#tw mentions of dubious consent

[eternalxbarbie]

would’ve, could’ve, should’ve II DAROLINE

Living for the thrill of hitting you where it hurts. Give me back my girlhood, it was mine first. And I damn sure never would've danced with the devil at nineteen and the God's honest truth is that the pain was heaven. And now that I'm grown, I'm scared of ghosts. Memories feel like weapons. And now that I know, I wish you'd left me wondering. God rest my soul, I miss who I used to be. The tomb won't close, stained glass windows in my mind, I regret you all the time.

It wasn’t uncommon for the two of them to avoid each other. It was usually her doing the avoiding and him simply not having the good sense to stay the hell away from her. In fact, Caroline couldn’t remember the last time that she had willingly gone looking for Damon Salvatore. He was someone that she hated with every little piece of her, not just for the things that he had done to her but also for the way that he had treated Stefan and Elena and Jeremy and...God, the list just went on and on. 

He’d at least had the good sense to look away when their eyes accidentally caught from across the room, but Caroline with no humanity was damn similar to a dog with a bone. Once she decided that she was going to do something, there was absolutely no stopping her. It was almost like a lion stalking their prey as she weaved through the crowd, her eyes never leaving Damon until she was by his side. 

“Let’s go have a chat,” she demanded, the look in her eyes letting him know immediately that this was really more of an order than a request. 

She swore that she saw him hesitate for a moment and her eyes narrowed in response. There was a sigh from Damon before he relented and he followed her out the front doors of the Empire and into the cold night air. 

“Blondie, as fun as I’m sure that you are with that little switch in the off position, I really meant it when I said I was trying to change my life around,” he started and Caroline smirked as she held up a hand to stop him. 

“You know, it’s super funny that you bring that up because that is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about.” 

The blonde watched as Damon swallowed hard, but didn’t speak. Caroline wondered if he had known that this was coming. After all, everyone else had gotten their licks in, hadn’t they? Elena told Caroline exactly what she thought of her during both her stints with no humanity. Stefan had gotten to go on his tear. Damon practically lived that way for half of his life. Wasn’t it Caroline’s turn to get her own little form of vigilante justice? 

“You told me that day in my dorm room that you were going to try more to be there for Stefan but that’s just not true is it?” Caroline asked, mischief flashing in her blue eyes. 

“I mean, I was missing for weeks and from what I can tell, you didn’t bother to check on him at all during that time. And then Stefan was gone, Klaus thought we were dead, and where were you, Damon? You know, don’t bother answering because it really doesn’t matter. What matters is that you weren’t there for him, again. Just like you weren’t there for him when he got out of the safe last year. No, that was me, wasn’t it? Oh, and who put him back together again after you and Elena got together? Was that.,.oh, wait, that was me too.” 

She chuckles, shaking her head. “You know, it’s fucked, really. You hated him for almost two centuries for convincing you to turn but I think that he’s probably paid for that sin fifty times over at this point. You hated him because Katherine loved him in a way that she never loved you and you weren’t even man enough to say it to him. Kind of how you weren’t man enough to tell him to his face that you were in love with Elena, that you were going to be with Elena, and when you finally get her, you break her heart too.” 

“But that’s not even scratching the surface about what you did to me, is it?”

She takes a step closer, ice instead of fire in her eyes as she watches him. There was no emotion in her face, only facts being spit forth instead of feelings and she wasn’t even close to done. Caroline shook her head as she took him in, half expecting the hatred that lived under the surface of her humanity to burst forth and flip her switch. Instead of impassioned rage, her voice was one of detached, cold calculation. 

 “Did you know that when Lucien had me in his grasp, one of his favorite things to do was go rooting around inside my head for increasingly painful memories that he could torture me with? He found a lot. I mean, Jules and Brady’s torture, Tyler’s bite, my own father. But do you know the one thing that he said was so horrific that even he wouldn’t force me to relive it? It was you, Damon.” 

She steps back, unable to stand that close without attempting to break Klaus’ compulsion and rip his heart from his chest. Distance would at least keep her from acting rashly. 

“I could have gotten past it if you had just fed on me and left me to die like you did to Vicki. At least then I could chalk it up to losing control of your urges. I could even have gotten past the fact that you manipulated me for your own means and tried to kill me the day that Katherine turned me against my will. But I cannot get past the fact that you compelled my consent from me. I have tried time and time and time again to justify it in my head, to find a reason that continuing our relationship in that manner was necessary to your plans. I have tried to think of some reason, any reason, that continuing in that way was vital to getting Katherine out of the tomb and I have come to the conclusion that even as I try to justify your bad behavior, there was never any purpose for it.” 

“You treated me like I was disposable. Like my existence, my blood, my innocence was yours to take and discard of at will. And then you basically guilted your brother and my best friend to not talk about it. Well, I’m done, Damon. I’m done being silenced and I’m done sweeping this under the rug. You know, even coming to me in my dorm room that day was a fucking tactic. You get that, right? You came to my bedroom to apologize to me and didn’t think that I would immediately be back in that moment? You, once again, blocking my way to the door and practically demanding my consent once again.” 

“So now? I’ll tell the whole fucking world what you did to me if I want. I’ll tell anyone that’ll listen because you deserve to wear that scarlet letter the same way that I was forced to wear the shame of falling into your little trap every day for the last three years. Thank God I can’t feel shame anymore. It’s been freeing to not have to think about what you did to me every single day. It’s been absolute bliss to not be disgusted by my own blood knowing that it is yours that made me the way that I have. You forced yourself into me even in death and if I could still feel, you would be able to hear in my voice just how much I hate you. I guess it’s a blessing for both of us that that version of me is gone.” 

“For Stefan’s sake, we can pretend to play nice in public but Damon? I know the truth. You will never change. You’ll pretend and you’ll try and you’ll apologize but we both know that this bad behavior isn’t some kind of fluke. It’s who you are, it’s your soul, your dark, ugly soul. You didn’t deserve my innocence, you didn’t deserve Elena’s devotion and you certainly don’t deserve your brother’s love.” 

She shook her head, starting to walk away before turning back to the other vampire. 

“Oh. I almost forgot. Merry Christmas.” 

[cupcakeslushie]

Does Donnie after getting rescued believes that he deserved all the things that Kendra did to him? Does he 'miss' a punishment when he messes up something?

⚠️ warnings: brainwashing, manipulation, gaslighting, implied sa/dub-con⚠️

So Kendra doesn’t really need to punish Donnie. More often than not, he’s eager to take her word as gospel and do everything he can to make her happy. He has moments of discomfort—like he said here, “I didn’t like it at first”. But eventually he tricks himself into believing that he’s content as long as Kendra loves him. If he ever did get it in his head to push back, Kendra would manipulate him into feeling guilty or spend the day ignoring him, which is enough to send him spiraling sometimes, and come back with an even stronger desire to please her. Donnie really believes Kendra when she says she only has his best interests at heart, and knows she’s already done so much to protect him. He feels like he owes her everything and more.

[inkblot22]

Give You Something To Cry About

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you have something to say?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Who is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“N-no, Vil-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I see. What did he do?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You look back down, “Yes, Vil.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you like it?”

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

“Why?” Rook asks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m… I’m sorry, Vil.” You sob.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wait-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re honest, “I’m scared.”

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

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

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

Vil’s voice is sharp, “Rook, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“P-please… Rook, I can’t-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, Vil.”

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

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

“How are you feeling, cheri?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

[bigassmoonchild]

Maple Syrup Masterlist

THIS SERIES IS COMPLETED

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Total Parts: 17

Total Word Count: ~43.3k

Summary: A mission that was supposed to be easy doesn't go your way, but when does it ever when the 141 is involved? Aphrodisiacs that were incredibly powerful were used on yourself and Simon, and with one accident it took over your lives. Now, you need to figure out how to go about life as a newly mated Omega in a world made for Alphas.

Content Tags: Smut, Dubious Consent, Sex Pollen, Fuck or Die, Heat, Rut, Angst, Knotting, PIV Sex, Biting, Hurt/No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Canon Typical Violence, Depictions of Violence, Mentions of Pregnancy, Kinda Pregnancy Loss, Teasing, Use of Pet-Names, Simon is shit at talking and emotions, He figures it out tho, Dropping of the L word, Near Death, Pregnancy, Vomiting, Task Force 141 is a Pack, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha! Ghost, No Use of Y/N

A/N: I just wanted to make sure anyone who needed (or wanted) to have a one-stop shop for the Maple Syrup series (and drabbles pertaining to it) can have it. Please send me asks! Masterlist under the Cut!

🧼 = smut, 🧸 = angst, 💞 = fluff

Main Storyline:

Part 1: Maple Syrup 🧼

Part 2: The Aftermath 🧸

Part 3: Alpha, Please 🧼💞

Part 4: Feral 💞

Part 5: The Hearing 🧸

Part 6: Talk 🧸

Part 7: Lost and Found 🧸 💞

Part 8: Hot and Cold 🧼 🧸

Part 9: Hoops 🧸

Part 10: Thirteen 🧸

Part 11: Tags 🧸

Part 12: Ghost 🧸

Part 13: Tea 🧸💞🧼

Part 14: Meetings 🧸💞

Part 15: Tears 🧸💞

Part 16: Nothing 🧸

Part 17: Happy 💞🧸

Drabbles, Oneshots, Side-Stories:

Simons Rut 🧼

Headcannons 💞🧸🧼

[m-ayo-o]

seeingdouble ɘldυobϱniɘɘƨ

KINKTOBER IV: DRUGGED starring: f!reader, megumi [25+], toji [mid 40s] synopsis: megumi is led down a dark path by his assassin father. his moral compass askew, lacking any real social experience, he's left to his own devices with a cute girl. thankfully, toji shows up in time to take control. warnings: murder, violence, spiking, drug use: narcotics + psychedelics. stripper!reader [who sometimes offers sex work]. virgin!megumi. restraints. choking. unprotected sex. incest [pussy sharing, dp, anal] guidance. non-con; reader starts to enjoy it [she is drugged] wc: 4.5k

⋆⁺/ don't like it? block it / do not interact i do not condone taking drugs. spiking is illegal. this is fiction

18+ EXPLICIT SEX | DARK CONTENT | HORROR THEMES

When Toji’s wife passed he managed to sell off his daughter to the notorious Zenin clan for a pretty penny, but decided to keep the ten shadows boy for himself. 

