wanting to let go of them. He's never felt the comfort of family before. But now that he has, he doesn't want to go back to how he used to live.

And maybe he's a selfish arrogant bastard, but he wouldn't have it any other way. Geto let's go and wipes his eyes. Hiccups now replacing the sobs from earlier. "You idiot, I love you. Don't ever do that again." He repeats and Gojo nods. "I love you to. I won't, promise."

And for the rest of that day the girls and Geto are glued to Gojos side. Watching him like a hawk everywhere he went. Not that he minded. He rather liked it.

It reminded him that he finally had a family. People who loved him.

That he had a home.

-------------------------

And now my drafts are finally cleared out! If there is anything else you'd wanna see me do with SatoSugu lemme know! Love you 💚

[maddyguru]

The Metamorphosis

Synopsis: One evening after work, Sasaki turned into a demon and did what he shouldn't do to his own flesh and blood sister.

WARNING: This fic contains non con, gang r*pe incest, dark content, graphic violence, the use word of r*pe multiplet times, loss of virginity, contains TG manga spoilers, DO NOT PROCEED IF YOU'RE UNDER 18. this is just a preview chapter.

The tight grip on your wrist had tears sliding down your cheeks. A whimper couldn’t stop his actions, couldn’t soften his rigid heart. No matter how many ‘please’ escaped from your lips, the words fell onto deaf ears.

“Please...” Again, you whimpered, crying for mercy. Blinking away the tears, another came through as fast as you eliminate the salty substance. It keeps on soaking your cheeks, down to your collarbones and chin.

A sob escaped your lips, when Sasaki slid his other hand to your collar, later feeling the flesh of your breast. Your stomach was in knots; not the type you’d feel when your lover caresses you, but rather this awful-gut-wrenching feeling when a predator is touching you. Your brother is not supposed to touch you like this, right?

His fingers cruelly tuck away the stubborn piece of your shirt which tightly clutching your cleavage. Shaking your head, pleading, looking into his eyes did nothing. It was pointless. You couldn’t plead anymore, you know that; but somehow, your mouth move on its own when you cried “oniichan...”

Your body felt like it was in the air when Sasaki slowly lets his face and lips trail in the crook of your neck. The shivers running all over your body is enough to point out how uncomfortable you are: with his knees slide in between your legs, pressing against your pussy covered with only the thin material of your panties, you lay motionless on the wooden floorboards. A mewl escaped yet again when his tongue licked the skin of your neck.

“Shut up and do as i say.” He demanded, kissing your skin again and again when all you want is to escape this hell. You have always followed nii-san’s orders since the both of you are orphaned by the death of father and mother. You have always listened to every one of his soft commands, but...

Eversince Sasaki’s appearance altered, so did his demeanors. With great recognition from his workplace after the RoseWald’s case, came a new man you didn’t recognize after coming out of your 2 years coma.

He wasn’t kind and gentle anymore. With every wrong move you make in the house comes with scolding, plates flying and eventually breaking, a few slaps here and there. You couldn’t understand what was going on; for a few months, Sasaki turned violent, and you grew afraid.

It never came to this during those dreadful months. But now Sasaki is ripping away his clothes after he came home from his investigation, grabbed her by the waist right here in the entry way of their small apartment, and molesting her, his own sister.

A sob yet again. “But nii-san, this is...” a hand clamped down on your mouth, his red gloves resting tightly to serve a warning to you; shut the fuck up or else. His eyes hiding behind his glasses glared at you.

“Do as nii-san say, and maybe I won’t hurt you as much.”

But your lips are already trembling and you’re crying when his hand let go and reached down to snatch away your panties. No. It hurts. This hurts...

.

If you want to be tagged for the next chapter, lmk! 💗 Also, feel free to send me thirst.

[sarahsmi13s]

Last in the Flock

whumptober day 8: panic attack

pairing: bradley bradshaw x twin sister!reader

characters: bradley bradshaw, duckie bradshaw, carole bradshaw

warnings: panic attack, car accident, fear of being alone, mentions of death, canon deaths, cancer diagnosis, please tell me if i missed any

word count: ~1.6k

a/n: this is for whumptober! please please please proceed with caution and use discretion, protect your peace also if you are on the whump taglist but are not familiar with a character, you can skip it will not hurt my feelings!

this is also apart of my series duckie so the tag list for that is included! of course if you can't handle the content and you chose to not read, perfectly fine!!

whumptober 2023 masterlist

summary: in the wake of carole's diagnosis, bradley gets into an accident, duckie's thoughts run wild and take over

You were in school when you got the call.

Bradley had gotten into an accident on his way to school. He didn’t have a first or second period so he didn’t come to school with you and just came fifteen minutes before his first class started.

