#tw non-consensual drug use

[friendlylifecherry]

Chapters: 3/? Fandom: Super Dangan Ronpa 2, Dangan Ronpa Series Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Soda Kazuichi/Tanaka Gundham, Soda Kazuichi & Soda Kazuichi's Father, Soda Kazuichi's Father/Soda Kazuichi's Mother Characters: Soda Kazuichi, Soda Kazuichi's Father, Soda Kazuichi's Mother Additional Tags: Thriller, Yandere, Kidnapping, Drug Use, Needles, Everyone Needs A Hug, Attempted Murder, Assault, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Delusions, Non-Consensual Drug Use Series: Part 5 of Tumblr Ask Series Summary:

This was written over the course of 2 years through private asks on Tumblr between CrazyNekoChan and I

Concept: It's been just Kazuichi and his dad for pretty much Kazuichi's whole life. Turns out, there's a reason for that.

[rocoutlaststuff]

So I’ve got a request a Franco Barbi x reader where they were his lover from before he was captured but now they’ve ended up in the trials as a reagent (assuming they can even remember each other) maybe some angst/hurt/comfort as a imagine or one shot whatever would be better for you!! ♥️♥️♥️

One request coming up! I got carried away with this, and you've officially turned me into a bit of a Franco fan which I did not expect. That's what listening to dialogue for an hour straight will do to a person, I guess. Regardless, I hope this is what you were looking for!

Presently in the Past (Franco x Reader) [Requested]

🐑 ♡ I lost the footage to make a Franco gif, anyone wanna play to get it back ♡ 🐑

You can't remember anything about your past, but your past remembers you.

Explicit, Graphic Violence, F/M, M/M, Other/M, Tag(s): Trauma, Human Experiments, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Drug Use, Needles, Memory Loss, Angst, Hurt/Some Comfort, Blood, Violence, Death, Explicit Language, Obsessive Behaviour, Possessive Behaviour, Pet Names, Cuddling, Flashbacks, Oneshot, Ambiguous Gender Reader, POV Second Person

Find it on ao3 ♡ WC: 6,432

Disclaimer: Easterman's introduction to the trial, and the first paragraph of the story were written by Red Barrels. I recommend reading Barbi's comic first if you haven't already!

Thank you to an anonymous user for requesting this! This is very much my first time writing Franco - hope he's written well ♡

CIA ASSET AT A BAR SOUTH OF MIAMI CONFIRMED FRANCO BARBI'S INVOLVEMENT IN AGENCY ACTIVITY IN CUBA. FRANCO DEEPLY ENTWINED WITH EXPAT/COUNTER-REVOLUTONARY CUBAN COMMUNITY IN FLORIDA.

STATEMENT FROM LAST KNOWN FROM CUBAN-COUNTER REVOLUTIONARY ASSOCIATE CONFLICTS WITH CIA ASSET. FRANCO IS HINTED AT LEADING DOUBLE LIFE BETWEEN ROMANTIC INTEREST AND CAREER.

ATTEMPTING TO CONFIRM.

“Maybe he didn't expect someone to like him,” Clyde muttered. 

His attention hadn't left the shot of Wolf’s Milk that had been made for him. The mere thought of sickly sweet taste forced his insides to turn. Like the wild goose hunt he was on, he wasn’t about the forget it any time soon. And just when he thought he had some semblance of understanding, it had come out that Franco was attempting to hide his involvement with a potential lover. 

He had done a good job too, despite him running his mouth in supposed privacy.

Finding said lover was useful if they could, yet Clyde was close enough to Franco that he preferred the time and resources went towards his target. 

“You can say that again. Looking like that I'd give up, but that man… He's got tenacity. If you want to call it that, anyway.” The agent put down the freshly cleaned glass with a sigh, and he waved off a patron. 

“I can chase up that lead for our mystery friend if you need, but the shop’s closing soon, so it's best that you're leaving. Good luck finding your guy. Nasty piece of work that one.” 

Atropine. Benzedrine. Chloropromazine. LSD. Nitric acid. Glass. Knives. Needles. Drills. 

So many things had dowsed, punctured, and been absorbed by your skin.

If you could take stock of how much abuse your body had suffered, you would have died many times over. Yet the cocktail of drugs that flowed through your veins mixed with the very same abuse to create a near perfect blank slate. 

You knew who you were. You were one in the same with the person in the mirror. You shared your history with that reflection and no one else. 

Yet sometimes when you looked at yourself, you felt like someone else. It was only ever a brief flicker of emotion - a feeling that you replicated in the decor of your space - but you held onto it when you felt it. 

Hell, you encouraged it when you could. 

Waiting to go into a trial was not one of those times. 

Your focus remained on the reagent who sat in the lobby with you. Whereas you sat on one of open tables, he sat on the floor by the stairwell. His hands flit about his body which rocked back and forth from the repetitive tapping of his feet on the ground. The cries of other unfortunate souls beyond your rooms sent him further beneath the stairwell to the point that he was nothing but a shadowy figure. 

You suspected he was new.

It was a horrible fate for someone new to be stuck with you too. While the others took their sweet time waking up, you had checked every room. There were four of you in total still within your lobby. The other twelve had left to go to their own trials. So you were left to decide whether you asked the newcomer if he wanted to follow you into the depths of Hell. 

Doing trials alone was not the answer. It was rarely the answer in the facility, and the people you saw alone were alone for a reason. They scared you more than some of the freaks they released into the trials.

Your trio was one man short.

Yet you were experienced, and experience meant more pain.

“Hey,” you called out. 

A muffled yelp. 

“Hey, it's okay,” you soothed as you rose from your table. Each movement was slow, and you held up your hands. Before you even reached the stairs, you crouched to make yourself smaller to him, skirting your hand along the floor to steady yourself. 

“Who are you?” the stranger barked at you. His voice was fractured. It never settled on a pitch, nor could one emotion truly determine the tone.

Even in the darkness, enough light reached him to caress the edges of the tears that fell down his face. 

You told him your name then asked for his while you sat beside the stairwell. With your hands crossed over your knees, you hugged them tight and waited for him to respond. He eyed you from his hiding spot perfectly still as opposed to how he had been a few short seconds ago.

“I don’t remember-” he choked. “I don’t remember my name.” 

There was not much you could do except watch him repeat that statement over and over again in floods of tears. When he started to hyperventilate, you guided him with his breathing to the beat of your fellow reagents coming down the stairs. When they saw the scene, they agreed to take him with you. 

Sure, it took a lot of convincing to have him step into the shuttle with you, but he did.

And you gave him a nickname: Franco.

He seemed happy with it, and you were grateful to get the name out of your head. The others knew that was what you called the soft toy you kept on your bed, but you didn’t care. It was one of those silly things you fixated on - one that was better than some of the things other reagents found comfort in. 

Like cattle, you were herded into the chairs without any other thoughts about what you should have been doing. It was a routine. One that you explained to Franco. You warned him about the clamps on the chair. Then you warned him about the TV and the gas. 

How could you tell someone to brace for the torment you were about to endure though?

"You are the surgeon's knife, and where you meet flesh, blood and pain must follow. We are the surgeon's medicine, who regulate pain and death. Poison the supply of those who would ease pain, and we will let you out."

There were no words shared between the group, only the terrified whimpers of Franco beside you. He cried out at the images that manifested in the fog. The suffering was unique to the reagent, and you stared forwards in disgust with bile in your throat. It was impossible to drown out the sheer panic beside you. 

Instead, it became part of your nightmare. 

A woman staggered towards you. Her body was outlined in the needles that clothed her skin. They touched every part of her, bouncing to the irregular rhythm of her steps. She tripped, tumbled, and fell into your lap - your eyes shut in an instant to block out the sensation you knew wasn’t there. You told yourself that the weight that hit you wasn’t real. 

It wasn’t real. 

It wasn’t real.

She wasn’t really there.

Franco’s cries were a white noise that tore through your skull like the nails that dug at your tattered slacks. It was too much. Unable to help your morbid curiosity, you allowed your eyelids to flutter open. 

The pulse that pounded within your chest threatened to cease. Tension gripped at your body, and a man held your legs with a similar zeal. Chipped nails belonging to the pasty skin sunk into you. Bloodshot eyes met yours, yet they didn’t seem to hold any hatred. They watched you with a warmth you hadn’t seen since you entered the facility and a smile to match.

You felt like you were looking in the mirror again. Familiarity swelled within your chest, and frustration compelled you to tears the second your wrists crashed against the metal restraints. 

He was gone in a blink. 

The shuttle stuttered and ground against the rails, coming to stop. You mustered up a brief smile for one of your fellow reagents at the concerned look she shot you. She still asked you if you were okay though while the other checked in with Franco. 

“I'm fine.” 

You were. If you didn't know why you were so upset by your vision then there was no reason why you couldn’t be fine. If anything you were good. Maybe even great. 

Despite the way your guts churned, and a dull ache beat against your head, you were exhilarated. 

You recognised that man. You didn't know who he was, but you recognised him, and he was a part of whoever you were before. 

He was your answer.

The first thing you noticed was the water. Amid the boxes and televisions, you were lost to the sound of water lapping against something. It seemed you weren’t the only one who noticed it too. 

“What is that?” your friend asked. There was no telling if he was talking to himself or not as he passed by you. Franco lingered by your side while your group headed to a nearby set of railings.

“I knew it!” your friend exclaimed. “It’s water. They got water in here.” He proceeded to laugh at the sight before him when he turned to see a pier extending beyond you. 

“Fuck - this is…” you watched as he looked around the walls plastered in the image of a distant city, and you noted the way his expression strained under the weight of his thoughts. “It’s too real.”

Nothing else was said. He continued onwards past the viscera not a few steps ahead of him. You allowed yourself the chance to peak over the railings, and the water seemed hypnotising in the way it calmed to near stillness. Something must have fallen in seconds prior to your arrival for it to have made a sound. 

You decided you weren’t going to stick around to find out what that something was.

Franco twitched when your body collided with his. He’d frozen. Fight or flight’s third sibling had no place in the trials, however, and you felt your heart sink at the sight of his vacant stare. You weren’t sure if he had clocked out for good already when he probably hadn’t seen a dead body up close yet.

A once over of his attire led you to almost regret bringing him along as you leant down to remove your shoes. The action caused Franco to return from the depths of his mind, and he watched you with intense focus. 

“Put these on,” you told him. 

With two shoes placed before him, he did so with ample tenderness. Maybe he'd suffered from splinters already. It was a thought that repulsed you given you now had no protection against that fate. 

“Thanks.” 

You nodded at him and took his hand to guide him along. 

“Ignore what you see. Focus on what we're doing,” you said. 

Enforcing this yourself, you closed yourself off to the world around you. It didn't matter that the wood bit at your soles, nor did it matter that blood that wasn't your own caressed every pinprick sized wound you endured down there. There was no face you made when you felt something compress under your weight and burst with a squelch. 

You continued - plain and simple.

There was little in the way of danger along the pier. Just a couple of stragglers that muttered to themselves. Nobody disturbed them. When you drew near the gate, things changed, and your steel willed determination waned at the sound of nearby pleading. 

“Salvatore Cargo,” you parroted from a sign in a bid to soothe yourself subconsciously. 

The pleading only grew louder as the gate was lifted. One by one, you slipped underneath to find the source of the cries. Two men hung above you like the countless decaying fish strung out to dry long ago. Except they were very much alive and terrified. 

Their fear was your own as you knew the sound likely drew attention, and sure enough a shoulder connected with you. 

So it began. 

Your friend collided with you to prevent an ex-pop from gutting you on long talons. You were forced back into a crate, and you acted on impulse. Around you, your friends scrambled to fend off the attacker. Franco froze once more. 

Taking his hand, you snatched a bottle from a shelf and launched it at the ex-pop to distract them. It gave your friends enough time to run, something that was feral and frenzied when lives were on the line. 

Your heart pumped. Unable to keep up with your pace, Franco staggered behind you. Directions and quick observations sounded out from your friends like gunfire. 

Without them, you would have missed the safe zone. 

You threw Franco into a slot and pushed your way into another. As the click resounded, you nearly fell out the other side. Franco knelt on all fours beside you, and you wrapped your hands around him to pull him up. There wasn't anything going through your head as you dragged him to his feet towards the nearest desk.

All you wanted was for him to be okay. You pulled him down into the cramped space beneath the desk on instinct. He was hyperventilating again. The sounds of movement around you let you know that the others were on their way upstairs. 

Meanwhile, you held Franco close to your side. 

Each shudder of his body shook your own. ‘Calm’ wasn’t exactly the state you could describe him falling into, but he fell silent soon enough. It was just in time for you to catch the latest disturbances upstairs. 

A voice different to your friends sounded over the now frantic cries of the hung men. The first gunshot made Franco smack his head against the table in fright. The second was cause for concern as you realised that you had in fact heard a gun. 

The screams were silenced, and the voice was too muffled for you to make out what was being said. 

It belonged to a man. That much you knew.

You peered over the table to survey the scene. The safe zone was still in tact. The lockers beside you didn’t seem disturbed, and the partition was still up. A third and fourth gunshot rung out, however. 

Whatever was happening wasn’t finished. 

The shill scrape of metal on metal filled you with dread - the partition nothing but a memory in the span of a second. You were being told to continue.

“Come on, hey. We’re going to make it through, but we need to move,” you told yourself as you grabbed Franco’s arm and pulled him from his hiding spot. Your friends all but fell down the stairs in their panic to tell you what you already knew: whoever was stuck in the trial with you had a gun.

It was a point of debate as you manourved through the environment towards the next stage of the trial. Even as you hauled pounds of drugs from a cart between one another - the gun outweighed any opinions or thoughts on your given task. How did you combat a gun? Could you take it from the unknown assailant? Were the ammo stashes anywhere?

Nothing useful came of your frantic whispers to one another, and while you took time to search for resources, you decided to help Franco out. It changed the subject at least to something more productive. 

“Battery packs go in like this,” you explained, showing him how to work his ESOP. “As for this, if you ever step on a mine and there’s gas - or you’re gassed because it can happen, one puff. That’s all you need. It’ll take it all away.” 

You snatched a brick for safekeeping, but no explanation was needed for Franco. He understood its use the second it was in your hand. It seemed he learnt quick too, repeating back what you’d said to him on the way back to your rendezvous by the drug cart. 

“I’ve got this,” your friend said. He took out a thin tube you recognised all too well and placed the needle to the edge of his arm. It sunk beneath the surface. You were ready to move again.

Things were going smooth for such an advanced trial. 

That’s what you thought as the cart was heaved along at a brisk jog. You eyed the surrounding area from the boat to the fish market, and you agreed with your friend. It was getting very real. 

Too real, in fact. 

The stench of rotting fish and past reagents left you nauseous. 

“Right this way, please.” The mannequin pointed you in the direction of a weird tool, and the group immediately fell into disarray. 

“No - geez, another fucking thing we can’t deal with right now,” one of your friends hissed. The other picked up the unfamiliar device. She pressed the switch on the side, yet nothing happened.

“Symbol decoder, it says - look,” Franco managed, “aim it at the uh, at uh-” he trailed off as he waved his hand in the direction of yellow paint nearby. The first attempt didn’t work, but as you crammed around the corner, everything became clear. You had to line up the image. 

The device whirred as the roulette of potential combinations locked in far too slow for the sense of urgency you all felt. 

Eight, seven, four.

You were left with Franco as the other two rushed over to the vault and input the code. Nothing could have prepared you for what happened next though. 

“It’s mine. It’s God damn mine, and I’ll skin, salt, and fuck any ruptured scumbag who tries to take it!”

You weren't in the trial. For a second too long, you were somewhere else. In your head, on a dock, you didn't fucking know. All you knew was that the voice stirred something within you. Somewhere - you'd heard it somewhere before. Where? You couldn't remember. Maybe you hadn't even recognised it, but the strength of the familiarity was enough to shake you. 

Somewhere. Someone. 

In the blank space of your head that you could feel, you knew he was there. It made you want to claw at your scalp and peel back the flesh. If you shattered your skull then everything would spill out. Or would you end up dying in a disappointing pool of black tar instead?

What if you forgot everything? 

“-you alright?” Franco asked, and your attention snapped towards him. 

What did you do to deserve to be taken away from everything you knew? 

You didn't say anything, nodding instead. A hand wrapped around yours, and he gave you the best smile anyone could muster in your circumstances. Fake and pained. 

“Let's go,” he said. You nodded again. 

Your friends caught up, and you were given an extra decoder. The space before you led to multiple darkened passageways. 

Cattle cars displayed the symbols you needed to find like some sort of messed up children's game, and you were left with Franco. It was decided as a team. You went left. They went right. With a mental note made of the symbol you needed, you beckoned to Franco to follow. 

So began your search.

All the while, you searched your mind for memories attached to that voice.

Franco gasped from the pain his night vision goggles caused him when he pulled them over his eyes. Thankfully, it was a pain you had forgotten, but you could sympathise with him. The section beside the train was incredibly narrow with no visibility. He had no choice but to wear them if he wanted to see.

You navigated around a corner with no luck finding a star. Then you navigated around another corner to find nothing useful either. But then a light from another cattle car caught your eye. Yellow paint lit up like fireworks the second you lifted your goggles.

The star was there. Part of it anyway. Both of you moved towards the part of the puzzle you had found, and you glanced around for its missing half. It had to be in front of you if needed to line them up, but where?

The answer was on a barrel. 

“Got it-” you breathed, holding up the decoder. It sprang to life, and you jolted when Franco bumped into you. 

You were going to ask if he was okay when he told you he had heard something. Against the buzz of the device, you had failed to listen for anything else. How could you when your attention was divided between some stupid star and fragments of your past? But when you focused you could hear it too. 

Breathing. It was heavy. Strained. It had to be him. Unless it was another ex-pop there was nobody else it could be.

He wasn’t getting any quieter either, and you looked back at the decoder to see it had stopped on one number. You waved it in front of you, desperate for it to work. You were so close to being able to leave - you could get it before whoever it was making their way towards you reached you.

They could turn and leave. It was a gamble that you were willing to take. 

If you stayed you could see him.

“Go hide-” you snapped, and Franco hesitated. “Go.” 

“Who is that?” That voice. You froze when Franco finally moved, and he brought you with him onto the car much to your dismay.

“My dad send you? Think I'm fuckin' scared of you?” Franco guided you to a barrel and instructed you to get inside. 

You did, albeit you were slow. The voice lulled you into a trance, and you wanted to know who it was. His face was all you needed. Just one peek. That was it. Fingertips rounding the edge of the barrel, you peered over the top to see Franco cross the train towards a barrel on the other side. 

He ran right past the opening and fell in unison with a bang. 

The sound of the gunshot continued to ring in your ears, and you stared in horror at Franco. He was alive -  a strained groan spilled from his lips as he rolled over to grip his leg. The bottoms he wore were red already, but the blood began to seep from between his fingers. 

“Found you, fuckin’ rat-” the voice cooed. “Try fuckin’ runnin’ now, cocksucker.” 

The stranger came into view. As he stepped into the light you could see everything. It was him. 

He was the man in your vision.

Your answer.

And still nothing made sense. Even as you took him in, you couldn't place him in your memory. But you could see the situation was dire. 

“Gonna cry? What a fuckin’ coward,” the man said, and you shot up from the barrel. With a blind rig, you weren't much use, but the brick in your pocket was. 

“Franco - move!” you cried out. Both men looked at you, and you launched the brick at the stranger. 

It was a perfect shot. 

“Shit - my fuckin’ head!” 

You leapt from the barrel and almost careened over with it as Franco threw himself to his feet. He cried as he did - falling down when he tried to make the jump from the car. 

When you landed beside him, you didn't get very far. A hand snatched at your neck, and your body was pulled back against the car floor behind you. 

“Must be one of those roaches - the fuck do you think you are usin’ my name like that? You-”

He was Franco.

You let out a whimper at the sensation of your spine being pulled against the car's floor and upwards. As if it couldn't get any worse, a gun pressed to one side of your head, and a face the other. The proximity forced you into stillness at the feel of the real Franco’s breath against your ear. 

“Ain't no fuckin’ way,” he huffed beside you, and you looked at the Franco on the floor who was trying to crawl beneath the car.  

“One of a God damn kind,” your assailant said. 

The aggressiveness he held in his voice shifted into something more joyous. He carried an excitable air around him as he let go of your neck, and he jumped from the train. The mood was shattered when he landed on an injured leg, and the shriek that erupted from beneath the train must have been heard trial wide. 

“Shut your whore mouth!” 

What were you meant to do? 

As two shots fired off into the Franco beneath the train, you were faced with the Franco who had inspired the nickname. And he had killed a man. There was nothing else you could have done but run. You were a credit to your own survival as you did, but you mourned two losses. 