Without his wife, daughter and clan, Toji’s life spiralled out of control and he took Megumi down with him. 

Toji left everything behind, so did Megumi.

Toji became invisible, so did Megumi. 

He corrupted him and dragged him into a cursed life of killing for money. 

Leaving his boy in cheap, dusty hotels, Toji would go out to commit murder– it was as simple as grocery shopping for him, only returning home with his shirt all bloody and ripped. Young Megumi would eye his clothing curiously, his gaze wide and innocent, but would be too scared to utter a word. He knows his father has a terrible temper.

This routine continued until Megumi got older, into his late teens, when Toji thought it would be appropriate to start telling the young man about what he did. Then in his early twenties he started taking him along on his sinister missions, hunting. Lacking any formal education or training, he doubted his son would be of any use. 

But Megumi had become intelligent and strong in his solitude, reading for entertainment and experimenting with his powers, his shikigami the only life forms to keep him company.

Despite his independence, having Toji as his only guiding light led the younger man to have a somewhat twisted view on reality, and as far as sound moral judgement goes, he simply does not possess it. 

As an assassin, Toji likes a quick kill; clean and efficient, usually with a gun or a knife. He can get paid faster that way, delivering the body swiftly and avoiding any trouble.

But he’s noticed his son taking a liking to finishing his victims more personally.

⁺⋆

Another murderous evening had drawn to a close, their hands stained red once again, when he carelessly took his eyes off his son and their victim.  

A young, powerful sorceress who’d seemingly pissed off the wrong crowd. Still, a surprisingly easy target for the assassin in training.

“Megumi, s’time to go,” the older man wipes his knife and cautiously looks along the alleyway.

His son is unresponsive. 

Toji gets closer, squinting in the dark to find his hands wrapped around her neck. 

She’s still alive, barely, but clinging on nonetheless, fading in and out of consciousness. 

“What are you doing? Just– just fucking–” 

“Wait”

The younger man’s stern voice halts Toji from slitting her throat.

And he watches his son squeeze the life out of the young woman. 

His lips twitch when her eyes roll back. But still, his hand remains over her windpipe, feeling her pulse die when the last breaths escape her body. 

“Megumi. We need to go.”

His son finally pulls away, and they become invisible once more. 

Despite his grisly methods, not only did Megumi prove useful, but their missions also provided for some much needed father-son bonding time. 

So, with his son reaching 25 years old, they got into this gruesome habit together, becoming partners.

Another habit Megumi picked up from the older man was his tendency to visit strip clubs after their kill. They were great places to hide, especially if you knew the owners well enough. And Toji knew each and every member of staff in this place; the managers, the bar staff, the girls.

And he knew a certain pretty little girl very well indeed.

Despite his many visits he never made any inappropriate advances, only paid to watch you dance. Maybe a lap dance every now and again if he was feeling particularly self gratuitous.

You share few words, but seem to have a mutual understanding of one another. You know that he loves watching you, and you’ve come to like his stern demeanour and surprisingly respectful attitude, enjoying his ability to scare off creepy customers. He’s kind of like your personal bodyguard at work. You feel lucky to have met him.

Unlike some of the halfwit scumbags that frequent the club, he’s a real man. From his assertive, deep tones, those muscles, perfect for manhandling little girls like you, and those sharp eyes, staring as if he wants your body as much as you want his.

But you have no idea what he does for work– he almost seems nocturnal.

Then you notice that he starts bringing someone else to the club.

His younger brother? His son? You can’t tell. But you know for certain that they’re related as soon as they step in together– their hair is styled differently, but is the same absolute black. The strobe lighting illuminates different colours in the younger man’s eyes, but they have the same glare. Their faces are a slightly different shape, but they have the same wicked smile. 

How could there be two of him? One was already enough.

“Meet my son.” 

Oh. He might be the same age as me. You think, studying his features– bags under his eyes, more height than muscle, cheeks slightly sunken. 

His exchanges are awkward. He looks uncomfortable.

You offer him a dance, not knowing what else to do. You’re here to work, after all.

Toji pays for a private dance and you walk with his son to a booth, the older man giving him a wink and a devilish smile.

You draw the curtains and pause, looking at the way he’s fidgeting. 

“Got a girlfriend?”

“No,” he replies tersely, narrowing his eyes. 

You ask if he wants a lap dance, but he’s so hesitant that you just end up sitting next to him and chatting instead.

“So, do you enjoy working here?” he sounds less nervous now he’s gotten to know your name, at least. 

“Yeah, nice customers for the most part, but the hours are pretty long.”

“Same with my job– the hours, I mean.”

“You don’t work with the public?”

“Sort of…” he trails off, dark eyes darting over your features.

You notice, despite your clothing revealing most of your body to him, that he’s focusing on your lips more than anything.

“You’re um,” he takes a long pause, dragging his gaze back to your eyes, “very pretty.”

How sweet. Your eyes widen slightly, a smile forming on your lips. You’re not used to sweet. 

“Th-thank you.” you can’t help the stuttering– the way he’s looking at you with sudden intensity catches your tongue.

“Shall we–” you reach to open the curtain of the private booth, your arm caught in his strong grip, your body freezing. 

“You– you can’t touch me–” does he not know that?

“Sorry” he retracts his hand, fiddling with his fingers. 

“You change your mind or something?”

“No, I just wanted to… look at you, for a little longer,” you turn to face him again, “if that’s ok.”

So you nod and sit down.

He has a hungry look in his eyes now– he starts with your face, your eyes, in fact, making incredible, unwavering contact until you can’t take it, your pupils darting away to his amusement. Then he finds your mouth, and the way you’re chewing the inside of your cheek.

Then your neck, where he focuses intently on the slow thrum of your jugular. He licks his lips, making you squirm and wish he would’ve accepted the lap dance.

His gaze darts over the rest of your body and you watch the clock tick over to midnight, signalling fifteen minutes and the end of his private… whatever the fuck this was.

“Time’s up.” You stand and reach for the curtain, feeling his eyes remain over your figure as you step out and waltz back to the changing rooms. 

You get off early tonight, having a final smoke with your colleagues when you see a text pop through from Toji. After exchanging numbers months ago, he barely contacts you, only asking where you are if you’re not at your regular shift.

[00:14] Toji 

Come over?

You’re surprised he’s asking. 

You’re tempted– after all, it is for Toji. You’ve been wanting him to reach out to you, thinking that he would’ve made his move much sooner. Every cell in your body is telling you not to do this, but you ignore the feeling, finding his hotel.

You enter the room– luckily for you, in a slightly nicer establishment than usual– still, one that is filled with the smell of alcohol and cannabis, the TV blaring on some late night gambling channel.

So they sit you down, welcoming you into their little games and bets, offering you hard liquor and joints till you’re tipsy. 

After Toji’s multiple visits to your workplace, and seeing you at other clubs with your friends, he knows you’re into all kinds of drugs. 

He caught you with white powder under your nose on one occasion, your pupils the size of the fucking moon another night, and with a blunt hanging out your mouth after work one evening.

He’s seen it all. He knows you’re a fiend. So… what’s the harm in pushing you a little further? Surely you can take it.

⁺⋆

Your eyelids are growing heavy, your body slumped on the floor against the coffee table while you stare at the TV in stupor. Their joints were just so packed it's nearly finished you off, and the last few drags tasted kinda funny.

“Can we tie her up now?” 

You’re not sure if you heard that right, swivelling in the direction of the voice and blinking in disbelief.

You turn to find Toji with his legs spread wide, slouched back on the sofa where you left him, while the younger man stands holding some kind of cord in his hands. 

Your eyes widen, your mind jolting awake when you see the way he pulls and grips it, stepping closer to you. Your body lags. 

“Mm” Toji grunts, not taking his eyes off the TV. 

Megumi takes this as permission to pull you up and drag you to the bedroom, your legs stumbling after your body, your mind succumbing to panic. 

His hand tugs at your wrist, while you’re distracted by something strange in the edges of your vision. It’s subtle to start with, colours fading in where they weren’t before, shadows starting to move. 

You try to ignore it, blaming the weed and flickering lights playing tricks on your mind.

You’re pulled from your daze when Megumi jerks your arms roughly, your vision readjusting to find yourself on the bed, your wrists forced to the frame in a tight knot of coarse, black rope.

“Mm– Megumi,” your voice comes out more slurred than you expected, confusion crossing your features, “w-what’re you doin’...”

“What does it look like?” He shoots back, his sharp tone making you recoil.

“I, I don’ know– jus’, w-where’s Toji?”

He watches your eyes dart about, enjoying your fearful expression.

You notice a sinister glint behind his indigo irises, his face looming closer and starting to cloud your vision.

You’re squirming now, pushing yourself up the bed, trying to distance yourself from him. But he keeps coming.

“Stay still…” he stops your motions with a single cool hand closing around your ankle, dark eyes trained on your throat again.

Time stops still when he leans in and places a single, chaste kiss over your neck.

He does it slowly. Gently. As if you’re the only one he’d kiss like this. His silent intensity makes you tremble.

He pulls away with a pleased hum, the feeling of your heartbeat making his lips tingle, his dark mess of hair illuminated with a dull halo.

He’s not too far gone. You could still go back.

“Y-you don’ have to do this,” you stumble, your voice cracking.

“I know,” he presses another kiss over your jaw, becoming ravenous now he can almost smell your fear, “but I want to…”

His voice disappears into the crook of your neck, where he starts sucking and tonguing.

He wants to taste you.

There’s a deep ache inside you now, gripping at your heart and filling your lungs, where it spreads to your throat– to where you can feel his mouth over you.

Nobody has ever kissed you like this before.