Your mother had called you as you went to lunch, crying as she told you your brother was unconscious because he was in a car accident. Thankfully, it was a T-bone on the passenger side, but someone else hadn’t been paying attention and hit Bradley head on. But the doctors said that he should pull through and be just fine.

It didn’t stop the absolute dread that had been sitting on your stomach since you heard your mother sobbing. You went straight to the office with your mother on the phone to tell them that you were going by your remaining classes, collecting your work and leaving. 

The secretary didn’t even question it, seeing the very real tears on your face, and said she would send everyone a heads up.

You had taken your motorcycle to school that morning and you were nearly terrified to get on it. But you decided that you would drive home and get your car, not that you were a hundred percent safe in your car but it was better than being completely exposed on your bike.

You couldn’t risk it.

Later that day, after a check up, Bradley was cleared to go home. And he was ordered to rest the whole weekend and could take half the week off from school, but he was gonna be just fine.

You and Carole made sure he rested and doted on him the whole weekend.

And then the school week started, and you didn’t want to leave the house.

You justified it to your mom and yourself that it was because she needed her rest, Bradley’s insistence on that sentiment helped your side of the argument. She was insisting it was her job and you were insisting that she deserved to be taken care of as well.

But there was another feeling. A feeling you couldn’t quite place, but you knew you didn’t like it.

“Yeah, but hey you guys have fun though! I’ll be there next time. Thank you for understanding,” you smiled as you talked to your friend Ellie.

You had made plans to go out with her and a few of your other friends today after school but when they noticed you weren’t in first period, Ellie decided to call you during lunch.

“You can go out, you know, Duckie,” Bradley said from the couch. “I’m not dying, I can-”

“You could have died though! Do you know how close you were to dying and leaving me alone!?”

Bradley bruised eyes widened at your outburst. 

You were never the loud one. You weren’t the type to lash out. You were more like your dad in that way, not the type to yell unless it was needed. So to hear you shout out of the blue like that was concerning. 

“Duckie…”

You shook your head and stood up, “I’m gonna make lunch, sandwich okay?” Bradley just nodded and watched you rush into the kitchen.

When you got there you braced yourself on the sink with one hand as your other came up to your chest as it began to ache and your hand trembled violently. You couldn’t get air into your lungs, it stopped just before filling your lungs, and your legs seemed to stop working. A heat rushed up your body; your feet became too hot in your socks and a cold sweat ran down your back.

It was like you were frozen. The ringing in your ears did not help the nausea as your stomach churned. 

Your dad is dead. Your mom is dying. Your twin can die at any time. Then you would be all alone. Sad, lonely little Duckie… the last in the flock. Poor thing.

A sob forced its way out of your body, wracking your chest with force as your legs shook and you lowered yourself to the ground. 

Your hand on your chest tapped against your breast bone with no rhythm as you lost control of your thoughts and your breathing. You felt numb, like your nerve endings were on fire – the cool metal of the dishwasher had no effect on you.

“Duckie? Duckie, hey, what’s wrong?” 

Bradley had gotten off the couch and came over to you the moment he heard you sob.

He didn’t know what he thought he would see but it wasn’t his twin sister struggling to breath on the floor.

“Hey, Y/N! Y/N! Hey what’s-”

Bradley grabbed you by the shoulders, hoping to get your attention but all you did was sob and push him away. He hit the island with a pained grunt as he looked at you confused.

He realized that you were mumbling something to yourself through your sobs. 

“Alone… Alone… They’re all dead, I’m gonna be alone…” 

Then you were sucking in strangled breaths and sobbing them out, coughing hard as you gripped at your shirt. “It’s hot, too hot… Can’t breathe.. Can’t-” You cut yourself of with a sob.

Bradley sat there in shock, he didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t go get your mom, she was out with Sarah Kazansky and he didn’t want to bother them. He couldn’t call Maverick because he wasn’t in the position to come help. But there was one number he could call.

Quickly he pulled out his phone, dialing the three digits. 

“9-1-1 what is your emergency?”

“I think my sister is having a panic attack.” 

“Okay, are you with her right now or can you hear her in the other room?” 

“I’m in front of her, we’re in the kitchen on the floor… I-I don’t know what to do, what do I do?” 

“What’s your name?”

“Bradley, my sister’s name is Y/N.”

“I’m Hannah, I’m gonna help you both through this okay? Just follow my instructions to the best of your abilities, can you do that?”

Bradley nodded, forgetting she couldn’t see him, “Y-yes I-I can do that.” 

“Alright, what I want you to do first is put me on speaker okay?” 

He put her on speaker and sat his phone down, “Okay, I did it.”

