#cw implied noncon

[whumping-in-the-dark]

Drabble #1- Mistake

Instead of using the usual whumper and whumpee placeholders for characters, I decided to give them names to try and connect with them more. I doubt it'll turn into a coherent story since atm I don't plan to connect all the drabbles but let's see how it goes. Also, I don't feel brave or knowledgeable enough atm to write noncon but hope to get there sometime in the near future. So any tips are welcome!

CW: sadistic whumper, pet whump, dissociation, suicidal thoughts, electrocution, implied noncon

*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*_*

Theo lay huddled in the corner of the basement, clutching the thin sheets close to himself.

Marlon tsked. "What have I told you, boy? When I come downstairs, I want you on your knees, ready to accept my gifts for you."

Theo curled further into himself, eyes screwed shut. "Please..."

"Please, what?" Marlon huffed out. He'd kick Theo straight in the ribs- except that might just kill the pathetic thing. He hadn't been all that harsh with him either and yet he had come apart in a matter of weeks.

"I wanna go home... let me- let me go..." And of course, he was a whiner. "Please please pleeaasee-" His voice broke off with a quiet sob. Marlon hated whiners.

"Yeah? You're the little bitch who approached me; begged me to take you in. You said you would pay me back in any fucking way." It was true. They both knew it. "And now you have the audacity to be ungrateful?"

Theo pressed his palms into his eyes, shaking his head. "No- no, sir. I didn't know that's what you meant. I made a mistake. I was wrong. Please, no-"

Marlon took in a deep breath. He had to control his anger unless he wanted to kill his favorite pet. Crouching down, he reached over to stroke his hair. Theo flinched.

Marlon growled. Enough. He grabbed his pet's matted hair, wrenching his head up and forcing their eyes to meet. "It's too late for that now, darling." Without warning, he shoved the previously hidden tazer deep into his ribs, turning it on high. A sick grin spread across his face as he twisted it in, relishing in the way his pet screamed and thrashed around.

Theo scratched his throat raw as he cried out from the flashing pain. He knew it was bad for him to resist his master but he couldn't help but try everything in his power to escape his iron grasp. When Marlon finally let him fall back to the hard ground, he was left whining for breath- for any scrap of mercy from his master. There was none to be found.

In one swift move, Marlon had zipped off his pants and-

-when Theo finally returned to true consciousness he was left trembling on the floor, the sheets tainted red.

[balltons]

minors + ageless blogs dni

cw; violent threat towards reader, implied non-con (for the future), suggestive, mean f!reader, meaner johnny

getting this out my system real quick because i’m cooking something a bit longer in the meantime.

johnny who is bestowed with the job of protecting you, daughter of an esteemed political figure who has a hit on his head.

and by association, you do too.

however, instead of keeping you locked away in their big mansion, your father sends you to a safe house in scotland. after all, if he can’t reach you, how can the enemy?

so johnny stays with you in some shack on one of the less populated islands. even though he specializes in demolition, he’s a good guard dog; standing by each entrance and exit, his eyes zeroed in on any movement he catches in the window. it seemed like a good job, fairly low stakes, great pay. just taking care of a pretty little thing. there hardly seemed to be any downsides.

of course, till you opened your mouth.

you comment on his eating habits, snide comments about how he could consume the entirety of a bath and be hungry. you never fail to poke fun at his accent, calling him ‘incomprehensible’. and then you complain, wishing how you were anywhere but here, that despite the many people who want you and your father’s head on a stick, he should take you back so you can sleep in an actual bed rather than the rusty twin the safe house provides.

though, you aren’t the one sleeping on the floor, are you?

johnny could feel each of his nerves begin to snap the longer he stayed with you. he reset himself every day, trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. it was fear that gave you such a bad attitude, you were probably so scared, homesick even. this persona of you that he made was the only thing keeping him from shoving that silver spoon down your throat and making you choke on it.

that is, until one evening.