The way he sucks and bites is cruel, your body starting to flood with pain. If he does it any harder you’re sure he’s going to taste your blood. He’s going to puncture your neck and let it spill.

“M-megumi– please–” your whispered sobs only urge him on, till he’s dragging his canines over you and sinking them into the soft flesh.

His impassioned movements finally ebb as he switches to tending your marked skin with his tongue and lips, inhaling your scent deeply.

He sits up now, looking longingly into your tear stained eyes, his pupils drifting to where your lips are quivering with his name.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he lies, stroking your ankles gently.

Standing up, he watches you shake your head again, begging him not to go any further and that you’d anticipated being with Toji tonight, asking where he is again.

“He’s a little busy…” he cranes his neck to ensure his father is still transfixed by the TV.

“Plus, you should be grateful,” he tugs off his belt, “you get to take my virginity.”

Your eyes fly wide, your mouth dry and gulping for air stupidly.

Just the way he looks puts you on edge– and now you know he has no experience, you can’t begin to fathom what he’s going to do to you.

“Nn-no– thought, thought Toji w-w–”

His next movements are too swift for your idle, drug induced brain to comprehend.

He’s over you, your arms twisted uncomfortably above your head, his cock nudging at the sweet bud of your clit.

That’s the only ‘foreplay’ you’ll be treated to before he slots himself up against your tight, unprepped entrance, shoving your dress and panties aside.

“Toji!!!” you cry out for the older man, “Toji, god–” but your voice is interrupted, choked by his cock sinking into you, hard and deep.

The man before you has changed, his resting scowl paling in comparison to the now fierce arch of his eyebrows.

Why are you crying for his father when he has everything you need right here?

“Ah– haah—” you shake and squirm, struggling with his untamed, crude thrusting.

Your head flies back when he pushes deeper still, slowly working your raw pussy open to the shape of him, while he watches fresh tears trickling over your waterline and gathering beautifully in the corners of your wide, glassy eyes.

“Hm,” he lets a little laugh escape, enjoying your quiet sobbing and whimpering as he gets rougher and dirtier, grabbing and marking your skin.

Your arms start to jostle and tug in the bindings, your wrists aching from the pressure.

“Untie me…” you sniffle.

“Untie you? But I haven’t even got started yet…”

He wipes the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, trailing his hand down your face and stroking the marks on your neck.

“Might untie you after I hear you scream,” he gives you an experimental squeeze, then leans closer, bringing his face down next to yours.

The way he’s talking has you wondering if he really is a virgin, your thought quickly dispelled by his hedonistic thrusting.

You can hear his shaky breath in your ear now, your legs lifting instinctively when you feel him haphazardly pressing on your g-spot.

“Yeah, open up f’me,” he whispers, sucking on your earlobe, his free arm encircling your head to cage you in closer.

You can feel his hips start to jolt unevenly. He’s close.

“D-don– don’ cum inside,” you beg, your eyes getting bleary as he constricts your windpipe.

You feel him smirking over your skin, speeding up his ragged motions, squeezing.

Your pained breaths consume him, urging him to crush your throat with a look in his eyes that makes you believe he’s going to take your life.

His pale, beautiful face hovers above yours, eyes enrapt by every miniscule expression of terror that passes your features.

“S-s—” 

Your voice is gone, you can only fight for breath now, your body succumbing to a helpless fit.

You struggle. Kicking. Hips bucking.

He drinks it all in, thrusting mercilessly now.

“You can’t do that to her.” 

You hear a sudden deep, booming voice, hands pulled from your neck, air flooding your lungs as you sputter and cough.

Toji takes his son’s arms and bends them behind his back, restraining him instantly and pulling him off you; out of you.

He lets the sight sink in for a moment, words failing him. 

Toji’s affected by the drugs and booze, but he can still get some kind of hold on this fucked up situation.

“Look. Just let me show you… what you’re supposed to do,” he drawls into the younger man’s ear before releasing him.

Sure, he needs to take responsibility. But he can’t let you go. Not yet.

You shake your head again, watching the younger man struggling with his achy, hard boner after being denied his first raw dogging orgasm.

His father readjusts you on the bed to his own liking, leaving you tied up and taking your thighs in his beefy hands. He dips his head low, lips skimming over your neglected clit. 

“‘M feelin’ hungry…” he mutters, proceeding to swirl his tongue through your heat, where his son’s cock was digging moments ago, humming while parting your labia and licking sensually at your little jewel.

However done you are with this situation, overcome with lightheadedness from your choking, you’re glad to at least be sent reeling through a few much needed orgasms.

And now you’ve had a chance to breathe and relax a little, you’re becoming aware of a shift in your consciousness. 

Your body is right here, in this moment, experiencing every fleeting detail in high definition. But your mind is somewhere else, overcome with a feeling of simultaneous presence and dissociation. 

The older man sits up, patting the bed for his son to join him.

“You ok, doll?”

He watches you look around curiously, taking in the room that’s now bending and changing before you.

“Think the lsd’s kickin’ in…” he mutters, “just lay back, promise we’re not gunna hurt ya.”

“The-the what?” you stutter, your hands starting to tense and grip in the restraints.

“Look, there were a few drops of acid in that last wrap, jus’ relax, ok?”

Fuck. You knew you shouldn’t have come here.

You let it sink in, taking a deep breath so you don’t lose your cool. You cannot let your mind spiral on this drug.

“That’s it,” he encourages you, “good girl. Jus’ let go.”

You give up trying to fight it, obeying his gentle tones, working past the nausea to find your mind and body entering a different headspace.

Reality fades in and out, feeling their tongues on you, one after the other, switching and exchanging till you’re unaware of what’s happening to you.

You can only sense their touch, submitting your body to the chemical pleasure.

Your clothes are torn off now, soft, deep words being exchanged until you feel them shifting around.

You feel the unmistakable nudging of a hardened cock at your entrance once more. Only this time, it slips through your folds easily, your slick hole welcoming the long, hard member.

You blink slowly, your vision wobbling as your mind enters a trance in sync with their rhythm.

“Megumi?” no, “Toji?” you honestly can’t tell, your faculties slowly dulling as the powerful drug takes over.

You reach out your arms hoping to discern who’s inside you, only for their body to move away as another frame enters your view.

You feel his cock sink in, hips rolling and stimulating your senses till you’re creaming and moaning around his girth.

“T-tojii–” you’re sure it must be the older man. He feels strong, manhandling you and pushing you wider.

But he pulls away too soon.

You focus hard, seeing both of them now, one figure in front of the other, one man guiding, the other following.

“...like this… take her… deep…” you can only make out a few words, wide eyes distracted by the scar on his lips.

But the way Megumi’s cock slides in is completely different than before– the feral jackhammering transformed into long drags, smooth and hard.

They exchange words, Megumi’s movements getting greedier until you feel his body consuming yours in a display of lust and passion so strong you let out a scream of his name.

The sound of your voice, combined with the grip of your pussy that’s drenched with the slick of a fresh orgasm, rips a groan from his depths.

You hear him panting and moaning, his thrusts getting sloppy, until he’s drawn out of you again.

That was close. You think, realising his father pulled him away before he could spill inside you.

Things are getting blurry now. They’re both over you, on you, in you.

With the surreal visuals taking over, your mind enters another realm while they kiss and fuck and share your body.

Spiky black hair, blue and green eyes flashing, hard muscles and sadistic smiles are all you can see.

Their images burn into your retina, becoming a blurred mirage of nightmarish beauty. 

A sight that you will never forget.

Now that Toji’s brought his son up to speed and you’re all wet, you honestly can’t tell who is who.

So you sink into it, enjoying the spiralling visions behind your closed eyelids while they draw waves of orgasmic pleasure from your body.

They bend and move you, pinning your legs back, pushing deeper, then onto your knees. You’re getting so absorbed in the trip now, the euphoric energy taking over, that you’re only partly aware that you’re being lifted.

You’re off the bed, you know that much.

You’re in a pair of strong arms. It’s Toji. You smile, your eyes clearing to see his roguishly handsome face before you.

“Hey pretty girl,” he places tender kisses over your lips, and you accept them with pleasure, “gunna try somethin’ fun now…”

You giggle, liking the sound of that very much.

He holds you, his massive cock melting into your core so deep he’s going to become a part of you, then slides his fingers over your ass.

You feel another body behind you. Megumi.

You turn, feeling his lips over you as well, murmuring sweet praise in your ear the whole while.

You feel him sliding over your ass now, through the wet juice of your pussy, pushing into the tight ring.

“Oh, oh my– fuck–” he edges in, his father thrusting slowly while urging him to be gentle.

“Haahhh–” you breathe out, your head falling back onto Megumi’s hard shoulder where he caresses your skin with his lips.

“That’s– that’s fucking good,” he hums in your ear, pushing himself all the way back while grabbing your ass.

They cradle you, thrusting in tandem, as you reach a new level of bliss.

Hearing them, feeling them takes you higher, until you can only sense their deep moans vibrating through you, the drag of their cocks.

Your thoughts turn slippery, losing focus on the world around you, wondering how you ended up here in the first place, realising that you don’t care.

Right now, you care about the man in front of you, tall and broad, scarred lip between his teeth with dark green eyes fixed on yours.

His ever sombre stare resides behind those fiery irises.

It captivates you.

Your body is convulsing with dopamine once more, slurred thank yous leaving your lips, and all you can concentrate on is counting the shades of green in his eyes.

Flecks of amber shimmer within the emerald, his lashes blinking slowly, eyebrows quirking.

“Watcha lookin’ at?”

“Mm, pretty,” is all you can muster at this time, earning a snort of laughter.

He mutters under his breath and starts taking you harder till you feel him pulling you off his son and pushing you down on the bed.

Your legs spread, wide and obedient, holding yourself by the knees while he takes your nipples between his lips, between his teeth.

“How many times s’that now?” he feels you clenching and bucking again.

You just giggle and sigh, stroking his obsidian strands in a dreamy state.