One of which tailed after you.

“Where do you think you’re goin’? Are we playin’ games? Kiss and chase?” 

You sped towards the drug cart at breakneck speed. It seemed Franco had a hard time keeping up with you as his breathing became more laboured. He shouted after you and began to talk to himself when he lost sight of you.

There wasn’t any time for you to explain as you crashed into your friends. 

“Did you get the drugs?” one of them asked, and everything came crashing down around you. They asked about Franco. You felt yourself slipping as the thoughts struggled to form on your tongue.

“Gone, no - he’s gone. Franco got him.”

“What do you mean Franco got Franco?” You didn’t have a response to the question as you fumbled for anything. Each word that unceremoniously left your mouth felt like chewing on dirt. Franco killed Franco. Franco was the name of the ex-pop they had seen. 

The silence that fell after you finished spoke volumes. 

You could see it in their body language. The way that they didn’t move, yet their eyes danced across you. Muscles tightened like coils ready to spring. They didn’t say anything, but you felt their judgement. 

While you tried to convince yourself it was just guilt, you knew why they would take suspicion with you.

You understood why. 

“C’mon out, orsacchiotto, I wanna make sure it’s really you,” Franco called out. His tone was playful despite the weasely undertone of something else that dripped through. Whatever it was was primal. “You got more friends you want to introduce me too? I’ve somethin’ for ‘em too.” 

A metallic bang erupted from one of the trains as if something hit a wall, and you flinched. 

“I know where the code thing is, I got one of the numbers before Franco appeared - I can lead you to-” you were cut off by a hand against your mouth. Your friend had lunged forwards and covered it with his head turned. He let it slide down, and ran a hand over his own face, refusing to step back.

Then he gestured behind you. “Go on, lead the way.” 

You did - going back in the way you came. At the same time, it seemed Franco hadn’t given up his search, and his words damned you beyond the judgement you had already suffered. 

“D’ya remember those cold, cold nights when I used to keep you warm?” You weren’t sure if you wanted to remember.

“I’d give anythin’ if you’d come cuddle up to me. Baby’s lonely.” Whatever you were to him was more than a friend.

“I know what you want - zuccherino for my zuccherino - too bad it’s locked away. I thought your mommy taught you good manners… All you gotta say is please…” Yet there was a bite of hostility in his voice. 

“Don’tcha miss me?” 

You did. Deep down inside, despite the way your body screamed at you in all the confusion and pain, you missed him. 

You wanted to stop running.

With a shaky hand, you held the decoder up to the star symbol. 

Nine, three, zero.

You stared at the void between the floor and the cattle car knowing there was a fresh corpse there. Your friend went to the vault to open it up, and you waited beside the edge of the car. 

But it wasn’t silent.

Your name spilled from nearby. Close. It was close, yet you couldn’t see anything. The sound of shuffling and debris being pushed out the way forced you back into the cool steel of the cattle car. From the safety of your light, darkness opened up before you. So you let the goggles slide over your eyes. 

There, opposite you, was Franco. You were witness to him as he crawled through an opening in the wall on all fours. He was swift to his feet and quicker to train both barrels of his shotgun on you. A broad smile decorated his sunny expression, and laughter bubbled from his throat at your reaction to him.

“Bang!” he exclaimed. “Caught you.” 

There was movement inside of the car.

“And another fuckin’ rat,” he muttered. “Am I not enough? You gotta bring these dumb fuckin’ fucks into my work? My house?” 

Your heart was in your throat, and the lack of sound from the train alerted you to the fact that your friend had stopped moving. He was playing it safe. He wasn’t going to leave you was he? He was going to leave you with Franco. 

Regardless of if your friendship still existed or not, you were going to try at the very least to let him do that.

You were fine. 

“Wait,” you blurted out. “I don’t remember Franco, I don’t remember anything at all.” He stopped dead in his tracks. You glanced at the way his finger toyed with the trigger on his shotgun, and then you met his eyes.

“I don’t remember anything at all,” you repeated as everything began to unwind into sadness. “They put this fucking thing on my head, and they force me to do things I don’t want to do.” 

You gripped at your night vision goggles, the bolts embedded in your skull. Franco’s head lolled to the side with narrowed eyes, and you had his full attention.

“Who?” he asked.

“Who what?” 

“Who the fuck is making you do anythin’? Is it those scumbags that are runnin’ around?” You shook your head. “Nobody fuckin’ tells you what to do. You’re not some fuckin’ whore…” 

Franco’s expression contorted as his fist tightened in on itself. He shook his head and strode over to the car. You watched as he slammd the butt of his shotgun against the train, cursing each time. Each sound sent shockwaves through your poor nervous system, and you felt feint from the amount of adrenaline that coursed through your body.

“Fuck!” Franco repeated. “Why the fuck is nothin’ makin’ sense today? Shit’s so confusin’. Give me strength, somebody.” The gun was pointed at you in a casual gesture far too dangerous for your liking.

“Baby’s got to put on his big boy pants. I’ll be comin’ back for you, oh, don’t you think I’ll forget, but first…” 

You couldn’t stop him from leaving. He hopped onto the train, and when he left it, it wasn’t long before you heard the gun go off.

Lupara. 

That was what he called it. You remembered.

Unable to control your tears, you let them stream down your face like you fell to the floor. When there was a scream from near the drug cart, you cried out louder in unison. Knees brought up to your chest, you buried yourself into your own makeshift darkness. 

Nothing could reassure you as your head pounded from the memories that tried to break through into your conscious mind. 

It hurt. All your friends were dead. 

And the man who murdered them came back to you with a spring in his step.

Apparently, one summer before Franco had to leave for Cuba, in the light of the rising sun you’d both gone to the docks together. Nobody else was really up at the time, and only the waves disturbed you both. Nothing had been planned, it was more of a spur of the moment thing, but you enjoyed it none the less according to him. 

He explained to you in great detail how you’d made plans together to get ice cream and spend the whole day lounging there. Nobody was going to move either of you unless you decided to go yourselves. It was something you wanted to do, and he was happy to oblige since you were willing to give him everything he wanted in return. 

You would hold his hand and drag him around to show him all the things you loved, and he would tell you that he loved you. 

Love was a word that felt like choking up sawdust when he said it. Love never worked out for him. It wasn’t his thing, but he said it anyway. He recounted how you were so innocent to him. 

He never told you how he pictured the shoreline coated in red. Intrusive thoughts flashed the image of you lying before him all mangled and pretty with your face stained in blood. You never needed to know because he couldn’t do it.

No, you were different. 

There was nothing but joy on your face as he’d followed you along that beach. It was hard for him to explain, but ever since you had settled into something together, he’d chased after that feeling of being wanted like he chased you along the sand. 

You humiliated him in your own way by making him think he truly belonged.

And you’d done it again.

Still in the same spot that you had fallen to beside the car, Franco sat with you. He waved his feet back and forth, swaying his body side to side while he looked at you. You hadn’t come out of your self imposed cocoon yet, but you had a single eye on him too.

Things had been ironed out to some degree. 

Obviously he’d asked you what you remembered before he told you a few bits about your past, and while you couldn’t be certain what was true or not, you wanted to believe him. At the point you were at, you prayed that it was true. Something about him soothed the ache in your head.

He was undeniably charismatic, and you weren’t going to deny the fact that you felt drawn to him. 

Then the important question of what you were doing in his territory with the others came up again. There was little he could have done to hide the irritation in his voice as he spoke about you being around them. He wanted to know why you were helping them. If you were anybody else he would have killed you, yet you had a chance to explain.

Franco understood to some extent, despite being frustrated.

He told you that he felt great - better than he’d ever been - but things were off. Seeing you made everything that much sweeter, yet that didn’t change the fact that he too was having issues with his memory.

Déjà vu he called it. It felt like the same shit everyday with different faces.

When you’d told him you were kept by faceless men in laboratory coats and given orders, he mentioned he’d seen some people like that behind glass. It was clear the worlds you were living in were very different. To him, the docks were real. To you, it was an experiment.

Things had gone quiet after that while you pieced together the shards of your past until a hand found your arm. Fingers walked up it and poked at your cheekbone. Franco shifted himself into a kneeling position with his body turned to you, and you lifted your head at the way he searched your soul with his gaze. Without even speaking, he was searching for something in you.

“Not gonna leave, are you?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I don’t want to leave, but I’ve never tried to stay in a trial before without doing what I’m told. What if they come to get me?” 

“Then they’re fuckin’ dead. Think they got a chance against my Lupara?” Each word was spat with pride like he could see them cold already. “Hey-”

Your pulse quickened as Franco pulled your arm from your leg. He supported it in between his hands, and he brought your knuckles to his mouth.

“You’d never leave me,” he hummed against your skin. “No - no, I knew you wouldn’t. You wouldn’t abandon your baby.” 

The contact left you flustered as your mind raced over the implications that you were very much his old partner. You didn’t even know if you’d ever separated. Most likely not, if he was going to treat you the way he was. It was strange to feel his kiss against your hand. Not unwelcome, but it was strange.

As he told you that he wanted to feel your arms around him, you crossed your legs and opened yourself up to him. Surreal was an understatement to have him crawl onto your lap without the need to be prompted, and you were delicate in the way you pulled him towards you. 

When his head rested on your shoulder, you decided to stop trying to process everything. 

“Back where I belong…” you heard Franco sigh. 

The weight of his body kept you grounded in the moment. An overwhelming sense of comfort washed over you at the contact - something you had sorely missed - and you let it happen. There was so much you wanted to ask Franco, but for the time being, you savoured the affection he showed you.

He made everything feel better.

“Well shit,” Clyde sighed as he placed down Easterman’s report. He bet Avellanos was going to have a field day with the information they had been given. It was a small world, but even he hadn’t been able to track down Fraco’s supposed partner in the height of his investigation. 

Turns out all they had to do was pick up people from the streets, pluck them from their homes, and they’d get lucky.

THE PREMATURE END OF THE TRAIL WHICH RESULTED IN THE DEATH OF THREE REAGENTS WAS BOTH DUE TO FRANCO’S OWN AGGRESSION AND THE NATURAL FLOW OF THE TRIAL. YET THERE WAS A CATALYST. 

WE FOUND HIS OLD FLAME. THE FOURTH REAGENT BEING FRANCO’S ROMANTIC PARTNER CAME AS QUITE A SURPRISE, AND I THOUGHT YOU’D BE INTERESTED IN SEEING OUR FRIEND IN THE FLESH. I HAVE RECONSIDERED THEIR POSITION AS REAGENT MOVING FORWARDS, BUT WOULD LIKE TO INVITE YOU TO DISCUSS THESE OPTIONS FACE TO FACE. 

UNTIL THEN, FRANCO AND THE REAGENT HAVE BEEN SEPARATED.

[boxfullaturtles]

Donnie + gagged and/or drugged

If he ever gets out of this chair, Donnie's going to cut out Kendra's tongue so he doesn't have to hear her stupid voice anymore.

She's spent the last ten minutes gloating and rubbing it in his face that she has him tied up and at her mercy. He's given up interrupting her because the banter's gotten boring. And his wrists are starting to hurt from the bindings holding him to the chair.

"--which means we obviously need you and your dumb brothers out of the way for a while," Kendra's saying, pacing in front of him as she preaches, "So in a few minutes we're gonna have a visitor. They're gonna give me a shit ton of money...and we're gonna give you to them. Don't worry, they take care of exotic animals, I'm sure you'll be fine."

That makes his temper flair, "Animal!? ANIMAL!? I am not some pet! This is human trafficking!" He snarls, wrenching against his restraints.

"It might be...if you were human," Kendra laughs, cruel and nasty and cold. Jeremy looks smug. Jase is nowhere to be seen.

Donnie snaps his teeth in frustration and decides he doesn't want to stick around to play her game anymore. His markings flicker as he calls his mystic powers to the surface. Constructs are clicking into an array of guns around him when a needle bites into his elbows. It breaks his concentration and he whips his head around to glare at Jase, who'd snuck up behind the chair while Donnie had been preoccupied by Kendra.

Fuck.

There's an empty syringe in his hand. Donnie's heart pounds in his chest as his gaze snags on it. He looks up sharply at Jase, who won't meet his eyes, and then turns to stare at Kendra.

"What did you do? What was in that?"

"You need to be less...bitey for our client," Kendra says with that mean smile of hers, "Rellaaaxxx, it'll make you feel good, Von Ryan. It'll be the best trip you've ever had."

Panic is making his breath come faster. Drugged. She's drugged him. And he swears he can feel it surging through his veins, his frantic heart pumping it through the rest of his body. He's never done hard drugs; he and Leo had the curious bit of weed every now and then but even that was a rare thing, done only in the confines of secrecy and solitude when they knew without a shadow of a doubt that they would not need their wits about them for several hours.

"Kendra--" Donnie chokes on his voice. This is ludicrous. It doesn't feel real. Sure, the Purple Dragons have tried to kill him and his brothers half a dozen times, but they're too stupid and incompetent to actually do it.

But now Donnie's tied to a chair, at their mercy, and he--

His head feels strange.

The room has started tilting like the deck of a ship. (He’s never been on a ship at sea. He's never been to the ocean.) He sways, rocks, his body is loosely connected by sinew and bone, wet meat and hot blood. Inefficient and easily damaged.

He doesn't like this. It's weird. Everything's wrong.

The world groans and vibrates with movements and sound. He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to block it all out. His own breath whistles down his throat and he can feel the creak of his lungs expanding balloons, pushing his plastron, stretching his flesh, muscles flexing and contracting, organs settling, blood racing--

Fingers dig into his face, tilt his head up, and he blinks against the lights. There's someone leaning over him, bigger than Kendra. A stranger. Donnie whines, feels the sound vibrate in his skull (he can count the vertebrae in his spine and so can Leo). His eyes roll. The stranger's touch is poison ivy; it makes his flesh itch and burn. He tries to pull away but they tighten their hold, grinding into his jaw bones. There are voices but he can't remember what sounds words make and he only catches a few things.

"-------old did you------------looks young---------"

"----teen I guess------never asked."

The stranger's thick fingers pry Donnie's mouth open, running a clinical finger over his gums and examining his teeth. He lets out a garbled wretch. He can taste the atoms that make them up, every place they've been sticking to their filthy hands, smearing dirt inside his mouth (stop stop stop stopstopstopstoptstop). But he doesn't have the strength to resist or even spit the horrid flavor out. He's floating a million miles away. There are stars in his bloodstream.

Hands leave heat trails over Donnie's arms and down his plastron. His gear is peeled away, the bindings removed. Some distant part of him screams to run, but his body and mind giggle and remain boneless rubber.

"----like this or------"

"----bites-------dose of some-------"

His body jerks, slumping forward. Someone's trying to pry the battleshell off his back and he lets out a high pitched keen that pops in his own eardrums.

("Don't be afraid, little Hamato...")

No. No no no no nononononono--

("You are not alone.")

Violet neon light erupts around him, blinding and avenging.

The world turns with rapid click click click click click.

A blaze of noise. He's dropped, the stranger's hands are gone. He hits the floor and he can hardly breathe, his head spinning in a million different directions, trickling into electrical outlets and clambering up grounding lines.

He's spread so thin...

...what was his name again? (where are his brothers?)

There's something sticky and warm on his hands. On his chest. It smells like iron. Metal and heat and something grinding to a halt. A dead engine. Ozone.

No one's touching him anymore.

The universe has gone quiet.

[aftgficrec]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

I’m sorry if I did this wrong ( or made a maistake in submitting) , but i was reading this a few days ago and thought the writing plot were both stunning. if i did this wrong pls do tell me.

You did this perfectly, friend, this is exactly what our submissions are for!

Also, you’re absolutely right, this fic is STUNNING, and we’re very happy to be able to rec it once more. - S

We Used To Be Friends by gluupor [Rated M, 104576 words, complete, 2020]

Neil’s life is thrown into disarray when his best friend is murdered. As he starts his senior year of high school, he finds himself on the outside looking in, a social pariah whose former friends are only too willing to bully and ostracize him.

Working for his father, a private investigator, leads him to evidence that his friend’s murder may not be as straightforward as it seems. Neil throws himself into the investigation, hoping that solving the case might help him regain some of what he lost.

tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: implied/referenced drug addiction, tw: non-consensual drug use, tw: involuntary outing, tw: classism, tw: racism, tw: bullying, tw: violence, tw: homophobia, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced murder

[its-elvie-innit]

my question is why does cucurucho- or rather the federation- want all qsmp players to take pills that make them happy, of all things. The experiment has another variable introduced, and whatever they expect from the players is screwed up and unreliable information now

The obvious answer is wanting them to be easier to control, or less sad about the eggs I guess, but long-term? What's their goal? And I mean seriously, not just what they want from the players, what are the feds goals with this?

If this is an experiment, what information are they trying to learn? what information would they even get. from 20-30 drugged up players. Its obviously not their original intention otherwise they would've started people off like that, or initiated it sooner I guess? So either it's multiple experiments theyre using the previous test subjects for (lines up with the new qsmp players being released relatively recently- new people, new experiment) or they're panicking and needed to come up with a solution for the depressed parents to prevent them from going insane (in the wrong way) and did this on the fly, realized/confirmed it worked and started deciding who they would give it to. OR or, they're not actually planning on giving the happy pills to everyone on the island and it's a clever ruse. Or maybe something pac made up. And that forever expects because man he just feels sooooo good. :'(

those aren't all the options my brain has come up with (many more are running around in my mind, all of which I'll most likely forget by morning) but it's just not a viable option to act like this is a reasonable or expected action from the Federation

[silvershewolf247]

Tearing at the Seams (2)

Andy Barclay could handle a lot of things. He could handle dying. He could handle not eating for a month when this started. He could handle being force fed with a funnel when he refused the food Chucky brought him. He could handle being cut open. He could handle the freezing cold winter. He could handle a hot knife pressed against his skin. He could handle cigarette burns. He could handle the stench of the bodies Chucky piled in the room. He could handle the fucking gag. He could even handle Chucky bitching about his shambling marriage. 

But under no circumstances could Andy Barclay let Chucky into his mind. When Chucky announced his plans, Andy thought he was having a nightmare. For the 15 years he spent waiting for Chucky to come after him again; whenever he had a nightmare, a panic attack, tried to drink away his childhood, spent the night with a gun pointed at his door, or got a dollar store birthday card from Chucky, he had one comfort. And that was that Chucky gave up on possessing him. He might kill him, it might be a brutal, long, and painful death. But it would be just that, death. It would end, and so would he. But now Chucky wanted him to live, and Andy had never been more scared of him.

Andy had done his best to keep it hidden. He knew how desperately Chucky wanted him to be that scared little six year old again. And he wouldn’t let that happen. And he wouldn’t let him possess him. Whatever it took, he’d stop him. He had tried to talk his way out of it. And when talking was taken away from him, he tore his wrists raw and bloody trying to break the restraints. That’s when he tried the ones on his legs. 

When he tried to pull his leg back against the restraint, he ended up pulling his whole body up. And banging against the bed frame, when he came back down. It hurt like a son of a bitch, and testing the strap only made it worse. It was undamaged. But he noticed a warm feeling trickling down his leg. He looked and sure enough, his leg was bleeding again. He wasn’t sure if he tore many stitches, but he’d definitely done something. And Chucky couldn’t use his body without one of his legs. 

He spent every waking moment after that tearing his leg open and screaming to cover up the noise that was making. That was until he heard Chucky coming back down. He was quiet for a moment, hoping he’d go back to ignoring him. Then he tried screaming, hoping it would drive him out of the room again. And when neither worked he just focussed on trying to stop him from looking at his leg, or at least ruining it before Chucky had a chance to stop him. Chucky eventually got frustrated and just grabbed his leg. 

“Oh you little shit,” he was clearly frustrated, but he also sounded almost amused. Andy didn’t have time to consider that much before Chucky jammed a needle into his side, and he found himself passing out again. 

He wasn’t sure how long ago that had been. He felt more groggy than the last time, but he didn’t know if that meant he was under for more or less time. All he knew was that Chucky was somewhere nearby. 

“Well look who finally woke up.” Andy squeezed his eyes trying to blink away the last of his drug induced sleep. Something was wrong, something was different. The gag was out again. But that wasn’t it. Andy looked at his side, not expecting Chucky to be looming over him. Then he looked at his leg. He figured Chucky had repaired it. It was wrapped in gauze stained with his blood. And while he didn’t look at it that much, he couldn’t imagine his leg being bandaged was something that would throw him off. It probably wasn’t even the first time it happened. It was so painful that he hadn’t even noticed getting stitches. That’s when he realized his leg didn’t hurt anymore. Not in the slightest. He tried to move it, it didn’t budge.

