#tw past noncon

[kiame-sama]

hi :D i'm a new follower, I just finished reading your story of twin eclipses- (Yandere! Illumi x reader) and i'm left with the intrigue to know more 😢

Could it be that you can do part 2 or mini series of this? The plot is very interesting and leaves you wondering what will happen next.

Only if you want :), GREETINGS FROM ARGENTINA!!🇦🇷

Twin Eclipses- (Yandere!Illumi x Reader) pt. 2

Warnings; yandere, mention of abuse, coercion, threats, mention of being threatened, unfair situations, female bodied reader, mention of past noncon, mention of birthing troubles, going MAXIMUM OVERDRIVE stalker/creep here, item theft, irrational behavior, irrational thinking, obsessive behavior, obsessive thinking, extreme invasion of privacy, breeding kink,

A blazing sun sat in the middle of the sky, burning rays only slightly broken up by the occasional cloud. The only solace from the intense heat was the dappled shade cast beneath the tree canopy. Most animals were laying low during the height of the day's warmth, spare for two small figures that walked up the dusty road. They had been told of the family that lived upon the looming mountain and they were told to avoid it at all costs, but the cost now was just too great for the pair.

The looming gates of the estate stood before them, a small sentry checkpoint waiting not far from the large doors. Even so, the pair knew well enough to not approach as speaking to the attendant would only waste time. Time was not something they had in generous supply, so they were left with the only option they had; a phone. This phone belonged to the very person the pair aimed to save, the most recently dialed number displayed on the screen.

When they pressed the call button, the other line immediately answered and hung up, leaving the two to glance at one another in confusion. Their confusion didn't last long as the giant gate began to move and slowly creak open from some powerful force. The pair watched in awe and surprise as the huge gates swung open and revealed the group of adults on the other side. Four adults walked forwards to meet the pair, all of them familiar from when they last visited the pair at their home not long ago. Despite the intimidated feeling the pair got from the adult group, they knew that these adults were the only chance they had.

"Okay, we're here. All we have to do is call, right?"

"Right."

"I see the two of you have arrived, as agreed. It surprises me to see your mother isn't with you."

The first of the group- the eldest and shortest- spoke with a calm tone, clearly not giving anything away even to the frightened pair. Though the two were young and much smaller than the adults in the group, they were no less determined to get what they needed.

There was a slight waver to the young voice, the pair were only children barely out of their toddler years, after all. They had not known the world outside of the village they lived in with their mother and though the distance to the mountain was relatively short, it was the furthest they've been from home. Certainly farther than their mother had ever taken them, especially on foot. The boys were desperate though, and they saw no other solution to the problem that threatened their peaceful existence.

"She... She's why we came."

"Oh? Did she tell you to?"

"No... Mama..." The boys glanced at one another, "Mama's sick. She hasn't woken up in days and the elders say there are only a few places that have the things she needs to get better. They said that you all have the medicine and machines she needs to get better and she'll die without them..."

"Mama said we shouldn't talk to any of you, or ever go near the mountain. She said that you all are our family, but want us to do what you want and not let us choose what we want. But... We don't want to lose mama... So, we will do what you want, just save mama first."

It was a surprise to the group to hear the mature thought process of the two children in front of them. The pair had sought them out to save their mother, which took planning most children twice their age wouldn't be able to do without help. If ever there were a sign that the two were of the lineage their pedigree suggested, it would be their adult approach to the problem they had.

"So, you two sought us out in the hopes that you could use yourselves as bargaining chips to save your mother's life, right?"