He hums with pleasure; you feel his nose dipping into your neck, where he places soft, gentle kisses, in contrast to his now animalistic pace.

Letting off hot grunts and moans, he finally spills his hot, wet cum.

He pulls away, his son entering your vision once more.

Angling your ass up, he guides himself in again, enjoying the way your tight muscle spasms around him, but takes him all nonetheless.

His hips get nasty, drawing whimpers from you until he nears his release, growling and sinking his teeth into your marked skin.

“Fuck– fuck–” you tug at his jet black spikes, encouraging him to take all he needs until you feel his hot load shoot deep into you.

“Ugh, oh princess– fuck me–” he sighs, strong muscles overcome with exhaustion as he watches your beautiful features relax once more.

You feel peaceful, watching the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his hair hangs over those dark eyes.

Your wavering vision absorbs his graceful figure in all his glory, your mouth opening before your brain catches up.

“Art” you poke at his hardened stomach, earning a slight smile, “artist.” You look up at his father now, appreciating the view as he stands before you.

You giggle, laying back and focusing on the ebb and flow of your breath, feeling your senses leave you, your eyes resting as you enter transcendental sleep.

⁺⋆

You wake to find your body bare, but clean.

There’s no longer white liquid oozing from you– just soft, warm sheets and the fresh smell of soap.

You climb out of the bed, stepping to the bathroom, eyes still half lidded and hazy.

You look in the mirror, finding kaleidoscopic visuals in the reflection, where the glass bends and trembles.

But you can see your face. Unscathed. Unharmed. You look down. It’s just a few bruises. You’re fine. 

Despite their questionable methods, this has been a good trip… and you have to admit, a very good fuck.

So in your giddy state, you tiptoe out to the main room, watching their heads turn from the TV, grins emerging.

“Mornin’ honey,” Toji coos. It’s dark outside. You have no idea what time it is.

You step over to the sofa, sinking between the two men again, taking their lips and tongues while their hands roam and fondle your body.

You sit back, enjoying how they’re drawn to you magnetically, allowing their pleasure to fill your body once more while you ride out the most ethereal high of your life.

⋆⁺ [see you in hell]

toji | m.list

[sp00kyd0m-ii]

i'm bi and usually only date girls. But I'd love it if a girl betrayed me into taking cock and brainwashed me for men.

Imagine coming home to your new girlfriends house but it’s a trap and you end up getting raped by her boyfriends fat misogynist dick. You aren’t allowed to leave until you’re so brainwashed by your love for cock and cream pies and the feeling of hard muscles weighing you down, that you agree to join their triumvirate.

This is your life now. Every time you kiss your girlfriend it’s just to get his gross male dick hard. You love dick. You love Big Brother. You love being porn for men.

[vintagexherry]

One Hell of an Actor

Ghostface!Miguel O'Hara x Reader

//NSFW,Smut, Dacryphilia,Blood, Dub-Con, glove kink, fear kink, slight gore, murder, slight chasing, stalking, implied yandere, implied panty stealing, home invasion, Minor character death, bit of lore

A/N: I never watched Scream since I never liked horror a kid so im gonna put my own twist.

Requested by: @sukioyakio

----

Miguel was your best partner in crime.

You both met as interns in Alchemax. Although you two didn't get along at first, as time went on, you set differences aside and bonded greatly.

As years went by, both of you quickly climbed to the top and became known geneticists around the science world.

And right now both of you were relaxing on your couch watching the news.

"Creepy, that's a lot for just two weeks." You commented, seeing a person being interviewed about the crime scene. You turned to Miguel, who was resting his face on a closed fist, looking bored. "Do you think it targets specific people?".

Miguel turned to you and smirked.

"Why? You wanna be next?"

You scoffed at him and shook your head lightly. You feel bad about the families that had to endure seeing their love once get brutally murdered.

You suddenly hear your phone ring next to you, you flinced from the loud volume and picked it up, ignoring Miguel's chuckles.

As you see the caller ID, you smiled. It was your boyfriend who was living in another state for awhile due to his job.

Miguel noticed your smile and fought the urge to crush or throw your phone agaist the wall, he recognizes that smile, you never smiled like that to him, you do smile of course but not in the way he wished you'd do.

You stood up from the couch, notifying Miguel that it's your boyfriend and went straight to your bedroom for some privacy.

Miguel knows he's not normal for doing this. He knows he's not normal ever since as a kid. He's been to several therapists about his abnormal behaviour. His aggressiveness always noted to be too much to handle, especially since he beat up several kids in school.

By the age of fifteen, he finally stopped going to those damn therapist, finally deemed as safe and sane.

But little do they know he's one hell of a actor.

Ever since then, he has tried to find multiple outlets for his endless rising anger, he didn't want to go back to those bland and emotionaless buildings, so instead he bought stress toys, but with his strength he always breaks them, He tried punching bags, It lasted longer than stress toys, but with his roughness it would always end up beaten beyond recognition, he tried sex but the people he slept with always complained that he's too rough or it hurts too much.

Finally, he tried murder at the age of twenty.

"Tried." isn't really the right word. In his defence, the guy was an idiot thinking he could rob him when he was just minding his business by walking in the middle of the night.

After another day in college, he wanted to walk home wanting some fresh air. He then felt someone following him, and as he shifted to an alley, he could still hear their footsteps.

The next thing he knows, the guy pulled out a pocket knife and tried to stabbed him, but he dodged in time and punched him in the gut.

The punch seemed to do the trick, but for Miguel, it wasn't enough.

He punched again and again until he heard bones cracking, wet coughs, and warm blood being splattered on him.

He doesn't know how long it has been, but the time he stopped punching the guy was on his knees, sporting multiple bruises, begging him to stop, and started sprouting apologies, or what he could make out of apologies with blood spitting out every word.

But it still wasn't enough.

He saw a glimmer of metal thanks to the moonlight. He realized it was the man's pocket knife who must have dropped during punching spree.

He picked up the knife and chuckled when he noticed how blunt and cheap the knife seemed to be.

The man kneeling on the hard concrete floor started to realize what was about to happen, upon realizing he started to crawl away as fast as he can, trying to ignore the cry of pain of his body and broken bones.

Miguel took his focus away from the knife and glaced at the man, pathetically trying to escape his fate.

Not only is he an idiot who tried to rob him, but he even thinks that he can escape him.

Miguel stepped on the man's ankle, successfully stopping him. Before the man could utter a shout for help, he quickly crouched down and slashed the neck of the man.

Blood splattered everywhere, spraying the floor like spray paint, and painting his hands crimson.

As the man kept withering in place like a worm, his eyes rolled at the back of his head and finally he stopped moving.

Miguel stood up to full height, taking a moment to take in the events that transpired.

He spent a good minute thinking, but nothing came up in his head.

As if on instinct, he dragged the body on the nearby trash bin and threw in it among the other trash.

As he left, he double checked his surroundings for any passerbys, after knowing no one was coming, he pocketed the knife and took off his shoes to avoid leaving footprints and risked his feet to walk on cold concrete.

He's thankful that he was wearing black tonight.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

As he arrived home, he automatically removed his blood-stained clothes, and hopped into the shower.

There,his mind went rampant.

He killed a man.

Murdered him.

Punch his guts till they were mushed into smoothie.

Slashed his neck as if filleting a fish.

He killed a man.

As water and blood drips from his hands to the shower floor, he tries to find in his head any form of guilt.

Nothing

He felt nothing

Nothing but happiness

He never felt this way before, sure his punching bags did the job but not this good.

He felt as if he was Atlas and someone or something finally took off the weight of the world off of him.

He reminisces the sound of breaking bones and squelching blood, and he never heard anything better, even better than those girls he sleeps with when he isn't feeling the punching bag.

After finalizing that his clean of sweat and blood, he dries himself and wraps the towel around his waist.

He suddenly heard his phone ringing from the bedroom.

Once he arrived in the dimly-lit room, the ringing stopped, and in its place was a voicemail.

A voicemail by you.

Ah yes, You.

You both started as interns as much as he remembers.

And he remembers how much of a people pleaser you are.

How annoying it is to watch you say yes with no hesitation when a higher up wanted you to take place of his work station for a minute, you stayed there for hours since he never came back.

But you never complained.

And that annoyed him greatly.

You're too good for your own good.

"Hey, it's me,Y/N L/N, I apologize if I woke up you up or something, I just want to notify you that, surprise! Our research thesis got approved! The higher ups want us to be present by friday evening. He said something about a fancy gala and we both need to dress the best we can, also we can bring a plus one. Im gonna send you the location of the venue, since that's out of the way, I won't bother you anymore and see you soon. Goodnight and congrats again."

He took his phone and played the voicemail while he unwraps himself of his towel and started dressing.

The voicemail ended with a click, and Miguel couldn't help but be tranced by your voice. Sure, you were nothing but a goody two shoes, but you're smart, and he's glad both your hard work paid off. He'll try finding a suit for the said gala.

With that, he turned off his phone and light, heading to bed with a satisfied mind.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

Miguel was snap out of his thoughts when you re-enter the living room.

"Guess what! He's coming back next week!" You excitedly informed smiling widely.

"uh huh" Miguel replied his eyes still focusing on the news in front of him.

You scoffed at his reaction, Miguel has never onced show any other emotions other than a scowl or a sarcastic smirk on his face. But he could atleast show something about the news, he knew of your relationship with your boyfriend for several years and he knows how important it is to you that he's finally coming back.

"Is there no hooray or im so happy for you?" You asked, putting your hands on your hips as if your a mother scolding their child.

Miguel rolled his and faced you.

"hooorayyyy, im happy for you." He replied monotonously and went back watching the news.

You sighed, giving up on making him show a bit of emotion but who cares, your boyfriend is coming and you couldn't be anymore excited, you went back to your bedroom, planning to talk to him more, leaving Miguel on his own thoughts again.

Miguel knows for a fact he never liked that pathetic of an excuse you call your boyfriend.

The day of the gala, you bought your boyfriend with you, Miguel didn't bring anyone.