“i’m bored,” you groan for the nth time in the nth day in a row. johnny just rolls his eyes, looking through the sniper scope as he analyzes outside. when it all looks clear does he finally face you, a frown etched on his lips, “pity, should we tell th’ queen?” he asks dryly, walking over into the kitchen to crack open another can of soup. there’s only a few cans left, and he notes he’ll have to go back into town soon, preferably tomorrow.

you scoff, arms crossed over your chest as you stare up at him from the bed. “y’know, you can at least enunciate a bit more when you speak. i have a hard time understanding you as is,” you tell him, and johnny’s eye twitches. “duly noted, yer majesty.”

as he pours the soup in the can, you continue to blabber on, “i don’t know what my dad was thinking when he was hiring you. i mean, you’re barely qualified,” johnny’s mouth sets into a thin line, “you don’t even look like the type,” you say with a brief laugh.

his teeth begun to grind together, “lass, i’d ‘preciate some quiet-“

“if anything, you look like some mongrel off the street. dumb one at that,” you click your tongue, examining the state of your nails and writing a manicure on your to-do list for when you get back, “wouldn’t be surprised if that’s where you’re really from, doesn’t seem like you belong anywhere else.”

he doesn’t know what it is, maybe it’s the comparison you made, judging his accent, or calling him a homeless stray, but johnny finally snaps.

the soup is long forgotten on the stovetop as johnny walks over, approaching the bed. before you have even a chance to register what’s going on, johnny is on you, dragging you by the hair to bring you down to the floor.

you hit the hardwood with a grunt, eyes closing shut as your knees ache, “l-let go of me you bea-“ you barely have time to get the words out as johnny leads you with your hair, your face pressed against the front of his pants.

“listen tae me,” he growls, fingers tightening around your locks, “i’m about one grumble away from breaking yer jaw, dinnae look away,” he stresses as your eyes dart across the room. slowly, you force yourself to look at him, watching as johnny takes a deep breath.

“but, i will give ye a chance tae prove ye can do more wi' that mouth than just complain, sound fair?” when you remain still at his question, he shakes your head a bit, “i asked a question, princess.”

eagerly, you nod your head, fear compelling you to open your mouth as well, “i-it sounds fair, johnny, it- it does,” you agree, praying he doesn’t break your jaw to how nervous you are.

after what seems like an eternity, johnny lessens his grip on your hair, but he keeps you close to his clothed groin as he sits back into the bed. you’re forced to follow, on your knees in front of him.

“now,” he starts, his tone carrying a heavy weight despite the more playful tone he uses. he pushes your head back just a bit, his hand moving to his cargos, undoing the belt.

“let’s see what this bonnie mouth o' yers can do, aye?”

[hazbinblog]

Another new fic! Radioapple (Lucifer/Alastor) and Radiochains (abusive "Lilith/Alastor")

Lucifer genuinely wants a dance with Alastor--meanwhile, Alastor assumes all Lucifer really wants is to toy with him.

If you like Alastor Whump / hurt Alastor, angst, hurt/comfort, and/or Alastor suffering at the hands of his soul's owner, this fic is probably right up your alley! ✨

Content warnings: implied/referenced abuse, implied/referenced non-con, implied/referenced torture

If you enjoy this fic or generally enjoy Alastor whump, I'd recommend following me here on Tumblr or as an author on Ao3; this is going to be an ongoing series, and I'll definitely be posting a lot more of this kind of thing in the future!

Here's a link if you want to read it!