Hannah proceeded to walk him through calming you down. 

First, Bradley had to let you know that he was there and that he was there to help. He calmly got your attention on him, hating that your eyes looked over his wounds rather than in his eyes. “Duckie, hey, look in my eyes, I’m here I’m right here.”

Then he had to distract you. He asked you to hold your arms up, touch his fingertips with yours above your head. This not only helped you to focus on something but it helped to expand your chest to allow more air in.

“Good job Duckie, you’re doing so good.”

Last he was to help you slow your breathing down. He tried counting down from ten, but that didn’t work so he then tried twenty but that didn’t work either.

“Hannah what do I do?”

“Ask her what she needs you to do.”

He nodded and found your eyes, “Hey, Y/N, tell me what you need.” He waited a beat before speaking again. “What do I need to do?”

“H-Heart… heart beat,” you said, patting your own chest.

Bradley nodded and gently took your hand, putting it to his chest.

“Can you feel that? I’m okay, and you’re okay. We’re safe.”

He watched you nod and your breathing started to even out. “Good job Duckie, I’m so proud of you. You’re doing so good.” 

“Bradley, the paramedics are there. Can you let them in?”

“Yeah I can-” He moved to get up but your fist balled in his shirt and you shook your head, “No… please…”

“Hannah, tell them there is a key under the mat. I can’t leave her.” 

“I can do that.”

A few seconds later paramedics arrived in the kitchen as Bradley pulled you into his lap. He held you close and kissed the side of your head. “It’s okay, I got you. I got ya.” 

The medics checked your vitals and got you a little oxygen to help you breathe better.

“Okay, Y/N, you’re gonna be really drained the rest of the day, take it easy alright?”

You could only manage a nod and Bradley rubbed your back.

The medics and Bradley shared a nod as the medics left. 

He sat there with you until you were ready to get up. He didn’t speak other than gentle reassurances and praises.

“Bradley…”

You broke the silence about fifteen minutes later, your voice still shaky and a little raspy. 

He hummed, “What’s up Duckie? What happened?” You sniffled, “I think it was just Mom’s diagnosis… your accident… Dad… it was all just a lot. I was scared… Scared of being alone… being the last one…”

Bradley rubbed your arm, “Oh Duckie…” “I know I know it’s-” “It’s not stupid, your fear is valid. I hope it’s a comfort to know that I’m not leaving you with a fight,” he said, kissing your temple. “Nothing can take me away from my baby sister.”

You snorted, “You’re only twelve minutes older.” “Still older.” 

Rolling your eyes you sat up a little, “Can we go lay down? The floor is uncomfy.” He nodded and you both got up before going to lay down on the couch. “I love you, BradBrad.”

He chuckled and gently rubbed your side, “I love you too, Duckie.”

taglist: @bradleybeachbabe @mayhemmanaged @kmc1989 @lovinglyeternal @horseshoegirl @cassiemitchell @fanboyswhore9 @nightowlalltheway @86laura11 @els-marvelvsp @valmare @startrekfangirl2233

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hi, if you're seeing this and are currently not on the taglist and would like to be please fill out the taglist form -> whumptober taglist

i can not stress this enough, but whumptober can have some very serious and heavy topics and i want to make sure i am doing my part as an author to prepare my readers for what they are about to experience and that includes not only warnings above but my taglists as well

so if you want to be added check out the masterlist and read that carefully and fill out the form -> whumptober 2023

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Nightlife 6

Warnings: touching, coercion, manipulation. Proceed with caution.

Note: I know what you’re thinking, why the fuck are you doing this? Well, you wanted bouncer Lee and I did too. Also, short!reader, not sorry.

Your heart wrenches violently as you stare at the grade beside your last quiz. You sink down in the seat of the lecture hall, suppressing a sob as you bite your knuckle. It's not just Developmental Psych, its Cognitive Processes and Social Psych too. You’re barely passing anything.

The rest of the class is already packing up. As usual, you're behind. You close your laptop and fold away the desk. You zip up your bag and sling it from your shoulder, the weight bouncing with your heavy steps.

You traipse out behind a pair of guys talking about some party. You never know. You're not smart or popular. College is just an extension of high school. You're still as lame as ever.

What are you going to do? Your dad's going lose it. If your scholarship falls through, you're in real trouble.

Your feet carry you without thought. You're going to go home and curl into a ball. You want to shrink and hide from everyone.

As you come out to the main row of campus, you wipe your cheek, realising only then that you're crying. You sniff and swipe away more tears as you tell yourself to suck it up. You're just a mess.

A honk makes you wince and you spin as tires scuff up against the curb. You recognize the unique colour of the car and think of running in the other direction. Not him again. Not right now.