After you and Miguel recieved your awards, Your boyfriend told you his gonna go to the bathroom for a while, You nodded and decided to wait for him while you eat some appetizers on the table.

But Miguel felt suspicious, and it grew seeing your "boyfriend" went to a deserted area of the venue with another woman. Next thing he finds is both of them coming out giggling and panting out of breath.

Disgusting

What do you even see in that guy?

He made eye contact with your boyfriend and all he did was press a finger agaist his lips.

He decided "yea fuck that."

After the gala, you and Miguel went seperate ways to go home and after a few hours he told you of what he saw.

You're smart he can admit that but you can be stupid as fuck in the same time.

You didn't believe a word he said and after you telling him to cut it out, he held himself back from throwing his phone agaist the wall and decided to go out and killed some random drunk lady outside a club who was trying to flirt with him.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

"Miguel? Miguellllll, are you there?"

Miguel once again snapped out of his thoughts.

He sigh as he stood up straighter.

"What is it now?"

"I was just gonna go to the grocery since Im missing a few ingredients for dinner, and I was wondering if you could come with me."

Miguel nodded and you thanked him for it.

He kinda wishes he could be alone in your house so he could dig through your dirty laundry again.

But he relented since you once told him that you feel someone is watching you.

Both you and Miguel arrived in the grocery. You're thinking of making some simple Carbonara for dinner. All your missing is cream cheese, garlic, and pepper.

While you're looking for garlic, Miguel opted to carry the basket.

He admits this scenario seems domestic, maybe too domestic, especially when you ask him for his opinions.

After shopping, you paid for your ingredients and went back home.

You wanted to let Miguel stay for dinner since it's the least you could do in return for him coming with you.

There you go again.

Being a goody two shoes.

A good girl, perhaps.

Dinner passed by quickly, and you bid Miguel stay safe as he drove of the night.

You closed and locked your door after saying goodbye, and you double-checked the windows.

After washing the dishes, you head to the bathroom adjacent to your bedroom and prepare to sleep.

You were putting your pyjamas on until you heard a scratching and glass tapping downstairs.

You froze, checking if it was your imagination, thinking maybe it was just stray cats outside.

Silence

...

...

Fuck!

What that your window breaking!?

In a state of panic, you grab your phone and a taser hidden in your drawer and run to hide in your closet.

You hear movement downstairs continue, and with shaky hands, your fingers automatically find Miguel's number and quickly dialed it.

Your heart beats faster the more it rang, and you fear that he's already asleep.

You're surprised the intruder hasn't come upstairs, but you didn't get enough time to dwell on it since Miguel finally awnsered.

Without waiting for his awnser, you quickly spoke with shaking breaths, trying not to be loud but also trying to hold back tears.

"M-Miguel? Please come back fast! I-I-I.....There's someone! in my house!"

"Y/N?" Miguel answered his voice, which seemed to be muffled as if hidden under fabric. You think that he's probably under his blanket.

"Wherever you are, just stay there. I'm coming." Miguel said urgently.

The call ended, and you clutched your taser tighter, hugging your frame, hoping the intruder won't come find you.

After some time you finally heard a familiar voice.

"Y/N! Where are you!" Miguel called from downstairs.

You found the courage to open the closet door. Just in time, Miguel seemed to rush into your room.

"Y/N! Are you ok?" He said as he crouched down to your level, softly placing his hands on both your cheeks.

You didn't know what to say. You're still clutching on the taser and your body is still shivering from fear.

Miguel notice this

"Don't worry, Mi Vida, once I arrived, their already gone."

You could only weakly breath a thank you before resting your forehead on Miguel's shoulder.

And Miguel let you.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

A week has passed since that incident.

Your window got fixed and and you installed a new lock since your previous one got broken down.

Miguel seemed more keen to stay with you more late than ever, he admits he like it, love it even.

You tried denying him, but he insisted, saying that he wants to keep an eye on you.

He kept doing this till you feel sleepy and took that as cue to leave.

One day, your "boyfriend" finally arrived, and you were nothing but ecstatic, hugging and kissing him all over the face.

But he bets another woman did it, too. He bets he enjoyed that job outside the state, but he enjoyed the women there, too.

Since your boyfriend's arrival, he stopped staying late at your place, although he visits from time to time whether you're aware of it or not.

And you feel it.

After that incident weeks ago, you still can't help but feel like as if your being watched.

You told your boyfriend about it and he just kissed your forehead saying it's just your imagination.

You wish it was.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□

Several weeks pass, and you slowly but surely forget about the breaking and entering.

Right now, your boyfriend has been to his company since he got called in late at night.

You wanted to wait, but he insisted you should get some sleep since you still have work tomorrow.

You finally relented since he was right.

After covering his supposed dinner in the fridge, you triple check every lock, the doors, the windows, everything.

You finally go upstairs to get some shut eye, but as you go up stairs you screamed.

By the balcony, someone wearing full-on black with a mask enters your bedroom, seemingly unborthered by your shout.

He stood there as if taking in your fearful expression, more so enjoying it.

You wanted to call your boyfriend or get the taser, but it's all in your drawer that you can't reach due to the guy who can snap you like a twig is just standing at.

"Oh, were you looking for this?"

You got snapped out of your thoughts when you hear his deep, muffled voice.

in his hands he holds a cellphone, not just any cellphone.

Your boyfriend's cellphone....Splattered with what seems to be blood.

If you weren't scared a while ago, you're petrified now.

Without thinking, you rushed downstairs, heading for the door to shout for help.

But he was fast.

Maybe too fast.

You heard his heavy footsteps too late until you were carried like you were weightless and placed upon his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You're really panicking now.

You screamed and shouted for help, hoping neighbours would hear you while you flailed your legs and beat at his back with all your strength, especially since blood is rushing to your head.

smack!

You yelp from the stinging pain on your ass.

Before you could complain, your were thrown agaist your own bed.

Ohgod is he gonna kill you here?

Leave your body to rot until the police finds it?

Be another victim for people to see on the news?

You tried to crawl away, but he just grabbed your ankle and pulled you back as he started climbing over you.

Nononono.

He can't possibly!

"You know..."

His muffled deep voice startled you again.

"Fear looks good on you.." he finished

You tried processing what he said but didn't have enough time till his large gloved hands ripped away your only protection against him.

The sound of fabric tearing just brings more tears to your face.

"P-p-pplease don't," you pleaded as you tried covering yourself.

He didn't say anything but removed your arms, which left you exposed for him to see.

He gathered your arms and held it above your head with one hand.

His other hand started trailing down and forced your legs open, making space for him in between.

Heavy tears were now streaming down on you, but that didn't seem to bother him. In fact, it probably made him more excited since you felt a bulge nudging your folds.

"Nonono, please no."

You pleaded again

He ignored again

You look down, and he wasted no time sliding a gloved finger into you, putting it on a slow pace.

"Mierda, look at yourself. You're perfect."

You couldn't say anything, your voice can't be trusted, and all you could do was choke on your tears.

The more his gloved finger moves, the more he seems to hit certain spots.

You try to deny it, but he seemed to be an expert at what he's doing.

He added more fingers

He added speed to his pace

You tried holding your whimpers, but it was deemed useless.

The man only seemed to chuckle at your attempt.

"Hide all you want, I know how to get it out of you."

Before you could process what he said, he curled his finger upward, sucessfully hitting that spot that made you moan loudly.

He laughed.

"Told you so."

The faster his fingers go, the more you're reaching your climax, and you hate yourself for it.

But before you did, he took his gloved fingers out and started unbuckling his pants.

If he isn't the monster, the thing between his legs definitely is.

You gulp at the sheer size of it.

"Nonono please, it-it won't fit!"

Yet again, your pleas are ignored

"Shut up and take it." he snarled and you cowered in fear.

He didn't bother wasting his time as he shoved his entire length in one go.

You screamed, he really was too big and it hurt. The man above did nothing pleasurely groan out.

"FUCK Y/N THAT'S IT!" His shout muffled by the mask.

He didn't waste any more time and started a rough and fast pace, making the bed creak from the strength.

You couldn't hold back your moans anymore and continued to spill whimpers and gasps.

The man continued his fast pace again and again.

Until you feel it, you started to tighten and your legs began to shake.

"I-Im gonn-a AH!" without warning you came, creaming around the man's cock.

It didn't seem to bother him since he tightened his hold on your hands, and his hips started to stutter.

"Come on ugh- that's it-"

Your body feels more and more sensitive as he goes, drool, sweat, and tears cover your face

Finally, his hips stop as warm fluid fills you from the inside.

Both of you panted and tried to catch your breath, but in a moment of clarity, you panic since he didn't wear any protection.

But before you could say anything, his hand finally let go of your wrists above your head. He moved to remove his mask, and you froze when you saw who it was.

"Mi....Miguel?" you hoarse voice called.

"bu-but, wh-"

You were interrupted when a strong pair of lips covered your own in a passionate kiss. More drool slipped out of you.

Miguel let go of your lips leaving you breathless.

"Im just one hell of an actor baby."

The End

[hannahbarberra162]

Can't Fix Fix A Broken Heart, Chapter 8

18+, MDNI

Now on Ao3

All chapters

Things get explicit in this chapter. Yandere in full force.

TW dubcon, mental and emotional manipulation, mentions of past abuse, mentions of past SA.

Y/N POV

You heard Marco calling to you from the hallway. You didn’t know how he had found you, but he sounded angry. You came out of the closet and saw a cross Marco with his arms folded across his chest. You fought the urge to grovel immediately but did start pinching your fingers. You didn’t know what you did - but you’d do anything to get him to stop scowling at you.

“Y/N.”

“Hi Marco.”

“Why are you sleeping in the supply closet?”

“Oh. Um. I guess I just got sleepy and took a nap here? Sorry, it won’t happen again,” you said sheepishly.

“Wrong answer.”

“Ah, um…I don’t…I didn’t…um…” You floundered. Marco had never taken this kind of tone with you and you didn’t know what to do. You were starting to panic.