There was a small beat of silence as the adults looked at one another, passing along silent meaning to their glances. It had been their intent all along to find some way to convince the wayward mother to allow her sons to be trained in the way of the assassins, but that didn't mean the group was thrilled to hear of her declining health. The group intended to assist regardless as they owed more than they cared to admit to the woman that birthed the pair of boys, however that didn't mean they would pass up the opportunity presented to them.

~~~~~~~~

"Very well, we will send for her and have her treatment begin here immediately. For now, though, introductions are in order. Your mother was not very forthcoming with information, especially information regarding the two of you. So, what are your names?"

"... Gesshoku and Nisshoku Zoldyck."

The slow and steady beep of machines brought you into awareness, feeling your dry throat crackle as you breathed. Each inhalation feeling forced and annoying as oxygen poured into the mask on your face. Your thoughts came slowly and sluggishly as if dampened by some chemical or drug fed into your system. It was difficult to even keep your eyes open as you tried to think about where you were and even who you were. Everything was jumbled in your brain and the ever present temptation to keep sleeping sat stubbornly in your mind.

"(Y/n)?"

A familiar voice managed to reach through the confusion and drag you back to the surface of clarity. Your attention snapped over to the source of the voice and you were vaguely lost as to why your father sat next to you. More so than just your father being present, you wanted to know where you were and where your sons were. If your father was with you in this mysterious place, where could your boys possibly be?

Your voice was harsh even to your own ears as if you had not spoken in a very long amount of time. The fact that your mouth felt so dry didn't help either as it only served to make your voice scratchier. It didn't really matter what your voice sounded like, though. What mattered to you was making sure your sons were alright and as far from their father as possible.

"(Y/n), I'm sure this is confusing for you-"

"Where are they?"

"..."

"Where are my sons?"

You left little room for argument and it was clear your father understood you would not be resting or wasting any time on questions until you could ensure your sons were safe. Gotoh silently thanked the fact that Illumi was out on a job and was not likely to return any time soon. At least the absence of the eldest Zoldyck son would give you some time to adjust to the new reality you found yourself living.

"They're with Master Silva-"

"Take me to them."

"(Y/n), you just awoke after spending two weeks unconscious. You should rest-"

"Take me to my sons. Now."

When your sons arrived at the proverbial doorstep of the Zoldyck estate, Gotoh was stunned to find out you were in poor health. The fact that the boys had traveled alone to meet their family and ask for their help told him just how unwell you were. Last time Gotoh saw you, you stood strong despite the way the world had worn you down and you were ready to fight the very people you served so you could protect your sons. He certainly was not prepared to see what had become of you thanks to your sudden illness.

Arriving at your home in the small village burned a permanent etching into Gotoh's mind. You looked so frail and sickly, bed bound and unable to respond to the world around you as your body fought as hard as it could to keep you alive. He had only just learned you were still alive and already had to face the potential reality of losing you again. In some ways, helping you during your illness soothed the ragged ache in your father's heart as he lamented the fact that he had been unable to protect you when you needed him most. Constant wondering of how he had ignored the signs of your mistreatment plagued him, filling his head and heart with shame at not seeing sooner.

Learning the real reason you had run from the family and from him weighed heavily on his mind. If he had just noticed sooner, or kept a better eye on you, perhaps Illumi wouldn't have gotten away with his sick affection towards you for as long as he did. Even now it was hard to think of the stoic eldest Zoldyck son doing anything so perverse and twisted towards you- someone he grew up with- but the evidence you had gathered was supposedly very damning. Either out of respect for you or for Gotoh himself, the Zoldycks did not share the compiled videos with him. Not that he wanted to see the things Illumi had done to you or hear you cry for help only to be ignored. The reality of what had been done to you was a heavy one and one that Gotoh struggled to come to terms with.

"Alright. I brought your clothes so you can change into something and then we can go see them."

The things they found... Were truly enlightening to just how depraved the eldest had become.

You wordlessly snatched up the clothing that he bought for you, pulling yourself out of bed and behind the curtains to change your clothes. The confident strides you had once walked with were now broken and eternally limping, a constant reminder that Illumi had tried everything to keep you with him permanently.

After he and the three Zoldycks left your home that first time, they did digging into Illumi and what exactly he was capable of doing and threatened to do to you. Milluki- the second eldest son- kept extensive back-logs of any kind of security feed footage and even had cameras previously unknown of around the estate.

It began with video of Illumi stalking you well before the abuse began. He would follow you throughout the estate and ensure any schedule you were on passed by his room at least once, if not multiple times throughout the day. There were countless evenings where he would silently enter your room while you slept and did who knows what with your unconscious body. Beyond the stalking he began to steal things that belonged to you, squirreling them away in his room.

Approximately when he began his perverse abuse, his behavior around you erratically shifted. He would openly corner you in halls, dragging you- sometimes literally- to the nearest closet or even his room. Neither of you would leave for hours on end and usually he was the one who emerged first, looking no worse for wear. Several minutes after he leaves, you would emerge, clothing torn in places revealing dark marks adorning your soft body. Sometimes you would walk out, other times you would practically crawl out of those rooms, disheveled and limping with clear distress on your face. It didn't take a genius- or sound from the video feed- to know what Illumi was doing to you. If anyone saw or heard you, they would quickly retreat the other way and speak not a word of it to anyone.

None of this was news to the Zoldycks, or to Gotoh. You had gathered enough evidence and said as much to make the suffering you felt clear. What really took them by surprise was what they found when they went poking around Illumi's room.

There was a secondary room that was hidden away from the common eye, looking like just another panel in his wall. Behind that panel lay the true depth of the depravity Illumi had been consumed by. What was akin to a room of worship or even some kind of elaborate shrine lay within. Things he had taken from you on display like trophies; from underwear, to locks of hair, even to a fridge full of marked vials of your blood, saliva, and vaginal lubricant. Aligned along one wall were countless pregnancy tests- all negative- and a clear empty spot marked and reserved for a positive test. Pictures of you papered the walls, some candid shots taken from a distance, some of you asleep in bed, others where you were clearly posed, bound, and gagged.

Several notebooks filled with dates and observations taken on you were in the far corner of the room. The earlier contents dated back to years before Illumi acted on his dark desires. Countless pages filled with line after line of his growing obsession filled every book, certain things highlighted and marked to be remembered. Some of the passages detailed exactly what he wished to do to you and how he imagined you would sound as he did them. One book was exclusively notes on how you reacted to certain sexual situations he put you through; what you responded to best, and what made you scream the loudest.

Calendars were marked with your monthly cycle, peak ovulation days specifically labeled 'breeding days'. Each week had a date marked for when he planned for you to take a pregnancy test.

He clearly had a place for his more 'prized' items in the center of the room. Upon a pedestal sat a torn uniform in your size. It was neatly folded and stacked together, a pair of bloodied underwear sitting on top with the label 'our first' placed along side it. There was little doubt that this uniform was what you were wearing when the sexual abuse began.

The most disturbing- by far- was the unnaturally life-like doll that looked near identical to you. It had clearly been 'used' many times and looked like you as if you were simply sleeping. This doll had your exact measurements, from bust size to hips, and wore clothing that they recognized as yours. The fake you was blindfolded and cuffed to a raised metal bar, hanging by the wrists. There were obvious features intended to be used for sexual gratification, from the openable mouth with a moveable tongue, to the two holes that were made to be stuffed. The most recent entry in the notebooks were Illumi lamenting the fact that the doll simply was not you and didn't feel the same, though it felt real enough for him to use consistently when he was not on a job.

Gotoh was disgusted and would never tell you what he and the three Zoldyck men had discovered in Illumi's room. All the secret room did was make Illumi's insatiable and insane obsession with you clear. They truly did not know how to keep Illumi from you when he learns you are at the Zoldyck estate and within his reach once more. There was little wonder now as to why Illumi had mangled your ankle, as he clearly was willing to do whatever it took to keep you in his grasp.

As you returned in the clothing Gotoh had given you, he stood up and silently led you through the twisting halls and corridors. Any fellow workers the two of you passed reacted to you the way they would react to a member of the family passing by; bowing their heads and moving to the far sides of the hall to let you pass. Where it was surreal to have others treat you with the same respect as they did the family, you knew it was likely because of your sons. You two came to a large door you were familiar with as it was the door to Silva's 'office' and you began to worry what you would find inside.

Gotoh knocked and the deep voice of the head of the family called out for you two to enter. As the door swung open and you stepped inside, two small figures practically flew into your arms. Your two sons clung to you and held tightly to wherever they could as they enthusiastically greeted you. Both boys were practically on the verge of tears as they rejoiced your return, talking over each other.

You couldn't keep up with the overlapping conversations and simply returned the hug in kind to the two boys who quickly went quiet, just enjoying your loving behavior. It was clear the boys had missed you to an extreme and they wanted to share everything they had learned while you were bed-ridden from your illness. Silva had a single brow raised at the boys, no doubt having only known them to be relatively quiet and withdrawn. Compared to how they interacted with you, it was more than obvious that the two favored you in every way. Your boys were clearly mama's boys and they had no issue letting everyone know that.

"We knew we had to help-!"

"Even though you said not to-"

"They really helped-"

"I've learned how to stab people-!"

"Did you know a human body dies without-?"

"But then we were really good at-"

"Grandpa has killed so many-"

"And Great-Grandpa hasn't killed anyone he wasn't hired to-"

"But Great^(3)Grandpa is super strong and-"

"When did you teach your boys how to use Nen?"

You glanced up at Silva, who was observing the exchange between you and your boys with a calm yet watchful gaze. It hadn't ever occurred to you to tell anyone the boys could use nen because you didn't want them around their family anyway given the emphasis on being assassins.

It was then the eldest of your boys, Gesshoku, seemed to perk up. Despite the young ages of your twin boys, they were unusually aware of what adults said and the things adults murmured when nearby.

"I didn't."

"I can see they have use of their nen, there is no point in trying to cover it up."

"I'm not covering anything up. I never taught them to use nen. From the moment they were born they have had access to their nen. Perhaps it was the respective eclipses that took place during their birth that caused it, I don't really know, but I never taught them how to use it."

This came as surprise to you, not only for the fact that Illumi had belittled you at every turn and called you replaceable, but for the fact that Silva seemed to think he was obsessed. You looked up at the white-haired assassin curiously, wondering what your boys were going on about. Truthfully, you would rather your sons never meet their father, but that decision was not up to you to make. It was a choice only they could make regarding their father and they seemed uniquely interested in meeting the man.

"Mama! Grandpa said our father isn't here right now, but might come back in a few days. You said he was not nice to you, so we asked Grandpa why Father wasn't nice to you and Grandpa said that Father is assessed with you-!"

"Obsessed."

"Right, like I said, assessed."

You felt a shiver of dread run down your spine upon hearing just how twisted and unhinged Illumi had become. It was surprising to know the assassin had such intense feelings for you, but it did not soothe you in the slightest. If anything, you wanted to grab your boys and run before Illumi ever caught wind of you being back, but it was likely too late for that.

"What are they talking about?"

"Gotoh did not tell you, I see."

"Tell me what?"

"We did more investigation into Illumi after our first conversation at your home. He has been keeping a kind of shrine to you in his room. He has many things of yours in this room, as well as written documentation about his thoughts on you. I believe he tried to make you believe he didn't care for you as a coping mechanism for himself, as he has been obsessed with you since the two of you were children. There are... revealing... photos of you and a life-sized doll he made of you. I am sure you can guess as to what he uses it for."

"I will be honest with you, (y/n). We don't know how to keep Illumi from pursuing you once he learns you are here. Anything short of you being by an elder Zoldyck's side 24/7 would be unable to deter him. I have no right to ask you to remain here, but the boys must remain. I would think you would stay with your sons, but I must warn you that the price to remain here with them will be Illumi having access to you once more."

The truth weigh heavily on you as you had suspected as much. Illumi was a skilled assassin and had been trained to be able to bypass any and all security in his way to get to his target. Simply thinking of Illumi being near you made your heart flutter and panic. You could leave before he found out about you, but that meant you would have to leave your sons, both of whom were still clinging to you and affectionately snuggling into you. There was simply no way you would abandon your boys, so a heavy resignation thudded like a hollow drum in your chest. If you stayed, Illumi would get to you regardless of any attempts to stop him.

You knew Silva was right and you would have to start thinking about these conditions. It was clear you would need the rest of the family backing you if you were to make any kind of rules to limit his behavior. Beyond that, you worried if he would try to hold your sons' lives in jeopardy for your obedience, but he can't get to them now that the family is protecting them.

"I don't really have a choice, do I? I won't leave my boys. I can't. ... I will have to let it happen, because it will regardless of if I fight or not."

"Perhaps you can make conditions to his access to you? If he is given the choice to follow them or lose you, perhaps he will take them seriously."

There were so many things to consider that you almost missed the sound of the door opening following a single knock. Turning to face the newcomer, your heart seized when you saw a pair of familiar looking doll eyes set in white alabaster skin. Clearly he had not expected to see you standing there when he opened the door and his excitement crackled like static around him. His eyes trailed from you to the two white-haired children that clung to your legs, narrowing slightly as he considered what he was seeing. When his gaze returned to you, there was a kind of recognition in them that was quickly replaced with hunger the longer he stared at you.

"..."

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #hxh yandere #yandere male #male yandere #yandere illumi #yandere illumi zoldyck #twin eclipses #tw past noncon #tw obsessive behavior #tw stalking #tw manipulation #tw creepy

[angrelysimpping]

So, had some River thoughts the other night and it turned into this whole thing and, uh, enjoy?

V special shout out to @inkyquince for letting me bounce ideas off them =3=💕

M!River; GN!Reader; penetrative sex, reader receiving; oral sex, reader giving; past noncon; teacher/student; unhealthy sex; waaaaay more feelings then originally intended

Words: ~2.6k

Mister River likes the expected. He likes things he can pin down and understand without question. Maths, for example. The rules of the temple, another. He tries not to listen to the stories spread around school. They set him on edge, the unknowable. Mostly untrue but sometimes with a miniscule grain of fact. He once heard a girl say she thought Doren was a werewolf! Imagine that! Ridiculous. But, still, there were others that weren't as easily picked apart and disregard. 

Even though he tries to avoid them, he still hears rumors about all the nasty things you do. How you set up a glory hole in the school bathroom. That you come to class smelling of cum and proud of it. That there are pictures, videos, of you floating around online doing all sorts of depraved things, things he can't even fathom. 

Not just rumors, either. River has seen you flash your classmates, heard you make crude jokes. He's even witnessed you teasing Whitney, getting the bully riled up until he had to send them out. 

When you come shuffling through the doors of the soup kitchen, he expects the worst. But…that's not what he gets. 

Dark circles under your eyes whispering of late nights. Voice quick and low as you talk to the nun at the door. A voice begging for no one to notice you, for no one to look your way. 

Then there's a moment where you meet his gaze and he sees the shift in you. A rise of shoulders and tensing of your jaw.

And River sees it. Sees you. Bone tired. Scared. The real you. Not the performance you put on during school hours. Not the attitude that keeps others off your back. But someone in need of help.

And someone willing to help. 

River expects you to come through the line, take some food and move on. He can bite his tongue, then. He won't ask about your switch in personality or why you're here. He'll serve you and let you eat in peace. 

Or, he would have if you didn't take up the station next to him, helping serve those in line. 

He wishes you hadn't. 

Then, he wouldn't notice the other things about you. He wouldn't see the bruises on your arms or the shake in your hands. Wouldn't hear the soft tone of voice that radiated kindness and warmth that never once made an appearance during school hours. 

He wouldn't have to learn to reconcile the notion of your school delinquent persona with this person who was, for a lack of better words, good. 

He wouldn't have to get to know you. He wouldn't have taken notice of your small habits. Wouldn't have asked about your day to break the tension that built up between you two, palpable and thick.

Maybe if he hadn't actually listened, maybe if he hadn’t nodded at the right places or chuckled at your jokes, it would have worked out for River. Maybe you wouldn't have opened up around him. Maybe you wouldn't have become more generous with your answers or more free with your laugh. Maybe you wouldn't have asked questions back and maybe he wouldn't have answered.

Maybe he wouldn't have found himself transfixed at the way your lips curved. Wouldn't have noticed the scent of your shampoo as you brushed past him, mumbled apologies as you accidentally grazed his back in your haste to help when called. 

He wouldn't have noticed when you went missing.

No, that's wrong. River knows he would have noticed your absence, a hole in a sea of heads in the classroom. But, would he have cared? Really? Truly? Not of the fact you were skipping school but that you were gone?

Because you're not just skipping school. Even on days you skipped, you still showed up to volunteer. You'd give the teacher a crooked smile and mutter about needing to help out with a few things around the orphanage. And River would smile back and pretend to believe you. He wouldn't ask about the soft red in your eyes left behind from crying or the new marks blooming on your skin. If you wanted to talk to him you would, right?

God, he should have asked questions. He should have told you that he'd listen if you needed an ear for more serious matters. Should have asked you if you needed anything when he'd heard some of the soup kitchen regulars trading raunchy stories of just how badly you needed money. 

Then there you are again, stumbling through the doors of the soup kitchen. A week. A week you've been gone and River can't help the way his chest constricts when he sees you. 

Hair tangled and eyes nearly lifeless, you still manage to smile at River before shuffling into the kitchen to help wash dishes for the day. 

River manages to keep it together right until closing, where he offers to drive you back to the orphanage. It's once in his car that you, too, seem to break. 

You're crying, chest heaving as your story of the past week tumbles from you in bursts. A debt. A monstrous, all consuming debt. One that you refused to elaborate on but one that ruled your every waking moment. One you had defaulted on last week. One that you had to repay by getting sent into the hands of a hermit living in the forest who wanted you as a spouse.

He stops the car. 

It's a blur, moving into the back seat, taking you into his arms and letting you sob against his chest. When you finally calm, your breath evening out, he expects you to sleep. He'll take you to his home and make up the sofa for you. That's his plan, to take you somewhere he knows is safe. 