“How you doing buddy,” Chucky asked, patting his leg. Nothing. It didn’t even feel like it was part of his body, just something next to him.  

“What did you do,” Andy asked, his voice sounded so tired, weak, it felt pathetic.

“What did I do? What did you do? You did quite a number on yourself champ, lucky for you I caught onto it before you tore open more of your stitches,” Chucky said, his tone physically paining Andy. Andy cringed at his voice

“Don’t worry, sport. Doc was already here. You only tore a couple of stitches, Mixter was able to patch it up, not even going to set back your recovery,” Andy didn’t have the energy to hide his devastation. 

“You’re a real lucky guy aren’t you Andy,” Chucky continued. 

“Why can’t I feel my leg?,” Andy asked, he hated the weakness in his voice almost as much as he hated the mockery in Chucky’s.

”Oh, well I realized it had been kind of inconsiderate of me not to give you pain killers when we stitched you up. It must have been very painful for you. So I talked to Mixter, and she got you something to help with that.” Andy looked at his leg, wincing. 

“Don’t worry, buddy. I’ll make sure to give you something everyday, so you don’t have to deal with that,” Chucky answered. Andy closed his eyes and leaned his head back. 

“Now unfortunately they’ll leave you a bit tired and you won’t be able to move that leg. But don’t worry, once we get those stitches out,” Chucky gestured to himself, “I’ll make sure to help get that leg back to 100%.” Chucky finished, patting Andy’s leg again. 

[konigsblog]

incel konig kidnapping his favorite (obsession) cosplayer girl??

tw/cw; kidnapping, non-consensual touching, dark fiction, afab!f!reader.

DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT — MDNI 18+ 🔞

photo credit: @ave661

könig isn't against kidnapping. if he really wants something, he'll make sure he gets it. he doesn't understand why you're so petrified and unable to speak in his presence when you're usually so bubbly and bright, tied to his bed.

könig spends lots of his free time on your tiktok page, waiting for another upload. he has multiple tabs open at all times and they're all links to your social media accounts. he stalks your twitter and gets off to the deep fakes he creates using various websites, listening to you speak on live to your lovely followers.

the majority of your followers are other cosplayers or people that enjoy your content. to könig, it feels as if he's the only depraved pervert on your page. he strokes himself while fantasising about doing horrible, horrible things to you. it's sickening to most, totally immoral and taboo to even think about.

you announced that you'd be going to a convention for cosplayers like yourself, and since then, könig's plan was in action. he'd stalk you before drugging you and dragging your back to his car, to tie you up and lock you in the "safety" of his home. könig claims that he's doing this because he can't protect you from others. you can protect yourself and make responsible decisions, but you can't control the decisions other people will make. the world is a dangerous place, mäusi, he's looking out for you. you should thank him.

he'll tie you to his bed and will jerk off to the sight. he'll caress your soft curves and breasts, buying lingerie and different costumes to put his beloved girl in, to force you to present and put on a show for him.

you belong to him, got that?

[bangtans-momma]

Bully Me

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Pairing: Jungkook x Curvy Bully oc

Word Count: 12.7k words (sorry it’s so long again!)

Genre: Bully, BTS AU, One Shot, Smut, Yandere, Non Consensual, Cult, Demonic, Supernatural, Curvy Girl, Original Character.

Rating: 18+ MATURE. Smut, Adult Themes, Non Consensual, violence, death and gore, hard swearing.

Description:

Jeon Jungkook’s bully is an older woman called Dria, she trips him over, laughs at him and she’s always humiliating him and calling him horrible names. The thing is, Jungkook likes it just a bit too much because when she does it she’s giving him attention. He likes what she does and regularly runs off to the bathrooms or his apartment to relieve himself.

To everyone else Jungkook is a quiet studious student with only two friends, Jimin and Taehyung. But when he’s not at college he’s someone else entirely, too bad that Dria realised it just a little bit too late.

Content And Triggers:

BTS AU, College Setting, Yandere Jungkook, Sadomasochistic Jungkook, Stalker Jungkook, Demon Jungkook, Switch Jungkook, Deviant Jungkook, Bitch OC, Bully OC, Bratty Rich OC, Switch OC, Curvy OC, Older OC, Bullying, Violence Towards Jungkook, Jungkook is obsessed, Forced Marriage, Arranged Marriage, Satanic Cult, BTS Demons, Rituals, Virgin Sacrifice, Supernatural powers, Possession Of Someone, Mention Of Gore, Use Of Knife, Death of Minor Character’s, Swearing, Smoking, Blood Kink (Drinking Blood), Drugging With Substance, Mind Control, Evasive Thoughts Projected Into Head (Oral, Use Of Strap On, Fisting), Non Consensual, Dubious Consent After Corruption, Smut, Stalking, Dirty Talk, Masturbating (M), Exhibitionism, Ritual Sex, Use Of Supernatural Powers, Choking, Spiting, No Protection, Breeding Kink, Forced Pregnancy, Raw Sex, Squirting, Oral Sex (F), Face Sitting, Anal play, Marking, Hair Pulling, Biting, Hickies, Use Of Mommy and Puppy In Fantasy, Degradation, Forced Public Sex. Corruption Kink (Corruption Of Soul).

Author’s Notes:

WARNING ⚠️🔞

Hope I have written down all the TW’s this is yandere AND non consensual through mind control. Please read the warning!

🔞NO MINORS ON THE BLOG PLEASE, THiS STORY HAS ADULT THEMES.

Tried to take away too many descriptive appearance words, it’s hard to not describe anything about someone when I’m used to visualising someone ha ha. But I tried to not describe hair or eye colour on FMC, so no hair colour of eye colour. So you can imagine her as you want. She is a Curvy reader though and I have to represent us curvy girls too. So she is mentioned as being curvy and her body is mentioned.

I do not own BTS or their likeness. This is only fan fiction that comes from my own imagination and any depiction of BTS in any of my stories does not represent them in real life. None of this is real life, only pure fiction. None of the behaviour of the BTS member’s namesakes OR anything else that happens in my stories represents them in reality. Picture is part AI, part mine as I added and changed things to it, like the eyes being black, more like Jungkook, the background and made the wings more messy etc.

MASTERLIST: here

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Bully me.

Jungkook is laid on his bed tugging at himself as precum leaks from his swollen tip, groaning as he covered himself in a layer of filthy cum and sweat. He just can’t stop himself as he thinks of her, his bully, Dria. She turned up here last year and is one of the older students at age twenty five, he is twenty two.

Those sexy curves, her full breasts and her beautiful natural plump pout. Her long luscious hair that stops at her thick ass and her stunning piercing eyes.

He just knows her thighs are thick and juicy too, he can’t wait to mark them. She always wears fitted clothes and those stiletto high heels that he wished she would press against his hard length.

The way she sneers his name and chucks things at him, how she laughed at him when he dropped all his books after she shoulder checked him. And how she called him puppy earlier and sniggered when she realised that he was rock hard in his trousers because of her.

The harsh tug of his hair as she looked down at his hard erection with a wicked grin was like wet dream fuel for him. Jungkook can’t help thinking that she is an evil bratty bitch, but he likes that as he knows her real thoughts.

“Aww Puppy! Are you hard because I just humiliated you? Fucking pathetic little thing aren’t you?”

She had taunted him as she squeezed at his hard length, digging her nails in as she yanked spitefully at his dark hair, hurting him so damn good. Before finally spitting on his face and watching as it dripped down landing right by his lips.

Her worried eyes widened like she only just realised what she just did to him and Dria abruptly let him go before turning to leave immediately with widened disturbed eyes.

She does that a lot, it’s like she suddenly realises just how far she keeps going with her bullying. It’s been getting worse as It has been turning out to be increasingly sexual lately. Jungkook knows that the very thought of her own behaviour scares her.

Not that he cares as he would gladly bury his face in her wetness if she told him to get to his knees and pleasure her whilst spitefully pulling his hair.

He stared at her with sinister hungry orbs as she waltzed off cackling at him like she wasn’t just shocked by her own deviant behaviour, his length was twitching violently in his black slacks at her sinful actions. Her curvy hips swaying as she walks off looking divine in her tight dress, her spank worthy ass looking exquisite.

Smirking like a deviant himself, he licked the spit off his lips with a lewd obscene groan as he threw his head back.

This one interaction would usually give Jungkook enough spank bank material for weeks. But he needs more, much more, he has to have more because he’s been waiting so long for her to be his.

Because he has been saving himself for her and only her. She is going to be his soon. . very soon.

He’s unhealthily obsessed with his bully and can’t wait to get his hands on her plump ass and slap it. Dig his fingers into her voluptuous flesh around her stomach and bite at her chubby cheeks.

Jungkook wants to wrap his hand around her pretty neck and bury himself in her and never leave. His tugs get faster as he thinks of the older woman and how perfect she would feel wrapped around him.

How good he would feel filling her up and breeding her like the good little Mommy she is. She’s going to be the Mommy of his child, so tonight he’s calling her Mommy like the pathetic little puppy she thinks he is. But he’s anything but a puppy, he’s an apex predator, a nightmarish predator. Shame she won’t find out until it’s way too late for her to do anything about it.

“M-Mommy, so good”

Jungkook sinfully whines, thrusting his hips up into his hand with his eyes closed thinking of her. Using the copious amounts of cum from his messy stomach as lube.

“Fuck, just like that Mommy. . . yesss ahh!”

He hisses whimpering as he ejaculates all over his tensed tattooed abs, his teeth biting into his bottom lip.

“Such a dirty slut Mommy, I’m gonna fuck my babies into you and make you mine. Not long now my precious, I’ve seen to it. Mine forever”

Jungkook pants and finally collapses onto his bed with a malevolent grin on his face as his messy hands grab a cigarette and he lights it with his zippo lighter.

Inhaling the smoke harshly he lays there contented and covered in his own filth, as he finally feels satiated after jerking off four times. Grabbing his phone he clicks on the app and checks on the cameras inside of his obsessions home.

“Hmm she’s having a shower, fuck! Look at that ass, can’t wait to sink my teeth into that soft juicy skin. Fill it up with my cum until it’s leaking everywhere. So perfect for me”

He lewdly groans watching her with his twisted onyx orbs that fool so many with their doe eyed innocence in public.

His phone rings showing his father’s name, a wicked smirk climbs on his face as he answers.

“Hi Father”

Jungkook replies, sounding relieved to hear from him, he was going to call him anyway as he’s getting so fixated on having her that he’s starting to feel bitterly impatient.

“Hello son, how are you?”

His father replied with the same sort of tone, sounding relieved that he had answered him right away.

“I’m absolutely perfect, father. Have you got what I wanted sorted out yet? I have been waiting rather patiently”

He demands, sounding like a spoiled child. Even though he’s anything but a child.

“Of course I did, my son. Her parents were most agreeable when he gave them a deal. But her greedy parents were worried she might sabotage it”

His father sniggers and Jungkook can feel himself getting hard again when the thoughts of finally having her invade his fixated mind.

“Don’t worry, there is nothing she can do to sabotage it, father. No matter what she does, it won’t deter me in the slightest. I should thank you for helping me so quickly. When is it?”

Jungkook asks with a sinister grin taking another drag of his cigarette as he lays there still covered in his own filth.

“It’s all set for Sunday, so four days”

A malevolent grin grows on his face as she’s going to feel his unholy deviance as soon as Sunday night comes.

“Can’t wait, thank you Father”

Jungkook replies sounding childish in his own head, but all he can think about is his thick length twitching as depraved thoughts of her consumed him again.

“Anything for you son, I remember how hard it was to get your mother. I had to threaten her parents at first. It’s okay though, sometimes they need a tiny persuasive nudge. That’s why I ended up contacting our father, I didn’t care as long as I got your mother. Of course the price was you and that I became his vessel when needed, but I don’t regret it. So when are you coming back to the village? The earlier the better I think son, maybe get here Friday as we need to do the necessary traditions first. I’m glad you found your chosen one. I was a bit sceptical of you going to college to find your chosen one at first, but it’s all worked out. Do you have the small thing ready that you have to bring?”

His father chuckles in amusement.

“Of course Father, I know it has to be something you will miss so it’s gonna be my girlfriend Minji. A relationship of three years should be a good one right? This is exactly what I cultivated the entire relationship for”

Jungkook nonchalantly speaks and his father cruelly laughs at his reply.

“Good idea Jungkook, I always thought she was too pure and shy for you. Too skinny and mousy to produce a Jeon heir. I seriously thought she was going to be your chosen. You had us all worried for a second there. Jimin’s description of her was very telling. I hope this other girl is more compatible to be your chosen one”

His father sniggers spitefully when talking about his pathetic girlfriend.

“She’s something I passed the time with, got a perfect mouth, but I left her purity intact on purpose. I picked her because she wanted to wait until marriage. I wouldn’t have ever gone near her otherwise, it’s been a bit exhausting to play the good boyfriend for three years, but it was needed. Dria is perfect for me, you will see. She will be easy to corrupt”

Jungkook smirks cruelly as his father starts laughing maniacally.

“Oh he will love that! Yes I can imagine how vexed you were to entertain that, son. Can’t wait to see your chosen one”

Jungkook’s father says enthusiastically.

“See you on friday night Father, I have to go clean up”

Jungkook tells him, stubbing his cigarette out in the ashtray.

“Goodbye son, see you Friday”

Jungkook puts the phone on the bed and sighs looking at his rigid erection.

“One more time won’t hurt, I just can’t help it when I think of my chosen one”

Jungkook grunts tugging at his sensitive shaft, his length is always insatiable for her.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Jungkook is leaving for his village tonight, Jimin and Taehyung are of course coming back with him as his underlings. His stupid idiot of a girlfriend is coming too, stupid naive bitch thinks she is going to meet his parents. She is meeting them, but not in the way she thinks. Jungkook can only think of Dria and how good she’s going to feel wrapped around his starving shaft, he’s ravenous at this point.

He’s on his way to get some food in the cafeteria and he comes across Dria who smirks maliciously when she sees him.

Jungkook tries to school the pure glee on his face when she yanks at his hair and pulls his face to hers. He can’t help going hard already as she goes to spit onto his face again. An idea pops into Jungkook’s mind as he smirks to himself thinking about how she just gave him an idea to completely stop any sabotage from her.

He yanks her to him by her hair, biting her lip harsh enough to draw blood, he starts sucking at it harshly, swallowing some of her life essence groaning.

Jungkook bites down on his tongue, sucking hard to fill his mouth with blood.

Before plunging his tongue in her mouth, transferring loads of it into her mouth as his tongue bleeds profusely. Knowing that when it comes down to it she will never be able to disobey him.

She finally pulls him away from her mouth by his hair in mock disgust, he flashes her a disturbing grin, a blood splattered grin with macabre blood stained teeth. She looks like she is going to spit it out so he intervenes.

“Tsk! Don’t be a bad girl for me. Fucking swallow it”

Jungkook menacingly growls, yanking her head back and pinching his fingers over her nose and covering her mouth with his palm so she has no choice.

She tries to deter him by digging her fingernails in his arm and slapping him, but nothing moves him at all, he’s like a steel wall. Her wide eyes look frantic when she realises that she has no choice but to ingest his blood.

Dria gulps it down panicking and starts to struggle harshly grabbing at his hair again, she flails about but Jungkook is inhumanly strong. As soon as she sucks against his hand trying to desperately get air he finally moves his hand from her mouth. She gasps in air, then gags as Jungkook cruelly sniggers at her.

“Good girl”

He mocks her with a sinister smile as she stares up at him in disbelief.

“You fucking freak! Gross!”

Dria screams at him wiping her mouth, letting go of his hair and running off to the female toilets.

He can hear her thoughts, she’s not disgusted by the blood, she’s disgusted at herself for liking what he just did to her. He giggles like a psycho as she storms off.

“Hmm, fucking delicious. Can’t wait to see her face on Sunday. But you are not throwing that up, STOP”

Jungkook groans with excitement as he watches her sexy retreating figure, he clicks his fingers and she stutters then carries on walking. His grin is maniacal when he realises that his plan is working already.

He knows that if he doesn’t get a release now he will be hard for hours thinking about her sweet bloody lips and how delicious the sweet iron tinged blood tasted on his starved tongue. So he goes to the male bathroom muttering to himself about her as he thinks about destroying her little pussy.

He already feels her lifeforce coursing through his body after drinking her blood and it’s exciting him as he starts to put macabre disturbing thoughts into his chosen ones head. Thoughts of her drinking his blood and licking it off Jungkook’s body, he makes her orgasm hard in the vision, just to torment her even more.

He sniggers as he imagines her being both disturbed and turned on by these visions and later on her dreams. She’s just as much of a deviant as he is and she tries so very hard to deny herself of the truth about her lustful feelings.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Jungkook is in a car with Jimin, Taehyung and Minji driving to his village.

It’s currently seven thirty pm and he’s feeling so happy that he’s going to get his chosen one in just a few days. His whole act with Minji and others at college can finally drop as soon as they are home. Although he won’t be going back there anyway, he’s already finished and completed his final papers and coursework anyway.

Taehyung smirks with a sinister glint in his eyes as he glances back at Jungkook, he gives him a wicked wink as they drive down the long private road to the isolated village. The vibe in the car has changed and Minji nervously bites at her lip with a frown growing on her face.

Minji comments how remote it is out here and Jimin sniggers saying they need it that way for privacy. Making Jungkook and Taehyung chuckle with matching malevolent expressions. Minji suddenly shifts in her seat, feeling very uncomfortable for the first time on the trip, goosebumps climbing up her panicked body.

As soon as they get to the secure gated community Minji doesn’t look so well anymore and is slightly pale. What did he mean by the way he said private, it had a sinister undertone. The security guards are all so gleeful to welcome Jungkook back, they all call him Master and tell him they are looking forward to the unholy union.

Jungkook thanks them with a monstrous looking smile and Minji’s heart speeds up thinking that she has made a grave mistake coming here. But why wouldn’t she trust Jungkook, he’s been nothing but a gentleman. The very fact that there are security guards and a very high fence with razor wire around this village has alarm bells ringing in her head.

Jungkook is greeted at a huge mansion by an older female who is in her late thirties or she just looks very young. And a man who looks like he is around fifty, maybe sixty. The woman is definitely his mother as they have the same face shape and the same kind of nose. But the father is about five inches shorter than Jungkook and there are no signs of them being related at all, maybe he’s a step dad.

“Son! We are so glad to welcome you home, we are so proud that you found your chosen one. I can’t believe that you finally found the one. She will be here tomorrow, her parents are bringing her for the ceremony. They both agreed to the union”

The woman who is Jungkook’s mother declares with a manic looking grin on her lips.

Minji feels a little comforted when they mention the chosen one as she must be the chosen one they are talking about. The word chosen is weirding her out but she’s happy that they accept her.

That is until they tell him that she will be here with her parents tomorrow for the ceremony, she now thinks they are talking about an arranged marriage. One that doesn’t involve her.

Why is she here then? She thinks to herself, as tears start stinging her eyes.

She realises that he’s having an arranged marriage and he thinks that she’s going to be content to be some pathetic mistress. Minji is really hurt that Jungkook never told her that he would have to be in an arranged marriage. She wants to go home right now.

“NAMJOON!”

The father yelled out abruptly with a stern expression that scared a dazed Minji out of her internal panic and a man came so abruptly that it’s like he almost appeared out of nowhere.

“Take the blood sacrifice to the cells, protect her as she is pure and not to be touched. She is for our father”

As soon as he points at Minji she starts hyperventilating and looks at Jungkook with an expression of utter betrayal.

“J-Jungkook! What. . no! Please don’t! Wh-What is going on? No!!”

Minji pleads now sobbing as Namjoon grips her arm harshly and actually teleports away with her. He just stares at her like she disgusts him.

She’s pleading with Namjoon to help her, who glares at her with pure black orbs growling at her. She also can’t forget that sinister glare on Jungkook’s face as she got dragged away. He was cold as ice as he sneered at her in complete disgust.

Minji is so terrified that she faints as he puts her in a dark concrete floored cell, placing her on the floor.

Jungkook is currently laughing and joking with his mother and surrogate father, his real father isn’t even in this realm. . . yet. They snigger about how utterly pathetic Minji is and how his father will love the blood of his virgin sacrifice.

Jimin comments that he can’t wait to see Dria’s face when she realises she is meeting Jungkook here for marriage.

Jungkook laughs maniacally as he tells them that he transferred blood earlier so she can’t do anything but obey him.

They all delve into loud maniacal laughter, finding the very thought of her being unable to resist hilarious.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Dria is extremely irritated today as her parents threatened to cut her off for good if she didn’t meet this man who gave them an extremely good marriage offer. They are being so pushy about it.