“Oh, Y/N, what are we going to do with you?” sighed Marco, putting his face in his hand and shaking it from side to side. “My brothers and I have really put ourselves out there for you. We saved you from the Marines, we brought you to our ship, we’ve helped you in so many ways. This is the thanks we get?”

“I am thankful! I really, really am! I’m so grateful for everything everyone has done.”

“It doesn’t feel that way. Why didn’t you tell me that you were having trouble sleeping? That you were sleeping in closets and cupboards? That you can’t sleep without your back to the wall? Do you think we can’t help you? That I can’t help you? That I’m not a good doctor? That I don’t care for my siblings? Is that what you think of us?”

“No! No, I just… Marco, please, I… j-just didn’t think it was import–”

“It IS important, Y/N. Why should we keep helping you if you don’t trust us?”

“I d-do trust you! I do!” you were close to crying from the tension radiating off Marco.

“I don’t know if we can continue to have someone on our ship that we can’t trust. That doesn’t trust us. I think our time together may have come to an end. I will inform Whitebeard on your behalf.” Marco turned his back to you and started to walk away.

You were bawling now, you didn’t want to leave the ship.You didn’t have anywhere else to go and if you left you’d have no one and and and…so you called out “wait, Marco!” Marco stopped, but didn’t turn towards you. You ran up to him and grabbed his hand from behind. He allowed you to take it but remained turned away from you.

“What, Y/N?”

“P-p-please, isn’t there anything I can d-do? T-t-to show that I t-trust you? I don’t wanna b-b-be k-k-kicked o-o-out, p-p-please..” you were sobbing so hard you couldn’t form words without stuttering. 

“Well,” he said, moving his head from side to side in thought “I suppose if you showed your trust in us..”

“P-p-please!”

“No more secrets, Y/N. You have to be completely honest with us.”

“O-of course, w-whatever you want to kn-know.” You were still crying but were starting to hope that Marco would forgive you.

“And since it seems you can’t take care of yourself properly, you need to surrender that task to us. You need to listen to us when we tell you what’s best for you. I’ll meet with my brothers and we can set some rules for you to follow so you can earn our trust.” You weren’t sure what that meant exactly, but you would have agreed to let him rip out and eat your still beating heart if he asked for it.

“Y-y-yes, ok, thank you M-Marco. Thank you.” You nuzzled his hand in thanks, trying to deepen your breathing.

He turned his body all the way towards you his expression softened. He cupped your face in both of his large hands. “I know you don’t mean to hurt us, Y/N. I want you to be our good girl, and I think you want that too, isn’t that right?”

You nodded your head up and down in his hands. 

“I know the perfect way you can start to earn back my trust.”

“H-how?” your crying had stopped but you were still hiccuping your words.

“Kiss.” he commanded and brought his lips crashing down on yours.

Ace POV

Ace had overheard an emotional conversation in the hallway and had cracked his door to see what was going on. He watched as Marco ordered you out of the closet and began speaking sternly to you. Ace’s eyes opened a little wider - he hadn’t known you were sleeping there. If he had found you in there, he’d have taken you straight to his bed. He decided to stay hidden and see what happened.

Listening to Marco talk to you was a masterclass in manipulation. Marco had maneuvered you so well, so easily and you hadn’t noticed a thing. Ace knew Marco wasn’t worried about your loyalty, but you sure didn’t. He had gambled on your insecurities and won the grand prize. Now they were all able to collect. Finally, they’d be able to have you in the way they had wanted. 

As he watched Marco kiss you in the moonlight and knew he’d be doing the same, and soon. You looked like a little angel, all breathless and submitting yourself willingly to Marco. He handled his growing bulge over his pants, fondling himself to your teary- eyed kiss. The scene was too hot for him to endure untouched, so he took his cock out and started slowly stroking himself from base to tip. He was leaking precum just from watching a kiss, like he was a teenager. He imagined it was himself kissing you, fondling you, getting to touch you. He pumped his cock a little bit faster as you started making small sounds from Marco’s hands traveling over your neck, shoulders, and down your front. He imagined the sounds you would make around his cock as you rode him, how he would bite your neck, suck on your nipples, give you marks to let everyone know he was there. That he would always be there. 

Y/N POV

Marco’s kiss was all encompassing. All you could think about were his lips as they expertly kissed your own. He had caught you off guard-  your mouth had been closed. He licked at the seam of your lips, wanting you to open. You opened your mouth slightly and he pushed his tongue inside. He was still holding you in place, kissing you at his pace. He was in control and was showing you what he wanted. You followed his lead, kissing him back. You wanted to show that you wanted this too, that you wanted them, that they didn’t need to get rid of you. You tried to pour all that emotion into your side of the kiss. 

When he stopped kissing your mouth and started feathering light kisses down the column of your neck. His hands were roaming all over you - your arms, neck, and starting to creep up your stomach. “Ah, Y/N, I knew you’d be worth the wait.” You couldn’t answer - your breath was coming in short gasps as his kisses trailed downwards. “Let’s go somewhere private - I wouldn’t want anyone else to enjoy the show yoi.” Marco cocked an eyebrow towards one of the open doors briefly but you didn’t see anyone.

With that, Marco threw you over his shoulder and took long strides to his room. Once in, he sat down on a loveseat and put you in his lap, facing him. “Come here, Y/N, show me how good you can be.” He began kissing you again, moving from your lips to your neck down to your collarbones. You started to let out small whimpers. You couldn’t help yourself - you knew you were incredibly wet. You started moving and grinding on Marco, hoping for some friction. 

Marco was kissing your shoulder, and had started putting his hand up the hem of your shirt, teasing your lower back with light touches. “Ah, wait. I don-” You tried to object. Kissing was one thing, but showing your back was another. No one had seen it in years, it was a source of deep shame and humiliation. You wanted to keep your shirt on for now.

“Y/N, this is the exact kind of thing we need to be working through,” Marco said with a frown. “I thought you had agreed to listen to us yoi,” he continued. He gripped you by the shoulders and stopped your movements on him. You realized belatedly you were grinding on his cock - and he was huge. There was no way it would ever fit…but you refocused back to the present. Your back? You gulped - was this what he needed from you? So he could trust you? You could do it, you thought, trying to gather your own courage. It was just skin, and he’d seen scars before.

Marco had changed the position of his hands, holding your thighs down to prohibit your rocking. “You can take it off” you said in a small voice, looking down at your lap. Marco flashed a smile at you as he raised your shirt off your body. 

You lifted your arms and Marco pulled it all the way off. He ran his hand over the middle of your back and paused. You hoped he would continue to tease and kiss you, but he just picked you up and faced you the other direction away from him so he could see your back better. He was examining it silently. You knew it had killed the feeling in the room from the way he was looking at it. He reached out a finger to touch the angry red, raised lines. He touched one and you hissed a little - they were extra sensitive lately. He just looked at you silently for a few moments. Marco didn’t say anything but sat you down next to him, off his lap.

You hung your head in shame. You couldn’t look at him. Not only had he seen your back, but you had disappointed him. He didn’t trust you. You had another crew’s logo on you. He didn’t want you anymore, he thought you were ruined. You were ruined, just like you were told. You were going to be sent back, discarded like the trash you were. You just waited for Marco to tell you to collect your things. 

‘Y/N, what is this yoi?” he said in a soft voice. He was being gentle with you, delicately touching parts of your scar that were less raised. 

“It’s old scar tissue, it’s healed now.”

“What’s it from?”

“Most of it is a branding from when I was on that pirate ship. They - they burned their jolly roger on me. Some of it is from a whipping the Marines gave me. Those are the more recent marks.”

“Why did they whip you?”

“Escape attempt.”

“Do they hurt yoi?”

All the questions were digging into your deepest sources of shame. You wanted to be strong but you started crying again.

“Y-yes. I think they don’t let me stretch my skin enough back there. It always feels tight. I’m not really sure, I try not to look at it.”

“Y/N…”

“I’m s-sorry M-m-marco. I really tr-tried to be g-good for y-you. I’m j-just r-ruined.”

“You’re not ruined, this wasn’t your fault,” he said absently as he continued gently touching your back. You couldn’t see, but you felt a pleasantly cool sensation along some of your scars. Was he trying to heal you? The flip between the harsh Marco of before to the sensual Marco to this soft Marco had you so confused. You didn’t know how he was going to take anything. You let him look in silence. He broke it by quietly asking “why did they brand you, not tattoo you?”

You gave him the answer you had been told, in a deadpan voice “Crew get tattoos, property gets branded.”

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

what would make yves and montgomery go crazy? crazy in the sense of awooga wowowoa sexy hot and bothered yknow what i mean??? i bet it would take a lot to rile yves up but i would like to as a precursor to the tooth rotting sweetness of his love making! - 🌷

Tw: discussion about sex, dubcon

Montgomery is a horndog, he gets horny just about anything and would paw at you to get some juicy pussy, dick or nonbinary genitals. Just bat your eyelash or lack there of and there's already a banana in his pants. If you're dominant enough, stick a finger up his ass and he's going to cum buckets instantly, whimpering and crying on the ground.

It does depend if you're a dom or sub. If you're like the reader depicted in It Was Only Supposed to Be a One Night Stand series, he would act more like an obedient dog that is desperate for a release, yet sob in agony when he's overstimulated. He would cling onto your arm and look up to you with big, adoring eyes.

But if you're a meeker person though, he's going to be grabby, touchy and a piece of shit who wholeheartedly believes that you're simply playing hard to get and you secretly wanted him to insist harder.

For instance, when he's spooning you from behind at night, you can feel his hard member pressing up your ass. The only barrier between his dick and your hole are clothes. Montgomery would slide his hands down your pants and fondle you until he eventually falls asleep. Your 'no' means 'yes please, take me now and don't stop' at worst, 'definitely later' at best.

If you don't like penetrative sex, he's more than happy to use his tongue. For a tall guy, he sure loves to make himself a lot shorter, usually to your crotch level.

Even your scent gets him aroused. The only difference is that he will act upon it if you're a sub, he will wait for your touch if you're a dom.