[whump-card]

Sunless Lives Part 14: I Can’t Die Here

~2370 words

CW: aftermath of implied noncon, vampire whump, vampire feeding, offscreen fighting, carewhumper

First, Previous, Next, Masterlist

~~~

Ariella - which he was allowed to call her when they were alone - was kind.

She’d given him his own room in the main lodge of her sprawling ranch - home to more than three dozen vampires. She’d already bought him two books in the month that he’d been there, and the promise of more hung on his good behavior. She’d bought a whole wardrobe for him. Everything was soft and stretchy and skimpy for easy access, but she let him pick the colors.

He’d picked black, to hide the stains.

She still followed all of Lara’s old safety rules: no keeping the same wound open for too long, for fear of infection; and no bites near the ‘danger zones’ of major arteries.

She never made him scream. She never hurt him for no reason.

It could be worse.

That’s what he told himself as she got up from the bed, and he pressed a clean cloth to a fresh bite on his outer forearm. His bedroom was large, and ostentatious, all dark rustic woods and woven fabrics. A small window showed a glimpse of mountains, and a thickly starry night sky. A massive deer head loomed above him on the wall - another one of Ariella’s prizes.

It could be worse.

He reached down and pulled a sheet up to cover himself - but Ariella caught it and twitched it away.

“Leave it,” she said gently, “I want to look at you.” She smiled down at him, her face sweet and round. Unintimidating, if you didn’t know her, which is why she refused to show it around strangers. She preferred to radiate power; but she needed no veil around Simon for him to feel that. He was helpless in her possession.

It could be worse.

Simon lay back, exposed, closing his eyes to stifle the pinpricks of tears that were forming. He longed for Matthew. His smile. His laugh. His quiet acceptance of all the ways in which Simon was broken. The way he made Simon feel smart, and funny. Simon's heart felt like it was burning a hole in his chest. Matthew would be dead if Simon weren’t here right now - that had to be worth it.

It could be -

“What was that?”

Simon opened his eyes to see Ariella, posed with her flannel dressing gown half-pulled on and her head cocked, listening.

“I don’t hear -” Simon started. Ariella silenced him with a raised hand. After a second longer she sprung into action, tying her robe tightly and striding to the door.

“Something’s wrong,” she said, uncharacteristically serious, “Stay here.”

Simon sat up to watch her leave, not sure what to feel. Something being wrong on the ranch could be good for him - a distraction that would keep Ariella away from him for a night or two.

Or it could be very bad. He had yet to see her angry.

He tied the cloth around his bitten forearm and went to his wardrobe. He got dressed quickly, in flowy shorts and a wide-necked t-shirt, both black. He hoped that the problem was something silly she would laugh with him about later, like a horse escaping.

Then he heard the screams.

They came from the west wing, where the stables were, and ended quickly. They weren’t wordless screams - they were certainly frightened, but they sounded like they were trying to communicate something. From this distance, Simon couldn’t tell. Then there was a crash, and the unmistakable sounds of fighting. Shouts, gunshots.

Simon shrank back against the wardrobe, hope and fear fighting each other in his chest. It could be the VIU, they could be here for him - but that’s impossible. Yarl told Simon himself, before the trade: no one would come for him. Which left… an attack by another vampire family.

The fear won out, and Simon scrambled to open the wardrobe and hide inside. This muffled the sounds of battle, but he could still hear that they ended suddenly. A long minute passed where he could only hear his own quick breathing, then it started again, closer this time. Whoever they were, they were moving towards him.

What if they’re here for you.

Simon pressed himself further back into the wardrobe, his heart pounding.

What if it’s Mr Rhodes?

What if it’s Gloria?

What if it’s…

What if it’s him?

A single set of heavy footsteps passed the door to the room. Simon held his breath, and they continued on. Soon after, the sounds of fighting started up in the east wing. These defenders sounded more prepared, more organized, and it lasted longer. Simon couldn’t listen anymore, he pressed his hands over his ears. He had no idea who to root for, or which outcome would be better for him. Maybe they’d all kill each other, and he could escape.