She smirks as she sits in the back of their car, she knows that she will sabotage it exactly like she did to the other twenty one men that they tried to marry her off to.

Her parents are not going to get her to marry some rich douchebag in an unloving arranged marriage. Most of those men tried to sleep with her and although she’s not a virgin, she’s also not sexually experienced either. One actually tried to assault her and put his hand up her skirt to touch her panties whilst eating at a restaurant.

She is feeling so tired today, her catch up nap earlier was interrupted by nightmares numerous times and she doesn’t know why. Dria wonders if the incident in the hallway with Jungkook earlier freaked her mind out. The dreams were monstrous, macabre and explicitly deviant. Blood, sexual depravity and gore filled her dreams.

She doesn’t know where these horrific monsters in her dreams came from but the violent version of Jungkook with the harsh voice was prominent, but it’s all she dreamed about, Jungkook and demonic looking creatures.

One dream had four versions of Jungkook all having sex with her at once and she felt overwhelmed as they all filled her holes whilst the forth one choked her and savagely assaulted her breasts. Biting spitefully around her areola with his sharp canines and making blood drip down her torso.

Her parents have never been this annoyed and aggressive towards her though, but they were absolutely insistent on the marriage arrangement this time. Maybe it’s someone with loads of money, influence and power, so they don’t want to aggravate the affluent family. Dria wonders where the hell they are going as they get further and further out into the remote countryside.

A little chill invades her body the nearer they get to this place, Dria wonders why.

She shifts in the back of her parents car as they drive on a long winding country road that has zero turn offs or street lights on it. She almost wonders if they are lost as it’s actually out in the middle of nowhere.

A few private property signs were spotted by her along the way too. And others were warning about trespassing, with a warning saying that there are security, electric fences and guard dogs in the area. It’s very isolated here. Her parents seem to know where they are going though and don’t seem that worried about the situation.

As soon as she sees lights in the distance she exhales as she finally sees some signs of life. It’s gotten so late that they are surely staying in this village for the night. The place looks like it might be a gated village, because as they get nearer she sees a huge steel gate and a very high fence with razor wire on the top that seems to be placed around the whole village. It’s blocking anyone from getting into the area without going through the security gate. There are also cameras.

The security guards all surrounded the car and made her father roll down all of the car windows. One guard with narrowed cat shaped eyes looks through the windows at all of them and a sinister smirk grows on his face as he finally looks at her.

She shifts as he looks at her for about a minute before moving away. Dria shivers as his eyes look wrong, they seem to be black and shining with a disturbing malevolence in the dark of the night. This whole situation seems weird and the over the top security is strange.

“Let the chosen one and her parents in, I’m sure the Master will be overjoyed to hear that she is finally here”

The creepy man finally speaks as someone else mutters at him.

“Okay Yoongi, open the gates Sungmin”

Whoever mutters at him suddenly commands someone with a harsh voice, sounding a little off.

The gates open and Dria is suddenly not so smug anymore, she knows that something feels seriously off about this whole place and something is wrong with those creepy guards. That guard's whole demeanour was exuding sinister intentions and her body is now drenched in anxiety.

When the car stops, Dria’s father gets out and so does her mother, the place they have stopped at is a huge mansion. Dria can’t help but huff out some annoyed air as her father opens her door for her, forcing her to get out of the vehicle and greet them.

A couple is standing there waiting for them and their grins look insincere, almost like they are fake and saccharine. But there is a kind of ominous darkness in both of their eyes and it’s actually disturbing. Dria gets insane chills again but this time it’s from a shadow she notices staring at her, they are standing in a window on the second floor.

“Welcome! We are so happy to welcome you to our home! I’m Eunji his mother”

The lady exclaims with an overjoyed but jittery expression on her face, she notes that she’s not that old, maybe late thirties, early forties maximum.

“Ahh yes, hello dear! I’m Jungmin. Hmm, I can see why my son is so enamoured with you. He will be here first thing in the morning to meet you”

The older man adds with amused eyes, he’s at least fifty, maybe fifty five or sixty.

He’s definitely the ladies husband as his hand is now around her waist. There is a possessive air to the man's movements around his wife.

She can’t help but latch onto that man’s comment though, wondering if she had already met his son and she doesn’t realise it. But does that mean his son already knows her and chose her specifically? That got her thinking about who he could possibly be.

“Hello Jungmin, we are extremely glad to be here. I’m absolutely certain our daughter will love your son. Won’t you, Dria”

Her father says in a threatening tone as he glares at Dria when he mentions her name.

“She won’t let you down, she’s going to behave. Aren’t you, my daughter?”

Her mother now informs them adding another layer of threat towards Dria with her pronounced words. She just nods with an uncomfortable smile that she’s sure looks like a grimace.

She’s now wondering just who these people are for her parents to be extra guarded and throwing passive aggressive threats towards her. They usually just complain and tell her to at least try to get on with her potential husband, but this time they are both directing thinly veiled threats at her.

They were always exasperated and would sometimes threaten to cut her off from her inheritance, but they never did.

Dria realises that this time is different, something about this entire situation is.

This worries her as they have never actually made her think they were serious about their threats before now.

As they all sit down to late supper, Dria can’t help but notice all of the staff’s stares when they notice her. They look like they are all assessing her, like they are checking her for something. Some smirk at her and others have a ghoulish smile on their face.

The creepy man called Hoseok that shows them to their rooms gives her a grin so wide that it actually looks menacing. And he called her Mistress, which was extremely weird.

Dria is currently deciding that she’s going to create havoc, she has to sabotage this whole thing. The whole vibe is creepy and shady.

Hoseok tells her that the shower has a mix of natural herbs in the water that come out first and they are extremely good for her skin. She frowns but nods at him anyway, still stuck in her own thoughts about the weird situation she now finds herself in.

Then he looks almost aggravated with himself after he exclaimed in a manic glee that the young Master will be meeting her tomorrow. It’s like he was trying to restrain his unadulterated glee a little and failed to contain himself. But he carries on, clearing his throat as he completes the task regardless and shows her all the toiletries in the cupboard.

Maybe this mysterious young Master has been waiting ages for a wife and he finally thinks he will be successful. She thinks that the young Master could be the most handsome man on Earth, but she’s not going to stay in this spine-chilling place. Everything here is wrong, something is amiss.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Jungkook has been thoroughly cleansed in special herbs in the tub this morning and was given the fertility concoction.

He’s annoyed that he can’t smoke or drink at the moment but he has to do it.

If he wants the ritual to go well.

He will be taking the stamina potion just before the ritual too, he doesn’t need an aphrodisiac for her though as she gets him hard with just one glance. Although he will shower one more time after eating, it’s needed to cleanse himself of earthly toxins.

His chosen one was given a fertility concoction in a desert last night and will be given an aphrodisiac just before the ritual in her ceremonial wine. The shower has been rigged to shower her in cleansing herbs too, Hoseok had told her to not worry and that it’s a special blend for good skin. So she will be told to cleanse again after dinner, due to the wine and food in her system.

Jungkook is sitting in his room talking to Yoongi who tells him that his chosen one is indeed stunning and is so much better than the sacrifice. He comments that she has superior breeding hips and looks better than skinny no ass Minji.

Yoongi tells him that more of his blood was mixed in with the Mistresses orange juice and Hoseok told him that he took more of Dria’s blood in her sleep.

Handing it over to Jungkook who gives him a twisted grin and drinks it immediately with a debauched groan. He licks his lips like it tastes delicious.

“What time is it, Jimin?”

Jungkook sternly asks him and he comments that it’s almost five pm and dinner will start very soon.

“Hmm, can’t wait to see the look on her face when she realises it’s me and that she’s not going anywhere”

Jungkook chuckles evilly as he gets Taehyung to do his cufflinks.

“She’s been such a bitch to me, but it got me so hard when she yanked my hair and spat on my face, fuck! I’m going to make her pay later on when she’s screaming with my cock up her tight ass”

Jungkook growls out lewdly as his eyes flash showing his unholy visage for a second before flashing back to normal.

Everyone around him starts cruelly laughing at his obsessions predicament.

“Let’s go, Master. It’s time”

Jimin’s malicious grin grows on his face.

“Yes, let’s”

Jungkook replies as a wicked smirk paints itself on his handsome face.

As soon as the men get to the huge dining room they notice all of the servants standing around as Jungkook’s personal underlings all accompanied him. Dria is sitting there looking so damn sexy, Jungkook thinks as she looks up at the sudden activity. Her face is a masterpiece as she pales at who just walked into the room.

“Mother, Father, Mr and Mrs Finch, Dria”

Jungkook greets everyone and accentuates her name like he wants to devour her.

He sits down next to Dria and his underlings stand behind him, all with matching ghoulish grins. She notices Jimin and Taehyung behind him with that man Yoongi from the gate and Hoseok from earlier.

“Nice to see you again, Jungkook”

Her father smiles at him with a huge smile and Dria is clearly having a meltdown in her head as she stares at Jungkook who now has piercings and tattoos on show. He looks totally different from his college appearance and Dria is shaken for all of about thirty seconds before she just stands up to leave, feeling mortified.

“Sit the fuck down, Dria”

Jungkook abruptly barks, snapping his fingers at her and she sits down with a look of betrayal at her own body’s failure to move and disobey. It feels like she’s not in control of her actions or mind at all.

“Good girl, be quiet and listen to me. So you are marrying me tonight whether you like it or not. Your parents have already done a deal with my father. They get riches and success, and I get you. They can’t back down or my father gets their souls. You aren’t going to sabotage this one, Dria. It doesn’t matter what you do to me, you are mine. You drank my blood so you can’t disobey me, darling”

Jungkook’s eyes completely turn red as he sends her a sinister grin and she just stares at him in shock, unable to move.

“So let’s eat dinner and then we can get ready for the ritual ceremony”

Jungkook commands and his parents and hers all nod with nervous grins. She has a feeling that he is in charge and everyone is a bit scared of him.

Her parents smile at him, tucking in to their meal and they act like he didn’t just say that to her. Dria is looking at them all now with a look of disbelief and betrayal as she realises that his mother looks like she is definitely Jungkook’s mother but the father, not so much.

And why the hell are Jungkook’s eyes flashing a blood red colour?

Her thoughts are racing, what does he mean that he will take their souls?

She’s willing her body to refuse and run, but it’s like she’s a puppet and can’t do anything else but behave.

Jungkook also looks totally different and his demeanour has completely changed.

He was always a shy quiet boy at college and she’s wholly regretting ever bullying him. Although he acted weirdly on Friday.

Dria couldn’t admit to herself that he did something to her body, she wanted to dominate the shy him, make him get on his knees and she couldn’t handle that thought so she bullied him.

He’s glaring at her like he wants to actually eat her and it’s like he can read her mind because a shit eating grin climbs on his face. Dria flushes looking back down to her food and acting like it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted.

A flash of her on her knees with Jungkook sadistically smashing his hips against her face and tugging harshly at her hair, assaults her brain like a 3D headset playing in front of her eyes.

“You are my little whore now and I’m gonna do whatever I want to you. My slutty little wife. Choke on my cock, Dria”

Jungkook in the visual growls sounding feral as he goes faster making her gag and choke on his massive cock.

The vision disappears and Dria is gripping the table with damp panties wondering what just happened. Jungkook smirks cruelly at her, slowly licking his fork like he’s trying to seduce her with his inhumanly long tongue. How the fuck did he just do that to me? Dria thinks, her mind is reeling.

Her mind gets invaded again and this time she’s fucking Jungkook with a strap on and yanking at his hair.

“Th-This is what you want, right Mommy? Yes fuck me, Mommy! Ahhh”

Jungkook whines pathetically as Dria savagely fucks into him from behind.

Dria’s pulse quickens and the vision changes to him riding her strap on as she tugs at his leaking cock.

“Yes puppy, cum for Mommy”

Dria moans as he whimpers cumming all over her tits.

The vision disappears again and Dria realises that Jungkook is fucking with her head somehow, as he winks at her with a malicious grin. Dria is almost panting from the unholy visions that invade her mind and all she wants to do is run from the table and get as far away from here as possible. Dria gulps down the red wine and as soon as she finishes it she knows that it was a huge mistake as Jungkook’s eyes flash at her with a villainous expression.

“Is everyone finished? Let’s get the paperwork signed, It’s time to get ready for the festivities”

Hoseok suddenly declares to everyone at the table who nodded.

He produces a piece of paper making Jungkook’s father sign something, then so does Dria’s father. Then Jungkook signs it, giving it back to Hoseok, who brings it to her telling her to sign here.

It’s a marriage certificate and Dria pauses just staring at it in shock before looking up at Jungkook.

“Sign it darling, be a good girl now”

Jungkook commands in a threatening sickly sweet voice, clicking his fingers.

She can’t stop herself as she signs her name and hands over the pen to Hoseok. Dria’s heart is beating so damn fast and she doesn’t know what to do.

Everyone starts getting up to leave and Jungkook chuckles looking at her.

“Oh, go get ready for me, my darling wife. Don’t be late, you have thirty minutes. Hoseok, Jimin help her and make sure she behaves”

Jungkook commands mockingly, clicking his fingers again making her stand up and get escorted by Hoseok and Jimin.

Dria can do nothing but obey as nothing she does can break the commands he gives every time he clicks his fingers.

They tell her she has to shower one more time, so she does. As she gets dressed into the red cape with a hood that she was given, she huffs out an annoyed air. She had baulked earlier at Hoseok when he had told her what she is supposed to wear for the ceremony, trying to argue with him.

How can she wear nothing else but a hooded cape? But Jimin had threatened her, saying he can always get Jungkook to come here and force her to get dressed in front of them all. Of course she obeyed after that as she’s not dressing in front of all of his minions.

As she stands in front of the bathroom mirror another vision invades her mind and it’s so strong this time that it knocks her for six.

“Fuck, yes my pretty little slut. Tight little cunt is taking my whole hand, such a fucking whore for your husband, Dria. Mine! You are now mine forever!”

Jungkook sinfully groans as he stares down at the debauched view.

Dria’s legs are shaking as she clings to the edge of the sink, she can feel every single harsh thrust of his hand and a warmth starts to flow straight to her core.

She can’t believe that these scenes are now turning her on so badly that she’s struggling to stand, she whimpers loudly before the vision disappears.

Dria is literally panting as she splashed water on her face, she wasn’t allowed to wear makeup or anything else like perfume either. So she has a bare face right now. Jimin had told her that earthly things will corrupt her detoxification, whatever the hell that’s supposed to mean. So she just brushes her hair and puts the crimson cape on, tying the ribbon up and feeling really exposed, as the cape is all that covers her nakedness.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Jimin and Hoseok now have black capes on as they escort her to a huge ballroom that has part of the ceiling dome open showing the blood moon. The place has red candles everywhere and a ton of people are standing around wearing black capes. Their heads all creepily turn around to look at her at the same time as they escort her to Jungkook who has on a black cape with a weird symbol in gold on the back of it.

Jungkook’s father Jungmin is standing there wearing a long black gown too with the same weird symbol on it. Dria’s parents also have on the black robes too and so does Jungkook’s mother who also has the symbol on hers.

“We are here today for Jungkook’s unholy union with his chosen tonight on this auspicious blood moon. First we will send our worship to our father with hopes that he will appear and bless the union of his son and his chosen one”

Jungmin exclaims in a loud commanding voice that echoes around the room.

Dria frowns as that means Jungmin is not his father, but she’s confused about him hoping that his real father appears, as that’s weird. She watches as everyone bends their heads and starts chanting in a strange language she doesn’t know.

She pales when a man with full black eyes with black sclera brings a terrified girl into the room. Dria pales when she recognizes her from college, she is called Minji and she’s naked with bloody harsh symbols cut everywhere on her body. Her arms and legs are tied up and she is sobbing behind a gag on her mouth.

Dria is definitely starting to wonder if this is a dodgy cult and she’s now even more worried about who they worship. She jolts as she abruptly realises that there is a whole ass altar with blood, a live snake, an upside down pentagram, a wet bloody heart, a skull, an athame, chalices, loads of different oils and minerals, pieces of wood and many other things.

Are they a satanic cult?

Her parents just stand by the altar like it’s perfectly normal and this whole thing is absolutely fine. Are her parents actually in this cult? Dria’s thoughts are reeling as she can’t believe that her parents are cultists.

She is transfixed by Jungmin who is putting some herbs and ingredients in a poultice and grinding it. Dria almost gags when she notices him cutting a slither of flesh from the heart adding it to the mix.

After that he places the whole macabre concoction into the golden chalice. When Jungkook pulls her nearer to him and grabs her hand she goes to resist, but he’s whispering a threat in her ear.

“Be a good wife for me now, behave and do everything you are told. You are mine now and you are going to be mine forever, my wife. Even in hell if we die, there is no getting away from me Dria, not ever. I’m gonna fuck you for eternity”

Jungkook’s gleeful grin is what she notices, then the fierce glow of his full blood red eyes, then the click of his fingers that snap the poor girl back to being fully controlled.

Everything goes dead silent as the poor woman gets tied upside down on a damn inverted cross, her muffled screams and protests are the only things heard as they echo across the vast hall.

Dria’s can only stand dead still and witness the gruesome blood curdling scene. No one else bats an eyelid and they all just watch on with sinister intentions.

Jungmin now moves towards the poor woman with an athame in hand and the gold chalice with the bloodcurdling mix of ingredients in it. Dria can hear her heart beating so loudly in her ears now.

He starts to speak in a harsh guttural tone as he speaks the unknown language again. Every sentence he speaks gets creepily repeated by everyone in the room.

Dria is just watching on in horror, until he gruesomely slits the girl's neck and holds the chalice underneath to catch the blood. Her macabre gurgling noises mixed with screaming are horrific and Dria tries to close her eyes.

“Watch everything darling, don’t you dare look away my wife”

Jungkook husks in her ear and snaps his fingers at her. Dria can only watch as everyone starts chanting again and poor Minji finally goes limp.

“We are up next my wife, do as you are told or I will punish you, Dria. You are only to drink from the chalice and say I obey and give myself to my husband when asked to talk”

Jungkook groans loudly in her ear, licks at it and pulls away looking down at her giving her a huge terrifying grin.

Jungmin walks towards the couple and offers them the chalice after chanting something over it. Jungkook drinks from it first, then it’s offered to Dria who can do nothing but drink from it feeling sickened.

Her stomach clenches but it’s like she’s watching everything through someone else’s eyes. This whole scenario makes her feel like she’s on some sort of psychedelic drug and is having a bad trip.

“Talk now darling”

Jungkook coos at her in a mocking tone and she repeats the words that he told her to say.

“Good girl”

He rasps, winks and gives her a chilling smirk, his eyes glint like he’s having impure thoughts about her.

“I Jungkook, ask for my father to bless our unholy union and grant me his power tonight to seal my union with my chosen forever. Father, I beg you to preside over this ritual and come forth. Please give your approval of my mate”

Jungkook’s whole eyes are red and glowing, his animalistic voice sends a spine chilling shudder right up Dria’s back. His hand is firm as he holds her hand to keep her by his side.

Jungmin starts to look ominous and a dark cloud gathers around him, his eyes start glowing and they can all see that he now has glowing golden eyes. His whole body is covered in an unnatural swirling darkness, there is a cold unholy chill in the air now too and the horrid smell of sulphur and fire.

It’s like he’s grown in stature as the air crackles dangerously around him, everyone gasps and suddenly drops to their knees like they are kowtowing.

Jungkook drags Dria to her knees and she’s actually glad as her knees already felt like they were going to buckle in terror.

“My son, rise”

A hair-raising voice booms around the room and Jungkook rises, pulling up Dria with him.

“So proud of you son, you have sent so much power to me in my name. Not long now, your son will bring about a new age. I bless your unholy union. Disrobe”

He tells him in a formidable unearthly voice.

Jungkook removes his robe letting it fall to the floor and she now sees that he’s also naked under that robe and is covered in tattoos, he has tattooed some strange symbols on his torso too.

Jungkook turns pulling her hood back, then he unties the ribbon on Dria’s robe, the blood red robe falls and drops to the marbled floor.

She flushes but she can’t do anything but obey Jungkook and she’s now absolutely tormented by what Jungmin looks like right now too, as his unearthly appearance is definitely not human.

Jungkook smirks wickedly at her as his crimson orbs slowly roamed down her voluptuous body with an obvious lustful intent. His eyes connect to hers. The fiendish Jungmin moves forward whilst swirling his dark smoke-covered finger in the blood whilst chanting. The vile mixture turns black and hisses ominously.

He then paints a symbol on both of their torso’s, on their breast bones, chanting words that sound malevolent and bestial. His wife gently takes the chalice from him like she’s used to it by now.