On the other hand, You have to go through a ninja-warrior-esque obstacle course to get some from Yves. You have to technically act as the "man" for a bit, planning dates, trying to pay things out of your pocket, being extremely attentive to him and generally be super romantic. In other words, attempt in your own way to match up to what he brings to the table, have a binder full of his information, log his habits, take note of what he likes, etcetera etcetera.

Try your best to make it an elaborate surprise, but he will know about it anyway because he's Yves. The more effort you put into this wonderful gesture for Yves, the more likely he is going to initiate sex. However you're going to have to be patient, you're going to have to check yourself.

If you're too pushy and borderline coercing him to have sex with you, he's going to be upset and tell you off. All of your work would have been for nothing if he thinks you're doing this to get some dick.

If you're too passive, Yves will not reward you with lovemaking. But he will still remain the same affectionate and caring man.

His willingness to bed you will come unexpectedly, usually during times where you're kind and loving towards him without expecting anything in return. Your intent and motive matters very, very much, you can't lie about it because Yves can see right through you.

To you, it's like a random event. You cannot predict when Yves is going to indulge you in his sexual proclivities, there is no rhyme or reason to it. But if you pay close attention, it usually happens when you're doing things out of love for him or from the kindness of your heart.

It is highly unlikely he will agree to sex if you explicitly ask. It does happen, but it's rare. You still don't understand what factors control the outcome.

You could get it as much as you want only if you share the same views on sex as him. But if you truly share the same opinion, you wouldn't want to participate as much in the first place. Yves sees it as something tremendously sacred and special, it shouldn't be done too frequently lest it loses its significance.

However, if you have depraved fantasies you would want to fulfil, he will play the part and let you experience your own heaven and his personal hell once. Just once. And never again.

Overall, both have very different ideas on sex. Personally, I think Yves would be a much better candidate. He respects your space, but he expects the same respect for his boundaries in return.

If you're more sexually charged though, Montgomery would be a nicer fit. He never seems to run out of spunk and could go at it for days.

[maternity-morningstar]

Angel….im not gonna sit Here and blame you…you have your fair share problems…and im not begging you or anything to apologise right now , or anything..you have your shared things and stuff , and I understand the whole situation…but please..maybe go and talk with lucifer..? There isn’t anyone who is gonna make you do it…but I think lucifer is about to leave because..(don’t tell from me) but..he feels..really…really bad right now..about what he has done…and that you may..not be able to be redeemed..if one of the children is yours..and there for hellborn…

Just maybe go and try..at least..Please..?🩷

*Angel knocks on Lucifer's door and enters slowly, seeing Lucifer looking worn out and sad but backing a suitcase slowly due to his pregnancy taking a toll on him*

Angel: Lucifer? Can I come in?

Lucifer: *looks over wearily* Angel, what is it?

Angel: I know. I'm not here to fight. *sits down on bed* Listen, I know I've been a real jerk lately. I'm scared, Lu. Scared of losing Husk, scared of screwing everything up. And I know that doesn't excuse what I've done, but... I just want you to understand where I'm coming from.

Lucifer: *sighs* I get it, Angel. Fear can make us do terrible things. I'm scared too. Scared of not being able to be a good parent, scared of the future. But blackmailing me? That hurt more than you know.

Angel: I know. And I'm sorry. I just... I panicked. I felt like I was losing control, and I lashed out. I didn't mean to hurt you, not really.

Lucifer: *softly* Angel…I forgive you for lashing out. I mean…I would hate me to if I were you. You’re trying to be redeemed after all and a baby would only trap you down here.

Angel: *tearing up* I don’t hate you! I’m sorry I was being an asshole! I’m sorry! And you’re not keeping me down here! I’m the one making mistakes! You didn’t even want— *freezes instantly* You…I made you…*gags*

Lucifer: *raises an eyebrow* Angel?

Angel: *immediately throws up in the trash can*

Lucifer: Angel? *goes to comfort him, but is pushed aside*

Angel: I ABUSED YOU!!! ME?! ABUSED THE DEVIL?! What kind of shit is this?! I hurt you! I hurt you so badly! And because I was mad you and Husk had consensual sex!! *crying hysterically*

Lucifer: Angel…please don’t cry.

Angel: I truly am no better than Val…

[djsherriff-responses]

I think I got a rough timeline for Dolph’s pregnancy stages in the Laserhen au, may come back to it later but I’d appreciate thoughts

massive trigger warnings for Mpreg, forced pregnancy, dubious consent, suicide attempt mention , abuse, pregnancy horror and implied harm of children

[sp00kyd0m-ii]

i’ll be the big hulking masked killer in the woods, you be the big-titty blonde slut that gets killed off first

[sinhal]

16 & 25 for hal :)

16.) A childhood headcanon

Hal and Jack were very close as children. When Jack left to go to college, he stressed in hal that it was hal's job to protect jim and hal's never been able to let it go. Hal imagines Jack still when he thinks of responsibility.

25.) When do you think they acted the most ooc

Englehart with pay for what he did. I will make that man pay. He knows what he did. And like everyone was so bad in that arc...Arisia rejecting guy leading to him drugging all the gls and he flirted with her while drugged and then hal and arisia had sex while drugged. That just happened in like one issue let alone the mess with carol in issue 213...like goddddd englehart you will pay.

[hannahbarberra162]

Can't Fix Fix A Broken Heart Chapter 7

Now on Ao3

18+ MDNI

Chapter 6 Chapter 8 All chapters

TW: dubcon, mentions of past SA (not described), emotional manipulation

Chapter 7 - No Time For Rest  

You spent the remainder of the party excitedly talking with Izou. It was such a wonderful feeling to speak to someone who appreciated what you could create, rather than what your fruit let you do. He was interesting, witty, and had a dry sense of humor  - all qualities that endeared you to him. The two of you bonded over your love of avant garde fashion - though you hadn’t kept up with any trends in several years. You were planning on re-creating his original vision, and were excited to work on it with him. Others tried to change the topic of conversation more than once, but the two of you were undeterred in your conversation about fabrics, thread counts, and textile opacity. Later into the night, Vista came over and draped his large arm over the smaller man’s shoulders. “Sweet, I am going to bed. Care to join? Y/N will be on board tomorrow as well, you can talk to her more then.”  Izou demurred but did decide to go to bed - everyone had work in the morning after all.  

You felt a little bad for monopolizing the Commander’s attention, but it had been so long since you met anyone who shared your passions. Even on your original island there hadn’t been anyone with the same interests. Izou blew you a kiss over his shoulder as he went down to his cabin. You laughed and returned the gesture.

You decided to find some place to sleep for yourself. Though Tate and the other nurses had done nothing wrong, you couldn’t let your guard down enough to sleep around other people. You liked having a wall to your back and always always always needed a source of light and never never never a fully closed door. You walked in the direction of the women’s dorms but took a short detour. If anyone stopped you, you’d just say you were looking for the bathroom. You found a narrow supply closet near the dorms. This was a good enough place until you understood the layout of the ship better. 

No one was in the hall, so you slid open the pocket door, pushed some of the brooms and mops aside, and sat down in the back. You slid the pocket door mostly closed, but still had a beam of moonlight from a window. You curled up into a little ball in the corner, back touching two walls, and rearranged the brooms and mops so they looked undisturbed. You closed your eyes. You couldn’t believe it was just this morning that you found Ace in the bar. Things were changing quickly and you wanted some alone time to think. But rather than thinking, you found yourself drifting off to a fitful sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next week or so was hectic, but overall enjoyable. The weather was pleasant, with sunny skies and no storms. You were in high demand all over the ship - mostly to fix things but also because a new sibling was always a source of interest. Everyone wanted to talk about your devil fruit power - something that you didn’t understand because you saw one of the Commanders literally turn himself into diamond. Surely that was better than fixing some floorboards.

Overall, you were impressed at the condition the Moby was in. It was no small feat to keep such a large ship running smoothly. But, of course, there was a lot that needed fixing as well. You did end up fixing Oyaji’s chair, and he inclined his head towards you and thanked you. You blushed so hard you thought you’d never return to a normal color.

It seemed every hour another Commander or Captain would come along and ask you to fix something that they needed. You felt like you were being pulled in multiple directions at every turn because so many people needed so much from you. You had already repaired two of the sails, so very many weapons, the exercise equipment, bunk beds, hammocks, endless mugs, sentimental trinkets, log poses, maps, masts..the list went on and on. And as Ace had mentioned, you did spend a lot of time in crawl spaces fixing leaky or broken pipes. It would have been easier if they hadn’t lost half the schematics to the plumbing system, but you could make due.

All the use of your devil fruit power was making you exhausted and tired to the bone. Even though Thatch had you on a special diet to regain strength, you still weren’t at your best. You needed frequent breaks and naps to recharge yourself, but it never felt like enough. You quickly learned where all the closets and storage areas on the ship were. If you were fixing the pipes, sometimes you’d just fall asleep in the crawlspaces.You just tucked yourself away when you needed a snooze and woke up later with no one the wiser. 

When you weren’t fixing things, you were either working on your project with Izou or washing dishes in the kitchens. With over 1,000 people on board, there were always dishes in the sink that needed scrubbing. It was difficult for you to be idle, so you tried to fill all your time with productive tasks. You didn’t mind pitching in, especially since it allowed you to talk in a quieter environment with some of the crew. You had learned a lot about crew dynamics, culture, and lore that way.

You learned even more from Izou. You enjoyed his company greatly and the two of you became fast friends. You did start designing a new kimono for him based loosely on his design from the last. It was mutually beneficial - he was in seventh heaven working with you, and you got to have a new muse. You enjoyed draping fabrics over him as a live model, and he enjoyed being fawned over by a famous designer. The crew expressed their gratitude to you - Izou’s mood had been buoyant for days.