You never followed his preconceived notions. You slide from his lap, kneeling in the cramped back seat, and tug at his trousers. 

River is frozen, shock locking him in place as you free his soft cock from the confines of his clothing. 

You sigh, a delicate sound after your previous wailes. He jerks back into life as you brush the tip with your lips, trying to wrench away only to remain trapped between you and the seat. 

"Please." Your voice is rough, still edged with tears as you look up at him through your lashes, warm hand working his shaft even as he hesitates. "Please. I…I can't get them out of my head. I can't get their taste out of my m-mouth. P-please Mister River. I c-can't-"

You take a shuddering breath, seemingly on the verge of tears again. 

River nods. It's a tiny, miniscule fraction of movement, but you see it all the same. 

His head hits the back of the seat as you take him into your mouth, eyes closing half from pleasure and half from obligation. This isn't for him. This is for you. Some misguided way for you to feel better, but the only way he can help. Isn't that something the temple preached? Suffering in the name of serving others? Maybe, though he doubted this is what they meant, but that doesn't matter. He'll get through this, for your sake. He can. He will-

River gasps as your tongue swirls around him, hips twitching forward without thought. One of your hands rests on his inner thigh, giving him a soft squeeze as you work. Lewd sounds fill the small car, making it harder and harder for River to keep any semblance of composure. 

Haltingly, he reaches out, a tentative hand ghosting over the back of your head. You hum in contentment, the sound making him shudder as he rests a shaking hand on the back of your head, stroking your hair. 

To his chagrin, River feels the coil in his stomach tightening, a familiar tingling in his balls. He's going to cum. Not even five minutes into a blow job in the back seat of his car like some fumbling virgin, red faced and shaking, unsure hands. 

"St-stop."

You pull off him, soft pop sounding louder than a firecracker in River's burning ears. 

He doesn't give himself time to think, pulling you into his lap. You're one step ahead of him, shimmying out of your clothes, exposing yourself to him. There's a moment where he feels about to pass out, head spinning as he sees your naked sex. There are bruises on your hips and thighs, some taking the distinct form of hands and fingers. 

Some tiny part of his brain demands he kiss them, to press his lips to every mark left on your skin and baptize it anew with his tongue. He doesn't get the chance as you shift your hips forward, lining yourself up with the tip of his leaking prick. 

"W-wait."

You whine, but still, looking at the maths teacher with wide pleading eyes, the unguarded desire and lust in them making his dick twitch dangerously. "Please," you whisper, "Please, don't you…don't want me?"

The hurt in your voice bleeds, runs down River's spine and makes his chest ache. He did. He wanted more than he'd realized. But he had to remember that this wasn't for him. Not for his desire or pleasure. For you. This was for you. 

"D-do you want to?" He asked, fighting to keep his voice steady as heat radiated from your body, cockhead still pressing against your hole. "Are you sure?"

You pause, and River can see the wheels turning in your head. It feels like eons, but only lasts a second. 

"I've never…" you trail off, looking to the side as your face grows hot. "I've never done this with, with someone that I actually…like." Your voice is barely above a whisper as you turn back to face River, eyes locking onto his. "I'm sure. I want this." 

You try to move, try to sink down on his cock only for River to stop you again, hands on your hips keeping you in place. Tears gather at the corner of your eyes at the rejection. 

River shakes his head, tongue tied as he tries to speak, tries to soothe you. "Condom," he finally manages to choke out. "Th-there's a condom. In my pocket. Would you…?"

You do, scrambling to get the foil packet you never would have dreamed of River carrying. You'd be right to assume he wouldn't. The small packet wasn't his, not originally. The headmaster, with his wandering eyes and hands, had slipped it into his pocket earlier that day. A hand brushing over his ass. Long, slender fingers dipping into his back pocket while wearing a cool, indifferent smile. River had frozen at the time, face burning and heart hammering in his chest like a frightened bird as Leighton's hot breath fanned over his neck. He despised the headmaster's sinful ways, but he still muttered a prayer of thanks now as you rolled the condom down his shaft, cool against his burning skin. 

If you recognize the condom, the brand, the scent of the water based lube, the textured ring at the base, you gave no sign. Long nights spent at the brothel scraping up Bailey's money have no place in your head at the moment, not here in the quiet of River's car. Not when you can look into those pretty light blue eyes, sharp blue pools of sky, and lose yourself in them. Not when you can finally, finally, slide down on River's cock and for once feel like an act like this meant something. 

River shudders as your tight heat invelps him, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip as a way of staving off his own end. You don't give yourself time to adjust, moving, rocking yourself on his cock like it was the only thing that mattered in the world. It leaves River helpless, leaves him gasping for air, panting into your neck and shoulder. He can't even steel himself, can't keep from his hand squeezing your already bruised hips. 

He'll make it up to you later, he thinks dimly. Later when he gets you tucked up somewhere nice and warm and safe. When he can think more clearly and not the all consuming heat that is you. Wrapped around his cock and hands on his chest and lips peppering his neck with soft kisses. Everywhere. You're everywhere. Moans filling the air mixing with his own. Your scent heavy and sweet, filling him up. 

"T-touch me."

River obeys, hand immediately sliding from your hip to your groin, touching you in a clumsy, earnest manner. Little skill and all frenzied want to please. 

Your hand covers his, guiding his fingers and palm. "Like that," you pant, rocking into his hand and causing his cock to press against something sensitive inside you. "J-just like that." 

You keep rocking against his hand, keep bumping his cockhead against your insides in a delicious crescendo of sensation. Of pleasure and want. 

The hand that still rests on his chest finds the chain of his temple pendant. Looping the metal around your palm, you pull River forward, pressing your mouth to his in a sloppy kiss.  

River cums just a split second before you, gasping your name as you follow after him. His head tips back, eyes shut and mouth dropping as you pulse around him, wringing him of every drop of seed and spending himself in the condom. 

You keep going, rocking against River even as his gasps take on a pained edge. It's right as a strained whimper slips free, a moment away from begging you to still, that it's too good, too much, you stop. Panting with your face pressed into his neck, you're more than content to stay like this. Even though you're only half dressed, fluids drying uncomfortably on your thighs, you don't want to move. For the first time in longer than you can remember, you feel safe and you don't want the moment to end. 

It has to, though. 

River mumbles soft reassurances as you slide back, his cock slipping free. He's quick to peel off his condom, trying to tie it close awkwardly. An unpracticed motion, one that makes you huff a small laugh as he finally succeeds. River fumbles to find a place to dispose of it, only for you to finally grab it from his hands and roll down the window, chucking it from the car. 

He thinks better of admonishing you for littering, saying a soft thanks under his breath as he fixes his clothes. Silence falls over the car, one that sets him edge, makes his skin prickle. 

What does he even do now?

"Do you…" he trails off, running a hand through his hair as he tries to find the right words, the right phrases. This was a lot more complicated than the numbers and equations of math or the clear rules of the temple. This was messy, unknowable. It made his stomach twist but he couldn't tell if it was from fear or excitement. Normally something he'd avoid but now he didn't. Not when it meant avoiding you. 

"Do I?" You cock your head to the side, prompting him to go on. 

"Do you want to spend the night?" He finally manages to get out, words jumbled in a single breath. 

You stare at him, evaluating him, and River feels sweat starting to form along the back of his neck as he waits for your answer. Finally, the silence gets to him, and he continues 

"N-not that," he says, rubbing the back of his neck, "not in ah, an, um, sinful way. Not like that! I mean, not that I wouldn't want to if you did but, b-but that's not what I meant. Just, I have a couch that pulls out and you'd be safe and-"

You move faster than he expected, silencing his rambles with a kiss. 

When you pull back, there's a dazed look in River's eye, his lips still parted as you nod. "Yes," you say. "Yes, I think I'd like that."

#degrees of lewdity #river the maths teacher #tw teacher/student #cw teacher/student #tw unhealthy sex #cw unhealthy sex #tw past noncon #cw past noncon

[lovelyrots]

Forced Matrimony

Chapter 7 - Return to Normal

Soulmate AU

Shinso Hitoshi x afab Reader x Izuku Midoriya

Rehabilitation | Ch1 | Ch2 | Ch3 | Ch4 | Ch5 | Ch6

Content Warnings - swearing,mentioned past noncon, angst, Y/N used for your name insert

🏷 - @lolawassad |

Want to also be tagged for future chapters? Check my rules~

“S-Shin?”

Flashes of arguments long gone and forgotten soft words race through your mind as everything comes back to you, sending you to your knees as a sudden pain erupts in your head.

“Shit, are you okay?” “M-my head hurts so…fucking much.” “Take some deep breaths, okay? Do you know where Izuku kept the key for this collar?” You shake your head as he holds you and curses before he moves you around, pulling your hair away from your neck as he pokes seemingly random spots on the collar.

“Hold your hair away from the back of the collar, this is one of the dumbest things I’m about to try.” You don’t have time to ask anything before you feel an intense heat at the back of your neck, hot enough that sweat is already building on the nape of your neck and the smell of burnt metal greets your nose. “Just a few more seconds, then we can get you out of here.”

Just as he said, a few seconds pass before the clunking metal falls apart before you and you press your hands to your freed neck. You wince as your fingers pass over some healed burn marks from your last escape attempt but shake it off and shakily stand. “Why are you here? I thought-“ “Look, I’ll explain everything later but right now we need to get out of here.” Shin cuts you off and leads you out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

“B-bunny? Where are you going?” You jump and turn your head to see Izuku slumped over and struggling to sit up. “Ignore him, that sedative won’t last long in his system.” Shin tells you and practically pushes you to the open front door. “You fucking bastard! I’ll kill you Shinso! I’ll find you Bunny! We’re soulmates, we’re meant for each other!” You stumble as Izuku screams out and hesitantly look back, deja vu hitting you with the ghosts of all your previous escape attempts and his arms wrapping around you like a vice before you could set foot outside.

Yet, there he is. Laying on the floor shaking, and struggling to just get up while tears stream down his face. Why do you feel such an ache in your chest seeing him like this?

“Please, Bunny, don’t go! I-I’m sorry I was mean!” He cries and you stumble as you watch him try to crawl over to you. “Unless you want to stay here, I really think we should get moving.” Shin tugs you forward and you have to force yourself to move. Your bare feet soon meet the cool earth as the two of you run from your former prison, rocks and fallen twigs digging into your feet until Shin stops and you run into him.

You’re about to ask him why he stopped when you spot someone you thought you’d never be able to see again. “Dabi!” You grin and race over to him, your arms wrapping around his lean frame. “Hey Shrimp, this dipshit finally did something good, huh?” You lean back and watch him glare at Shin, his hands twitching enough that you’re sure if you weren’t right in front of him then he’d have lit Shin up like a Christmas tree.

“Hey, just get her out of here and I’ll handle the rest. All I want is her to be safe.” That for some reason tears a laugh out of Dabi. “Oh yeah sure. I’ll just trust some undercover hero shithead, the same shithead that couldn’t be a man and tell someone in person that they want to breakup.” “Dabi, just take me home, please.” You jump in before he can do anything to Shin. Dabi remains glaring at Shin until he sighs and pulls out a phone and texts a number, one of Kurogiri’s portals appearing seconds later. “Keep her out of public spaces for a while, just long enough for things to calm down.” “Whatever, hero.”

You turn to look at Shin just before you step through, “Thank you Shin.” and with that you’re back in the bar. You have only seconds before you’re tackled by a crying Toga and Spinner and only kept standing with Dabi’s help. “Alright, give her some space ya freaks.”

You laugh, really laugh for the first time in months, and try your best to wrap your arms around the two. “I’m never letting you out of my sight Y/N! I missed you too much!”

Dabi guides the three of you to a booth while Toga chatters away, filling you in on any new drama, and stalks over to Shigaraki. It’s almost surreal how easily everything feels normal again for you. At least, that’s what you’re chalking up that weird ache in your chest to.

Shinso watches Y/N step through the portal and sighs. “At least she’ll be safe.” Reluctantly, he turns back in the direction of the nearly obscured house and waits for the inevitable angry green mess to come hurtling towards him.

After all, it’s either let him be branded as a traitor and possible villain as some form of revenge for ‘taking’ his soulmate away from him or try to beat some sense into the hero. Even though, he knows he’ll also get quite the beating. “I’m a fucking idiot, aren’t I?” Shinso mutters to himself as he readies himself, his eyes locked on the path towards the house while he loosely wraps the end of his capture scarf around his palm.

The sudden crack of branches is his only warning as he flings himself to the side and once the dust settles, an infuriated Izuku is glaring him down. “Where is she?!” “Tch, she’s somewhere safe from you.” Shinso has to retreat into the canopy of the trees as Izuku mindlessly attempts to slam into him, rage unlike anything Shinso had seen taking over the green hero.

“Why? She’s MY soulmate! You don’t know ANYTHING about us!” Izuku screams at him as Shinso flings himself from tree to tree to avoid what are likely fatal hits, each time he narrowly dodges one of Izuku’s fists he can still feel his breath being forced out of him.

“You kidnapped her and forced her away from a normal life! That’s what I know! Normal people in a relationship, soulmates or not, they don’t kidnap each other.” He tries to get through to him, if only to try and calm the berserk hero down before he demolishes the whole forest or ends up killing Shinso.

“I brought her home! I was good to her! Do you know how long I waited to hold my soulmate?” This isn’t looking good, it seems no matter what Shinso says, it just makes Izuku worse. “I’ve watched everyone around me find their soulmates and live their happily ever fucking after! Don’t I deserve my happy ending?! Haven’t I given the damn universe enough?!” Shinso’s feet stutter to a stop as Izuku breaks down huffing and puffing with fat tears running down his freckled cheeks.

“All I’ve wanted for the past ten years is to find my soulmate! I’m sick of pretending I’m happy when I’m not, I’m sick of being left alone at the end of the day!” Izuku smashes a fist into the earth, sending a shudder through Shinso’s body from the aftershocks.

“Well you found her, but guess what? After all of this, she may not even want to see you anymore—let alone admit you’re her soulmate. If you want her back then…then first you have to calm down.” What matters first is getting him to stop smashing everything in sight and trying to kill him.

Tentative steps lead Shinso right to Izuku, a cautious hand behind him with a strong enough sedative ready, and an open palm reached out. “If you want her then you have to do it right. I’ll…I’ll help you but only if you do things right this time.” Shinso sighs and waits for any reaction, good or bad, from Izuku.

“Why? If I’m some monster like you’re making me out to be, then why help me?” “Because it might make Y/N happy. It’s not for you. You two share marks, so maybe you’re meant to be together but not if you’re going to lock her up in a tower. So do you want my help or not?”

Shinso holds his breath as Izuku slowly gets up, standing just an inch taller than him, and grabs his hand in a vice-like grip. “Fine, where is she?” Shinso hisses and tears his hand away, pressing on the sore joints in his hand as he takes a step back. “Somewhere she feels safe, I’m not telling you anything else until she tells me she wants to see you again.”

“Shinso, just tell me where she is and I’ll make it up to her! Please!” Izuku grabs onto the front of his shirt and yanks him closer as he begs. “If you want my help then we’re doing this my way and that means waiting until she wants to see you again. For now, just go get cleaned up. I’ll call you if she says yes.” Shinso pries his fingers off the dark material of his shirt and starts walking away, an ear listening for a possible attack from the other hero.

“Hey Y/N, you’ve got a call.” Kurogiri calls to your hunched over form at the end of his bar. “Take a message for me Kuro, I’m too tired.” You blindly wave him off and attempt to catch some sleep on the cool bar top. “I’m not your secretary.” He mutters as he leaves the wireless receiver in your open hand and stalks off.

“Ugh, what is it?” You sit up and close your eyes as the static on the other end clears out. “Hey Kitten.” Your eyes snap open and you suddenly feel awake as you hear Shin—or Shinso apparently—say that old nickname he had given you. “Why are you calling?” You wince at the bitter tone hanging on your tongue, some hurt clinging onto you after Dabi had told you what had happened between you and Shin so long ago.

“Before I say anything, Midoriya wants to see you again and he’s willing to do things right this time.” You freeze up and Dabi immediately notices from across the bar, you hold up a hand and walk into the back towards your temporary room.

You had been held by Deku long enough that your landlord figured you were dead or something, he waited two months for you to magically appear with rent, and your stuff had been trashed and your apartment given to someone else. So now you crashed at either the hideout or Toga’s place. Unfortunately, that meant Dabi stuck to you like you’d disappear again if you weren’t in his sights.

“Fuck no. If that’s all, then you can fuck off.” You manage to keep your voice even and lock your door behind you before sitting on the thin mattress sitting snug against the wall. “Hang on! I’m going to be there if you decide to meet him, and I’ll make sure he won’t hurt you.” You take in a stuttering breath and try to force yourself to not throw the phone. “He already hurt me, he’s fucking raped me! I don’t want a damn thing to do with him! If you’re a hero then do the right fucking thing and throw him in prison.” You don’t wait for him to say anything more and hang up.

‘Deep breath in, 1, 2, 3, and breathe out’ you repeated that process until you felt the rage and anxiety that bubbled up at the mention of the hero leave your body, for now at least. “You alright, kid?” You glance to your door and debate letting Dabi in, the desire for someone you can actually trust winning over and leading you to unlock the door and crack it open.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” “You’re a shit liar, you know.” He rests his weight on the door, nudging it open just a little more, and stares at you. “Want to go burn some shit?” A laugh tears it’s way out and you hum before nodding. “Fine, just let me get changed. Pick a color; pink, blue, or white.” “Go with the white beanie, shrimp. Be out in five or I’m leaving your ass behind.” You roll your eyes and shut the door again, already feeling a little better.

You rummage through the clothes Compress and Toga had gathered for you and pull out some jeans and a white-ish hoodie, and the white beanie Dabi had suggested, and quickly changed and tucked your hair into the beanie as best you could.

This was pretty much your standard outfit now: a beanie or hat to hide your hair or face, an oversized hoodie that’s comfortable and warm, and some variation of jeans or sweatpants depending on what you’re doing. It was warm and it obscured certain details that a certain someone may be looking for.

You take your time leaving the back rooms and spot Dabi by the door leading out to the street, though he wasn’t alone. That wild mop of purple hair that, through the fragments of your memories, once made your cheeks warm upon seeing it and one of the two people you’d like to never see again attached to it.

There weren’t many others around the bar—really it was just you, Kurogiri, and the two men attempting to be quiet while arguing. “Get the fuck out before I lose my temper, she doesn’t want a fucking thing to do with you or any other heroes.”

“Let him talk, then you can throw him out.” You cross your arms and lean against a nearby booth as the two turn towards you. Dabi scoffs and lets go of Shin’s shirt, going and leaning over the bar on one of the stools while keeping his eyes locked on the two of you.

“I’m not meeting him, so if that’s why you’re here then you might as well leave.” You get out before Shin can even open his mouth. “I’m here to apologize to you. For what I did and what I asked of you. I…I didn’t know what he’d done to you, and I wouldn’t even think to ask if I’d known. So please, forgive me?” He reaches for your hand but stops himself when you flinch away from his touch.

“If you want my forgiveness then you’ll make sure he can never come near me again. Now please get out.” You step around him and head over to Dabi, your back turned to Shin as you hear his steps move towards the door and pause before he’s gone.

“You know, there’s a new statue of wonder boy. Still feel like burning shit?” Dabi stands and wraps an arm around your shoulder as you turn your head to look at him. “Can we get ice cream after?” “Whatever you want kid, just don’t expect me to carry it back.”