His palm goes to Jungkook’s forehead then Dria’s at the same time, she feels a dark sinister corruption flow through her and a large tattooed symbol appears on their chests where the painted concoction from the chalice once was.

She glances at Jungkook’s to see he now has the same mark as hers on his breastbone too. But Dria jolts as she suddenly realises that Jungkook now looks so much bigger, taller, buffer and has these thin black veins all over his body as Dria’s eyes roam over him in shock. The terrified girl thinks about how damn beautiful he is, if only he wasn’t such a crazy psycho.

Red crimson horns have appeared on his head and matching vermillion wings are now visible on his broad back. His black hair is longer, much longer.

When he grins evilly at the terrified shock in her eyes, she now notices his sharp canines too. A long forked tongue lewdly licks across his pierced lips like he’s about to eat something delicious.

Her first thought is ‘oh shit, he’s a fucking demon isn’t he?’ Her mind is in a state. The thoughts are muddled and racing as her whole being screams at her to run. The thing is. . . she can’t as her feet are literally plastered to the stone marble floor.

“Time for the first mating under the blood moon, Son. Take your chosen mate for all your loyal followers to see, complete the unholy union and seal the bond to make her your mate forever”

Jungmin tells Jungkook in a hair raising, proud sounding growl and Dria realises that it’s one hundred percent not Jungmin controlling that body anymore.

But thinking about who or what is possessing Jungmin’s body right now, is something she just can’t comprehend.

She’s too terrified of being killed right now, so she tries to make sure that she just survives the night. Dria tries to ignore the fact that he just told Jungkook to take her in front of his followers.

Jungkook immediately picks up Dria who lets out a little yelp, he gives her a huge disturbing grin as he places her naked body on the stone altar. He looks so much bigger than before as he looms over her at the end of the stone altar and spreads her legs with a loud cuss.

Jungkook doesn’t wait as he impatiently tugs at his huge thick length and rubs his tip against her soaked folds, slamming in her with a voracious guttural growl making her arch her back.

Dria feels like she’s been impaled by something that’s way bigger than any normal human dick, and it’s pushing her way past her limits making her cry out in pain.

Her mind just can’t compute what’s happening to her right now and she’s utterly disturbed that she feels more turned on right now than she has ever felt before. Dria thinks that Jungkook looks like he’s at peace after he bottoms out inside her with a content sigh, his eyes closed. Before opening his crimson eyes and giving her some serious eye contact that makes her squirm.

“That’s it my wife, taking all of my demon cock like a good girl should”

Jungkook sinisterly smirks at her. His predatory eyes fiercely glow as they glint with infatuation, showing hunger mixed with an intense craving. So he is a demon, Dria says in her head.

The blood moon mocks her as it turns a darker blood red, like an ominous omen.

Everyone is now chanting again and the foreboding swirling silhouette of Jungmin is chanting again and it sounds beastial and hair raising making her shiver.

Jungkook’s hands are roughly gripping her thighs as he pounds into her with a lewd groan.

Dria is crying out in both pain and pleasure at every single slap of his skin against hers. All she can do is moan and writhe, she can’t protest or stop him.

Her ample chest is bouncing and her mouth is parted as she stares up at Jungkook who is devouring the scene with his ravenous red fiery orbs.

His tattooed hand roughly palms her breasts and spitefully pulls at her nipple making her squeeze around his huge girth. Jungkook’s smirk is both unnerving and sexy at the same time as he tongues at his piercings on his lip.

“So fucking tight around me, my wife”

He chuckles breathlessly as he thumbs Dria’s clit making her moan out and writhe underneath him.

“Such a fucking slut for my cock, darling. Pussy is squeezing my length so well”

Jungkook mocks her, spearing her harder with a harsh growl.

He leans over her sucking and biting at her tender nipples before sucking harsh marks and biting roughly all over her torso. Jungkook savagely bites down around her areola, his canines penetrating her tender abused skin. He moans perversely around it, sucking and licking at the pooling blood.

She is horrified to like it and as his sharp teeth pierced her skin she abruptly falls into a full blown orgasm, clenching intensely around him and wailing.

Jungkook’s red orbs look up at her with a smug satisfaction on his face.

Jungkook spitefully grabs her around the mouth digging his vicious black fingernails into her skin. Forcing her to open it as he leans over her gathering a huge glob of bloody spit before letting it drop straight into her mouth.

“Swallow it, Darling. Only fair you taste my spit when I so greedily licked yours from my lips the other day. Hmmm, you swallowed it, dirty girl”

Jungkook maniacally grins down at her like a deviant, his eyes deviously glinting at her. Dria mewls loudly and lewdly flutters around him as he fucks her through her oversensitivity.

“That’s it, milk my cock my little whore. I knew you were the right one, my chosen”

Jungkook filthily moans and stands back up impaling her faster with an animalistic groan. His large tattooed hand goes to Dria’s neck, cruelly choking her, she feels dizzy and squirms on his demonic length.

“Yes, you are so fucking snug for me, such a tiny little pussy, my wife”

He hisses, sadistically thumbing at her sensitive clit again.

Her breathless raspy cries are turning Jungkook on as he ruthlessly strums his thumb against her nub. His bulbous tip assaulted her g spot with every single rough buck of his hips. Jungkook’s depraved hand tightens violently around her neck when she grips tighter around his cock. Her whines and whimpers sound raspy as poor Dria nears her second orgasm.

“Hmm yes, look at you creaming all over my big cock like a messy baby. Saturating me with your mouth-watering juices, looks so delicious. Can’t wait to make you squirt down my throat”

Jungkook vulgarly growls, staring down at where they join with a carnal intensity, devouring the scene with his carnivorous vermillion red orbs.

Her senses are all automatically heightened and she can now hear and feel exactly what he’s talking about.

The lewd sloppy suction noises are now deafening to Dria’s ears, every single time his length slams into her again, stretching her poor abused pussy out.

Dria can definitely feel how sticky it is around the base of Jungkook’s shaft and how her creamy juices are overflowing down her taint to drench his balls.

“Come on, give it to me, my wife. Drench my dick again with your slutty juices. I’m gonna breed you so well, fuck a son into you. Pump you so full, all night long until all you can feel is my cum. You are gonna be so swollen with my seed, my perfect mate”

Jungkook growls sinfully, as pathetic little whimpers escape her lips.

Dria feels delirious as black dots invade her vision from his unrelenting hand.

She feels horrified by how horny and ravenous she feels, especially when she starts to orgasm so intensely that she is sobbing. As soon as his merciless grip around her bruised neck loosens she squirts all over him.

“Fuck yes, that’s right cream my cock! So filthy, shit. Squirt all over me, my wife. Hmm your hot cunt feels exquisite”

Jungkook groans blissfully, feeling addicted to the feeling of her pulsing around his girth as he twitches inside her, hardening like steel as his balls tightened.

His eager hand goes to her hair, yanking it back to expose her pretty neck.

Leaning in he animalistically growls and buries his sharp fangs into her soft skin, right on her erogenous zone.

A muffled rough moan sounds out as she descends into another smaller orgasm, squeezing tightly around him.

Jungkook tugs sadistically on her hair, stinging her scalp and sucking harshly on her neck, tugging on her neck with his teeth as he savagely presses his teeth further into her sore neck.

Dria raked her nails across his broad shoulders as she cried out grinding up against him trying to ride her orgasm out. Dria has forgotten exactly what position she is in right now, as Jungkook’s followers all watch on in awe.

His length pulses and unloads into her with a vicious feral slam as he bottoms out stuttering his hips. Painting her cervix with his large creamy load, and a satiated whine vibrating on her tender skin.

Dria can feel the harsh breathing of his nose against her skin as his cum keeps pumping inside her. She’s panting hard underneath him as he pulls his canines from her skin and licks at it a few times before standing back up.

The look on Jungkook’s face is one of absolute triumph as he palms her skin like it’s precious. His possessive infatuation still shines brightly in his crimson eyes, as he shamelessly devours her marked up bare skin.

“Tis done my son, you are mated”

The dark malevolent Jungmin declares as he walks over, placing his palm over Dria’s womb and chanting again. She shudders because his touch is like a sinister malevolent nightmare, filled with a hellish deadly chill as his shadowy palm presses against her skin.

“It will be so, a son shall be born. He will be very powerful and magnificently strong, worthy of Lucifer's grandson. I can see it now”

He unnervingly chants again with those scary menacing gold orbs looking down at the small of her stomach. Dria looks from his hand to Jungmin’s face and the grin he flashes her is gruesome as he sees the realisation in her shocked eyes.

“Welcome to the family Dria, can’t wait for my grandson to be born to bring about the demonic prophecy. Well done my son, your mate is clearly perfect for you”

Then Jungmin visibly sags looking tired and way less formidable than he just did. He looks much smaller in stature too.

Jungkook’s hard length is still snugly seated inside her and it doesn’t look like he will pull out of her yet or go soft. His bloody teeth show as he grins down at her with a sadistic gratification.

“You are mine forever now, you aren’t ever going anywhere. Hmm you are so exquisite, my little wife”

He groans possessively, gently palming her womb as he thrusts against her.

“Such a good wife giving me a son, I knew it would be you from the moment I first met you. My precious mate, hmm I feel so horny I could go again. You make me so fucking hard!”

Jungkook whines, lewdly twitching inside her already, making Dria whimper.

She is interrupted by all of the hooded followers walking up, giving her blessings and touching her womb area in such a way that they act like she’s utterly precious.

Dria narrows her eyes at her parents who look absolutely overjoyed by this development, their greedy expressions are obvious as they touch their daughter and give her their satanic blessings. Dria feels utterly betrayed but she’s still being controlled by Jungkook who just stays seated inside her, staring down at her with a wide menacing smile and a twisted besotted expression.

“Do you think our master will let her join the orgy afterwards? I would love to feel her. Her tits are fantastic”

A voice says a little too loudly and Jungkook’s expression now looks utterly murderous, a dark red cloud of smoke bleeds from him and his hand conjures a blue and red swirling ball of fire.

The air crackles and a harsh air blows through the whole hall and it darkens, dark shadows of monsters start to bleed out of the walls groaning.

“Who just fucking lusted after my mate and so fucking openly?”

Jungkook’s harsh guttural voice booms around the room, he’s absolutely furious.

Everyone panics and immediately drops to the floor begging for their lives.

“I said who was it? SHOW YOURSELF! NOW!! I will fucking decimate all of you if don’t tell me who it was!”

Jungkook roars out menacingly, his wings are stretched out behind him and Dria can’t help but lust after his dark but magnificent aura.

She realises that this form turns her on, he looks down at her giving her a smug knowing look and glances back down at the people with a look of disgust. Some poor people are shaking and one has clearly peed themselves.

“YOU! Do you forget I can read your minds? If you had openly admitted to it I may have shown you mercy. Get the fuck up now, do you think you can insult me and talk about MY MATE!! I WILL FUCKING EVISERATE YOU!!”

Jungkook savagely growls, sounding and looking utterly terrifying as his voice booms around the room.

The older man stands up visibly shivering with a look of absolute terror.

The ball of fire shoots at the man burning him to dust immediately and a few gasps and cries of fear are heard.

Another is abruptly conjured.

“NO ONE IS TOUCHING MY MATE, HOW DARE YOU THINK YOU CAN COVET MY WIFE!! SHE IS MINE! Now the rest of you get here and finish your unholy blessings or I’m punishing the fucking lot of you!”

He possessively growled, his voice thundering at everyone, Jungkook looked pissed right off by the whole incident.

Jungkook looks back down at Dria and his monstrous demeanour calms down immediately and the shadows disappear, it lightens up again and the ball of hellfire he conjured gets snuffed out.

Jungkook picks Dria up after the rest of the satanic blessings, telling everyone with a maniacal laugh that he’s going to his bedchamber to play with his pretty wife. She has to give it to him, he’s still seated inside her and carrying her like a baby, like she weighs nothing at all.

The earlier incident was forgotten as everyone congratulated him with smiles.

No one says anything or bats an eyelid, in fact they are all starting to disrobe like they are getting ready for an orgy, this must be a common occurrence. There are now many who now look like demons, mixed in with the satanic cult followers, including all of Jungkook’s friends, all of them are different types of demons.

The last thing she sees are two of Jungkook’s friends fucking her mother and very sadistically as she wails. And someone she doesn’t know is getting her father to suck them off as another smashes his hips against her fathers ass cheeks. This was a sight she never wished to see, not in any lifetime.

Dria feels like she has no one who could help her now as her parents are clearly in this cult and they will help Jungkook for the riches and fame. And all at the expense of their daughter, they chose riches. If there are demons, are there no angels here on Earth?

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Dria shudders as she realises that this is it, she’s married to Jungkook legally and spiritually. There is no going back, he’s never letting her go, she knows this deep down inside her darkening soul.

She can also feel the satanic corruption taking root in her body and she can’t fight it. It’s way too strong as it slowly consumes her light and replaces it with utter darkness. Jungkook’s mark on her seems to be pulsing.

The power of her child inside the tiny egg is already pulsing through her and the sheer force of malevolence he is emitting is dizzying and frightening. The sperm must have only just joined an egg yet his power is taking root in her soul already. She wonders if demon’s usually get women pregnant so easily or quickly, or is it just the really powerful ones.

“Welcome to your new bedroom, my wife, mother of my child. This is it Dria, you are mine for eternity, so I suggest you accept it. I’m going nowhere either, I’m immortal, the son of Lucifer. You can’t hurt me, kill me or get anyone stronger than me to help either. I’ve looked the same since I turned twenty one. I won’t age anymore. Even if I got killed by some miracle it would only take me a year to get back to you. I would get sent to hell and be able to get strong enough to get out in no time. No one is stronger than me, only my father. So stop with the useless errant nonsense that your mind keeps spewing. And NO, there are no arch angels or seraphim left, well not anymore. We killed them all! Didn’t you realise that this is the age of the demons? Everyone has turned to the side of the sins, everyone is drowning in sin. My father is reigning supreme and we have cults everywhere on Earth, this is just my inner circle”

Jungkook laughs manically as he presses her into the wall and bottoms right out again, fucking her into the surface with a lewd groan.

“Gonna fuck you all day, every single day, my wife. Ugh, so tight and wet! I don’t have to jerk off to sinful thoughts of you ten times a day anymore. I have the real thing. Best pussy ever, looks so good taking my cock. That’s it, fuck! Cry for me my little mate, you won’t be getting any rest at all tonight. You’ve denied me for so long that I’m ravenous for you. Good girl, my perfect little cock slut wife”

Jungkook growls greedily as he drives into her so fast that she’s wailing, his demon tongue licking the tears off her face with a sick, eager satisfaction.

Dria’s tears of realisation and her wails because he’s plunging into her so hard and roughly, are only turning him on more. His hand chokes her, cutting off her oxygen as he rails the hell out of her.

She doesn’t want to give Jungkook his sick satisfaction, but she’s mourning the loss of her whole life. She can only follow his commands as he controls her like a little doll, a plaything. His growls and moans as he fills her up with his seed again are debauched and filled with a feral need for more already.

Dria sinks more and more into the controlling force of her powerful son and his merciless father. The infernal demonic madness corrupts her and the utter despair inside her heart starts to dissipate like a puff of smoke, it happens as soon as her mind starts to accept her iniquitous husband. He’s the fiendish son of the devil, there is no fighting how strong he seems and their son is a tiny brand new embryo and he’s controlling her thoughts already.

Jungkook grins sinisterly, forcing her to sit on his face, moving her like a puppet with telekinesis. Telling her to squirt down his throat like a good little whore wife, seemingly not caring that she has his cum dripping from her entrance. Her new husband is a debauched demon with sinful tendencies and wicked intentions glinting in his eyes.

Dria just moans out yes Master as she immediately complies to his demand. Instead of her being forced to do it like a remote controlled doll, she does whatever he wants her to.

Jungkook roughly shoves two fingers in her pussy, coating them in both of their juices and removes them, sadistically plunging them into her ass in one go.

She mewls out in pain and pleasure, drowning in the hedonistic sin. She knows that there is no fighting against Jungkook, it’s hopeless.

And the perverse, unholy darkness that surrounds and fills them both starts to feel a little too good to Dria. It feels like a sinful glove, like the greedy need for more, unadulterated gluttony to consume more of her mate's body, an unholy ravenous lust that builds in her and every other sin you can think of is gripping her soul hard. Pride that she has such a powerful mate who everyone is scared of and envy for anyone who has felt him like this. This ignites some wrathful thoughts.

“That’s it baby, give yourself to your husband, to your soulmate. Give in and let me devour you for all eternity. Once you become my mate you slowly become a demon too, let the darkness take you, my pretty pet. Give in to the sinful temptation, drown in it darling. Accept me, don’t make me control you forever my wife. I want you to accept that you will always be mine, my desire, my everything, my obsession, my possession, my whole world, mine! I knew you’d be mine the second I laid my eyes on you, I had to have you. No one else has ever had my cock in their pussy, only you my mate. Those whores were only good to suck my dick, nothing else. Only you deserved to have my cock, baby. I’d only let you fuck me up the ass with a strap on. You taste so fucking delicious, damn! I’m gonna penetrate you with my tongue, my tantalising tasty slut!”

Jungkook indecently groans as he pumps his fingers into her puckered hole, abruptly penetrating her with his thick long forked tongue.

As Dria grinds her hips to ride his long demonic tongue, something abruptly snaps in her, the chill of submission suddenly invades her mind and she completely gives in to her husband, Jungkook. To corruption.

It grasps around her soul caressing it with its depraved malevolence, she lets it in gasping from the force of it. She always wanted him and now she has to stop kidding herself, she has him all to herself forever. Jungkook is now hers.

Jungkook can read her mind and is extremely pleased, his expression is disturbing as his predatory, obsessive, blood red orbs glint with a fervent ravening glare up at her.

They say “Say you are MINE!”

‘Hmmm yes, I can now talk to you telepathically, good girl for submitting to me. I want you to squirt all over my face, my love. Soak me in your filthy juices. I’m yours and you are mine, always. Say you are mine baby, that I’m yours’

Jungkook lewdly growls inside her head as he can now talk to her privately. Dria moans out desperately, she’s dazed like she’s drowning in delicious syrupy lust and it’s so thick and seductive.

Jungkook can see her eyes start to blacken and magnificent dark wings erupt from her back, her pretty horns grow and he knows he has her. Being blessed by Lucifer and marked by Lucifer as his official family, along with being marked and mated by Jungkook, Lucifer’s son. And now bearing a strong demonic child were all too much for her to ever fight the darkness.

Her soul has fallen to darkness and she will live forever with him drowning in sin.

He digs his nails into her ass cutting into her plump flesh and his canines savagely bite onto her mound knowing that she will heal no matter what he throws at her.

“Yes, yes! Ahh Jungkook, mine! Hmm, yes my mate, yours for infinity. I’m yours Jungkook”

Dria drowns as she lets the darkness pulse through her and accepts that he’s hers too.

She feels exquisite pain and mind blowing pleasure, as he laps at her bloody pussy and thrusts another finger into her ass making it three. The primal moan she emits is loud and makes him groan in an animalistic manner.

“That’s it my wife, show me how much of a queen you are. Show me how much you really want me, drown me in your unholy slutty juices. Ride my face like it’s your throne, fuck my tongue baby. I’m gonna claim your ass after. Then you can claim mine after I claim that pretty little mouth of yours”

Jungkook savagely growls, penetrating her with his long demonic tongue again.

“You're now mine, my king”

Dria wickedly growls looking down at him, his eyes show amusement when she yanks at his raven coloured hair lewdly moaning as she grinds on him. She can feel how consumed he is with her, how much he worships her and the feeling is completely voracious and ravenously possessive.

He feels her emotions and knows that her soul is completely demonic, but he can feel the same adoration, devotion, obsession and possession for him that he feels for her. Demons can love but they love so fiercely that the feelings are stronger. More power is behind it, they love with everything they have.

Jungkook finally feels complete and he can’t wait for their son to bring about hell on earth like he was always supposed to. For him to release Lucifer and fully release all of the seven deadly sins powers. All of his minions are the sins and he’s the epitome of the sins. He is the sin of pride which means that he incites them all.

People get selfish when prideful, they get egocentric and they encourage other sins. Like thinking they can get as many women as they want, inciting lust. Others are too prideful telling everyone that they are the best at something inviting envy or maybe that they have something better than them, inviting greed from others as they want that too. Gluttonously claiming they can eat or drink more than someone else, it’s all ego and pride. Even wrath is born out of pride, their pride causes an argument and then a fight. Others are lazy and have pride in the fact that they are eating and sleeping their time away.