When not designing, pinning, cutting or sewing, you drank tea together as he told you interesting stories. You learned about the crew, their adventures, Whitebeard, and sometimes himself. He did ask you questions about yourself, which you tried to answer truthfully. You weren’t used to people asking direct questions about your life before your island was attacked or what had happened to you on the seas. You dodged some of the questions that were too personal but did divulge some parts of your past. When you didn’t answer, Izou never pressed you and simply moved the conversation along.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As time progressed, you weren’t seeing as much of Ace, Marco, or Thatch. They were busy doing their own work and leading their respective divisions. If you were honest with yourself, you were trying to avoid them a little for two very different reasons.

You saw Thatch the most regularly, as he would always come out of the kitchen to give you all your meals personally. He’d sit with you and chat about your day and what you were working on while you slowly ate until you were full. He’d try to get you to eat a few more bites, even when you were sure you were going to pop. He would also find a way to hold your hand or have an arm around you while you ate. Once he even asked if he could feed you on his lap, but you turned bright red at the suggestion alone. 

When you fixed things in the kitchen, he would come up behind you and take ingredients or spices off shelves above you, lightly pressing his front to your back. Or he would “steady you” and hold you upright as he passed through the narrow galley. A few times, when he was behind you, he caged you in with his arms and leaned down to tell you something mundane. You didn’t know what he said with all the blood rushing to your ears from the intimate contact.

It wasn’t just a problem with Thatch, either. It was a growing issue you had with all three of them. They always seemed to want to have a hand on you, get close behind you, or (worst of all) pick you up. You couldn’t count the times that Ace had grabbed you while you were engaged in conversation with someone and hauled you over his shoulder. It always alarmed you and caused you to panic. You tried to talk to him about it a few times, but he would just say that he missed you and that wanted to make sure you were doing OK. He said he was so busy he didn't have time to wait for you to be free. You couldn’t stay mad at his cute face dotted with freckles, could you?

In exchange for being hauled around, he had started showing you how log poses worked after you’d fixed several that his subordinates had broken. He offered to take you out on Striker with him, once you felt comfortable. You wanted to take him up on the offer, since the tiny boat did look fun to ride. 

Marco requested your services more than anyone else. Understandably, he got bumped to the top of the list when he needed you since medical needs were top priority. Sometimes you two worked in tandem, healing lacerations, wounds, and resetting many broken bones. You were happy you got to work expanding your fruit powers, and Marco encouraged you to try increasingly difficult cases. Marco really was an excellent teacher and knowledgeable doctor, you were learning a lot from him. But when he was explaining medical issues to you, he’d often cradle your face in one hand and hold you in place, ensuring you were paying attention to what he was saying. It made you feel uneasy, but the conversations were purely academic or instructional so you didn't say anything.

You were feeling over-touched by them, so you were trying to avoid them, that was clear. But you had another reason you didn't want to see them - you had started to have some romantic feelings for all of them. They were all caring and thoughtful in their own ways. You found them all unbearably attractive - you weren’t immune to their looks and charms. But your growing feelings of sexual  attraction to them stirred mixed and complicated emotions within you.

You hadn’t willingly engaged with anyone romantically in so long that the thought of opening up to new experiences made you want to run and hide. You hadn’t pleasured yourself in years either, due to some…unpleasant experiences you’d had a difficult time getting over. So, even though you felt your sexual desires starting to stir, you didn’t want to confront any of those feelings just yet. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Marco POV

Things were progressing well with you, he thought. You were quickly being accepted by the crew, who found you equal parts adorable and helpful. You were a pretty little thing bouncing around the ship, brightening everyone’s day. He already had to break quite a few arms (that you so helpfully fixed) to stop others from touching you. You weren’t some sea slag that anyone could have - you were just for him and his two brothers. They had found you and they would keep you, that was the pirate way. If some crew mates needed help remembering that, he would be happy to oblige. 

You still flinched with unexpected contact, but you’d stopped shying away when you saw him leaning in to capture your face in his hands. You had accepted that he would be holding you when he saw fit - at least in the infirmary. He knew Thatch and Ace were making headway as well, getting you used to them being around you and manhandling you. They could take as long as they needed, the main ship wouldn’t be near any islands for at least another few weeks. Not that you’d be getting off board. 

It was around 3 AM that Marco began his day working in his office. He didn’t need as much sleep as everyone else thanks to the Phoenix, which was beneficial given the amount of work he had. It was time to check you out to see if Thatch’s diet was working and you’d gained weight, he mused. You were looking marginally better, but still worn out. He wanted to get to the bottom of your issues - he really did want you to feel your best. He’d make you come in today to see him, not Tate this time. Lost in thoughts of your upcoming visit, he started to prepare everything the infirmary would need that day. As part of the process, he turned the autoclave’s dial on so he could sterilize the scopes, tools, and needles the staff would be using that day.

Instead of the quiet hum he expected, no sound came out. He opened the machine and tried to determine what the issue was, but there was no obvious solution. This was an actual problem. He didn’t just need the tools for your check up and whatever happened with the crew, he needed some of the supplies for Oyaji, too. He could douse them in Phoenix fire, but he wasn’t sure that would work for sterilization. Looks like you were coming into the infirmary earlier than anticipated. 

He walked to the door of the women’s quarters and knocked softly. He didn’t want to wake up everyone, he just needed you. Tate answered the door sleepily in her robe and waited for him to start talking.

“Hi, sorry to bother you. Can you go get Y/N for me? I need her help to fix the autoclave,” Marco said in a hushed tone.

Tate yawned and replied, “she isn’t here.”

Marco was taken aback and responded “what do you mean? Isn’t this her bunk? Where does she sleep then?” 

“I don’t know, I honestly thought she was sleeping with you,” Tate said with a smug smile. “She’s never slept here. She comes in sometimes to get a change of clothes or grab some of her tools, but no one’s ever seen her sleep in her bunk. Tough luck, Marco.” Tate gave him a sarcastic salute and closed the door.

Marco was fuming. If you were in another man’s bed, there would be bloodshed before the sunrise, Marco thought furiously. Where would you be, other than in the women’s dorms? He knew you weren’t sleeping in Thatch’s or Ace’s bed - they would have been crowing for days if you had even stepped foot in one of their rooms. Thatch was still glowing after having been the first to pick you up your first night on the ship. You weren’t sleeping with Izou, Vista wouldn’t have liked sharing any of his private time with his husband. There were no secrets on the ship - no one had claimed to be sleeping with you, he would have heard about it. So where were you?

Marco started searching the ship for you, but kept coming up empty. Marco cringed as he realized he would have to do a dreaded task - waking the Yuda. He would be the only one with enough gathered information to find you, so it was an unfortunate necessity. With that, he knocked on the door to Vista and Izou’s room.

Almost instantly Vista cracked open the door and glared at Marco. For such a large man, Vista could be quick when he needed to be. “What on earth are you doing?” Vista whisper-yelled at Marco. “Do you want to get us all killed?”

Marco grimaced and said “I need to talk to Izou.”

“At this time of the night? No. Leave immediately. If you wake him now he’ll be angry for at least 12 hours, if not longer. And an angry Izou is the most dangerous Izou.”

“I can’t find Y/N, and he’s the only one who can help me. I really need to find her.”

“This is on you, Marco. I won’t take responsibility if he shoots you.” Vista tiptoed back into the room and started quietly speaking to Izou in pleading tones. Marco heard rustling as Vista continued to talk to his husband. The Yuda had stirred.

Izou appeared at the door. If looks could kill, Marco would be dead, Phoenix or not. 

“Speak.”

“I can’t find Y/N. I need her to fix the autoclave for Oyaji’s medical treatment. She’s not in the women’s quarters. I’ve searched the ship but need your help finding her.” Marco hoped adding in the bit about Oyaji would temper Izou’s attitude. 

Izou glared at Marco at length. “Of course she’s not in the women’s quarters, you twit. She doesn’t sleep there.”

“Please, where does she sleep?”

Izou snorted and said derisively “You really don’t know? Fine, I’ll tell you, but only for Oyaji and Y/N’s sake. Y/N keeps erratic sleep patterns. She does not have a set sleeping schedule. She sleeps in short bursts, usually ranging from 45 minutes to 3 hours. She tires easily from her work and often requires rest. She will then try to find a hiding place to sleep before she passes out. The sleep does not seem to aid her stamina. I have never seen her sleep longer than 5 hours at any one time. She wakes extremely easily and is sensitive to noise. She often awakes with a panicked start, I believe from nightmares. She always sleeps sitting up with her back touching at least one wall. She favors sleeping in closets with pocket doors, her most used being the one closest to the second division bunks on the port side. Do not bother me again.” Izou slammed the door in Marco’s face.

Marco was stunned. The information Izou had shared left him reeling. Marco was mentally kicking himself for not keeping a closer eye on your sleeping habits. You were sleeping in closets? With daily nightmares? You were passing out? When was the last time you had a full night of sleep? Why weren’t you taking breaks from working? Why hadn’t you said anything? No wonder you always looked so tired. He could have helped you! Well, since you couldn’t be trusted to tell them the truth, he’d have to force it out of you. No more hiding the truth.

Marco  angrily stalked to your favorite closet. Before sliding open the door, he took a moment to gain a measure of composure over himself. He needed to be calm, collected, and in control for his plans to work.

Based on what Izou said, you were likely already awake after hearing his footsteps. Listening for a moment, he said in a cold and stern tone “Y/N, come out. I know you’re awake yoi.” A moment later, he heard shuffling of things being moved around in the closet, and the door slid open a little more. You climbed out of the closet jerkily and looked up at Marco with a panicked look. Even though to you he looked furious, inside he was excited for what was shortly to come.

[justplainsimon]

bkmn: the way society treats transmasc folk isn't to dissimilar to how predatory cults in the 1970s would treat its more vulnerable members

"you're body is our vessel"

"we must have sex with you to fulfill this ritual"

so its this weird grey zone of, reinforced psychosis

in the moment it may feel like you're a willing participant, but taking a step back its self preservation, it only seems normal because its what everyones been told and what everyone believes

oh, and their definition of love... and how they use the word is twisted

its horror.

so i'm glad weggs went with the safer option of being in a relationship with a purple guy who kills people to maintain his male body