The next four hours were spent trekking through the city and lighting random things on fire; a billboard with the retired heroes Endeavor and Hawks promoting some safety course, a closed down toy store near the outskirts of the city, and the statue of Deku that Dabi had told you about.

That one was the most satisfying to watch burn.

Now here you two were, a bag with pints of stolen ice cream swinging from your hand while Dabi walked carefree a couple paces in front of you. “Thanks for today Dabi.” “Don’t mention it, though if you want to repay me then try and get some actual sleep. Everyone can tell you aren’t sleeping right.” You were stunned and stopped walking, causing Dabi to pause and turn back to you. “Blame Kurogiri, he’s annoyed you’re always trying to sleep on his precious bar top.”

You snap out of your stupor and run past him with your head held high. “Maybe I can’t sleep because of Spinner’s snoring. Ever think of that?” You hear him snort and catch up to you. “See that’s funny because Spinner doesn’t stay at the bar anymore. You don’t have to tell me shit about why you’re not sleeping, just promise to try and sleep better.” You tense up but just hum and nod as you two continue your walk back home.

You huff and turn onto your side and a groan leaving your throat as you realize no matter which way you lay, you just can’t fall asleep.

You fumble around for the burner phone you’d gotten and squint at the brightly lit screen saying it was nearly three in the morning. “Why? Am I just cursed now?” You mumble to yourself as you sit up and stretch before throwing a hoodie over your tank top and sweatpants, deciding to go downstairs and fix yourself a drink. Kurogiri would understand if you needed a drink, and if he didn’t? Well you can just remind him that you helped break him out of his prison years ago.

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. Sitting in the corner booth was the very person you had been thinking of. “Hey Kuro, I’m gonna get a glass of whiskey. Can’t sleep.” He lets out a sigh but doesn’t stop you and you glance over to see him reading something. “What’re you reading?”

“Something you should take a look at, it’s over soulmates and the connection between them.” You freeze up just as you grab the bottle of whiskey and don’t notice your hand shaking until you hear the clinking of ice in your glass and practically slam the glass down.

“No thanks, I’ve had enough of soulmate bullshit.” You snarl and pour the whiskey until it threatens to overflow. “Then I guess you don’t want to erase that mark. I believe one of these chapters had a method of getting rid of a mark and the connection to their soulmate through it. Guess I’ll keep it to myself.” That stops you from going back to your room.

If you could get rid of your mark then you could really get back to normal. You’d never feel phantom touches on your hand throughout the day and into the night. You could really put the past eight months behind you, and forget the whole experience with that monster.

“Hey Kuro, mind if I borrow that book?” You tentatively ask, suddenly worried he may say no. “Go right ahead.” He gently closes it and slides it across the table towards you. “Thanks.” You whisper and take the heavy book back to your room with your whiskey.

#mha #x reader #bnha #tw swearing #tw yandere #tw angst #tw past noncon #tw past abuse #izuku x reader #shinso x reader

[katherineholmes]

The Monsters In Her Heart

In a world where the first words her soulmates speak to her are carved into her skin, Elena Gilbert meets hers too late.

The damage Damon did is everlasting, and she doesn’t want to live anymore.

It’s a good thing one of her soulmates needs to use her in a ritualistic sacrifice.

#klaus x elena x elijah #elena gilbert #klaus mikaelson #elijah mikealson #elejah #klena #klaulena #elena x elijah #elena x klaus #the vampire diaries #tw panic attack #tw past noncon

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

should have run / but i was a prize

Title taken from the poem Another Rape Poem (Sixteen) by Mary Lambert.

Prompt: Caught off Guard

TMNT IDW.

You can find the whole collection on AO3 here.

(past noncon, nonconsensual touching, past abuse, forced confrontation with abuser, past csa, freeze response, freeze response written by a non-expert, violence, trauma, victim blaming, internalized victim blaming)

It doesn’t happen until a week after he gets back, and Leo doesn’t know how to feel about that. On one hand, the idea of leaping straight into chaos after their return to Northampton makes him feel nauseous; on the other, at least they were all so on edge the first night that a surprise attack might not have been a surprise at all.

As it is, they've had a week together and things are...okay, he guesses. He's learning a bit more of the rhythms they settled into while he was what they are politely calling gone, figuring out where he fits into the subtly shifted order. They fall in behind him more eagerly than they have before, even.

They will regret how grateful they are to have you back soon enough, Ma Shredder chides at the back of his mind. You will have to use a firmer hand then. Leo bites his lip and forces the thought away.

He makes an effort to lose himself in the easy laugh, the stupid jokes, the steady movements of feet from roof to roof. It gets easier as he goes, to the point that he starts feeling normal for the first time in a long while.

Predictably, that's when things go to shit.

His only warning is a whistle out of the dark. faint as a muffled whisper. Instinct takes over and he whirls, eyes flicking across the skyline--look for good sniper positions, there and there and there, consider angles--and catches a dark blur. His hand shoots out, grabbing the arrow an instant before it sinks into Donnie's eye.

Donnie freezes, staring the way he does when Leo uses a move he remembers too late the others don't know. But Leo doesn't have time to panic about that like he usually does, because he's whirling, swords springing to life in his hands as arrows fall into pieces around his feet.

Shadows unfurl out of the dark, and Leo--Leo had almost forgotten how frightening it looks from this angle. No sign of a helmet, though, the glint of silver slipping through that dark water like a fish, and Leo feels more relieved than he should in the face of the oncoming fight.

No time to run. This force is small, clearly hastily assembled after they were spotted—they can fight their way out, hopefully. “Brace yourselves!” Leo shouts before the black wave hits.

It's familiar and strange all at once. Leo isn't exactly rusty at melee fighting, thanks to months spent battling the Savate and other groups, but it's more awkward than he expected to not aim for lethal areas. He gets a cut on his knee at one point as a result and hisses in pain, picking up the pace.

Leo leads his brothers as they dart and spin through the crowd, fighting their way out together and apart. They've got advantages over the shoulders, thanks to natural armor and a lifetime of training instead of whatever few years the Foot soldiers have gotten, and it shows in every blow.

Other things show, too. Leo expects to hesitate the first time he recognizes a soldier's fighting style, the glint of a signature weapon or their voice when they huff for air. Instead, he finds himself lunging, seeking out the weaknesses he'd tried to correct in them once upon a time.

It's war, he tells himself, trying to explain how easy it is. He ignores the deeper, darker voice that whispers, they knew, they saw, and none of them ever said a--  

Leo knocks aside a blade aimed for Raph's back and kicks the soldier in the head hard enough to hear something crack. He somersaults through the air, metal clanging against metal, landing behind the three men and sending them all flying. A whistle of steel behind his head and he whirls, weapons locking--

Through crossed swords, through masks blue and black, a pair of eyes he knows stare back at him. Not just from the training room or the battlefield, but from the clink of armor coming apart under his hands, the warm steam of a bath, sweaty moans in the dark.

He freezes. The eyes crinkle in what might be (he knows is) a smile, knocking his blades aside. Leo braces for a sword through the gut, but instead he's kicked backward, not hard enough to break ribs, just to send him crashing shell-first into a nearby wall. He looks up and the other soldier is looming over him, eyes still crinkled in that fucking smile.

"Hello, Leonardo," Oroku Saki says, casually propping a hand on the wall beside him. His voice is dead calm, like they aren't in the middle of a battlefield with the shouts of Leo's brothers and his own men ringing through the air. "I missed you."

Move, Leo screams at himself. Fight. But he can't breathe. His limbs are locked up, breath strangled in his throat, memory burning through his guts and between his legs. He lets out a soft, strangled whine and quivers with embarrassment.

Saki chuckles, brushing a hand over Leo's face. The warmth of his skin sends a strange blend of comfort and nausea blooming through his gut, muscles twitching with the memory of all the times he leaned into Saki's touch.

"A good response, although I'm surprised we caught you so off guard,” Saki says, like nothing’s changed and he’s chiding Leo for a mistake in the dojo. “I expected better from you, chunin.”  

Something in Leo shrivels at the disappointment in his voice, but he forces the feeling back down. He doesn’t owe this man his respect and they both know it.

“I’m not your fucking chunin,” he rasps, wincing at how his voice is quivering. “Get away from me.”

Saki chuckles, brushing his finger oh-so-gently along Leo’s throat. “You want me gone, Leonardo?” he asks, a hint of danger in his eyes. “Prove it.”

He’s relaxed, almost casual even though he’s wearing much less armor than usual. Leo could kick, punch, bite, gut him with a knife, and as deadly as Saki is he should be able to land enough good hits to break free.

But nothing happens. Leo’s hands and feet tingle numbly, refusing to accept his brain’s frantic signals. His vision is blurry, his earslits muffled, the distant battle feeling far away. He can hear his brothers shouting, but he can’t quite make out their words. His swords are still in his hands, but they feel heavier than lead.

It feels like he’s looking at himself from a distance, his body and Saki’s so close together, Saki’s hips an inch away from rocking into his. The image sickens him, but Leo can’t remember how to make it stop.

“What did you do to me?” His throat isn’t working right; the words don’t come out with the snarl he’d hoped for.

“Nothing at all,” Saki murmurs, free hand coming down to brush Leo’s hip. Leo doesn’t want to believe him, but he hadn’t felt the sting of a tranquilizer like he did the last time and besides, he’s been drugged often enough to recognize that the symptoms don’t quite match up.

“This is your own body that doubts the rat’s teachings.” Saki’s hand tightens on his hip and a soft gasp escapes Leo’s mouth.

“I remember,” his breath hitches, “remember you hurting me.” He thinks of all the bruises these hands have left, how hard he was pushed day and night, how it didn’t matter if Leo was tired because he’d be spreading his legs anyway.

Leo wants the memories to make him angry, but instead he feels sick, and scared, and still frozen. He thinks he might hear someone screaming his name in the distance, but he can’t even turn his head to look.

Saki hums, hand brushing along Leo’s waist. “Did I?” His thumb rubs Leo’s stomach, teasing the sensitive spots. “I seem to remember you enjoying yourself quite a bit.”

That’s...that’s true too, isn’t it? And Leo

knows

that just because you physically enjoy something doesn’t mean you wanted it, but a dark little flower of shame sprouts up anyway, nurtured on the diet Saki smeared inside him. He can feel heat start to blossom across his cheeks.“There’s that blush of yours,” Saki says, lifting Leo’s chin as if to get a better look. There’s a look of admiration in his eyes that Leo would have killed for once—has killed for. “I missed it, too. So did Kitsune." Leo stiffens at the name, at the memory of digging claws and fur rubbing against his scales. "She wants to help you, Leonardo. Make you understand again."

Leo can’t even speak now, can barely breathe. His head feels light with fear, his lips quivering slightly as Saki rubs a thumb along them, but he holds his body as obediently still as if he never left their bed.

“But you’re too thin,” Saki pinches his cheek, the motion so grandmotherly Leo wants to laugh and then throw up. “You’ve lost weight, Leonardo. What has the rat been feeding you?”

Has he lost weight? Leo supposes he has been picking at his food a little lately, stomach twisted with bad thoughts and the occasional bout of nerves that can come with family meals these days. He does get a little worried about eating too much, taking up too much space, disturbing the fragile equilibrium he has with his family.

Whatever the reason, Splinter doesn’t have anything to do with it, but Saki’s eyes darken anyway. “That filthy beast doesn’t know how to treat beautiful things.”

Don’t call me that,

Leo wants to scream. He’s not a thing and he—he’s not beautiful. He doesn’t

want

to be beautiful; not Saki’s idea of beauty, at least. 

A knife whistles over Saki’s head. He ducks almost casually and continues to lean over Leo, pinning him with his body, with his eyes. Saki’s knee rubs between his thighs and Leo’s legs twitch feebly in an effort to close.

“Kitsune misses you,” Saki says. Leo stiffens at the name, the memory of digging claws and fur against his scales. “We both  miss you.”

Leo swears he can feel Saki’s breath through the mask, warm and hungry. Or maybe it’s just a trick of imagination and memory, the same way the stone at his back isn’t actually giving under him like a mattress.

How much time has passed? Leo wonders distantly. They can’t have been standing for more than two or three minutes, but it feels like they’ve been together for centuries.

“They’re not good to you, Leonardo,” Saki says. “You don’t fit in with them anymore, if you ever did. There’s no going back.”

A lie, a lie, a lie. But Leo thinks of Donnie’s wide eyes, and just considering the possibility of Saki being right is terrifying enough to freeze his blood on its own.

“I can give you another chance, Leonardo,” Saki says. The hand on Leo’s waist comes up to rest on his shoulder. It’s warm, almost fatherly, a sickening contrast to the knee now carefully rubbing at his crotch. “Come home with me now and I will let you prove your loyalty. There will be people who love you again.”

My brothers love me. My father, my family, love me.

Leo grabs for the images of their faces, holds on to them against the building scream in his head.  He can hear a frightened voice begging him to obey before his Master gets really mad, but he manages a small, stiff shake no. Saki’s eyes crinkle again, soft and indulgent. 

He can hear a frightened voice begging him to obey before his Master gets really mad, but he manages a small, stiff head shake. Saki’s eyes crinkle again, soft and indulgent.

“Try to deny it all you want, child, I know exactly who you are and what you need.” He reaches up and pulls down his mask, exposing a face Leo knows better than his own. “Let me help you remember.”

Saki takes Leo’s chin in two fingers and tilts his head up. Leo watches from a distance as the man bends to kiss the turtle, their lips drawing closer, almost touching—

“Get the fuck away from him!”

Something hits Leo and sends him flying, palms skidding across the rooftop. The sound snaps back on, the screams and shouts of battle so loudly he suddenly wants to cover his ears. His fingers twitch as life returns to them, adrenaline finally showing up in time to burn the paralysis away.

Leo lurches awkwardly to his feet, but Mikey’s already standing, He’s put himself between Leo and Saki, nunchucks a deadly blur around his head.

“Get away from my brother, you creep,” he snarls. His voice is older and more vicious than Leo has ever heard it.

Over Mikey’s shoulder Leo can see Raph and Donnie standing back-to-back, fighting a crowd of Foot Soldiers. A significant chunk of the enemy is already sprawled on the ground and Leo feels a fierce burst of pride that his family has fought so well, coupled with shame for not being with them when he was needed most.

He looks back to Saki, standing up from where Mikey knocked him over. His gaze skips over Mikey–cold, dismissive–to land on Leo.

“Leonardo,” he says. Calm. Expectant.

Anger finally snaps through him, the world turning sharp and clear. Leo drops a sword, grabs a knife, and throws it, grabbing his sword again before the blade hits the ground. Saki jerks his head to the side, but it’s slow, caught off guard, and the blade slices across his cheek, reopening the old scar.

He lets out a pained snarl and the other Foot soldiers pause for a heartbeat, caught off guard by the sound of their indomitable leader being injured. It’s enough of an opportunity for Raph and Donnie to knock them down and sprint over to Mikey and Leo. Donnie throws a smoke bomb at Saki as he runs, leaving him to stagger and gasp.

“Come on!” Mikey yells, tugging Leo’s hand. He turns and they leap over the roof's edge, skittering down to the street below. Donnie flips a manhole open as he lands and then they’re landing in the safe, dark embrace of the sewers, dashing away down the tunnels.

Eventually they come crashing to a stop, panting greedily for air. Leo’s brothers are all scraped and bruised from the vicious battle, bloodied in a dozen different places. Leo…isn’t, and as they all turn to look at him, he’s suddenly much more aware of that fact.

“What the hell was that,” Raph snarls, and Leo knows exactly what he’s talking about.

“I–-” He swallows, takes a deep breath. His voice comes out harsh and raspy; it takes a minute for him to coax his voice back up from where it’s hiding. “I saw him. Saki, he…he was disguised as a Foot soldier again. It was the Shredder.”

Saying the name makes it all hit him like a gut punch–what happened tonight, what’s been done to him, what  he’s  done. Leo drops to his knees and throws up, vomit burning through his throat to vanish into the dark sewer water.

#tmnt #angstpril2022 #angstpril #tmnt idw #tmnt comics #idw comics #freeze response #teenage mutant ninja turtles #leonardo #leo #tw past noncon #tw past csa #oroku saki #shredder #tw manipulation #tw violence #tw trauma #tw victim blaming #internalized victim blaming #tw past abuse #tw noncon #nonconsensual touching #michelangelo #mikey #donatello #donnie #raph #raphael #caught off guard #the foot clan

[truly-morgan]

Fandom: Original Work Rating: Not Rated Characters: Original Characters Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Amputation Mentioned, Frenemies, Demons, Detectives, mobster, Suicide Attempt, forced injection, Past Child Abuse, past sexual abuse on teenager, Assassins & Hitmen, Slice of Life, Healing Character, Fluff and Humor Chapters: 17/?

Summary:

“A collection of one-shot made around my own original characters. Summaries of stories one page 1. I know ao3 folks don't really read original stuff, but I still wanted to try and post it here anyway ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. Hope you enjoy my characters.

  [please do read the trigger warning at the beginning of the stories, some have them]”

#fanfiction #fiction #original writing #original character #my ocs #soulmate au #soulmark au #tw in chapters #tw sui ideation #tw sui implied #tw past abuse #tw past noncon #please just check out the trigger warnings on each chapters

[meguwumibear]

wc 2.3k and contains: noncon, knotting, piv sex, alpha!megumi, human!reader, yandere themes, written with a female reader in mind, baby's like second time writing smut, i think that’s everything but always happy to add or tag new warnings if i missed anything

On a dark winter night, you come to him, lost and oh so terribly alone. The Japanese Alps are a common place for hikers to traipse. Always have been. Many come to make pilgrimage to the Buddhist temple that sits atop the holy Mount Tate. Others come to extract raw goods. They mine the minerals from the mountains and hunt the wildlife for sport and game. The discovery of a wolf pack nestled deep within its mountain ranges only served to alter common tourist paths, not deter travelers from them completely.

 You are not like the usual adventurers. You are a small and fragile thing, even if you seem to think otherwise. Even if you think you are big and tough and strong, you are not. He will prove this to you time and time again with his own muscles and teeth and claws.

Human flesh bruises so easily, tears at the slightest bit of pressure. He has to remind himself to mind his teeth when he sinks his incisors into the thin skin of your neck. You have not learned what it means to submit yet, so he presses your cheek to the grass for you. He grants himself the access he needs to bite.

He does not mean to claim you. There are betas back at the compound that he can fuck, omegas for him to mate. Seasoned and well trained wolves that understand their place and their role in a pack. Beasts that will drop to all fours and present themselves to him, head down, ass up, back arched.

You are not the first human he meets. You’re not even the first human he knots. His pack keeps several on reserve at the compound. They exist to help their alphas through their ruts and their omegas through their heats. And they expertly execute their assigned duties. Defiance has been taken from them. With a bit of punishment and reinforcement, they learn.

The assimilation of humans into packs was necessary. Because wolves can’t bond with humans. Not really. Not the way they can another wolf. Humans don’t have scent glands for wolves to puncture and no amount of chewing or gnawing or knotting would change that.

Which means that your sent will remain your own, even once it starts to mingle with his, no matter how many times he sinks his teeth into you. His mark and claim will never take completely. It will never be skin deep. You will never fully be his. His bond with you is surface level. All evidence of it will fade if he doesn’t consistently trap you beneath his jaws. And you are oh so very stubborn.

The first time he takes you is the hardest. He does what he can to prep you for him, but your submission does not come easily. You fight against him and your nature. You thrash and wiggle beneath him, beating your fists into the ground, clawing earnestly at the loose bits of dirt. All of your squirming nurtures his prey instinct, but he fights against it as best he can. Part of him wants to release you to revel in a true chase. Instead, he presses your writhing form to the ground with his chest as he rids you of your clothes.

He does what he can to sooth you. Cards his fingers through your hair, strokes gently down your arms. The humans back at the compound seem to enjoy when he tends to them this way. It helps them relax. With a few simple caresses and a bit of patience, a human will submit to their alpha. It’s only natural after all.