The others Yoongi, Taehyung, Jimin, Namjoon, Jin and Hoseok are the other sins. Hoseok is envy, Namjoon is wrath, Yoongi is sloth, Jin is gluttony, Jimin is greed and Taehyung is lust. They are all waiting patiently for their real powers, Jungkook only has a small amount of his real power but it is still much stronger than theirs. But they all respect him and his leadership, they were all hand picked by him to become the sins.

His son's very presence on earth is already corrupting it, he can’t wait for these pathetic humans to bow down in terror. The stronger his son gets the stronger he gets and Jungkook will finally get his real strength once the apocalypse begins on Earth. He can’t wait.

His plans are going swimmingly and now he also has his soulmate to devour whenever he wants. . . forever.

MASTERLIST: here

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©️ Bangtans Momma.

Please do not translate, copy, steal or repost my stories as your own, or any part of my story as your own without my consent.

Do not feed any part of my stories into any AI software either.

Sharing the link or re-blogging is perfectly fine of course.

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[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Needlework.

A grab-bag commission for the very lovely @pale-horse-writing.

Pairing: Yandere!OC x Reader.

Summary: Your long-term captor takes one more step towards making you his perfect little doll.

Word Count: 1.2k.

TW: Injury To Reader, Infantilization, Dollification, Feminization (Reader Dressed Femininely and Specifically NOT Cool With It), Implied Kidnapping, Unhealthy Relationships, and Non-Consensual Drug Use.

Every stitch took exactly fifteen seconds.

Two for the tip of the needle to pierce your skin, three more to find its exit-point, and ten for Dottie to pull the long, braided string through your punctured flesh. The final result was two perfectly symmetrical rows of neat, pinkish white ‘x’-es leading from the curve of your foot to the bottom of your knee, binding vinyl to skin and ensuring you wouldn’t be able to remove it without a great deal of trouble, without ruining your perfect white gloves and perfect white dress. The shoes themselves – because that was the point of this, as difficult as it was to remember, to make sure you couldn’t misbehave and remove your real punishment – were silver and well-polished, a pair that he'd just brought home a few days ago. There had been crossed strips of ribbon down the front at one point, but they’d been removed in favor of leaving that much more of your skin exposed, and in place of the dainty, delicate heels he usually preferred were thick platforms; about six inches tall and specially weighted to limit mobility. You couldn’t imagine where he’d gotten them. You couldn’t imagine how he’d gotten it into his head to use them for something like this.

Dottie brought the needle to your skin for the final stitch, the point sinking into your numb calf for the thousandth time. Despite everything, he wasn’t a sadist – the mask fitted over the lower half of your face and the canister it was attached to made sure you stayed limp, complacent, too strung-out to move or run or think as he worked. A few months ago, you would’ve protested, kicked and screamed and threw the kind of tantrum he’d have to calm with a hushed tone and a handful of sedatives, but you’d learned better, since then. He was going to do whatever he wanted to you, no matter how you reacted to it. The only thing you got to decide was how much it was going to hurt.

There was an airy chuckle, the sound of a thread being cut, then a fleeting kiss to the inside of your knee. Slowly, he pushed himself to his feet, peeling off his latex gloves and discarding them along with his bloody needle before turning his attention back to you, to your prone state. Your mask was removed, but your vision remained unfocused, the fog laying over your thoughts still thick as Dottie ran his fingertips over your cheek, rubbing out the lingering indents. Out of reflex, you leaned into his touch, eager to savor his gentleness before the numbness wore off and the ache let in, and your desperation was rewarded with a light hum, another kiss – the one to the top of your head. “You did beautifully.” You felt his lips against the shell of your ear, then your cheek. “I couldn’t ask for a better model.”

You tried to speak, to respond with something halfway coherent, but your tongue was too heavy and your throat was filled with cotton and it was all you could do to open your mouth, to let out something you could only compare to a fractured whimper. There was a sympathetic coo, a new weight on the edge of the velvet-cushioned lounge-seat he used for your little ‘adjustments’. Carefully, with pains taken not to disturb the delicate bows tied into your hair, he draped an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his chest. “I know, I know,” he muttered, squeezing you against him before detangling himself from you completely. “But it’s for the best. I knew what had to be done the second I saw what you were getting up to while I was gone.”

What you were getting up to. He must’ve meant breaking his unspoken rules – cooking for yourself, changing out of his meticulously chosen outfits, loosening the strings of the lung-flattening corsets he took minutes out of his schedule to bind you into. You weren’t supposed to do anything, not while he was gone, not if there was a chance you’d bruise yourself or tear the hem of one of his handmade petticoats. He would never say it aloud, but he wasn’t subtle. He wanted you to be something pretty, something useless, something that was doted on and adorned with proof of his misplaced love. You’d heard him admit, once, while he thought you were asleep, that if he had his way, you wouldn’t have to do so much as think for yourself, but thankfully, he hadn’t found an article of clothing that can accomplish that. Not yet, at least.

“This’ll keep you out of trouble while I’m away.” He positioned himself at your side, clapping his hands the way you would if you were trying to get a child’s attention. An animal’s attention. “Why don’t you try taking a step for me, sweetheart?”

Dread, fear, and shame coiled in the pit of your stomach. With more than a little reluctance, you swung your feet over the side of the chair, tears immediately welling up and blurring your vision further as the platforms strained Dottie’s stitching and sent a thousand stabbing, agonizing jolts racing up your legs. Standing was no easier, but you managed to push yourself to your feet, to ignore the way your legs screamed in protest long enough to lift your right foot and took a single, unsteady st—

Your knees buckled, your strength faltering, and then you were on the ground, legs bent into a crumbled heap and dress fanning out around you. Dottie was by your side in a moment, pulling you into his arms as you heard yourself start to sniffle, as you felt warm tears start to drip down your cheeks. “Poor thing.” The sentiment was empathetic, but his cadence was overjoyed, brimming with excitement. It was the same tone he used when he sat you down in front of a vanity, made you watch as he fastened yet another lace collar around your neck. It was the same voice he used when he was on top of you, wiping away your tears as he pretended to care about whether or not you were happy. “Like a puppet without its strings. That’s alright, though. You know I’ll always be here to repair you.”

You rested your cheek against his chest, shutting your eyes. “People don’t need to be repaired.”

“But you do.” One last kiss, this one to the corner of your lips. This time, you couldn’t bring yourself to pretend the affection made you feel much of anything at all. “And that’s why I have to look after you.”

He was taking you back to your bedroom, to the pink-soaked space filled to the point of bursting with soft blankets and stuffed animals and all the things he wanted you to want. You’d be left there until the numbing agent wore off, until the pain was more than you could take, and when you cried out for him and his distorted comfort, he’d take joy in doting on you, in reassuring himself that you were too helpless to take so much as a step without his help.

You could only hope that, whenever he decided you’d learned your lesson, his stitches would come out faster than they’d gone in.

[my-my-my]

KINKTOBER DAY 4 - Aphrodisiacs: Mayuri Kurotsuchi x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Captain Kurotsuchi needs bodies for his new inventions, and a random old shopkeeper in District 53 has clients to serve. Distribution of illicit drugs seems to transcend the World of the Living, with shinigami and regular souls alike, flocking to the market, but how does Captain Kurotsuchi test his products in the first place?

TW: MDNI! Abuse of power, Mayuri having no sense of ethical obligations as a researcher, what I think drug dealing/trafficking would look like in Soul Society, fictional recreational drugs, dubious consent, fondling, non-consensual drug use.

Word count: 2516

Read on AO3 here.

 “Kurotsuchi-san, thank you for the products last month. It was quite the hit with my customers.” The elderly woman prattled on as she hobbled around her store. Dried plants, herbs and bottles containing questionable liquid filled every nook and cranny of the shop.

“Did any of them report side-effects?” He asked, inspecting her wares, taking fistfuls of items into his haori’s pockets. He continued to rummage through the store, as the old lady watched in amusement.

“Aside from what you told me before hand, no, none did. They remarked they all felt refreshed.” To which Mayuri looked at her, then immediately grabbed something off the shelf behind her. “If you could make that batch again, it will be hit. I can find the ingredients that you need.”

“You will sell what I make.” Mayuri sneered, looking down at the old woman, “I don’t take orders.” But he continued to take things off her shelves.

The woman laughed, “yes, yes. Of course.” She walked over to where she kept her money and pulled out a small, yet heavy pouch, “this was the share from last month.” Mayuri held the pouch in his hand, opening it up and nodding at the money inside. “And of course, everything is on the house for you.” She smiled as he walked out of her store without as much as a goodbye.

Mayuri reviewed the notes he made about the different products he invented under the guise of “research” for the Gotei 13. A few members across the 13 squads knew of his backdoor research, but none dared to report him to the Head Captain.

For all intents and purposes, the Head Captain believed that Mayuri was conducting research for the betterment of Soul Society…

And it just so happens that some of his products fit in line with that thinking.

Technologies, therapies, interventions, Mayuri has done it all, but only a few of them ever see the light of day. Which is how he aligned himself with the herbalist on the outskirts of Rukongai District 53. She would distribute his products to the masses that travelled through her shop, and he would have a willing patient population to test his inventions. They would both profit off the success.

Last month’s product was some type of pain-relief liquid. This month he wanted to try something different.

Taking out all the items he had taken from the woman’s shop, Mayuri inspected each item carefully. Nemu and Akon approached him but left immediately as he shrieked at them to leave.

He trusted Nemu and Akon more than any of the other seated members of his squad, but this process was for him alone. No one was to interrupt him. And so, Mayuri continued his inspection, scrapping off bits of each item, suspending liquids in other liquids. He analyzed and tested different formulas, noting down each one.

Hours had passed, then days, and later weeks. Mayuri would only leave his lab if “the idiots” needed him for something. To which Nemu and Akon translated it as “anyone” outside the two of them that needed his attention.

But at last, his product was complete. Now he needed test subjects.

Mayuri walked along the corridors of the Shinigami Research and Development Institute, disregarding all the fuss and commotion they brought when they noticed him around. He paid no attention to them; they weren’t the test subjects he was looking for.

Instead he made his way to the connected, yet distinct, Squad 12 barracks. Not all his members were involved in the SRDI’s mandate, nor did he want them too, “that would be too boring.” He coldly explained the other captains, not knowing he just wanted soldiers to experiment on that weren’t working in the SRDI as well. That would make things complicated if an invention of his backfired.

You on the other hand, didn’t notice your captain immediately, as you were preoccupied bringing in large manuals of some chemicals for the institute. You dropped the heavy load when you heard Captain Kurotsuchi shriek your name.

Turning around, you bowed your head immediately to the man, “good morning, Captain!” You yelled. You didn’t want to admit it to you friends in other squads, but your own captain terrified you.

“What are your duties today?” Mayuri asked, peering at you as you remained bowed to him.

“I’m delivering these manuals to Lieutenant Akon, then picking up chemicals for Hiyosu, sir!” You answered, anxiety crawling through your body as you felt Captain Kurotsuchi stare at you intensely.

“Deliver these to Akon, then meet me in my lab, immediately. Ignore Hiyosu’s request.” “Yes, sir!” You yelled, watching him walk away, while you struggled to carry the manuals to Akon.

You fidgeted in front of the heavy, locked door to the captain’s personal lab. You weren’t sure if you should knock, announce yourself, or maybe the captain had a secret camera somewhere and didn’t see you there.

But without warning, the door immediately jolted open, scaring you. But you pushed through your fear and entered the lab.

There were numerous devices thrown around, with open bottles, of what you assumed were chemicals, covering several tables and lab benches. The lab smelt bizarre, but it wasn’t necessarily off-putting, yet it wasn’t sterile like you imagined it to be.

You saw Captain Kurotsuchi type something away, scoffing and typing faster. He glanced at you and then resumed typing. You stood there, waiting for him, as he continued to type. You tried to stifle a yawn as you looked around the lab again, “Sir, how long do I have to wait? Lieutenant Akon gave me some additional duties to attend to.” You politely asked.

“And when does Akon’s orders supersede mine?” Mayuri coldly said, the atmosphere of the room getting chilly as your anxiety was going into overtime.

“It doesn’t! I just wanted to be mindful, that’s all.” You nervously explained. You noticed you were sweating and tried to calm yourself.

“Are you nervous?” Captain Kurotsuchi asked, as he moved away from his computer. He stared at you intensely, his golden eyes scanning over your body, as if he was dissecting you.

“No! I’m not.” You lied, hoping your voice came across as confident.

The captain grabbed your hand and forced your wrist open, shoving an innocuous blue pill into your palm. “Take this, it’ll help with the sweat.”

You wanted to die. Your captain noticed you profusely sweating and commented on it. You stared at the pill, your hand slightly shaking, while anxiety filled you up again. Your gut began to turn as you brought the pill to your lips. A part of you doubted the pill would do anything but calm you down.

“Well on with it!” Captain Kurotsuchi yelled, “you said you didn’t have all day!”

“Y-Yes sir!” You stuttered, shoving the pill into your mouth. You struggled to swallow it, noticing your mouth was incredibly dry, but managed to get it down.

It was then Captain Kurotsuchi pushed you on to a chair, and wrist and ankle shackles were thrust on to you. “S-sir?” You asked, eyes bulging. Your anxiety was rampant. “What is this for?”

“It’s a test.” Captain Kurotsuchi said, watching you.

A test?! Your mind screamed. “Why am I being tested?” You pleaded, shaking in your seat.

Captain Kurotsuchi rolled his eyes, “not a test for you, fool. A test for the medication.”

“But you said it would help with my nerves!” You panicked, shaking even harder in your seat.

“In theory, yes, but it hasn’t been tested until now.” You began to hyperventilate at what you were hearing. Until… your brain felt like everything was going by slowly.

Huh? What’s going on? It was as if your anxiety melted away and you were faced with something… pleasant? You stared at your captain but were unable to say anything.

You heard him say something, you saw his lips move, but you weren’t processing what was said.

Captain Kurotsuchi approached you and inspected your body. He poked your face, prodded your chest and flicked your wrists. He took samples of your blood and saliva, while checking your dilated eyes.

Little did he realize; his touch was doing something to you.

You sighed, happily, “sir that feels so good” as you leaned into your seat. Your body felt sensitive, but not in pain. You didn’t notice the vials of blood he had taken from you already.

The captain looked at you in curiosity, and this time undid a portion of your uniform, leaving your chest bare. Another blissful sigh escaped your lips as Captain Kurotsuchi lightly touched your chest.

“Does this feel good?” The captain asked, grabbing your face. You grinned and nodded your head.

“It feels really good.” You mumbled, drool dribbling down your lips. You felt the familiar pangs of arousal flaring across your body, causing you to squirm.

Captain Kurotsuchi stepped back and watched you writhe, taking note of all the physical symptoms you were displaying. “What else do you feel right now?” He asked, staring at you.

But you didn’t respond, eyes glazed over as your hips moved within the confines of the seat. The motion you made felt good, too good you thought, and you needed more of that.

And so you proceeded to rock your hips back and forth, the friction from the seat rubbing against your growing arousal. You moaned loudly and threw your head back and continued on, your hips moving faster as you orgasm came closer. Captain Kurotsuchi sighed, approaching you once more. He slapped your face, to which you gave another loud moan. Your pace didn’t slack

You saw the captain’s lips move and felt something bind and secure your hips. You whined at the sudden loss; you were so close! Until you felt the cold hand of your captain down your pants. Your legs were already spread apart from the ankle shackles, leaving Captain Kurotsuchi with easy access. You groaned again as you felt him touch you.

Captain Kurotsuchi’s touch was merciless though, as he aggressively touched you, feeling your arousal spread against his fingers and in your pants. You then realized you didn’t feel the hip bindings anymore, and let your hips slam up and down the seat, his hand still touching you vigorously.

You bit your lip, and wondered if you tasted blood? You couldn’t tell, but everything felt amazing, yet surreal. It was then you felt the captain push his palm against you, rubbing more vigorously than before. The intensity was too much to bear, and you cried, your orgasm ripping through.

A scream erupted in the lab and Mayuri watched you slump into the seat, unconscious.

Captain Kurotsuchi removed his hand from your pants, inspecting the remnants of your arousal covering his fingers and palm. He pulled your hair, forcing your head up to his level, but you were out cold. He slapped your face again, but no response.

He scoffed at you, rubbing his hands on your uniform as if to clean them. Not satisfied, he washed his hands in the nearby sink. He watched you in the corner of his eye to track how long it would take you to wake up. Once he was clean, he undid the shackles and left you in your seat.

He proceeded to type away today’s event in his product diary. Roughly two hours had passed, and you awoke, which he noted. Your clothes were still on your body, albeit barely, but before you could register what just happened, the captain handed you another pill and you forgot what had even happened.

“I’m sorry about that Captain Kurotsuchi. Did you need me for something?” You asked, confused as to why you were sitting in a seat, and he was staring at you intensely.

“How’s your anxiety?” He asked, his eyes focusing on you.

My anxiety? You thought, “well, I don’t feel anxious right now.”

“Anything else?”

“Um…” you hesitated, trying to think, “my body feels relaxed, like I got a massage?” You tried to explain.

“Nothing else?”

“Not really. I feel fine.” You remarked, checking your body. You remembered taking a pill, then waking up.

“The pill you gave me…” you asked, as you fidgeted in your seat, “does it make you fall asleep after?”

“Yes.” Captain Kurotsuchi lied. “Now get out. You’re done here for the day.” He turned around and went back to his computer, typing away once again.

“Yes, sir!” You squealed, bolting out of his lab. “These soldiers today are a bunch of noisy imbeciles.” Mayuri muttered under his breath, as his lab doors shut close once again.

It was a rare moment to have a day off from your squad duties. Months had passed since the incident with Captain Kurotsuchi, and the memories of it fading from your mind. But you remained grateful to not have done any further direct work for him. Your friends, from other squads, had decided to visit District 53, as they heard rumours of an herbalist with unique concoctions that would heal the body, mind and soul. One of your friends admitted they were struggling with some intimacy issues and Squad 4’s treatment options weren’t working. Your friend had heard that this herbalist would have something to cure that.

You and your friends browsed through the shop, taking stock of what was there, when your friend spoke to the shopkeeper. Although they were quiet, you could hear whispers of “trouble” and “hard to orgasm.” The old lady smiled at them, “I have just the remedy for that, my dear.” You went over and saw her pack in a small bottle of familiar blue pills.

“I’ve had these before!” You exclaimed, “they work wonders. I felt amazing afterwards.”

Your friend stared at you in shock, but the shopkeeper gave you a wide grin, “is that so? I’ve been selling them for a while now.” The old lady rambled, “they’re quite popular with you Shinigami folk.” She cackled, packing the bottle into a pouch. “I’ll pass that along to the creator” she kept laughing, “I’m sure he’ll be ecstatic.”

“When did you take these?” Your friend asked, “you never mentioned it.”

You thought about it, but you couldn’t remember when exactly, but the vivid colour of the pill was seared in your memory, as well as the pleasant association you had with it. “I’m not sure, but I think I took it when I had a really bad anxiety spell. I don’t even remember where I got it from.” You said, trying to recall when and where you took it.

But nothing came up, and strangely enough, you couldn’t recall an blanks or gaps in your memory.

“Or maybe I dreamt it.” You laughed, “I can’t even describe the feeling anymore, I just remember feeling good when I took it.”

“Well if it’s good enough for you, then I’m sure I’ll be fine.” Your friend joked, paying the shopkeeper. Soon night was approaching, and you escorted your friend back to their barracks. Once you made it to the Squad 12 barracks, you made a mental note to ask Captain Kurotsuchi if he knew about the little blue pill.

Thanks for reading!! Mayuri is definitely an interesting character to write for, so I'm not completely sure I nailed it. Either way, I hope you guys enjoy it!

[tht0nesimp]

indulgent Drabble…

Idea: so have any of you guys seen those AU things where it’s like being a Yandere is a normal thing, so if you’ve seen season four you know about the wrong timeline things so like what if they ended up in one of those or this was one or something, this is probably not very well written…

tw: spoilers but not like specific instances just like information,Yandere bcs…it’s my blog, kidnapping, non consensual…everything?, normalized stuff idefk , Five is inspired by a Yandere five fic I read once I won’t even lie

thinking of them all having their little darlings and how they treat them >.<

Luther’s darling is getting it probably some of the best, he pays, and he really wants them to love him! Really! He just…don’t get mad when he breaks all your stuff, he knows that you had an ex and that the object was important, but you can’t be mad! People see you two and are probably a little off put because likely you are dwarfed by him unless your a body builder or something, he doesn’t mind, just please don’t make him do anything….:(

Diego and a little spitfire, they’re likely someone Hellbent on fighting it, clawing and biting. Hair frazzled, likely to have a hole or tear in they're clothes—he doesn’t really mind, even when he has to drag you into the mansion, the others having some level of understanding of what he’s going through because…they’ve all done it, to varying degrees of lengths and extremities. He never felt healthy love before and it’s damn sure his dad don’t love ‘em so he truly doesn’t understand why you can’t just accept love?