"Hey, darlin', y’all done for the day?"

You peer around. The only people who notice give you a dirty look as they pass by, while others walk by without an ounce of concern. You sigh and drag your feet over the patch of grass, bending look through the window.

"Um, hi," you eke out, "I'm just… heading to the library."

He considers you as the engine rumbles and he keeps his hand on the wheel. Your mind flashes with the memory of the night before. His hand on his...

"You cryin', sweet thing? Who's gone and done that?" His brow arches as his jaw sharpens.

"N-no one," you wipe your nose with the back of your hand, "sorry, I was just… I'm okay."

"You aren't, look at ya. And you want me to let you go off on your own? You gotta study, you come over," he insists.

"Sir, really, I–"

"Now I drove all the way down here so don't you be arguin'. Get in, darlin'."

You blink and furrow your brow. How did he even know you'd be on campus at this very moment. You mentioned you had early classes but was he just waiting around to find you?

"You're starting to make me feel bad here, sweetheart," he grips the shifter, "I done nothing but good for ya, so you climb on in. I'll set you up a nice little study nook, how about that?"

You look from side to side. No one cares. They just go on in their lives, as if it's all so normal. You can't say it isn't and you can't argue with him. He hasn't asked for anything really.

The locks slide up and the noise breaks the last of your resistance. Your lie doesn't hold up. No point in going to the library when it doesn't seem to help.

You open the door and drop into the seat in defeat. You bring your bag around to your lap and pout. Lee lifts his hand to the back of your seat as he looms.

"Now, don't be doin' all that. Gimme a kiss, little blossom."

You hug your bag and lean over, turning to kiss his cheek. He moves so your lips meet his and you squeak in surprise. His tongue glides along the creases of your mouth and you quickly pull away.

"Whatsa matter?" He snarls, "I ain't done nothin' so whatever has got ya all upset, don't be taking it out on me."

"No, sir, it's just… I just… never done much kissing."

"Well, we can work on that, huh?"

You nod and pull the seatbelt across. You just want to go. You can't even look up at the college buildings. To think you were so excited for school and it's all gone so poorly.

He's quiet as he shifts into gear and presses down on the gas, following the slow draw of traffic. He clears his throat and pushes his shoulders back. You slump down lower and lower.

"So you gonna tell me what's goin' on?"

"It's nothing," you play with the zipper tab on your bag, "just school."

"Got something important comin' up? I'm sure you'll do just fine, smart girl like yourself."

You shake your head and slouch even further. Another swell of despair overwhelms you. You bury your face in your hands and sniffle.

"Aw, don't cry," he reaches to squeeze your shoulder, "now, you can't do that, darlin', I don't like to see you so torn up."

You suck in air and flick another wave of tears away. You make yourself sit up and clutch your hands over the front pocket of your bag. His thumb rubs your arm firmly as he keeps the wheels in motion.

"I'm not doing good. In anything," you confess, "my dad is gonna hate me. I know it and… and I don't know what to do." You heave and lean into the door, "it's dumb. Childish. You probably don't care."

"Oh, sweet thing, I do care," he drops his hand down to your leg, "it's gonna be okay. It's early, isn't it? You got time to bring your marks up, huh?"

"No," you swallow, "no, just finals and… and I can't…"

"Don't go sinking in the mud just yet," he pats your thigh then squeezes, "anything happens, I'll be here. I'll take care of ya, you know that."

"Hmmm?" You glance over at him as you cradle your cheek.

"Course I will, so don't you worry about your daddy. He can't be mad if you're trying your best."

You scratch your nose and nod. You don't know what to say. You don't expect him to be so nice. You expect a lecture but he isn't your father. He's… well, you don't know quite what to call him.

"So how about, we go back to my place, you get your stuff sorted out, we'll have some dinner and maybe, well, you could stay the night, if you're too tired. Know I don't mind at all."

"Well, I don't… I don't know. Tomorrow…"

"I gotta work, ya see, and I uh was hoping for a favour," he draws spirals on your thigh, "I found this little kitten, was all filthy and hungry. I don't wanna leave him too long, sweet little thing, so, uh you think you could stay and watch him? You like cats?"

"Oh, a kitten?" You wonder.

"Ah, yeah, I couldn't just leave it down in the alley," he tuts, "who would do something like that to a sweet little animal?" He stops at a light and looks over at you, lifting his hand to your face, "you seem like the doting type. Like you could take good care of him." He tickles your cheek softly, "'sides, he needs a name."

You can't help but smile. You never had a pet before. Your dad didn't let you. And you won't feel so bad with the distraction.

"Okay," you agree, "I guess I can stay a bit."