Pack humans understand what’s in their nature. You do not.

Megumi’s never had to break a human in before. He’s always just enjoyed the fruits of the other wolves’ labor. He thinks he’d like to train you, to teach you to bare your neck, to reward your obedience and punish your defiance. If you were an omega, he’d press your nose against his neck and let you breathe in his calming scent. His pheromones would make you soft and pliant, eager to take his knot.

Omegas may be easier, but Megumi knows how and where to touch a woman. He’s had plenty of practices with the humans back home. He ghosts his fingers gently between your folds, rubs tiny circles into your clit, and soon enough you’re dripping for him.

“It’s okay,” he coos. He can smell your fear. Ripe and rotten like spoiled fruit. You won’t be able to handle him in this state. He needs to placate you further. “It’s natural to like this. You’re wired to. All humans are. You can’t help it.”

When your protests don’t end, he continues.

“Doesn’t this feel good?” he asks as he sinks a single finger inside your hot, slick core. It slips in easily, despite your thrashing. He has your belly pressed against the damp grass to limit your wriggling. His own bare chest is flush against your back. Weight, he’s learned can be comforting to an anxious human; they have a unconscious, unspoken need to be swaddled. “Don’t you want to be bred? Don’t you want to me mine?”

You have just enough strength left in you to whimper out a strained no. To curse him out. He lets you struggle beneath him, chuckling quietly to himself as you tire yourself out pushing against the forest floor, clawing away at the cold soil. The underbrush shifts around you as you stamp yourself into the foliage. Saplings will sprout here in a few weeks, their roots nurtured by your tears.

Patience is a virtue, and time is on his side. He can afford to wait out this tantrum of yours.

When your movements begin to slow, he lines himself up with your entrance. It isn’t ideal; he’d like to slip in another finger and test the give of your walls, but you aren’t making things easy for him, and his dick is so fucking swollen with blood and need if he doesn't fuck you soon he might knot from heavy petting.

“This is where you belong. Under an alpha. Under me.” His breath is hot against the shell of your ear. It’s what you try to focus on as he slowly sinks his tip inside you, stretching you open on the fattened head of his cock. You’re wet from his ministrations, but not enough to completely sooth the ache of taking an alpha’s cock.

Two juxtaposing groans fill the air. His satisfied and pleased. Yours distressed and pained.

He noses at your neck to take in your scent as he rocks his tip softly in and out of you, hoping his restraint will relax you. It was your scent that sealed your fate. Under the fading trace of your fragrant deodorant: you. Nicer than any of the humans he has back at the compound. Nicer than any of the omegas too. You don’t understand the importance of this, but he knows this means you’re compatible. This means you were created for him.

He wants to take his time with you. He really truly does. But he can’t help but think that the anticipation of taking his knot is partly, if not completely, responsible for your nervousness. Would it not be kinder then, to simply get the initial breech over with?

You scream as he buries himself inside of you. He does it quickly, presses his entire length into you all at once, cooing at you as he slides in. Your walls tighten in protest, doing what they can to force him out. Your scent is pungent and panicked, even when his movements cease. He’s never smelled anything like it before. The pack humans always smell so sweet like honey and sunshine and home. You are poison on his tongue.

Eventually, your pussy begins to adjust to his girth, loosening its hold on his cock. He resumes his thrusting then, slow and gentle like a human might. Salty tears streak down your cheeks as you sob so violently your entire body shakes. The humans at the compound enjoy when he talks them through this. He tries to do that for you now.

“Shh, shh, I know. It’s okay. You’re taking me so well.”

His placation is met with a grunt of protest. Nothing he can’t fuck out of you.

“Don’t fight it,” he says as his fingers find their way back to your clit. He strokes the swollen nub a few times encouragingly, reveling in the way your walls begin to clench around him. “I’m gonna take such good care of you. You’ll want for nothing. I’m-SHIT,” he can feel his resolve crumbling as your pussy milks him, “fuck-I’m gonna make you cum.”

The thought of him forcing and orgasm out of you spikes your adrenaline again. The arm he has wrapped firmly around your belly prevents you from crawling out from under him, but damn do you put up a fight.

He licks soothingly at your neck—where your scent glad would be if you were an omega. Your sweat is sour and bitter. The fact that he’s been unable to earn your submission makes his stomach drop. He is an alpha. He’s supposed to take care of his pack. That includes you now, even if you haven’t fully accepted it yet.

“M-UGH-my name’s Megumi,” he says. “You can call me that if you’d like. My packs not too far from here. I’ll take you there when we’re finished here. Help you build a nest.”

Humans are supposed to be introduced to pack concepts slowly, but there’s no sense in holding anything back from you now. Not while he can feel the beginnings of his knot catching on your entrance with each new stroke.

“Ever taken a knot before?” he asks. City wolves aren’t common, but they do exist. It’s possible you’ve met and fucked one.

He doesn’t expect a response but you’re shaking your head no. Your responsiveness is a good sign. It shows a willingness to please.

To reward you, he slows his movements and stops swiping at your clit. It stalls his own impending climax, but it’s worth it if he can get you to truly submit.

“You’ll like it,” he promises, burying his nose in the crook of your neck again; he can't get enough of your scent, bitter as it may be. “You’ll see. You’ll learn. You don’t belong with humans. You belong here, beneath me, naked and neck bared. Nothing will feel more right to you than your submission. I promise.”

He kisses what skin he can reach. Your right cheek, then the left, the tip of your forehead, each straining shoulder blade. It’s a human courting tradition, not a wolf one, but the familiarity of it seems to have a calming effect on you. He presses another kiss to your neck before biting gently at your ear with his teeth.

And, there it is. Quiet but audible to his wolf ears. A moan. Not in protest. But in pleasure.

“You like that?” he hums working your earlobe between his teeth again. Your pussy flutters sweetly around him as he licks a stripe up the shell of it. He wonders if any human has ever touched you like this before. They can be so prudish about spit and sweat.

While you’re distracted by his kisses, he picks up the pace of his thrusts, drilling into you with purpose, hips smacking loudly against your ass. It takes him a few strokes to hit the right spot inside you, but he feels your whole body tense once he does.

“That’s it,” he coos. You’re close. He can feel it. At the rate he’s going, it won’t take long for you to cum. He presses his thumb more firmly to your clit and rubs small, soothing circles into it. You’re overly sensitive, even without cumming, so he keeps the circles slow yet steady.

“M-Megumi,” you whine, the sound like honey, thick and sweet. There’s still some resistance in you. Some fear too. But he’s starting to sense something else, something close to genuine arousal.

He sniffs at your skin again, assessing, and is pleased to discover that your scent is changing. Still a bit sour but the sharpness of it is fading. You’re starting to smell like the woods around you. You’re starting to smell like him.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You’re doing so, so well for me. Taking me like you were made for me.”

He’s panting now, fighting tooth and nail to prevent himself from knotting until he’s gotten at least one orgasm out of you. As your fear ebbs, you become more responsive to his touch. You arch your back, allowing him to slip even deeper inside you. Your hips are moving now too, grinding against his fingers as he coaxes your orgasm out of you.

You cum with a harsh cry, spasming so intensely around him that his own release finds him before he’s able to completely fuck you through yours. His mind goes blank as he forces his knot into your tight, untrained hole. Hot, sticky cum floods your pussy and is held there by his swollen cockhead.

Alpha cum is laced with calming pheromones, but they seem to have little to no effect on you. His knot will be in you for at least the next half hour, so Megumi does what he can to calm your buzzing nerves.

“Did so well for me,” he mumbles into the top of your head. “Took my knot so well. It’ll be easier next time. Promise. Promise.”

It takes some time, but your shaking eventually subsides to brief, light tremors. He plays with your hair as you come down from your orgasm. At some point during the aftermath, he swears he feels you inch closer to him for comfort.

When he’s soft enough to pull out without hurting you, he does. Your cunt flutters around him as he slips out, almost as if it misses his thickness. You whimper a bit as he starts to rouse you, fight leaking from you like his spend does your pussy.

It doesn’t look like you can walk so he scoops you up into his arms. You curl instinctually into him, burying your face into his chest.

“Where we going?” you ask, voice muffled by his hulking form.

He smiles as he replies.

“Home.”

#phew she's finished !! #spent the past week reading a/b/o aus #this is the result #megumi fushiguro x reader #megumi fushiguro x you #fushiguro megumi x reader #fushiguro megumi x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jjk fic #jujutsu kaisen fic #megumi fushiguro fic #tw a/b/o #tw abo #tw noncon

[lilacxquartz]

Those Late Summer Nights | Chapter 5

Satoru Gojo × Fem!Reader × Suguru Geto

This is a dark yandere fic that features upsetting themes and it is canon divergent. Updated every Wednesday.

ABOUT: You moved to Tokyo over the summer to take a teaching job. As you get settled in, you find yourself entangled in a toxic dynamic.

CHAPTER SUMMARY: Something about that platonic event didn’t feel so platonic to Suguru and now he has feelings that he can’t ignore.

TRIGGER WARNING: Suguru continues to do things he shouldn’t. (Non-con unaware touching/asleep reader.)

Previous Chapter.

5. Touch.

You stayed in your bedroom just staring at the door, trying to level yourself in bed. Your vision was still slightly zigzagging, swaying from the drinks that you had prior as you were still discovering your limit. Thankfully, you didn’t drink enough to embarrass yourself in an event full of strangers, but unfortunately enough to cloud your judgement about certain things.

You could ignore some red flags for one, knowing fully well that you should have turned Suguru away from sleeping over when he crossed a pretty hefty boundary with you.

But he wasn’t trying anything, at least not yet. You continued to stare at the door, expecting him to come knock and try to forge some type of excuse to get into your bed, he never did. It was by then that you decided that it was a good time to go and brush your teeth.

You had some type of lingering feeling that he might have just been waiting for you to leave the room to make his move but by that point, you shook it off as being a little too paranoid. If he was quiet for the last hour or so, then surely he was asleep by now? Or at least you hoped.

A part of you tried to convince yourself to just skip washing up for tonight, but you didn’t like how the red wine clung to your teeth, making your mouth feel chalky and dry.

You stared at the door again that separated the two of you, convincing yourself that it was all actually fine. There was a lock on your room door and as long as you continued to drill in boundaries, then maybe he could forget about trying to be that type of friend with you.

It did leave you wondering if you accidentally led him on or something—but after a moment of consideration, you didn’t quite think so…?

Did he act so strange because he had something to drink at his family reunion? You tried to think back as your brain fogged; exhaustion and intoxication clouding your memory. No. You recalled that he did something similar on the way there too so it was more as though as he picked up where he left off on the way back.

You liked to think that you weren’t that oblivious when it came to those sorts of things. You understood fully well that sort of touch was far from being friendly and you should have scolded him at the time, but you didn’t. As a result, it left you feeling a little paranoid, wondering if something like this would be doomed to happen again.

Shoko was at least comfortable around him, though. Satoru as well. So maybe he was actually very calm and laid back and not as intense as he was making himself out—but that just left an even worse taste in your mouth.

It left you wondering if you were getting to know him in a different light and that made you feel uncomfortable.

After all, his reassurance that he ‘won’t do anything weird’ did very little to soothe you, but if you had to go back on your own claim to non-naïvety, then you still wanted to cling to something familiar, you still wanted to keep your friend even if what he did was wrong.

Was that contradictory of you?

Then again, it was just a one time thing, at least that’s what you kept telling yourself. He stopped himself when you told him to. Maybe now that he knew you didn’t want him back that way, that he would back off.

You battled such thoughts for a while, wondering just how far you were willing to go to hold onto a semblance of normalcy in your life. It was only just now after a lifetime of utter loneliness on your end that you were finally a part of something and you didn’t want to go of it too fast, too soon.

So for now at least, you were willing to continue keep wearing those rose tinted goggles.

As you continued to shake off those remaining festering feelings of uncertainty and doubt, you finally got out of bed and changed into your sleep clothes, still sporting that oversized t-shirt that Shoko insisted that you could keep along with some sweat shorts you brought in from home.

The accommodation halls by default weren’t fully pitch black to begin with, so you wouldn’t be bothering him by passing through. A low warm light illuminated the premises as it was usually students who lived here. As such, you could comfortably go back and forth without needing to rely on your phone to lead the way or by turning on the big light.

Suguru laid on the sofa in the meantime, feeling thankful that you didn’t spot him with his eyes half open as you passed him by. The lighting was dim enough that everything blended together and such things weren’t as easily noticed.

He watched as you walked right past him in complete silence, his eyes drawn to the way you walked as his hand continued to rest inside of his trousers; hidden away by the blanket that covered him.

He kept quiet during that time, not daring to say anything to you. In fact, he wanted for you to think that he was fast asleep, to not worry you for a moment longer.

So when you reached the bathroom without as much as a single peep, he knew that he got away with something he shouldn’t have once again.

You didn’t even think twice about anything that was actually going on as you lazily splashed water on your face and brushed your teeth.

Nor did you notice how his eyes continued to follow you back again as you walked by him a second time, feigning a cycle of controlled breathing into fooling you that he was actually asleep.

He just didn’t want you to be afraid of him, that was all. To lull you into a false comfort and security that yes, you could trust him—that yes, he would behave.

Suguru continued to lay there in silence as he lazily stroked himself, feeling a touch frustrated as you once again disappeared back into your room, hearing the click of the door locking. He decided earlier on that he wasn’t going to do anything, battling internally with himself, telling himself that keeping your friendship was more important especially when you seemed so sweet and kind.

But just that thought of you in the passenger seat, basking in the golden hour glow as it hit your body just right aroused thoughts he knew he shouldn’t be having. You looked so good, so tempting, his exact type—and it was just enough to awaken something else in him, a feeling that he didn’t know he had.

He sat up after a moment, motivated by some type of revelation, gulping down any sense of shame that otherwise held him back before. He lived here before on and off as a student, so he exactly how the house settled at night and where to step so that it sounded like regular creaking. He knew how to open up the doors to the dormitories even if they were locked from the inside too; just a little trick he picked up from sneaking out so often as a teen.

Conveniently enough for him, you were fast asleep by the time he let his curiosity get the best of him as he pushed the door open to where you slept. His eyes glossed over your body, spread out on the bed with nothing but a thin blanket covering you up.

He took a deep breath as he stared at you; the moonlight spilling inside from the window as your body bathed in an alluring light—cold blue beams illuminating your skin, casting a spell on him that prevented him from looking away, daring him to finish off what he started off in the car.

It was simple enough in his mind.

All he needed was to finish sampling a curiosity, that was all and then he wouldn’t bother you anymore.

Suguru then moved towards you, his footsteps slow and intentional as he tested the waters to see just how light or heavy of a sleeper you actually were.

His hand brushed against your thigh as he slipped beneath the blanket, resisting a more indulgent squeeze against your supple flesh that tempted him even further.

He didn’t go beyond your inner thighs, resisting a feel of your warmth, feeling a certain pull of radiating heat as he continued to explore—instead he bit his lip as he convinced himself to back off, at least for now.

He slipped his palms off to the sides of your thighs instead, feeling the pillowy skin that filled out your shorts. That alone was enough to settle a curiosity without crossing a major line, at least in his mind. Had you been aware though, then it would have been different.

To his continued comfort, he now determined that you were a heavy sleeper indeed, but he still decided that he wouldn’t go too far with you because he felt that it was wrong to do so, even if he was already doing it.

For now, he at least slipped his hands out of your shorts and played it all a little safer as his sights now settled onto your chest. He couldn’t end the night without a feel of it, of course. Instead of going too far this time though, he kept his hands over the fabric of your top; feeling your nipples poke through soft cotton as the blood in his body rushed elsewhere.

By that point, you began to stir a little prompting for him to quickly withdraw as his entire body froze. A subtle guilt flowed through him as he was likely about to be caught but as you settled into somehow even further sleep, that guilt then subsided and washed away.

He was still going to keep himself in check though, just for you.

As you turned around to your side, your body now faced him as he knelt on the floor. He kept his breathing low as a conflicting thought invaded his mind, not fully understanding why he couldn’t completely stay away from you.

Tempting a final move, he allowed himself to give into one last impulse before he would finally force himself to back away. It was surely risky though, but he couldn’t help but wonder how you smelled as he slowly lowered his face into the crook of your neck, feeling admittedly a little creepy as he did so—his own resolve spiralling as he surrendered to something intrusive.

But in doing so, he did conclude one thing: he liked the smell of you.

He liked you.

He sighed a big deep breath as he finally, albeit reluctantly pulled himself back and completely removed himself from your room, tinkering with the door outside to lock it back up again, erasing any suspicion from you when morning would come around.

He knew that he wasn’t going to just stop there though, already fully well understanding that you were going to get him into deep shit.

But he also simply did not care.

Maybe he wanted to get in trouble.

***

When the morning finally arrived, you felt a little tired. At least more so than usual as if you got a poor night’s sleep. You blamed it on both the stuffy room as well as the alcohol, but also the slight discomfort from yesterday.

Hopefully now that you both had slept it on it, you could bury that strange interaction in the past between the two of you forever.

Luckily for Suguru also, you didn’t seem to suspect a single thing otherwise. As far as you knew, you spent the night completely alone.

Untouched and unaware.

(But he knew.)

You took the dress that you wore last night and brought it over to the common area, folding it and placing it on the counter. You had the intention of washing it and then returning it to Shoko later on in the day.

Suguru seemed to be awake as well, looking freshly showered as he exited one of the rooms. His face was a little red as damp strands of his black hair stuck to his skin.

You stared at him for a moment, trying to remember if there were any communal showers in the halls. As far as you understood, the rooms were shared with an en-suite.

“I, uh, went to sleep in my old room,” Suguru said as he finally broke the silence, feeling a little called out from the accusatory stare, “I mean, I used to live here back in the day, so it felt right to just use my old room.”

“Right…” you replied as you nodded along, taking note that he was back to talking like his usual self and feeling thankful that he was doing so.

You decided that you were perfectly fine with erasing that encounter from the back of your mind as long as it was never brought up again—even if it did cross a major boundary.

Some small details did bother you though, even if they were subtle.

For one, all of the rooms in the accommodation were locked individually… so how did he get into his old room exactly? Also, didn’t he fall asleep on the sofa before? Was he not asleep when you went to go brush your teeth…?

“So… more laundry?” he asked you as he pulled you away from your troubled thoughts. His eyes were pointed on the dress on the counter, doing his best to shake off all of the thoughts he had of you wearing it again, even if the images were already burnt into his memory.

“Yeah, I mean… I thought I might as well return it to Shoko, she’s probably missing it,” you replied.