Allison who makes sure her precious little mannequin is well known as hers, people envy you, an amazing actor with enough money to last a lifetime?! You might be able to run off and find a closet to huddle up in at home, but she won’t be patient with misbehavior in front of the media, you will find yourself on the wrong side of a chain if you try anything. Probably not a big fan of introducing you to people personally, she loves the flashy couples stuff; at least 2 dozen roses might make up for it? Right?

Klaus is barely making it, his other siblings likely pay for and/or babysit for him. He doesn’t snap very often like his siblings, he sees you as an angel! But, not a person. Truly, I think not only would the being forced to be around a very active addict but he won’t let you do anything outside of a hobby or two! He rarely leaves you alone, and to be honest he probably uses a chain or restraints all the time because even if he can come back, he’s not physically the strongest guy—but past that, he’s always eager to help you with bathing or eating or baking or drawing or writing or drinking or meditating or relaxing or sleeping or making the bed or cleaning up or driving or going outside(ofc with him, can’t have his little martyr running around! What if someone recognizes you as his and and and the debt collectors collect you!?) or any possible task, he’ll learn to cook or bake so you don’t have to! Just ignore the small white grains on his credit card….please! He won’t get angry commonly, if ever, but in the very rare chance he gets angry it’s best to just shut up and try not to make the voice begging him to tie you back up any louder.

Five and the little doll he carries around, always looking lost and glazed over, or maybe a girl who is eerily like him, either way, he’s dressing them up in whatever he wants. He likely drugs them pretty consistently, it makes him feel good to have someone who will thank him when he takes care of them, even if they don’t know what’s going on whatsoever. His siblings are surprised at the ice cream dates and picnics he sets up, people smile at him when he goes to get you a milkshake, the guy behind the bar laughing when five pours a little packet of powder into your drink and stirs it—happily accepting the man’s offer to top up your whipped cream, so you don’t get distressed about it—all in all, atleast his darling will never have to do anything for themselves…ever again

Viktor happily plays instruments for you, learning your favorites so he can serenade and impress you. He tries to be as accommodating as possible, so patient and okay with your panic that he succeeds in comforting you. He’ll even let you help him at the bar once you get settled in, people find it adorable when you and him work together you don’t really do anything

They probably don’t have playdates very often, but the most to least well behaved would probably go

Viktors darling—Viktors humanity pays off, and his darling likely comes to terms pretty quickly, asking him nicely for things and even letting him touch them willingly!

Luther’s darling—All in all, they probably don’t have all too much to complain about. They’re awkward, but the darling isn’t clawing at him or anything

Allison’s darling—no cameras? Her darling is probably playing a Nintendo switch on a couch somewhere in the mansion, avoiding the wackos

fives darling—He’s trying, and so are they, but they’re a little out of it most of the time. I won’t give them credit for behaving because they don’t even know they’re doing something good by clinging to torso they wake up on every morning or by not biting the hand that feeds them dinner every night

Klaus Darling—Trying to run like all hell, but klaus just pulls them into whatever room has been set up for the meetup and wraps a friendly arm around them for the rest of the event

Diego’s darling—Biting at him, breaking things, all hell will break loose and he will be chuckling at his siblings as his darling tries to stab him with a fork

—

Maybe I should write more in depth personal series about it??? Who would yall wanna see first??? All of them?? SEASON 4 IS STUPID AND I HATE IT >:(

[mochiroreo]

And I will fuck you like nothing matters

Dark!reader x Rafe Cameron

TW: M18+ NON-CON, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, implied heavy smut at the end, degradation, non-consensual use of drugs, mentions of rape and domestic violence, mean!rafe, psycho!dark!reader, non-consensual recording (sorry not sorry rafe lol)

Author’s note: I am back just to post this blurb cause I love dark!Rafe but I also want to read something about the reader being the unhinged, pyscho one 🤭 . Also, this is unedited so if you see some wrong grammar or wrong spelling.. no you didn’t.

“Hmm..” a dull, throbbing pain made him tightly closed his eyes. His body feeling heavy and sluggish. He felt like he slept in a wrong position for two days, with how his muscles are aching. He was about to stretch and move his arms when he felt a tug that restricted his movements.

“Wait.. wha—?” The sensation made Rafe open his eyes, his baby blues scanning the room in utter confusion. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the low light, looking up at his wrists tied together above him, and his legs tied to the bed frame. “What the fuck..?” He mumbled in a slurred manner, his baby blues darting around the room before feeling the bed dipped beside him.

“Oh, you’re awake!”

Rafe immediately looked up, his breath slightly hitching with how close your face is.

“A-angel?” He whispered his nickname for you, confusion more evident on his face now with his brows scrunched up. “How— why—“ Rafe’s questions were cut off by your giggle, airy and as if the whole situation is amusing, making his jaw tick in irritation.

For him, maybe it’s not as amusing. For you, however, it is definitely the highlight of your life.

“What are you doing? You think this is funny?” He asked, voice low and threatening, as if he is not the one tied down tightly on your bed right now. You just looked at him with a soft smile, a soft hand landing on his forehead to smooth the creases between his eyebrows before affectionately running your hand through his buzzed hair.

“Oh no, Rafey. I just think this suits you..” you words hanged onto the air, making him anticipate what’s next. “After all, isn’t this what you had planned for me? I just switched up who will be the victim.” You answered, ignoring the slight widening of his eyes with your answer.

His heart was thumping loudly inside his chest now, feeling the rope’s roughness that bound both his wrists and ankles. “W-what? I don’t— I don’t fucking know what you’re talking about.” Rafe looked straight into your eyes, trying to convince you. Yet your smile sent a chill down his spine.

“What do you mean? I know your plan silly!” You giggled, biting your bottom lip which made the boy gulp. “I am very much aware of the Kook king’s personal life and the rumours surrounding you, you know. The rape allegations at the parties after slipping some drugs on their drinks. Or maybe asking them to drink a bit too much. I have also heard how much you have punched and kicked your previous girlfriends.. lucky that your daddy knows how to bail you out!”

Your eyes travelled down Rafe’s disheveled state, the buttons of his white shirt undone, revealing a slither of tan skin underneath. His taut muscles evident as he squirms to move. While you were distracted, Rafe tried to free himself, struggling as the rope got tighter and tighter the more he tried to escape.

“Where was I? Oh! And so— I have heard from Topper how it’s now my “time” apparently. Then there you were! In front of my house, asking me to drink with you cause you were feeling lonely. I knew you slipped a drug on my drink,, so I have beat you to it and knocked you out.” You admitted with a shrug, moving away to stand up while still watching Rafe closely.

“You’re fucking crazy. I-I didn’t even— wasn’t planning to do anything!” Rafe tried to reason out, gritting his teeth when the rope wouldn’t budge.

“Really? Cause the rope that I used was from the back of your truck. I even found some little baggies.” You inserted your hand inside your bra, the action making Rafe stare straight to your chest and take in what you are wearing.

You wore white lacy set of lingerie, hugging the swell of your breasts and thighs, accentuating every dips and curves as if you were carves by the gods to look like a literal angel on earth.

Except, you are holding every variety of drugs that Rafe owns with a big smile.

Each bag has some different sized pills and powders, which you were sure were party drugs and coke from his drug dealer best friend, Barry.

“Now come on, Angel. Don’t you know that you shouldn’t touch what’s not yours? You don’t even know shit about drugs or-or how expensive those are!” He groaned, unable to do anything. Rafe is at his limit, his patience running thin as he think of the things he will do once he breaks free from the ropes, promising to himself that he will definitely fuck you to the point that you’ll beg him to stop plowing your abused cunt. Your appearance and his imagination making his thick cock hard despite his anger.

“Hmm.. I know which drugs is which. I think I stalked you enough to know which one is your favourite other than coke.” Moving closer, you brushed your hair away from your face. “And to be honest. I thought you would have more.” You grabbed a bottle of water on the bedside table before straddling Rafe’s chest.

The action made Rafe’s shorts tighter with how painfully hard he is, his point of view accentuating your breasts, seeing your nipples perky from the cold air inside the room. Once again, he struggled with the intention of trying to free himself to grab you and slap the shit out of you while drilling his cock to your wet pussy, he gritted his teeth and whispered menacingly.

“Now now, Angel. We can do this without the rope.. you know? If I have known you were a little freaky.. I would have asked you properly instead of what I was planning to do.” His words made chuckle, raking your manicured nails on his chest, making him let out a low groan.

“But where’s the fun in that?! Besides it would be unfair to just let you do that.. knowing how much you’ve been a bad boy here in Outer banks..” leaning forward, you balanced yourself and gripped his arms, slightly rutting your clothed core on his stomach. The action made Rafe groan, his anger disappearing as he thinks that you are just a closeted little freak that is now removing your disguise to fuck him. Rafe’s hips were bucking slightly, loving the hazy look in your eyes as he lets you to revel on the power you have over him right now.

“This is exciting, but I want to make it wayyy more pleasurable for us two.” Dragging your tongue on his collarbone, you moved away to grab one of the baggies containing some neon pink and green pills making Rafe eye you suspiciouslly. As far as he remember, he did not order some odd looking pills from Barry.

Grinning at him like the devil, you took two from the bag before going back to your position, your left hand tracing the bottom of his lips as you bite your own. Rafe’s lips parted, his pink tongue slightly peeking, urging you to lean down and finally kiss him.

The kiss was hot and messy, and Rafe kissed you like a man starved. His tongue immediately invading your mouth, savouring the slight dominance that he has knowing that he cannot escape your bed to flip you over. Rafe was so into the kiss that he did not feel both of your hands wrap around his neck.

Your hands were getting tighter and tighter, making him pull back with wide eyes that is staring right straight to your in panic.

“A-angel— hey hey..!” He tried to fully scream at you, nails slowly digging into the flesh of his neck. Rafe was slowly running out of air, his vision swimming in the dark while looking at you smiling so gently to him as if you aren’t choking him to death right now. His lips parted in a silent scream, before you let go to forcefully shove the pills down his throat which almost made him puke.

You let go once the pills were stuck down his throat, Rafe immediately heaving and gasping for air, making the pills slide down with his spit. He didn’t waste any time to steady his breathing, immediately screaming at your face.

“ARE YOU FUCKING CRAZY?! YOU STUPID FUCKING BITCH, I WILL FUCKING RIP YOUR HEAD OFF AND YOUR FUCKING PUSSY IF I GET OUT OF HERE! I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU!” His neck was red, veins popping out from him screaming directly on your face. You faked a sniffle, eyes slightly watering before you broke into a laugh.

“Woah calm down, pretty boy!” You managed to squeeze out as you continue to laugh, making Rafe jolt with the want to punch you down and force himself on you. “I just want to make sure you drink the pill candy without a fight.” You stated, offering a water bottle pointed at his lips. His breathing was erratic with anger, nudging the bottle away from his face before it dawned on him.

“Fuck—“ he mumbled. “What the fuck are those pills?!” You just shrugged, shaking your head as you so. “I have enough of your bitchy brat games, you fucking psycho! What the fuck are those pills!” Wiping down the spit that landed on your chest, you sighed giving him a faux pout.

“It’s just something to relax you.. and maybe give you more strength as I use you the whole night?” As if on cue, his cock that went soft with the stunt that you pulled suddenly hardened, blood immediately rushing down south. Rafe’s body slowly started to feel hot, he feels so lightheaded that his eyelids were almost closing on him while he tries not to pant and control his breathing. “Shit shit shit” he mumbled in panic, mind swimming with all the possibilities what the pill might be and what it might do to him.

You cut his thoughts short when you swiftly undressed him, his eyes wide and watery as you blow air on his clothed cock that was immediately weeping before letting it spring free. You thumbed the continuous flow of his pre-cum, making him buck his hips for more. Your touch was cold on his burning skin, a soft whine passing by his lips when you gave his leaking tip one kitten lick.

“Fuck please— what— what did you do to me..?” Rafe whispered softly, slowly losing his mind with the need and desire to feel your mouth, cunt, or your ass on his dick that is now standing proudly against his stomach.

“Nothing really. I told you I’ll make sure to make this more pleasurable for us, didn’t I? Must have been frustrating to be on the receiving end, huh?” Straddling his waist, you move your lacy panties aside to rut it on his cock, his pre-cum making it slide easier on your sopping wet pussy. You continued your actions, ignoring Rafe’s please to let him put his cock in you.

“You know.. I’ve heard how much you wanted me.. how much you think you can ruin me, to manipulate me into your ‘slut’. But I don’t want to be one of those girls that you took advantage of, Rafey. I want to be special, I want something more.” Your body was slowly getting covered with a light sheen of sweat, lips so close besides Rafe’s ear as you lick and tease his ear lobe. Soft whines and gasps escaping your lips before smirking as Rafe tried his best to listen to you despite him slowly losing his mind.

“So I decided to just show you, decided that maybe I’m the one that can break you..” Rafe lets out a deep strangled cry as he cums, body vibrating with the intensity of his ejaculation while he shut his eyes close. “Oh my, you just cummed but you’re still hard, Rafey!” Your statement made Rafe open his eyes weakly, vision slightly blurry with unshed tears, his cock more sensitive that ever.

Your left hand encircled his thick shaft, slowly dragging your palm up and down, making Rafe choked out a sob “‘s too much— please— fuck— ‘s too much” Rafe rambled, making you stop playing with his cock; giving him soft kisses on his cheeks, kissing his tears away. “Oh shush, don’t cry Rafey. I will make you feel good, make you feel so so good.” You whispered against his flushed skin, licking the lone tear that slid down while you console him.

You grabbed the water bottle and popped a pill on your tongue, Rafe watching you with blown out, unfocused eyes. “See? I took one as well!” You stated, slowly getting rid of your lingerie which made Rafe’s cock bob up and down, pre-cum once again leaking out of him despite coming just seconds ago.

“Gonna show you how special I can be, Rafey.” Whispering on his skin while you trail wet kissed down his chest, Rafe sobbed when you lightly bit his nipple, the action making him cum once again. You felt his warm load spatter on your ass, making you giggle.

“ ‘m gonna show you how I can make you feel like a god.” You eyed his drowsy state, drool sloppily pooling on the side of his mouth. Lightly tapping his cheeks, he opened his eyes before you pointed at the red dot on the corner of your room, which he eyed for a moment.

“Don’t forget to smile.”

[jermer10]

Yandere Scout with a civilian reader?

TF2 yandere scout x civilian reader

18+ only, gn reader | yandere scout my beloved

tw: yandere themes, stalking, graphic depictions of violence, non-consensual sexual activity

drabbles under the cut :P

Being the 10th class, 'The Civilian', you’re someone different, special in a way that the others aren't

You work behind the scenes, cleaning up the battlefield after each fight, being escorted from point A to B with sensitive information by whichever team had you for that week

Thus, Scout quickly becomes fixated, convinced that he’s the only one who can understand and protect you

His mind is always on you. During missions, downtime, and even in the middle of conversations with the team, you occupy his every thought

He imagines every scenario where he’s the one protecting you, keeping you safe, and, most importantly, keeping you his

Scout makes it a point to always know where you are, even when you think you’re alone he's there, watching from the shadows

You might think you hear footsteps behind you or feel eyes on you, but every time you look, no one's there, you start to spiral into a paranoid mess

Scout steps in as your personal confidant, gaslighting you into believing you're having some sort of stress related psychotic episode

His stalking becomes more brazen over time, but he always plays it off like it’s no big deal

Scout’s obsession with you knows no boundaries - most nights he sneaks into your room and watches you sleep (and yes, he touches himself to you)

He’s careful not to wake you, his eyes scanning every detail, convinced that no one else could ever appreciate you the way he does

Escalated from jerking off behind you, to rubbing his cock on your lips, to using your thighs as a fleshlight

He intentionally cums on pieces of clothing from your closet, he doesn't care if you notice, if you take them to Medic for analysis - the samples always seem to go missing anyway

Some nights he drugs you with the intention of actually fucking you, but he can never work up the courage, wanting to save your first time together for when you're officially his

His biggest fantasy is having you beg for him, he wants you to obsess over him in the way he does to you

He hates when anyone else talks to you, especially if you seem to enjoy their company

If another mercenary spends too much time around you, Scout gets jealous and finds ways to interrupt - whether it’s a poorly timed joke, pretending to need something urgently, or picking a fight with them, he won’t stop until they leave you alone

Scout likes to take little items as trophies or souvenirs, something to remind him of you when you’re not around (often repeatedly cumming on the items - marking his territory)

He feels entitled to your personal space and has no qualms about going through your things when you’re not there, sitting so close to you he's basically on top of you, hugging you and touching you without asking

If you ask for space or mention feeling uncomfortable he stops talking to you for days, making threatening and suicidal comments when you're in earshot

Eventually you apologize to him, and he makes sure you know how happy he is that you've "come to your senses"

"I dunno why you'd even think somethin' as stupid as that in the first place, I don't make ya uncomfortable, you're probably just feelin' totally flattered, babe! It's okay, sometimes I can't tell the difference either."

His obsession escalates into paranoia - he becomes convinced that everyone around you is trying to take you away from him

Even innocent interactions are blown out of proportion in his mind, and he’ll go to great lengths to ensure no one gets too close

He will sabotage others’ efforts to spend time with you, spreading rumors or even manipulating situations so that they’re pushed out of your life

It seems like everyone has picked up on his irrational behaviour except you, and god help the soul who tries to warn you, so they stay away and hope that his "crush" passes

If he feels like you’re pulling away or that someone else is threatening his claim on you, he might snap

In a worst-case scenario, he could take matters into his own hands, kidnapping you and isolating you somewhere he believes no one can hurt you

To Scout, everything he’s doing is out of love - his intense possessiveness, his constant stalking, and even the lengths he’s willing to go to keep you close are all justified in his mind

[theredofoctober]

MANNA- CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: FISH

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, Daddy kink, cannibalism mentions, non consensual drug use

Read after the cut

---

Two hours after guests and staff alike have made their egress from the house the host himself leaves it, getting into his car with a solitary glance up at your barred lodgings. You cringe from that look, from the purpose that coaxes him out like a stoat into the rain-clothed night.

Hannibal has known perhaps since the first Lover killing the culprit's identity and abode.

He himself is beyond a murderer, a master of games, lording himself above the board of life and only involving himself directly in that play when it serves to amuse him, or else he has no choice but to interfere.

It occurs to you that his current motivation is, in part, both the former and the latter, being that he’d likely sensed a collision with Freddie Lounds or some other disruptive circumstance that would result in his going after Amy again. He’d perhaps even devised such an event; you—predictably affected—had merely struck the spark of it into birth.

Always Hannibal’s intent has been to make some grand demonstration of his influence, a court magician with a vanishing trick: now you see it, now you don’t.

Who else has disappeared through his performance and returned only in death?

You’re convinced by now that he is indeed the Copycat, need only proof in absolutes to entirely believe it. But if he is so then all food consumed within this den has been of human produce, and there is no length of starvation nor manner of purging that will expunge this from your history.

They are part of you now, the whispering dead; you are built of cadavers, and the entrails of stars, and champagne, engorged with the reeking malign of the jackal you’ve become in your imprisonment.

You resign yourself to bed, feeling truly ill, and so do not hear when Hannibal returns in the early hours of the morning. Do not fully wake as he comes into your room, a needle between his fingers, nor when he whispers to you over the click of the metronome.

Nor, too, when through your lips he passes some fatty soup, which in a half doze you attempt to expel.

“You need to eat, my love,” he says. “Let’s try again.”

You dream of Savannah Belmont, her dark eyes turned grey in absence of life, sitting on a kitchen chair beside the muttering waters of a river. The fingers of her right hand play idly between her legs, and the other reaches into the foramen of her open gut, emerging full of water beetles and wriggling fish.

“I’m not hungry,” you say, as she offers them to you.

The dream repeats all night and on into the day until you think you may never escape its smothering hold.

You rise the following afternoon like the personification of the sin of Sloth, unsure what to make of Hannibal’s visitation, or of the hours lost to the shifting hallways of memory.

Grudgingly you go down through the house in search of your jailer, knowing that you must play inquisitor and have the truth of Amy’s fate out of him.

It is in the grand living room with its many decorative animal skulls that you find him, a king of the deceased amidst his plenty.

He sits in an armchair, holding his iPad on one crossed knee as he might the works of Kafka, dignified and invested in the screen. Standing on tiptoe to peep over his shoulder you see a news reporter standing against a backdrop of half bare trees.