He eventually lifted his hands from his ears to discover silence. He couldn’t hear a single sound coming from anywhere in the massive lodge. He eased the door open a crack. Still nothing. He emerged from the wardrobe, and moved silently to the door of the room. What if this was his chance? What if he could slip out in the aftermath?

Suddenly he heard the heavy footsteps, marching swiftly towards him. He stumbled back from the door, Hide! his brain screamed, but the footsteps had already stopped, they were already opening the door, and standing there was -

Was -

“Matthew?” Simon breathed.

Matthew, beaten bloody, with an oozing bullet wound in his upper left arm. He wore all black, as usual, a long sleeved t-shirt and jeans. His knuckles were raw and red, and he carried a dented and bloody metal baseball bat that slipped out of his fingers and clattered loudly to the floor as he stood there, looking at Simon.

“Matthew!” Simon rushed forward, throwing his arms around Matthew’s neck and sobbing. “Oh my god, Matthew, how are you here, are you okay? Matthew, Matthew, I can’t believe it -”

Matthew seized Simon’s waist and sank his teeth into his shoulder.

Simon gripped the back of Matthew’s shirt tightly, sucking in a little hiss of air. His eyes stared blankly, wide and tearful, as the vampire wrapped his arms around him and fed.

“Matthew?” he whispered. But he knew it wasn’t Matthew anymore. Simon twisted slightly, trying to pull away, to no avail.

“Matthew?” He didn’t know what else to say. He couldn’t think straight. His heart skipped a beat and he knew that much longer of this on top of what Ariella took would leave him unable to walk - or run. 

“Okay, Matthew?” he tapped the vampire’s back rapidly, his voice shaking, “Mathew, it’s time to stop. You need to stop.”

To his surprise, Matthew - the vampire - Matthew - released Simon and stepped back, baring his new incisors as he ran his tongue over his bloody lips and teeth. 

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding sorry in the least, “I haven’t fed from a human since I turned.”

Simon swayed on his feet, blood leaking from his shoulder. Old instincts kicked in: Keep him talking. 

“Oh wow,” he said, his voice sounding like it belonged to someone else, “How long ago was that?”

“Three weeks. Listen,” the vampire clearly wasn't keen on conversation, “We have a long drive ahead of us. Pack for three nights.” He crossed his arms and looked at Simon expectantly. 

Simon gulped. 

“Where are we going?”

“I’m taking you home, to DC.”

“What about Mrs Peacock, and -”

“They’re all dead.”

“How -”

“Pack and put on your shoes or I’m taking you with nothing,” the vampire spat. 

“I don’t…” Simon couldn’t process what was happening. There was no way Matthew could have killed nearly forty vampires all by himself. Many of them were grade As, too. And now he wanted to take Simon home? For what purpose?

“Am I… yours, now?” Simon asked. 

The vampire laughed.

“I wish! No, human-me was smart. He put my smartphone, all of my IDs, bank cards, and stock information into a box and gave it to Gina for safekeeping until you were home safe. There’s no way I would have been able to torture the location out of her, you know how she is. Easier just to get you, and exchange you for my things.”

Simon’s eyes flitted over Matthew’s injuries, his bloody knuckles, and the metal bat.

“Easier?” he whispered. 

“Pack,” the vampire ordered, suddenly stern again, “I'm going to shower. Clean yourself up too, I don’t want blood in my car.”

He brushed past Simon and went into the en-suite. He didn’t bother closing the door, but he was out of sight, leaving Simon alone in the bedroom.

Simon’s legs gave out, and he sat down hard on the braided wool rug beneath him.

Matthew. Matthew is a vampire. He… He set up a bribe, for himself, to rescue you.

Matthew turned himself into a vampire for you.

Simon began to sob uncontrollably. Matthew was gone. Matthew was dead. And it was Simon’s fault.

Matthew certainly had been smart about it - once the government confirms a person is a vampire, their accounts are frozen and Border Control is alerted to their identity. A top priority for a new vampire is draining their accounts, cashing in their assets, and - if they have no ‘family’ - possibly fleeing the country for somewhere with no organized agencies like the VIU. Whatever Gina has, Matthew - the vampire - must need it to start a new life.