“I can do it otherwise,” he offered without skipping a beat, having a certain idea enter his mind—the scent of you must have been absorbed into the fabric by now, “it’s my own laundry day, I mean. Most of my clothes are dark anyway, so…”

“Oh. Yeah, I-I guess in that case, that could work,” you stammered, nodding along as you didn’t think anything strange about it.

“I’ll even take it back to her, so don’t worry about a thing,” he added.

A silence then brewed again after you nodded yet again but didn’t reply. This particular moment of mutual silence didn’t feel as awkward as before at least not like how it was yesterday, but there was something about it that felt less forgiving, as if a collective tension brewed.

It felt dangerous, almost.

“Right, well,” he said after a good while, softening his voice as he took a couple of steps to grab the dress, “uh, thanks for, going with me yesterday, you didn’t actually have to, but you did and I appreciate it.

Before you could respond with anything however, he was already halfway out of the door.

“Don’t mention it,” you quietly said to yourself instead, the door now closed as you were left alone.

Your eyes narrowed as you couldn’t help but feel something strange linger in the air, even with his presence now gone. Despite him no longer being there, that gnawing feeling of danger and even uncertainty persisted but you weren’t sure what was causing it exactly.

Was there something off about him today?

You couldn’t quite tell.

Next Chapter.

#yandere x reader #yandere jjk #dark fanfiction #yandere suguru geto #suguru geto x you #suguru geto x reader #getou suguru x you #getou suguru x reader #satoru gojo #yandere satoru gojo #jjk satoru #yandere x female reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere fantasy #dead dove fic #dead dove do not eat #fanfic #dark fic #jjk dark content #jjk yandere #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo x you #yandere fanfiction #yandere #reader insert #tw noncon #no beta read i read this back and scream at past mistakes

[befuddled-calico-whump]

(remaining panels under the cut for gore + implied noncon)

Test Track AU (T$$ AU Masterlist)

previous /// next (cw: injection)

(suggested by anon! not adding the tag list to this one just in case)

#🥺🥺 #future emotional recovery is getting rougher by the day #t$$ sahota #t$$ test track au #i don't add the tag list to the heavy gore ones because I'm pretty sure it just jumps you straight to the post #past the cut #and with writing that's fine cause you can read the warnings first but it's harder with art ahaha #tw noncon #implied noncon #implied nudity #gore #whump art #torture #impaled #stabbed #blood #stress position #whumpy art

[lovelyrots]

Forced Matrimony

Ch. 10 - Just a Little Change

Series Masterlist

Content Warnings - beginnings of Stockholm syndrome set in but it’s not super noticeable (maybe?), references past noncon, angst

The shrill ringing of Izuku’s phone jolts you from your sleep as he fumbles for the device, all while buried under the mess of blankets and sheets. You feebly protest as he forces you to sit up with him as he answers it.

“Yeah?” He yawns and rests his head on top of yours with one arm keeping you pressed up against his chest. “Sure, I can be there early again. Just have one of the sidekicks patrol the north side until I get in, I’ll be there in about thirty minutes.” He hangs up and groans as he curls his body around your own, childishly pouting and muttering something about wanting to ‘sleep in’.

“Sorry, Bunny, I was going to make you breakfast but it looks like I won't be able to. I’ll pick up something special for dessert to make it up to you.” He murmurs and presses a quick kiss to your temple before reluctantly letting you go and getting dressed.

You’re quick to fling yourself to your often neglected side of the bed and burrow under the covers, covering every inch of your body with the bedding and away from his prying eyes and touch. “If you’re that cold, you can turn the heat up. I’ll be back before it gets dark. Love you!” He murmurs against the bedding as he tries to press a kiss to your head, while the only thing penetrating the cotton is his cologne; minty with a dash of pine and juniper.

You listen to his receding footsteps trailing through the house until the sound of the door shutting and the locks whirring into place sound through the empty home.

“Finally…some peace and alone time.” You mutter as you start to relax, tense muscles loosening as your jaw unclenches. Your eyes close for mere seconds before you kick off the covers and look around, while something feels off to you.

Wrapping the duvet around your shoulders, you head down to the living room and plop onto the couch as you turn the tv on. Sinking into the plush furniture as the strange feeling ebbs away with help from the tv, though just minutes later you’re sighing and fidgeting as that feeling comes back stronger and the noise from the tv fades into the background of your mind.

“Maybe I’m just bored.” You mutter and reluctantly leave the warmth of the blanket to pad your way into the kitchen. Looking through the pantry and fridge, half out of boredom and half out of a need to do something, you settle for some grapes and half-heartedly carry the bowl back to the couch and settle in just as another rerun of Undercover Hero starts.

“Ooh, this is the Cementoss one again.”

Today was just another day spent alone with horribly staged reality shows and filling the strange void growing within with sleeping and snacking.

You felt so warm. Not in a bad or worrying way, but in an almost comforting way. It was nice, like being wrapped up in blankets after being out in the snow all day. It felt like…home. It almost reminded you of your childhood, the warmth, and safety you’d felt, the way your mother’s arms would envelop you and make you feel so protected as a small child in a world so big.

It’s no surprise that you chase that warmth as you feel it start to move away, sleepily seeking it out and tugging it as close as you can. “So…warm.” You mumble out and nearly slip back into sleep, feeling that warmth slowly encompass you once again. “Such a sleepy bunny.” Someone murmurs and sends shivers down your spine.

“My perfect, sleepy, bunny.” A large hand gently rubs your back while pulling you closer to the source of warmth, pleasant tingles shooting through your body all the while. You groan and blearily flutter your eyes open, a wall of faded scars and tanned skin meeting your sight. “Hm?” You hum and blink away the fragments of sleep clinging to you before you register who is holding you and attempt to throw yourself off of him. “Let me go!” You shove against Izuku’s bare chest, which is like hitting a brick wall honestly, but he just sighs and wraps his arms around you tight enough to keep you from moving at all.

“Just seconds ago you weren’t willing to let me go, now you’re hitting me and yelling? Are you upset about something?” He tilts his head as his hands slowly trail down from your back to your bruised ass. “You know exactly why I’d be ‘upset’ you fucking bas-“

SMACK

A yelp leaves your lips as he gives you another painful slap. “Consider that your warning: it’s late and I know you don’t want a repeat of your first night back…right?” He lets you up enough to force you to look into his viridian eyes, waiting for you to submit and wilt under his threat. You bite your lip and shake your head, slowly exhaling as he relaxes his hold on you. “All I’m going to do, as long as you behave, is hold you for a bit in bed. If I do anything more, then I’ll let you sleep in the guest room by yourself.” He whispers in tense silence, hands trailing back up your spine to gently rub your back and keep you pressed to his chest.

The two of you remain quiet, both for different reasons. While he was content and peaceful, you were filled with fear and mounting anxiety with each minor movement from your supposed soulmate.

“What will it take? To give me, give us, a real chance?” His hands stop moving as he moves your body to lay next to him, chest to chest and face to face. You flinch and close your eyes on instinct as his hand comes up to hold your cheek, forcing a hurt exhale out of him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, never. You know that, right?” He pleads, almost desperately, and finally relaxes his hold on you enough to let you shuffle away from him. “No, I don’t know that. Because you’ve done nothing but hurt me.” You huff out once you’ve scooted to the edge of the expansive bed.

“Not because I wanted to!” That causes you to flinch and curl in on yourself, with eyes clenched shut in preparation for him to lash out or grab you. “I only wanted you to love me…I fell in love with you that very first night we met. As soon as I saw your eyes, I knew.” He whispers and clenches the white bedding in his hand as he finally looks away from your fearful face.

He sighs and slowly rises from the bed, moving to the door slow enough that you’d think there was a wild animal in the room that he was trying not to spook…

Oh. He was doing it for you, wasn’t he?

You were the wild animal, easily spooked by movements too quick or gestures too friendly - like that facsimile of the hero’s trademark grin that always sends cold tendrils of fear down your spine whenever he approaches you.

“Dinner will be ready in a bit, just come down whenever you get hungry.” He looks over his shoulder at you and lingers in the doorway before disappearing down the hall and out of sight.

You don’t know how long you sat there, still as a statue, but it wasn’t until you heard him banging around in another room down the hall that you finally moved from your edge of the bed. Creeping down the hall, as quiet as you could be, you peek into the only room lit up in bright lights and spot Izuku going through box after box of stuff.

Plethoras of notebooks, framed pictures of him and other current heroes, and countless hero collectibles (most being All-Might) were delicately brought out of their cardboard prisons and placed onto the shelves lining the walls of the room. It seemed this would be his little office space. That meant this would be a room to avoid if it was going to be a room he’d frequently be in, that is.

You’re about to slink away when you see him slowly pull a red, blue, and yellow frame out from one of the last boxes and something makes you pause. Whether it’s the heavy weight in your stomach or the nearly pained half-smile on his face as he stares at the photo, you aren’t sure.

“You were right, mom. I finally found my soulmate…” you can barely hear him muttering and you find yourself pressing closer to the cracked door to better hear.

“She’s everything I dreamt of, and I went and fucked it all up. I don’t even know if she’ll ever give me a second chance, just to show that I actually care about her. I…I wish I could ask you what I should do, I miss you.” The shuffle of his steps and a quick look show him hunched over the desk in the corner as he organizes and moves things around to make room for a photo of a woman smiling at the camera with a much younger Izuku in her arms, the pair of them in All-Might onesies.

Your heart clenches as you connect the dots and try to hurry down the stairs to the kitchen. There was no way you’d allow yourself to feel bad for him. Even if there was a gnawing feeling in your gut as every careful step took you further from him.

#mha #bnha #x reader #tw swearing #tw stockholm syndrome #tw past noncon #tw angst #izuku x reader

[wordsbymae]

MINORS DNI

Title: The Viking

Pairing: Male OC x reader

TW: Violence, murder, generally bad things, implied non/con, no explicit smut but heavy Non/con groping!!, discussion of sexual slavery, mention of cannibalism, Christian elements but it is because I am and I am less afraid of stuffing up Christian stuff than other religions. If you are uncomfortable with any of that move on This man is not nice. Pet names: little mutt, little one and little lamb. Let me know if I missed anything let me know

ALPHABET HERE

Also, I tried to do Gn but as I am a woman, I automatically write with a female reader in mind. But!!!!! I have tried my very best to not mention gender. If something doesn't work please tell me. Reader discretion is advised! Also, I hope I don't need to say this but I will just in case, I do not condone these sorts of actions!!! Or any actions in any of my work. This is pure fiction. Also, all my OCs and the reader are over the age of 18+. and I'm not gonna add google translate because that takes forever and you guys won't even be able to read it so he conveniently speaks the same language as the reader.

Notes: Aaaaa! I have 21 followers! You guys are absolutely amazing! I never thought anyone would want to read my stuff let alone like and reblog. This doesn't take place in any place in particular, if anything I heavily rely on the climate of my home. I was though heavily influenced by Vikings and their nordic culture of that time, however, I had originally planned to make the oc a barbarian of sorts and not a Viking. But my inspiration dive into Pinterest left me with Vikings so here we are. I might write a nomadic barbarian fic later on cause I do see them as quite different in my mind but it depends where this goes, I usually write the notes and triggers before I start writing as a way of planning my thoughts so it might change halfway through.

Also the climatic event in the beginning, in my mind, is the cause of a volcanic eruption somewhere on earth, there was a year of just constant winter due to a massive eruption a few centuries ago and I wanted to include that and showcase how superstitious the people of this time were, seeing the winter as a foreshadowing of terror. And hell they were right.

Lots of love Mae xx

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It was far too early in the season for the cold winds to be here. Your father pretended to not be frightened but you could see it in his eyes. There was a fear lingering. You could hear your parents whispering in worry when they thought you were asleep. You could hear your mother sob as they discussed what it could mean. Your homeland was one of sun and thunder, but never frost, never snow. Yet, a chill had descended onto your lands. A frost had spread across the summer grass. Your bare feet crunched upon what should have been dried pasture, instead, they were chilled by a wicked frost. The sun that you would curse for its harsh warmth was now hidden behind constant grey clouds and you begged for it to return. The floods and storms you ragged against never came. No seasonal thunderstorms after the humidity of the day. There was just darkness. Travellers and merchants from far-off lands, journeying to the capital came through your village, speaking of the darkness that had spread. It seemed like no kingdom or empire was safe. The frost and darkness had come for all.

The first omen of their arrival was the frost itself. It seeped into everything and made the ground as solid as rock, the summer pastures shrivelled up and left nothing but dirt behind.

The second omen was the famine. The harvest failed and the livestock starved. Your father was forced to sell the heifers and cows and slaughter all calves and steers to provide for your family. Still, it wasn't enough. You heard gruesome tales of far-off villages butchering each other for scraps of meat from their bones. Your village was lucky, the sea still provided as much as it could.

The third omen was the dragons. Firey images in the night sky, leaving streaks of light hanging in the air. As soon as they appeared men cried out and women fell to their knees. It was a sign of a terror to come.

The final omen was a raven.

The skies had begun to clear and the winter rains had soothed the harsh scars left behind. Crops had been sown and the frost retreated in the face of the reappeared sun. You had all thought that the struggles of the last few months were over. Your father had been able to buy a cow with calf last week with money you made weaving baskets. She was a skinny thing even with the calf in her belly, but with the winter rain healing the land, you could see her regaining strength.

You had thought it was a crow when you first saw it. It did seem to be a bit bigger than the crows that waited patiently for your fish scraps by the pier. But you had never seen a raven before, so why think anything of it. It had flown in from the sea, flew over the village before fixing its gaze on your mother's garden. Your mother prized her garden, especially her roses, and had cried bitter tears when the frost killed the flowers, leaving thorny masses behind, but they had begun to regrow, leaving your families house surrounded by a beautiful arrangement of daisies and violas, butterfly pea flowers and lilacs. You had your favourites of course. In fact, you were picking them right now, happy to make a bouquet for your ancestors' burial place. As you were sitting and deciding which flowers to choose, the raven landed beside you, you watch in amazement as it plucked a flower from your hand and rose into the air and back towards the sea. Standing up with a giggle you chased after it in play until you reached your property's fence. You watched until it was nothing but a black dot in a sky of blue. If you had known what it had foreshadowed you would have wrung its neck.

They themselves came in the night.

They landed on the beaches and in silence drifted into town. Axes drawn and blood-hungry. The first death was the blacksmith. He was stumbling from the inn, stomach filled with ale. He saw them first, and let out a cry of warning, but it did not save him from a dagger sliding across his throat. The killer let out a howl. His comrades followed. The screams began.

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

You had lost sight of your mother in the smoke of the burning village. Fire ragged towards the heavens. The smell of charcoal and blood ravaged your senses. The yelling and screaming were just a constant now. Like how a bird song drifts into the background. You stood immobile calling for your mother, begging her to reveal herself. Out of habit, you called for your father, but you were harshly reminded that dead men can't answer. You watched as the savages ripped men to the ground and let blood flow. They hadn't noticed you yet it seemed. A lone wraith shaking in the centre of town. In the centre of all the murder and mayhem. For a moment you thought you were dead. That the arrow your father had taken for you had indeed struck you and now you were wandering the mortal realm alone and afraid until St Peter called for you.

Your eyes reached towards the heavens and you began to beg for the angels to pluck you from this horror. Your arms wrapped around yourself as tears flowed down your soot-covered cheeks. You were broken from your prayers when you heard your name being called, your mother perhaps? Your eyes rushed to find her. No, you can't see her. But it was enough to have you moving towards the darkness and away from the light of the fire. With your arms still holding you tight, you began to stumble towards the outskirts of town. Once in the fields outside town, you could hide. Wait till they grew bored of your village and left in their ships to torment another village. You were reminded of a time when you were fearful of the dark. But now it was your salvation. Tripping over your feet you struggled to remain standing, leaning on the walls of yet-to-be-destroyed houses and holding onto the rungs of fences. You kept rushing forward, eyes onto the safety of darkness. You were close, only a few more steps.

A beast emerged from the darkness. His face burned with the light of the fire, and his axe shined with delight. His furs were matted with blood and encompassed his shoulder. His arms were bare save for strips of leather circling them. There was blood on his arms and hands as well, dripping onto the handle of his axe and onto the dirt below. You stood still, hoping perhaps you were dead. That he would just pass by and you could remain nothing more but a spirit. If death was without pain you would prefer it to the horrors the beast in front of you was capable of. His face was marked with blood, lines travelling over his forehead and down through his eyes. His eyes flickered with hunger and his mouth was turned up into a grin. He stood feet wide as if he was ready to battle, but his hand was loose on the axe, allowing it to dangle from his palm. He saw no threat in you.

A strange mix of sounds came from his mouth, while his voice was rough and stern, his words were lyrical and filled with rounded sounds and quick sharp notes. It left you confused and almost enchanted, like a deer in the gaze of a hunter.

His voice stopped and his eyes drifted down and then up. He gave a deep laugh at the site of your cowering.

"Come little mutt, stand tall" he chuckled with amusement. You whimpered at the sight of him, a beast of a man denying your freedom. He began to march towards you his axe swinging in his hold. You try to take steps back but he is quicker. You yelp as he pushes you towards a wall, his thick forearm resting against your neck as he peers down at you. You could see the scars littering his face and could smell the stench of blood dominating his body. You could feel the warmth of the blood from his arm smearing all over your neck and chest. You hated to think whose blood it once was.

"Little mutt has no teeth huh? What about claws? hm?" he questioned, joy in your torment in his eyes.

"If I was to fuck you now would you fight me? Would you claw at me or bite at my fingers?" he laughed at your obvious fear. He brought his head down to your neck and sniffed loudly. You cringed as his nose met your skin.

"You smell sweet little mutt. I wonder if you taste just as good"

you struggled as his tongue run up your neck, tears tumbling down your cheeks.

"As sweet as honey!" he cheered. His forearm dug into your neck further as you struggled to escape. He began to shush you, giving out soothing sounds like you would a crying baby as his body stepped forward to meet yours.

" Please don't kill me" you choked, eyes red with fear.

"Never little one!" he bellowed, his face of mock hurt. "Why would I kill you? hm?" he comforted, releasing his arm if only by a fraction. "You will fetch me a high price at the slave markets, little lamb. Men will go mad trying to buy you for their beds" he grinned, showing off his sharp canine teeth. You struggled once more, this time clawing at his arm and chest.

"So the little mutt has claws! Maybe I will keep you for myself. Use you to warm my cock. Would you like that little one?" he teased, he moved his face closer, his tongue darting out to catch the tears on your cheek.

" Get off me" you grunted, desperately trying to remove his arm. he teased you by feigning pity.

"Poor little lamb, you must be so scared. Trapped by a beast like me" he cooed, pushing his arm further into your skin. You watched as his eyes drifted to your chest below his arm. He dropped the axe in his other hand to the ground, it falling flat with a light thud. He looked you in the eyes once more. You could see mischief in them.