The volume is low, only a scattering of words reaching your ears.

“Breaking... the woman thought to have been the most recent victim... found hitchhiking along a forest road just outside...”

"Amy," you say, aloud, and Hannibal part turns his head to you, his face like that of Jesus Christ, all grace and mercy.

"Hello, Little One,” he says. “Please sit with me. There's something I'd like you to see that should comfort you."

You hesitate to approach, your instincts a vortex of craving to run. Yet you must make nice with the monster, or else become his meat.

"Yes, Daddy," you mumble, and perch stiffly on the arm of Hannibal's chair, straightening your back in aversion to even accidental contact with him.

He blinks at your inappropriate use of his furniture, but does not reprimand you aloud. Instead he turns the iPad towards you and taps a forefinger on the screen.

“Police say the victim was kept in an abandoned shack after being struck in the head and abducted the previous night,” says the reporter. “Glass was able to escape through an unlocked door while her assailant was distracted by an unknown individual. After fleeing through a forested area she was able to find the nearest road and flag down a passing driver, who promptly called the police.”

“That was you,” you say, softly. “The ‘unknown individual’.”

Hannibal puts a finger to his lips.

“Keep watching, please.”

“Glass is suffering from concussion and minor memory loss, but is otherwise healthy,” says the reporter, through a grin of chemically whitened teeth. “Police are investigating the area in which she was held hostage for any evidence left by the attacker.”

The screen flashes to video of Amy, her eyes marbled with broken veins, bruising spread across her temple like an abstract watercolour piece. She’s wrapped up in an oversized sweater that only makes her look thinner within it, her every bone like armature against her skin.

Jealousy yanks at you like a vicious hook, and you find yourself appalled by your disease, that seeing a friend unwell inspires in you desire to replicate her sickness.

One of Amy's older brothers, Darrien, stands with an arm around her narrow shoulders, a surprise to you, being that they hadn't liked one another in childhood.

They both stand smiling like hospice patients forced to attend some miserable function against their will.

“I just want to say how grateful I am to be home with my family,” says Amy— she sounds stilted, almost scripted, unlike herself. “I know how lucky I am to be here. I’d like to thank Morgan Vance, who picked me up at 5am and never complained once. If she hadn’t stopped for me I don’t know where I’d be right now.”

“As a family, we’re asking for privacy,” says Darrien, and he rubs Amy’s shoulder, an unimaginable gesture from the boy who’d once shunned his sibling in school hallways. “I get people have a ton of questions, but right now we’d appreciate it if everybody gave us time to process everything.”

The news segment shifts to another topic, the falling of a church roof in Savage, Maryland.

You glance up at Hannibal, tears brimming in the fonts of your eyes. His face is pretty in the afternoon daylight, the age coaxed out of it by the sun.

"You saved her life,” you say.

"Yes."

Like a witch come to some blue blood’s birth he extends his curse to you as a gift, and you know better by now than to decline it.

In a whisper, you say, "Thank you."

"You're very welcome,” says Hannibal, and he puts a light hand upon your trembling knee, his thumb stroking the joint where a knife might cut it out. “I only hope that now you see the genuine intent behind my words, as well as my capabilities."

"How did you do it?” you ask. “How did you even find the Lover?"

Hannibal continues stroking your knee through your skirt, sending a tremble of sensitivity up your thigh.

"I've known his identity for some months now,” he says. “I can't tell you how just yet. But I can divulge that the Lover is following his own investigation, and knows that I've been helping Jack and Will when I can.

“Through this the Lover came to learn of our connection to you. When I called him to suggest Amy as his next interest he informed me that she’d already been considered."

You struggle down from the arm of the chair, taking a few hasty steps back.

"You... you gave her to him,” you stammer. “I knew it."

"And I returned her to you safely,” says Hannibal, patiently. “At my side, you'll receive all that you could ever ask of me, but as my enemy there is much to lose. I don't mean to threaten you, Little One. My interest is only in being truthful with you."

You gather your hands at your mouth, breathing in quick, stinging bursts.

"Why did the Lover want Amy?" you ask.

"He, like Freddie Lounds, had deduced some connection between you and Miss Glass. The Lover believed that abducting her would sow discord in our household, and therefore derail the investigation. I suggested that I agreed with his assessment."

How unemotionally he speaks of his this, as though reading aloud the introduction to some dull novel.

"Then what happened when you went out there the other night?” you ask, sweat staling your neck. “Why did he just let Amy go?"

"I told him that we'd made a mistake,” says Hannibal, “and that Will had grown suspicious. The abduction itself had gone poorly due to Amy putting up more of a fight than was expected of her; from Will's piecing together of the scene and certain evidence noticed there he would have located the shack the Lover was using in some days.

“So I encouraged the killer to allow Amy her freedom and abandon the building entirely. I’m told he burned it some minutes after her escape."

You picture your friend staggering by dark morning through some wood, the stink of smoke all through her hair.

"Won't she give you both up to the police?” you ask. “She must have seen his face, then there was the phone call—"

"Amy will remember very little prior to her liberty,” says Hannibal. “The avenue for her escape itself was staged by the Lover and I to resemble an unexpected interruption. I spent some hours with Amy before this, ensuring that she wouldn't stray from the official version of events. Her concussion is not the cause of her lost memories."

"You hypnotised her,” you say. “With the white lights. The ones from therapy."

You do not mention the day taken from you by similar practice, afraid of that vacuum of memory.

"You’re correct,” says Hannibal. “I did.”

"But her phone records—"

"The Lover removed Amy's cell phone from her person and took care to destroy it. I believe this is procedure with each of his killings."

Appalled, you wonder how you are to smile and be the swaddled baby of the doctor now the first layer of his ghillie suit has been shucked away.

"So you're like, friends with the Lover?” you ask, unable to entirely disguise your disgust.

"We are acquaintances,” says Hannibal, “with a similar goal: that of proving our love to an individual so adamantly set against receiving it."

He polishes the iPad with a thin cloth and puts it away in a silver case, labouring with a quiet delight over the mundane nature of routine.

"When are you going to tell Will who the Lover is?” you ask, bleakly. “You can't just let him kill more and more girls."

“Will is already on the verge of uncovering the killer's identity without my intervention,” says Hannibal. “By enticing the Lover to be reckless he has somewhat revealed himself, and is no longer the enigma he once was. Besides, if I were to unveil the Lover myself I would invite questions I cannot safely answer.”

Naturally he is self-preserving, first and foremost. But above all, to end the killer’s reign too quickly would bore him; from Hannibal’s handling of your own case you understand this.

"Don't you care about those dead girls at all?" you ask, and your captor smiles without warmth.

"Their deaths are part of the Lover’s exhibition. He is a crude artist, certainly, but he is not yet in possession of his muse. It’s satisfying to observe the progression of his work.”

Your balance wavers, threatens to give under the shock of this confession.

"Daddy,” you say, pitiful in your horror. “You’re scaring me."

Hannibal regards you with a kind of disappointment.

"God frequently inspires terror with His might, but those who follow Him with obedience need never fear His hand. I’d hoped that you might learn this through Amy's safe return."

Alarmed, you slip from the couch and kneel before Hannibal, feeling that you must display some false devotion or else be expelled as a heretic by terminal design.

"I'm grateful," you say, clutching at him with fervent hands. "I am, Daddy. I get why you did it. And I'm thankful you did what I asked. Just... please don't do anything like that again. I swear I'll try harder to be good. I'm trying to understand you. Really I am.”

Hannibal gazes down at you for a beat, seeming on the cusp of some internal decision.

"I can see that,” he says, at last. “And you’re young. There’s time yet for you to study under me.”

Will's voice, hoarse with illness, swerves through the room like an abrupt change in the forecast.

"What have I missed?"

You think to leap up and away from Hannibal as though caught in some illicit tryst, but a look from the older man impels you to remain, your cheek resting in his lap.

"She's offering me gratitude for my leniency regarding her outburst at the party," says Hannibal, unruffled by the interruption. "It's fortunate that my guests were unsurprised by Miss Lounds' deliberate attempt to provoke our Little One. They've been wholly charitable and sympathetic."

Will steps into view, his eyebrows almost at his hairline. His face is cadaverous and glazed with the resin of sweat.

The case, his illness: they suck from him his vigour, and though he is accomplice to your deadly keeper you’ve soul enough in you to pity him.

"Honestly, I don't know why you even invited Freddie,” he says. “It was a bad idea."

"In hindsight, I concur,” says Hannibal. “But my intent was to give the impression of having nothing to hide."

Will laughs and shakes his head.

"Freddie’ll see dirt on us both no matter what we do. Now she'll have even more of a reason to look."

"We mustn’t concern ourselves with the idle fodder of gossip columnists. I’ve had a stern word with Miss Lounds discouraging her from provoking our charge at future events. The matter is much resolved.”

Eyeing your sniffling figure, Will says, "Doesn’t look resolved from here.”

"There was another matter. Our Little One also chose to overindulge in champagne.”

Starting, you look up at Will and see him struggle not to laugh again.

Rather than be a hypocrite and side entirely with his friend, he asks, "Did you explicitly tell her she couldn't drink?"

"No," you pipe up from Hannibal's knee. "He didn't."

"I've never claimed to be faultless," says the doctor. "Evidently I haven’t been clear in my stance. But the implication was strong enough that you deliberately hid your drinking from me. You were far from subtle, I assure you."

You turn your face against his leg, hiding it in the fabric so as not to see the developing lust for punitive sex in his eyes.

"I’m sorry."

"Perhaps I'd be more inclined to believe that claim if you made a demonstration of it."

"Well, she knows how to give apologies," says Will, as much to diffuse the dark tension between you as to follow his own sensual curiosities. "I received one once in this exact room that seemed pretty genuine.”

“Hey," you say, rather hurt; you’d rather hoped he’d rise more strongly in your defence.

You’re uncertain whether the two men would be on such cordial terms if Will shared your knowledge of Hannibal. Yet already he suspects at least partly his shadows, and still is willing to flank him in the act of rape.

Still, you know his revulsion for the Lover to be genuine, see it in its wearying of him. There is a line for Will Graham, somewhere, but you do not know how long it will remain before he crosses it.

“Little One,” says Hannibal, gently reminding you of your duty.

As you begin working listlessly at Hannibal’s trouser button that Will says, "Mind if I help?"

For a moment you imagine him on his knees beside you, sharing the heavy phallus with eager tongue and coarse, pale hands, and you loathe the little light that flares between your compressed thighs.

Instead Will comes to stand behind you, smoothing back your hair as you bow your head to Hannibal; the other man bends likewise, arms going out to you as you consume him in a bite without teeth.

Four hands, then, upon you, two in your hair, twins caressing your face and neck with a touch that bears the prospect and willingness to love, should you become, like the dancing myth, a swan by night— you shift beneath that touch as ash, eating of the hated one as though for the taste of him.

You kiss his length, look up into the face that shunts through you a stake of killing fear and see him clearly, then, a legend brought earthwards by the wants he shares with men. See through the tiers of guise and truth that you fear most his humanity, that he can love.

Even in this coaxing to consent in your dismantlement you know it, see through a window of time how gently he would rear you as his own.

You do not want him, or this, and yet you feel yourself seduced by him, if only in a subconscious attempt to lessen the guilt that is sister to you.

His gaze, of lowered lids and pleasured shine, watches you with enjoyment. As your tongue whispers on his cock Hannibal murmurs to you praise and urging, sometimes an utterance of your name; while he is sated, you are safe, and so into your narrow throat you sink him down.

You owe him, you think, in some cosmic fashion, for the gold of two lives spared, yours, and that of Amy Glass. Like all Gods Hannibal demands his offering, and though you are no virgin you give yourself to that altar, raise and drop like the sun upon a mountain.

“That’s it,” says Hannibal. “My talented darling.”

Your mouth is a grail to him, some magic article; you know it from the breathy groans with which he exalts your attempts to satisfy.

“Don’t give her an ego,” says Will, but then he kisses your bent neck, and you feel a pulse between your legs again like the last heartbeat before death’s oblivion.

Hands, hands, mouths.

You take their lips on yours like a rat bite, assuming they’ve already long begun to infect you with their disease.

Then as you suck again, aware of Will’s thin form over you like a bower, enclosing you in the act, with them.

Mouths, mouths, hands, only one pair of which have not given themselves to murder, yet are not wholly clean of sin.

You wear your shame like a bridle as you mouth Hannibal’s cock, feel its restraint and harsh leading as you tongue him to his peak.

Will’s fingers tense slightly at your throat, something of his old meanness in it— threatened, you realise, by your curiosity in Hannibal’s affections for you, which you test now with your submission.

Even if Will ever offers up the steaming muscle of his own heart to you that unpleasantness will remain like gristle on the meat.

You do not wish to be a partner in this business of mystery and sex, and yet there is power in it, power with which you may bend Will to your side before you’re contorted by what you may become.

This you think even as you hold Hannibal between your jaws to swallow his finish, a desperate thought that may deliver you to some dinner plate. But you think of it still, think it even as you get up from your knees and turn to Will, twitching with resentment that he, to whom you’ve grown close, still allows you to be so abused.

Light as a fairy child on tip-toe you cross to him and push your wet mouth to the invitation of his lips, spilling warm seed between them so that he, too, might share in the taste of his man.

Will’s eyes widen, yet he does not withdraw from the affection, merely kisses you back with a silent passion. When you draw apart he swallows, glancing down and away from you, his fingertips on his mouth like a stitch, holding Hannibal in.

*

Later, when the doctor makes brief leave of the living room to prepare dinner, you find yourself looking at Will with the haughtiness of betrayal.

“I’d better address the elephant in the room,” he says, at last. “I should have been in your corner. It’s not easy playing both sides, but I know that night was hard for you. I won’t judge you for making a mistake.”

“I don’t care about that,” you say. “You should have told me the Lover took Amy. Sure, it’s been years since I’ve seen her or anything, but it doesn’t matter. You should have told me as soon as you knew.”

Will looks away into the fire.

“I didn’t want to be the one to hurt you with that news. If she hadn’t survived—”

“So what? I’d rather you hurt me than anybody else.”

You hear Will murmur your name, the beginnings of an explanation.

“I don’t care,” you snap, again. “I don’t want your apologies. I got you back for it, anyway.”

Will turns away quietly, ignoring the barb.

Then he says, “One. There’s another reason I’ve been holding back. Not just about Amy, though she’s part of it. Since the Copycat murder I’ve been thinking a lot about previous killings in the area. How similar they are to what happened to Savannah. Have you ever heard of the Chesapeake Ripper?”

“I don’t know,” you say, with a moody shrug. “Maybe.”

“Over the past few years he’s killed in groups of three, always putting the mutilated victims on display after removing their organs from their still living bodies. Savannah Belmont was also still alive when her stomach was cut out of her. Both killers have surgical knowledge.”

At this you twist towards Will’s armchair, watching nervily as he feeds a new log to the hearth.

“You think they might be the same killer?” you ask. “The Lover and this Ripper guy?”

“I won’t know for sure unless there are at least two other murders,” says Will. “He always follows a pattern.”

“But you can’t just wait for that to happen.”

“I know.”

You yearn to tell him about Hannibal, daren’t breath even a letter of his avowal.

“The organs the Ripper cuts from his victims,” you say. “Do you know what he does with them?”

Will glances up, rapidly alert.

“The way you’re asking me that makes me think you’ve made some kind of guess,” he says. “You want to tell me what it is?”

At first you say nothing, knees brought high under your chin like a child’s.

“Will,” you whisper. “What if he eats them?”

[silvershewolf247]

ChuckyAndy smokes cigarettes and Andy fucking hates it, but he doesn't have any pot and if the damage is going to be done, he might as well enjoy it.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Predatory Flora.

A Grab Bag Commission For A Very Lovely Anonymous Commissioner.

Summary: A lost little adventure meets a particularly sweet plant.

Word Count: 1.0k.

TW: Non//Con, AFAB!Reader, Tentacles, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Bondage, and Implied Mind-Break.

It tasted like honey.

Thick, viscous, painfully sweet, clinging to your lips and your throat as you struggled to choke it down. You thought it might’ve been nectar – some kind of natural by-product yet to be recorded in any of the logs you’d skimmed through in preparation for your journey. If you had heard about this, you were sure you would’ve remembered it, would’ve made a mental note to keep an eye out for plants with thrashing vines and bright pink petals that latched onto your lower face and forced their dripping pistils down your throat, for plants whose saccharine scent made your thoughts crowded and your body lag. You wouldn’t have taken a wrong step, wouldn’t have found yourself in a pit of squirming vines and blooming flowers. You would’ve avoided this, if you’d known what to look for.

You’d be trying harder to escape, if you had proof that anyone had ever encountered this thing and lived.

Slowly, jerkily, you managed to lift your hand and take the flower by its stem, but as soon as you made contact with its pulsing, dewy flesh, another tendril lashed out and wrapped around your wrist – this one a dark green, sticky to the touch and covered in long, tapered red hairs that seemed to squirm and batter against your skin. Oh god, your skin – you felt like you were burning, simultaneously buzzing with a numbing sort of static and overwhelmed with the aching need for something to press against you and stay there. It was almost a relief when another tendril rose from the creature’s main body, tangling around your unoccupied hand and dragging it downward, when another pair curled around your legs and dragged you off your feet completely. You twisted weakly in its hold, but your body relished the pressure, the stimulation. You could feel something dripping down the inside of your thighs, but where there should’ve been embarrassment, utter humiliation, you could only bring yourself to feel a sense of thrashing, twisting anticipation.

Anticipation that only grew more unbearable as the ground shifted underneath you, a mass of leaves and tangled roots coming to rest underneath your back. Or, no, wait, you were the one moving, the vines curled around your limbs maneuvering you deeper into the pit, closer to the base of this thing’s body, onto a bed of thick emerald leaves and coiled vines. The flower latched onto your face pumped one more mass of sickly sweet agony down your throat before recoiling, falling around your neck and letting its nectar ooze down your tunic, your chest. You mourned its loss, but the misery of separation was short-lived. Those red hairs were swarming you in a moment, forcing their way under your clothes, your armor. Your pack fell away first, then the sword at your waist – the only weapon you’d thought to bring on what should’ve been a routine expedition. Your leather armor was pulled over your head carelessly, and what remained of your clothes weren’t even given that much respect, torn and ripped until little more than tattered shreds remained.

Somehow, seeing the planes of your own exposed skin helped to clear your scattered mind, to jolt just enough sense into your lust-addled brain to remind you that you were in the mouth of a creature you couldn’t name, at the mercy of whatever it’d forced you to swallow. You made a half-hearted effort to kick out, to pull your arms out of its hold, but the creature only strengthened your restraints by way of response, its tendrils winding tighter around your limbs. You grit your teeth, dug your blunt nails into its vines, but for everything you ripped away, two more would emerge from the main body to take its place. Your legs were spread far enough for a tight throbbing to form in your thighs, your arms hitched upward and bound together above your head. Another flower found its way to your face, but you bit at its petals, staving it off with gnashing teeth and harsh thrashing. You held your breath, attempting to clear your thoughts, to put together something close to a plan and—

"Don't fight." Its voice seemed to come from everywhere, from everything. Your eyes darted from vine to vine wildly, but you only found its source when two hands descended from nowhere; long, tapered fingers coming to cup your face and tilt your head back. A poor imitation for something human hovered above you, its skin that same dark green, its eyes that terrible pink. It was smiling - or, it was supposed to be, at least. "It's so much more fun when you give in quickly."

You felt something push into you, a blunt head forcing its way into your dripping cunt. In tandem, a tendril with a flattened tip latched onto your clit, lapping over the hyper-sensitive bundle of nerves – the sensation not unlike that of a tongue. Instantly, your mind went blank. If your body had been burning before, it was on fire now, something vital and vulnerable inside of you melting as the blunt tendril lazily thrusted into you, only occasionally pausing to curl or coil. You could make out more of that awful nectar leaking out of your cunt, coating the tendril with a thin sheen of its own aphrodisiac. You could feel the creature’s body reverberate underneath you, letting out a resounding purr as it forced its way deeper into you. You could see it grinning above you, golden nectar dripping over its bottom lip.

A matching smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. Absent-mindedly, you spread your legs, letting yourself go completely slack. The creature took over, latching onto your chest and wrapping around your waist, pulling you further into its embrace. Pleasure rolled over you in thick waves, suffocating what few useless worries you still had until you couldn’t bring yourself to think about anything at all. You bucked your hips towards the tendril inside of you, savoring the slow shudder of arousal that crept down your spine as a reward. You couldn’t get away, but that was fine. You’d be here forever, but you didn’t care.

It wasn’t like you could ever want to leave.