Simon wasn’t thinking about any of that, though. The blinding grief had abated just enough to make him realize that he had to go with Matthew. There was no other option; if the vampire left without him, Simon would be stranded on the ranch in the middle of God-knows-where. Based on the mountains and forests he could see from the windows, Simon guessed somewhere in the northwest - he’d never been good at geography, and no one had ever informed him of their location. There were a few cars on the premises, but Simon didn’t know how to drive. And since he was never let outside, he didn’t even have shoes.

I don’t even have shoes.

“What the fuck are you sitting here crying for? Let’s go.”

Matthew stood over him, glowering down, his hair dripping. Simon hadn’t heard him get out of the shower over his own crying. He lifted his tear-streaked face. Now that Matthew was clean, it was revealed that most of the blood on him hadn’t been his. The various scrapes and bruises he did have, and the bullet wound, were already healing. Unusually fast, even for a vampire.

“I don’t have shoes,” Simon said, his voice high and strained.

“Ugh,” Matthew strode to the door - and left. Simon stared after him, his heart rate rising.

Did he just leave? Is he leaving me behind? What if I starve here? Me, and the horses, and -

The others in the basement.

He’d never seen them, but he knew from Ariella talking with her lackeys that all the other vampires on the ranch were sustained by blood drawn from a handful of humans kept in the basement. And… Simon didn’t like to think about it, but the few times Ariella had overfed from him, he’d been given real blood to recover. From somewhere.

He struggled to his feet, intent on chasing after Matthew as best he could, but there the vampire was, in the doorway. He held a pair of boots, and an empty backpack.

“Try these,” he ordered, tossing the boots at Simon’s feet.

Simon quickly pulled them on as he talked, doing his best to ignore that they were warm.

“There are other humans trapped here, in the basement, if we don’t let them out they’ll starve down there,” he babbled, “And the horses too, please, I don’t want the horses to die -”

“Stop,” Matthew interrupted, “Someone here’s gotta have a cell phone, right? We’ll call 911 on our way out.”

For a moment Simon was stunned that Matthew agreed to do something.

“Thank you Matthew, thank you so much -”

“Don’t tie yourself in knots, I just figure you’ll be easier to deal with if I’m nice to you. Now would you fucking pack already.” His voice grew harsh and he threw the backpack at Simon.

“Yes!” Simon yelped, “Yes sir, sorry sir!” His face immediately heated as he realized he’d fallen into old habits. He turned his back on Matthew’s delighted smirk and went to the wardrobe, but he had to grab the handle to steady himself. He cautiously turned back to the vampire.

“I need to take care of my shoulder first.”

Matthew huffed.

“Fine. Make it quick.”

Simon went to a bedside cabinet where all his medical supplies were stored. Matthew had left a clean pair of punctures; Simon pulled off his bloodied shirt and made quick work of cleaning and bandaging them, and the bite on his arm for good measure. He also stuffed handfuls of bandages and antiseptic wipes into the backpack, anticipating the worst. He felt Matthew’s eyes wandering over his body, and he went to the wardrobe and put on a new, identical top. Then he grabbed handfuls of clothes and stuffed them into the backpack.

“I like your new style,” Matthew commented.

“It’s not mine,” Simon replied. He didn’t want to sound argumentative, but he couldn’t let anyone think he was dressed like this by choice.

“It should be. I always hated how stuffy you dressed, all slacks and button-downs 24-7.”

Simon stilled. He knew how the psychological change into vampirism worked - contrary to popular belief, a vampire is not the same person as before but with no filter or moral compass. No, becoming a vampire changes you into an entirely different person. 

But they keep all their human memories.

“You didn’t like it?” He couldn’t help his curiosity.

“No. Human me thought you were repressing yourself or something. I just think it’s lame. Let’s go.”

Simon pulled the backpack onto his good shoulder and jogged to keep up with Matthew. He’d have to be careful what he asked - he didn’t want to learn something that would ruin his memory of Matthew.

Having to hang out with what is essentially your boyfriend’s possessed corpse is pretty memory-ruining already.