"I am torn between keeping you for my bed slave and making a small fortune on another man's desires. Let me see your wares and then I shall decide" he sang, his grin reaching higher and higher with each word. You could only watch in horror as his hands reached for the front of your night smock and ripped it. You tried to grab his wrists but he was too strong. In a mere moment, your smock lay tattered on the ground and you stood bare in the night air. His eyes drank you in, and his hands drifted over your body. He gripped tightly in some places and softly in others. Blood from his hands was left smeared all over you, like rivers on a map. His eyes found yours once more and glee was evident on his face.

"I have decided little mutt. You shall warm my bed and most importantly me" he proclaimed, laughing at the end. "I am to be your master and you the little mutt at my heels. But first, let me dull those claws, hm?"

You stood arms covering yourself confused at his words. You had no claws to dull.

You gave a shriek as he began to drag you into the darkness. His hand was tight against your wrists. You tried to use your body weight to stop him, but it only ended with you falling to the ground and him dragging you through the dirt. You screamed and kicked, shouted and cried. He just laughed.

The dirt turned to soft grass as released you from his grip. You shot up to your bare feet, only to be thrown to the ground and a foot thrown on your stomach.

"I admire your fight little mutt, but as your master, I cannot in good conscious allow you to disrespect me. it would not be natural." he cooed at you, his hair falling into his eyes. You choked out a sob at the thought of what he planned to do. You were both far enough from the town your screams would not be heard and you were both hidden by lush pasture. You began to pray, your words drowning in sobs.

"Our father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy kin-"

"Enough!" shouted, falling onto his knees above you, a dagger glinting in his hand.

"Keep your God, fine, but do not expect kindness from me when you beg for his mercy" he sneered. You watched in terror as the dagger raced towards your head, only for it to land safely in the soil next to you.

"Now little lamb moan sweetly for me, will you?" he smiled, his grin one of filth. You lay there looking up at him in fear. "I said moan" he barked, his hand reaching for your throat. You gave him what he wanted, although it was tarnished by your terror.

"Like the music of the gods" he praised. He removed his hand from your throat and brought both to your knees, lifting them up and slotting himself in between them.

"Look at you little mutt, shaking and cowering in fear and yet I haven't even fucked you yet. You Christians are strange folk. If you knew of pleasure you would be moaning on my cock by now. You yourself would have begged for it. Begged for me to fuck your tight little hole on the ashes of your ho-" you slapped him with a furry. A rage releases from you, with you reaching for the dagger beside your head. His hand reached for yours first and punished it with his strength. He gave off a terrifying laugh as you were forced to drop the knife and he quickly threw it behind him.

"Maybe you aren't a little mutt but a little wolf instead. That fire in you will warm my cock and balls for years to come. But first, let me break you in"

You really did wish that arrow had found its mark in you.

#vikings #oc #gn!reader #viking oc #i noticed i write in past tense. I guess thats just my writing #i was going to tag yandere but it isnt #its just dark #viking x reader #oc viking x reader #dark fic #dark drabble #tw noncon

[dreamties]

there's nothing really wrong with me; i'm just choking almost constantly || Polyam! Ghostface x GN! Reader

title from Twinkle Lights by The Sonder Bombs

Reader is dealing with the aftermath of their sexual assault, to which they still haven't told Billy and Stu that it was even a thing that happened. After a particularly rough night, the boys comfort them.

1st person POV

TRIGGER WARNINGS: there is reference to past SA, but it's not too graphic. the reader talks about it and there's like, references about it through out the text- and I know it can be really traumatic for some to read it so PLEASE be careful and read at your own risk. panic attacks, nightmares, i believe that's it !! let me know if I need to add more warnings!!

I blink awake, filled with an erratic, heart-pounding panic. It takes a moment to realize where I am- home, in my bed, by myself. I'm not at the trailer and I can't feel his breath down my neck anymore. 

I let out a shaky breath and sit up slowly, trying not to shock my body anymore.

My body feels unstable and wrong as I walk through the house. My mind and body caught in a fuzzy sort of dream state. 

I dial Stu's phone number, because I know he'll ask less questions than Billy- and that's what I needed right now. Just a distraction.

I school my voice to properly fake that sort of "I'm fine, nothing bad has ever happened to me" tone.

I clear my throat. "Stuey? I know it's a little late, but-"

"Nah, it's okay, baby. Whaddya need?"

I laugh- of course Stu sounds so chipper, he was likely up looking at Play Boys or watching total torture porn (aka a load of trash). 

"Could you pick me up? It'd be nice to stay at your place tonight." 

I can practically hear him grin on the other line. "Ab-so-LUTE-ly!"

I kind of half-giggle and thank him. I pull on an extra-long hoodie and grab the handmade Michael Myers plush my friend gave me off my bed. I wait out on the front porch for him to arrive. 

I settle into Stu's bed, and he hurriedly puts his magazines and other items under his bed, careless to the minor scrumpling to his merchandise. 

“Hey baby,” he kisses the top of my head and I try not to shrink away too much when he does so. I know it’s Stu, I know I’m safe- I can still feel his touch around my body, his hands at my throat, though. It’s so hard not to think he’s there with me, in bed next to Stu and I.

I smile at him and let him turn his lamp off even if the darkness and the looming shadows in his room are wholly disorienting.

I can feel a light tickle against the shell of my ear, like someone is whispering, “I won't be able to stop myself.” I shake him off of me and turn to my other side.

Just leave me alone, please.

I probably toss in my sleep the whole night, but Stu doesn’t seem bothered when we wake in the morning. My eyes are bleary and blinking back tears, hoping he doesn’t see. 

I should know better than to think Stu could keep any secret from Billy. I'm still surprised, however, that Billy jostles into the Macher's kitchen at 9am, already with a prickled attitude.

I drop the spoon into my bowl of cereal, milk splashing up and over onto the counter. I try to school my expression into something more neutral, so my surprise doesn’t hurt him. 

“Billy,” I greet. 

He replies back with my name, which I can only half-hear through the fuzzy, distant feeling in my body. 

Billy sits on a stool next to me, moving my bowl a little further from my reach. “Why were you up so late?”

I half-laugh, still tired, still groggy. “What, I’m not allowed to stay up?” I tease. And the hurt sick feeling settles in my throat. 

Billy shakes his head and sighs- he’s clearly frustrated. 

Stupid. Stop teasing him, he’s- I physically shake the thought off. Trying desperately to repel the negative energy like water to oil. Get it together.

“C’mon,” Billy tries again. He seems abnormally pissy, and I wonder what Stu told him on the phone. It’s no way that either of them could have figured it out, but the lump in my throat still grows at the possibility. 

“Just- missed Stu. That’s all.”

“You brought along your plushy,” he says, like that’s supposed to prove anything. “And that big hoodie of yours that you only wear when you’re sad.”

“Did Stu tell you that?” I try not to sound too antsy or annoyed. I know they’re only worried. Of course they’re worried- of course they know my tells like the back of their hands. I should have just stayed home, even if that meant waking up with the feeling of him pressed against my body. 

He nods. “You always tell us what’s wrong,” and he whispers my name in that hard-soft tone he gets when he’s anxious. I shiver.

“Nothing’s. . . nothing’s wrong.” I try and I know it’s bullshit. It’s a dumb attempt and Billy sees right through it. “Nothing that you can fix.” 

And I know Billy takes it as a personal attack- that I think he can’t take care of me. That his comfort isn’t enough, that he isn’t enough. I don’t know how to tell him that’s not what I meant, though, without telling him what happened. It feels hard to breathe, I take a shaky, sharp breath in. It doesn’t help. 

I don’t even know what’s going on, my eyes teary and blurred. My ears are ringing out. My body feels so fuzzy and too soft at the edges. My thoughts muddle in my brain and I don’t know if I'm breathing or talking or breathing or- I gasp out. 

Stu’s hands hold my shoulders tightly, trying to ground me. He’s done it a hundred times before, and it works nearly every time. 

My breath is labored, heavy and quick. Too quick. I still can’t feel myself breathing.

Billy and Stu both try to reassure me- I think. Their voices still unclear through the fog. 

“‘M sorry, ‘m sorry, sorry, sorry,” I repeat, till the word feels unsafe and garbled through my lips. “Shouldn't have to- shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have to. Have to- have to worry.”

My voice sounds so far away, like I’m speaking into a dying microphone, to the clashing, screaming crowd before me. Feeling so unheard, so unseen, even at center stage. 

The fog fades around Billy’s voice. “Hey, hey, it’s fine. Just- stop apologizing,” my name is slow on his tongue. “Can you hear me? C’mon, baby, you’re worrying Stu.” 

And I should respond. But everything just feels so- off. I’m not even sure what I’d say. I don’t want to explain myself. 

When the fog finally finally cuts through, I can breathe again. I’m sitting on the tiled floor of the Macher kitchen, with my knees pulled up against my chest. Billy and Stu sit on either side of me, their hands tentatively retracted from my body. 

I can finally breathe in the clearing. I could cry, if feeling my feelings didn’t hurt so much. If everything didn’t hurt. 

My breath takes a while to steady, and when it does, Billy takes this as a sign to pounce on me again. 

“What happened, baby?” And he sounds so . . . concerned. It hurts to know I’m hurting him. My body aches with every pound of my heart against my chest. 

“I think I had a panic attack,” I managed. 

Stu lets out an awkward laugh, and I don’t freak out this time when he touches my shoulder. “No shit!” 

He murmurs an apology and repeats himself, quieter now. It was sweet. Stu was so sweet and I can’t get over myself to just- live and not cause all this . . . all this angst and trial and tribulations between us. Billy would remind me- if I vocalized this ache - in my own words, that having tough emotions aren’t a burden. It feels like it is though. 

“I’m sorry,” I try and Billy shushes me. He seems annoyed still, I know it’s just the look he has when he’s scared, though.

Fuck, he’s scared. Get yourself together.

I swallow down the lump in my throat.

“Okay, fine. I can’t apologize, I get it.” I realize now that my voice croaks out, like I'd been crying. 

My eyes still feel hazy around the edges and they still struggle to focus on anything properly. 

“What can I say then?” I teasingly ask, and I feel sick to my stomach. 

Please don’t ask me why. Please don’t ask why. Please don’t ask why. Please.

“What’s up with you?” Billy asks. I’m not sure if that’s any better of a question though. 

“I- I can’t tell you.”

Billy rolls his eyes. “We can’t help you if we don’t know what’s wrong.”

Stu sighs, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. His fingers tense when he speaks. “Please? We won’t- Stu glances at Billy and then back at myself- I won’t ask any other questions, I promise.” 

I give a humorless laugh in response. “Real assuring.”

“C’mon, I can’t control what Billy does,” he whines.

And there it is again. The lump in my throat. His breath tickling against my face. “I just can’t control myself around you.”

The attempts to shake off his incessant greed seem to only be in vain.

“Just- just get off of me, please,” I have to wrench the words out of my throat. “Please, ‘m sorry for- I’m sorry- just. Let go.”

Stu quickly winds his hand from my shoulder and puts his hands up, in defense. He looks at me all confused, his eyes wide and his brows furrowed. 

He lowers his hands and gives me those stupid, big blue puppy eyes.  “What’s wrong?” And he says it so gently. His voice felt warm and comforting.

“Just- I. Give me a moment.” 

“Okay,” both boys reply. 

“I- I think I was sexually assaulted.” My voice comes out in a tight whisper, lodged somewhere between my throat and the tension of the kitchen conversation. “I thought- I thought it was my fault or maybe it didn’t- it didn’t happen. Or- or maybe I misremembered it but-”

My voice gets caught and I let out a measly sob. 

“Woah,” Billy carefully reaches a hand out towards me, but doesn’t touch me. “Woah, woah. Baby,” he whispers. “What- who did this to you?”

I sniffle. I didn’t want to tell them.

It felt so much more real speaking it aloud. 

His voice feels dirty against my body, and I just want to get away from him. But he’s in the walls, he’s in my dreams. And I can’t escape. He’s sitting with me as my boyfriend’s try to comfort me. 

“I know better than that. I should have known better than that and-” my throat feels all funny, like I can’t breathe again. A sharp intake in, a shaky breath out. “And I still let him put his grubby hands all over me.”

“Woah, baby,” Billy’s voice is impossibly quiet and calm. He appears more apologetic and concerned with how I am, than the dark, revengefulness that usually seeps out of him when someone hurts me. “Baby, look at me, okay?”

I keep my head snuggled at the top of my knees, straining my eyes to look in his direction. I hum, not trusting myself to speak without crying. 

“It’s not- it’s not your fault. Whatever happened, it’s-”

My mouth seems to be on its own agenda. And my head feels impossibly fuzzy again. Everything is so . . . so disconnected. I tap my fingers against my shins, and they don’t feel like they’re really there at all. No matter how many times I tap them in the same familiar pattern. 

Nothing feels right. 

“I shouldn't have been such a tease. I- he told me to stop, said he wouldn’t be able to control himself if- and, and I didn’t listen, Billy. Was so confused, didn’t know where I was, Stuey and- and he- I told him that. But I should’ve listened. He w-warned me and I should have- I’m sorry.”

“Hey, shh,” Billy tries once more. “It’s okay, it’s okay. It’s not your fault, baby. Whatever- whoever it was, who convinced you . . . it doesn’t matter, okay? He doesn’t- you didn’t make him do anything. You-” even Billy struggles with it. 

He sighs, “what do you need from us? Just right now- what do you need at this moment, okay?”

Stu tries, as well. Learning from his previous mistake. 

“Is it okay to hug you or touch your shoulder right now?”

I shake my head. His hands at my throat, his voice tickled against my face. 

His hands at my throat, telling me to behave. 

Taking my “i’m fine”s and “okay”s out of context, blatant ignorance of my confusion.

“Could we just- could we sit on the couch maybe?”

It felt better, safer, in the openness of the living room. 

Like I wasn't going to suffocate and, like, explode or something. 

Stu's hanging his limbs off one end of the couch, and Billy tentatively perches on a couch arm. I assume Billy is sitting strangely to give me space- Stu's position is natural though. He always sits weird, and does things weird, which I love. I love him. I love Billy, and I'm just. I'm hurting them- I'm sitting in the middle of the couch, shaky and strange, and hurting them.

“What can we do?” Billy sounds gentle. He sounds sincere. I think . . . he is. The whole situation is strange and terrifying. I want to go back to sleep and hope when I wake that the past few months were some fever dream instead. 

I let out a shaky, heaving sigh. 

“I don’t- I don’t know.”

“That’s- that's okay. Baby,” his voice is sturdy, despite the uncertainty bleeding in.

“Yeah!” Stu smiles at me, and it feels sort of warm. It feels almost good. 

“You shouldn’t have to deal with someone so damaged.” I stare at my feet and my hands fidgeting absently in my lap. Tears pricking, stinging at my eyes.

I stumble over and retract apologies in my head. Trying to justify what he had done to me, to pin what he said, to pin his hands around my neck and push me down, as my own fault. As my own actions. 

I can’t tell Billy that. Not to him, not to Stu.

Billy has this restrained look in his eyes, and his face is twisted into an almost scowl. I don’t know what he’s thinking, but I know I shouldn’t have said that. Because Billy thinks he’s broken, all the time.

He’s told me or alluded to his mom’s disappearance, to his asshole father. About the disconnect between himself and his own thoughts, his hands and his actions. He’s told us why he’s only ever felt safe and trusting in the arms of his lovers. 

And that he’s so afraid that one day, we’ll up and leave him, too. 

That he’s too damaged, too broken, to be loved. 

And I go and fuck it up again. I only know how to hurt.

“That’s, wait- that’s not. I’m sorry, Billy. I-”

And his voice is uncharacteristically sweet. It’s calm and low, and I can’t hear held back anger.

“It’s okay.”

“What?” My voice is small and squeaks out, unsure. 

“It’s okay. Baby," Billy says my name with my name with care. “You’re not- you will never be too fucked up to be loved by us.”

Stu smiles, protective. “I- we will never let that happen to you again.”

They offer physical comforts, they lean closer but not close enough to touch me. 

Maybe I shouldn’t be so trusting. He had promised to never hurt me and I followed him blindly. But Billy & Stu aren’t him. And I should be allowed to put my faith into others, without fearing I'll be hurt again.

I lean into Billy's touch, allowing him to encase me in his strong arms. Stu leans against us, bringing his long, sweater-clad arms around the huddled mess of us. 

Maybe it's against my better judgements.

Maybe it's a mistake.

But maybe, too, this is safety. This is love.

#tw sa #tw assault #tw sa implied #tw noncon #tw past trauma #panic attack #panic attacks #tw panic attack #tw anxiety attack #tw nightmares #billy loomis #stu macher #billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #billy x reader x stu #poly ghostface #polyam ghostface #billy loomis x you #stu macher x you #billy loomis x y/n #stu macher x y/n #vent fic #inspired by real events #this is me trying to cope if that wasn't obvious :) #reblogs allowed #PLEASE be respectful though

[this-world-of-beautiful-monsters]

and i cannot quite / remember how the story / is supposed to end

Title taken from the poem Nightmare by J.B. Goodenough.

Prompt: Begging

TMNT 2012.

(tw nightmares, past mind control, memory loss, past mutual non-con, past noncon, past csa, trauma, ambiguity, denial, past injuries, blood, past violence)

You can find the whole collection on AO3 here.

"Please!"

It doesn't happen every night.

"Sensei, please!"

When it doesn't happen, he has trouble remembering the dreams that come instead, the normal dreams. He just wakes up feeling relieved that none of them were that dream.  

"Help me!”

His memories are of blue and red and brown and green; the green is unmistakably his eldest son's shade, more familiar than the color of his fur. Sometimes he wonders if seeing it bothers him more than it would if it were one of the others, and even though the feeling makes him want to choke it won't go away.

"Someone help!"

He remembers a kind of cold fury, too, a vicious satisfaction, a want that twists his insides. He remembers pain--not his, never his, and that's the worst part.  

"Sensei, Sensei please--"

Mud on his fur, desperate fingers scratching, screams flaying his sensitive ears. Blood everywhere, staining the torn pieces of his robe as they fall around him, his thighs, his--

"Please stop!"

Hamato Yoshi wakes up shaking slightly, like a child clawing up out of a nightmare. There's sweat in his fur, his legs tensed if he's been running, his claws digging into the bed until they return to tear the blanket. He is, Yoshi realizes abruptly and with a kind of distant calmness, erect.

It happened again. He had a dream of his child begging for help,  screaming  for it, and woke up with a goddamn hard-on. Nausea boils his throat, an almost familiar feeling by now, and Yoshi squeezes his eyes shut, forcing it back down.

He's not sure his body would cooperate if he tried to push it into a more proper meditation pose, so Yoshi just lies there, taking deep, slow breaths. Relax his muscles, clear his mind, bring the erection back down, because he can still control that much of himself, at least, can't he? (Can't he?)

When he trusts himself to stand up again, he pulls himself out of bed, suddenly not wanting to be in a horizontal position anymore. Yoshi shrugs on his robe (tears it off, it's in his way) and slips out of the bedroom, pausing in the hallway to listen.

The house is still and peaceful, for once. Raphael snores loud enough to practically rattle his bedroom door, while Michelangelo snuffles and mutters in his sleep. Leonardo's room is quiet and even Donatello seems to be resting for once. Everything is alright; dreams are just dreams.

He goes to the bathroom, splashes water on his face, and looks at himself in the mirror. The eyes that stare back are dark, steady brown, his brown, without the faintest hint of red. Dreams are just dreams. Bodies do strange things sometimes, as does the mind, especially one as ravaged by memory and magic as his. Everything--everything is fine.

“Help me!”

He's never heard his son beg before. Leonardo has whined, as any child does, pleaded, complained, petitioned--but never begged with this sheer level of terror in his voice, the pain, the soul-breaking fear. It goes against everything Yoshi expected of his children, everything he expected to give them. They were never supposed to be afraid like this.

And it was he who did this to them. Or the Rat King, but they blur together so badly in his memory it's hard to tell where he ends and the monster begins. He'd become a puppet, a snarling beast, used as a weapon against the people he loves most in the world, and he'd--

The thing is that he doesn't know what he'd done, exactly. You just scratched and bit a little, that's all, Michelangelo had said. It was scary, but we knew it was you. We've gotten worse from you in training, trust me. You didn't do anything bad.

Yoshi had believed his son, because...well, the same reason his children believe him when he reassures them that everything will be alright. He wants to believe, he needs that comfort, to the point that any evidence to the contrary is easy to overlook. For a while, anyway.

But the dreams had started, and no amount of scratching or biting alone would have made him  erect.  Would have left him tense with the memories of a warm, tight little body giving under him, of how good it had felt to take and take and take--

Yoshi closes his eyes, props his temple against the mirror. From this close his reflection looks blurred, warped, and he pulls away, hurriedly splashing some more water on his face.

He doesn't remember a lot after defeating Falco, his mind still hazy at the edges, memories slipping through. He knows that he woke up freshly bathed, attended (guarded) by Michelangelo and Raphael. He knows Leonardo had been with Donatello in the lab at the time and asked not to be disturbed at his work.

He thinks of Leonardo in the days after, limping around the lair in one of the oversized hoodies his children occasionally use as disguises, claiming it was better for his regrowing scales. The boy had been tense, of course; they all were, the horror of what had been done to them was thick in the air. The thought of what Yoshi is actually certain he did was enough to choke him on its own.

But his sons hadn't pulled away. They'd repeated their forgiveness, insisted that it wasn't you it wasn't you, done what they could to be with him, to distract him. Leo didn't jump at his presence anymore than the others did in the days that followed, although--was he quieter, maybe, when Yoshi was around? More still. It's so hard to tell, considering that his son was always a quiet child to begin with.

Yoshi tries to remember the last time he had tea with Leonardo, the last time they were alone together. It's hard to remember, especially since one of his other children always seems to be hanging around whenever he wants to speak to Leonardo, just in hearing range. Just enough to come running enough if--

Enough. Enough. This is all a final trick buried in his mind by the Rat King, a manifestation of his stress from Saki's return, a thousand other things. It can't be.

"Please don't do this--"

"Sensei?"

Yoshi freezes. Out of the corner of his eye he can see a familiar green shadow standing in the doorway to his room, hand tight on the doorknob. He turns to face his son, peering into wide, shocked eyes.

Does Leonardo pull back ever so slightly as Yoshi faces him? It's hard to tell in the dim bathroom.

"I...." His son shuffles his feet. "I heard water running. A lot." Yoshi looks down, and yes, that's water still running over his hand, staining it like blood and dirt and worse things. He shuts it off abruptly, grabbing a towel and wiping his hands with too much force.

"Well, uh, goodnight, Sensei. Sorry for disturbing you." Leo starts to pull away, but Yoshi stops him, almost before he can stop himself:

"My son?" Leonardo pauses and blinks up at him. "May I ask you a question?"

When did he become so difficult at reading his son's expressions? "Of course, Sensei."

"You and your brothers...." He swallows, pushes on before he can lose his nerve. "You told me everything about what happened while I was under Victor Falco's control, did you not?"

"What? Of course we did." Leonardo looks surprised by the question. Hurt, perhaps, that his father is doubting his word. Or is that fea-- "Why wouldn't we?"

Why would they, indeed.

"Did you remember something?" Leonardo asks, a look of concern in his voice (he has still not come closer). "Did something happen? I can get Donnie--"

"No, no, it's fine." It is. It has to be. "I just--you would tell me, wouldn't you? If anything--else--happened." Yoshi tries to keep his voice from trembling, to keep out the desperation. "You can tell me anything, my son." Please (don’t) tell me.

"I know that, Sensei," Leonardo says, not removing his hands from the door. "But we told you everything, I promise." He licks his lips. "I think we should go back to bed--can we talk about this in the morning?"

They will not talk about this in the morning; not when Yoshi barely has the courage to talk about it in the dark. "Of course," he says. "You are right, we both need our rest." Leonardo sags (in exhaustion, in relief) and lets go of the door.

"Good night, Sensei," he says, and starts to turn away when Splinters summons up his courage.

"May I have a hug, Leonardo?" It sounds a bit like begging (nothing like the begging of the little boy in his dream, nothing like that).

Leonardo hesitates for a second that is almost unnoticeable. "A hug?"

"Yes." He tries to smile, hoping it doesn't look too much like bared teeth. "You remember how those work, yes?"

"Of course." Leonardo smiles back, soft and small (small). He takes a step across the tile, moving with an underwater slowness. Yoshi crosses the rest of the way to him, and he thinks he can hear Leonardo take one breath before his arms wrap around his son's shell. He embraces his son, his child, his beautiful boy--

--the little slut, screaming and whimpering in the dirt, pleading for mercy, like he's not shuddering as the rat rakes claws over his tender flesh, like he doesn't enjoy it, his blood so sweet and warm in the air--  

So sweet, the smell of his scales in Yoshi's nostrils. He

breathes

deep,

forcing his mind to focus around the weight of scales in his arms, Leonardo's warm breath on his fur. Here and whole and real, because this is real. This is real, and dreams are dreams, and Yoshi refuses to let himself confuse the two.

He lets go. He suddenly can't remember if Leonardo hugged him back. It feels easier to smile, this time.

"Now, back to bed," he says. "I'll see you in the morning, all right?"

"Hai, Sensei." His son turns away before Yoshi can get a good look on his face, slipping down the hall and back to his room like a shadow. The doorknob rattles in his hand as he closes the door; Yoshi needs to check on it later.

Yoshi turns to look at himself in the mirror. He's still smiling, and the expression looks a little strange, so he tries to put on a more dignified expression. He thinks it fits well enough.

Dreams are just dreams. He reaches out and flicks off the bathroom light.

#tmnt #angstpril #angstpril2022 #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2012 #tmnt 2k12 #leonardo #leo #hamato leonardo #oroku saki #shredder #tw nightmares #tw past mind control #mind control #tw memory loss #mutual non-con #tw past noncon #tw past csa #ambiguity #denial #tw injury #tw blood #tw violent imagery #the rat king

[whoviandoodler]

one of the things that makes mdzs SUCH a great story is the fact that it's a tragedy with queer protagonists, but their queerness isn't the cause or the center of the tragedy. it's not even related, really. it's a story about love and loss and wrong and right, about what we owe each other and what we owe ourselves, about how you can find joy even amidst chaos and grief; its complexity and tragedy is what makes it so profound and touching. sure, there's 'casual' queerphobia in the story, but with everything else going on, it's not really relevant- wwx's mostly like, 'oh, i like guys? i like lwj? i love lwj? fuck, what if he doesn't love me back? am i being presumptuous to think he returns my feelings? what do I do now?' followed by 'wait, he loves me back??? we're getting married IMMEDIATELY', and that whole attitude is very refreshing because sometimes you just want to read a queer story that isn't about queer suffering but that's still incredibly miserable, and i think we as a queer community deserve it

#mdzs #lwj #wwx #lan wangji #wei wuxian #mdzs thoughts #dan talks #wangxian #obviously the story has its issues but. FFUCK i just want something to break my heart w/o having to read thru queer trauma #ik danmei in theory isnt aimed at queer audiences but compared to like. some of 'made for cisshet women' queer man content ive read in #the past mdzss iss a breath of fresh air. imo most issues lie w the sex scenes and the INSANE lack of lube but. #ill forgive it this once #their dynamic and love story is otherwise great. just dont take it ass sex ed lol ud fucking die #the sex scenes are funny tho. im always cackling and going YOURE GOING TO KILL EACH OTHER GOD SLOW DOWN #also in gen we need to uh. do better w tws bcs theres a LOT of noncon rp in there and i didnt see it mentioned anywhere in the fandom after #hours of being around it. books do tws plssss someones going to run headfirst into there and not have a good time

[studyofnsfwhump]

NSFWhump Prompt 4

Whumpee suddenly experiences a traumatic flashback while having sex with their lover.

#whump #nsfwhump #flashback #consensual sex tw #past trauma #implied past noncon #implied past abuse #bonus if their lover doesn’t realize it for a few minutes #and then is horrified

[aftgficrec]

Hey! I love your page and getting fic recs! Do you have any fics where Neil goes or agrees to go to therapy? I’m good with Bee or someone else as the therapist too. It can be canon or an au. Thanks so much! :))

I was pleasantly surprised by how much we found for you! -A

previous recs:

‘another life to live’ here

‘Oakland’ here (completed)

‘you’ve been locked in here forever (and you just can’t say goodbye)’ here (updated)

‘If it means protecting you (I’ll pay my dues)’ here (updated)

‘Interlaced’ here (updated)

‘Regrowth,’ ‘To Be Close With You Is To Be Close With Myself,’ ‘I took a breath and took the knife,’ and ‘flashes of intimacy’ ch 4 here

‘call me in the afternoon’ here

‘The Wild Fox Den’ and ‘Roses Grow Between Bone’ here

‘(My Heart) Pierced By a Pin’ here (completed)

‘The Sun Still Rises’ here (updated)

‘day by day’ here

‘the shuffling of cards’ here

‘Ain’t it fun’ here

‘Breathe, idiot’ here

‘Healing’ series part 1 here, part 3 here (completed)

‘The Fear of Being Known’ here

‘That one party’ series and ‘keep telling me that it gets better (does it ever?)’ here

‘Affection can be shown in so many ways’ here

‘Ghost of You’ here 

‘Make This Leap (Geronimo)’ here

‘Tenuous’ here

‘There is Nothing You Can Say’ here (completed)

‘of ice blue eyes & twisted veins’ here

‘don't break the glass’ (completed) here

‘Bad Apple’ here 

‘Phantom Pains’ here

‘Therapy’ here

‘Birds of a Feather’ here (updated)

‘In which Neil had Aspergers and Andrew finds out.’ here 

‘For You I'd Bleed Myself Dry’ here (updated)

‘I Wanna Get Better’ here 

‘on the tip of my tongue (say something)’ parts 6 & 8 here

and more:

‘Ember’ here (completed)

‘leave the room (with a little dignity)’ here

‘Art Hoe’ here

‘Blame It On My Youth’ here (updated)

‘Black as is the Raven, He’ll Get a Partner’ (here)

‘Our body’ series, part 1 here, part 3 here, part 5 here

‘and all the roads will disappear’ here

‘crossed out’ here

‘Double Trouble’ series here

‘i had a dream (where you couldn't hear me screaming)’ and ‘hold me close, in fact bury me’ here 

‘Just closed eyes with nothing behind’ here

‘doubt thou the stars be fire’ here

‘SCAR TISSUE’ here

‘Lighter Fluid’ here

you may also like:

‘The Sound’ here

historians by cielalune [Rated M, 21508 Words, Complete, 2023]

He remembers when she didn’t smell of ash, but perfume. The times they’d play the radio to fill the quiet of the car, and she’d hum along. How she never missed a single exy practice, and cheered for him each time. She wasn’t all too different from Cass in the end. Just because she was dead didn’t mean she was buried. Five times Neil tries to come to closure about the person Mary Hatford was, and the one time he accepts who she came to be.

tw: heavily referenced child abuse, tw: heavily referenced rape/noncon, tw: heavily referenced csa, tw: heavily referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: sleep paralysis, tw: depressive episode, tw: flashbacks with blood & gore, tw: panic attacks, tw: dissociation, tw: victim blaming

Mommy Dearest by chronically_peach [Rated G, 915 Words, Complete, 2022]

Neil doesn’t talk about his mother much but Andrew knows it’s a touchy subject for the redhead. After a session with Betsy Neil admits he’s been thinking about his mother and allows Andrew a glimpse into who Mary Hatford really was.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Pain of a Forgotten Face series by Rose_vine [Collection, 2 complete works, Updated 2021]

Part 1: Pain of a Forgotten Face [M, 3086 Words] Neil Josten is awoken by a face in his nightmares from twelve years ago, a face he barely remembers. When he tries to brush it off and go to practice, he realizes too late that some memories refuse to let themselves be forgotten.

tw: ptsd, tw: panic attacks, tw: nightmares, tw: hallucinations, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: blood/gore

Part 2: A Hand to Hold Me Back From The Cliff [Not Rated, 2132 Words] After Neil collapses on the court from a flashback from when he was younger, Andrew convinces him to go to therapy. This is his first session with Bee, and it is only Andrew at his side that gives him the strength to walk through the door.

tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

After the Beep by kanekei [Rated T, 1030 Words, Incomplete, Updated Sept 2023]

Neil works through his relationship with his dead mother by leaving her voice messages that she'll never hear. It’s healthy, Bee says. He can’t help but think having the Minyards as patients has skewed her perception of what that word means. The number you have reached is not available. Please leave your message after the beep.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced violence

The Foxes by akaashisramen [Not Rated, 3386 Words, Incomplete, Updated July 2023]

Trans Neil is on the run from his father and goes to his uncles house. His uncle promises him protection and allows him to play Exy as long as he goes to group therapy to process his mothers death.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: graphic nightmares, tw: implied/referenced torture

someday, we'll grow by nopunintended [Rated G, 2078 Words, Complete, 2021]

Andrew and Neil see Betsy for a couple's therapy session per Andrew's request.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Couples Therapy by P0tatonoah [Rated T, 2014 Words, Complete 2020]

I got a lot of comments (like 3 or 4) on my breakup fic asking for a part 2 where Neil and Andrew patch things up and live happily ever after… This is not it. But you can read it as an alternative ending if you want. 

tw: implied/referenced nonconsensual touch, tw: implied/referenced violence

NB: find P0tatonoah’s andreil break up fic ‘Home...?’ here

They sicken of the calm, they who know the storm by EdgySpaghetti [Not Rated, 3162 Words, Complete, 2023]

After storm there always comes the sun. People born into the storm, who growing up sees only black clouds and lightnings striking everywhere, just learn how to live with it, how to protect themselves from cold, wind and rain. They recognize the pattern, know that lightning will struck sooner or later and are prepared for it. What are those people to do when there is no more dark clouds? They don't know how to live in this environment, how to dress to not get too hot and how to prevent potential sunburnt. They never had to do that before. They're still expecting the lightnings.

tw: ptsd, tw: anxiety, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: anger issues

Can I finally stop running now? by gracefromspace [Rated T, 12110 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil is intrigued by a blonde baker with piercings, two therapy cats and strong arms.

tw: heavily referenced torture, tw: flashbacks with blood/gore, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: anxiety, tw: negative self image

can't blame it on my youth by PoolToast22 [Rated G, 2650 Words, Complete, 2022]

The one where Neil Josten is Fine TM. But he's also in therapy. And today Bee decided to ask him that question.

hold on to happiness by minyarday [Rated T, 551 Words, Complete, 2020]

"self esteem had never been something Neil cared about. when you are a runaway that don't even have a place to call home, you learn to prioritize certain things and forget others" only that now he has the time to think about it

I'll Come Back To You by mostly_maudlin [Rated T, 6900 Words, Complete, 2022]

Some of the things he’s learned today feel like stories about someone else: Neil switched to playing striker at a tiny high school in Arizona. Aaron lives in Chicago with his wife. Andrew’s cousin calls Neil every Tuesday, because Andrew is too stubborn to pick up the phone himself. But other things are clear truths, even if they’re more abstract: Neil’s mother died. Andrew is safe. Neil was supposed to stay, but part of him is gone. - - - - It's about dreams, reality, trust, patience, and determination. It's about making promises and keeping them. You'll figure out the rest.

tw: car accidents, tw: major character injury, tw: implied/referenced violence

I will help you swim by unojonex [Rated E, 11699 Words, Incomplete, Updated Oct 2022]

He’s slowed down, stayed in one place for more than a few months and it's all caught up with him. In his sleep, ghosts of his past haunt him. And they have no mercy. Dreams and imagination swirl together in a confusing mix of nightmares that don't go away, even when he's awake. -- basically Neil and Andrew getting together while also dealing with a lot of trauma

tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: implied/refererenced torture, tw: heavily referenced child abuse, tw: suicide ideation, tw: graphic nightmares with blood/gore, tw: dissociation, tw: hallucinations, tw: panic attacks

But Touch My Tears with Your Lips by transjorts [Rated M, 4070 Words, Complete, AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2022]

Andrew is sitting across from him, expression neutral, fork in hand. He’d dragged the tinnes across the plate—purposefully, if Neil had to guess. Andrew has already cut the burrito up into tiny pieces and spears one morsel on the fork, lifting it to his mouth. “Hi,” Neil says. Andrew chews, very deliberately. “Do you feel better?” Neil frowns. “What?” Andrew eats another bite. “Did all that running make you feel better?” Neil sighs and glances down, noticing that his water has been refilled. He takes a sip. “No.”

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced sexual assault, tw: nightmares, tw: dissociation

let's just sit awhile by artiest [Rated M, 17291 Words, Complete. 2022, Locked]

Neil and Andrew don't have to keep fighting for their survival. They can settle now. It's hard, but they're trying. OR: During Neil's second year in Palmetto State, him and Andrew learn to take care of each other.

tw: severe mental health issues, tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced torture,  tw: nightmares with blood/gore, tw: flashbacks,  tw: dissociation, tw: violence, tw: homophobia, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: vomit, tw: alcohol abuse/alcholism

I could never give you peace by freshtaylorswiftduck [Rated T, 3407 Words, Complete. 2022]

Neil has both bad and good days. Today is a bad day.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: panic attacks

10 tips to stress less, without the tips by lumos_max [Rated T, 5404 Words, Complete, AFTG Exchange Fall 2020]

A lonely Neil lets his therapist bully him into checking out the clinic's support group without too much fuss, but little did he know he wouldn't be checking out the group that day, instead meeting a dramatic hunk of a man who drives a fancy car and forgets to wipe the cream off the corner of his lip. It's only fair that Neil tries to do it for him, right?

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

“God, I have my father’s eyes.” by perks_of_being_a_writer [Rated T, 673 Words, Complete, 2022]

This is based on Family Line by Conan Gray. In this short story, Neil is at a therapy appointment where he and Betsy dive into his parental issues. This covers Neil’s abuse from both parents (because, yes, Mary was abusive and a bad mother). This is Neil learning that it's not his fault his parents hurt him and accepting that he is loved.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

"There's blood on my/your hands." by markonasurface (idwir) [Rated T, 4667 Words, Complete, 2018]

The year after his 19th birthday, the other team decides to recreate the bloody locker scene complete with a ‘Happy Birthday, Jr.’ Instead of stuffing everything down, Neil has a complete freak out and sinks into a depression.

tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: blood, tw: panic attacks, tw: ptsd, tw: major depressive episode, tw: homophobia, tw: disordered eating, tw: vomit

Nothing is Safe series by hismiley16 [Rated T/M/E, Collection, 7 complete works, Updated July 2023]

Parts 3 and 7 recced here

Part 4: Written On His Skin [Not Rated, 11344 Words] The Foxes face the Ravens for the first time since Riko's death and things go as well as expected. Andrew is mildly injured on the court and isn't there to protect Neil when the new Evermore captain comes for him after the game. The team sees more than Neil ever wanted them to, including the ghost of Nathaniel he thought he'd buried in Baltimore.

tw: vomit, tw: bullying, tw: nonconsensual touch/assault  tw: dissociation, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: blood, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced animal death, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

The Josten Anxiety Method by orphan_account [Rated M, 1721 Words, Complete, 2022]

Neil talks to Bee about his anxiety.

tw: anxiety, tw: hallucinations, tw: dissociation, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced abuse

Looking in the Mirror Never Felt so Good by Trimorphia [Rated T, 8693 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil Josten's journey to becoming a real person.

tw: nightmares, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced abuse

Achilles Come Down by infernalstars [Rated M, 5017 Words, Complete, 2020]

Neil Josten was a liar before he was anything else. In the nest, sometimes his choices were between lying and dying. He’d had a decent amount of self preservation that he’d chosen the former. But now, being free, the world felt so heavy. He wished he’d chosen dying.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: graphic suicide attempt, tw: self harm, tw: blood, tw: eating disorders focus, tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: vomit, tw: depression 

prompt: Neil x therapy bullet fic by @sadboyayeron [Tumblr, 2020]

#fic #neil josten/andrew minyard #betsy dobson & neil josten #universe: post canon #au: high school #au: different first meeting #theme: trauma #theme: neil's past #theme: therapy #theme: emotional hurt/comfort #theme: ptsd #theme: panic attacks #theme: mental health issues #theme: dissociation #theme: healing #theme: anxiety #theme: bad day #aftg mixtape #aftg exchange #tw: graphic depictions of violence #tw: child abuse #tw: rape/noncon #tw: csa #tw: self harm #tw: torture #tw: suicide attempt #tw: eating disorders #tw: sleep paralysis #tw: hallucinations