~~~

First, Previous, Next, Masterlist

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy, @pigeonwhumps, @sunshiline-writes, @seasaltandcopper

[36beetles]

coming out as a past ml*ven to make this point but

this line is what absolutely ruined them for me

it brought to light the fact that she's never had any agency in her own life or decisions. someone who is just now learning how to know what clothes they like can't really give informed consent. did she even know/understand what kissing was when mike first kissed her? did he have to explain to her what a girlfriend is when he asked her out? was she ever even asked?

[hezele]

Astarion, the Techie (Cyberpunk AU)

Astarion has a doll chip, and works at a dollhouse that looks expensive in a gothic way and is sorta sketchy. He works at a place that caters to specific customer kinks. Cazador, the owner of the place, decides what ware and body mods the dolls get. Astarion got exotic biosculpting, red eyes, and vampyre teeth (aesthetic, non lethal).

Astarion is well versed with tech though and made his own modification to his vamprye teeth so they're no longer just aesthetic. He's got the kind that contains a dose of sedative or poison in them that he can inject in an assailant by biting them. He figures it’s a good last resort, in a pinch. Given his line of work, if he gets in a fight it'll likely be in close quarters. Although when he’s working with his doll chip on he has them set to be automatically inert in case of an accident while he’s mentally not there.

Despite his stealth skills, and day job, he's actually a tech in terms of skill set. He's especially good at disarming security systems. He's also learned how to modify and create stealth weapons (throwing knives, silienced guns, etc.) In his personal time he likes to tinker and build random tech and he likes to tailor. Sometimes he builds a little tech into the clothes he makes too.

[jayjay-thejet-plane]

Guys guys guys

what if demon dean put a muzzle on sam😳

ps check my reblog for more context😈😈😈

[koipepo]

Cassian is NOT having a good time under Imperial's interrogation 🫠

(the full art is nsfvv and very heavy on noncon hence the crop, but if anyone is interested in seeing the whole thing I'll try uploading it on ao3)

[queermentaldisaster]

Rumor has it that the Riley family is cursed. First, their youngest son, kidnapped under mysterious circumstances. The nephew? Hit by a motorcycle that just happened to roll off the road. The oldest and his wife? Crashed into a tree that was in the middle of the asphalt. The father? Murdered in his hospital bed. The mother? Overdosed on pills she'd never had.

Task Force 141 knows the rumors. Who in the UK doesn't? One day, 141 is sent out to help a team in Las Almas called Los Vaqueros. Apparently, the Las Almas cartel is having a territory dispute with the neighboring city's cartel, the Zaragoza cartel. While Los Vaqueros is handling the Las Almas cartel with Gaz and Roach's help, Price and Soap go to handle the Zaragoza cartel. They go undercover, and discover someone with brown eyes and blond lashes, wearing a balaclava, being passed around like many of the blunts in that room.

Soap manages to get his hands on this person, who's clearly out of it. After some finagling, he manages to get them outside, wrapping them in his coat to provide them with some decency.

When they wake up, they're in a bed in the Los Vaqueros base. Soap asks them for their name and pronouns, and he introduces himself as Ghost.

[spacevixenmusic]

holy fuck, this scene

bless the writers for keeping up the tradition of making Carmilla gay as hell

also, the strong implication that Shizuku and Aya have been around the block together raises more implications than it answers questions and I am unsurprisingly intrigued to know more

[whump-card]

This Death That I Chose: Chapter 12

1922 words

CW: implied noncon, forced to listen, gun violence, bombings

First, Previous, Masterlist, Next

~~~

Tao woke suddenly, blinking up at the underside of a bed. The only thing he could think about was the pain in his leg. The kind of pain that made his brain go holy shit holy shit holy shit are we dying?

Until he remembered how it happened.

He rolled his eyes around. He lay on the lower of a pair of bunk beds, in a tiny cinderblock room with a toilet-sink combo in the back corner. The door was metal, with a small safety-glass window.

He pushed himself up on his elbows with a grunt, and took stock of his knee. It was covered by loose orange pants – he wore a shirt that matched – but when he reached down to feel it, it seemed to be immobilized by some sort of slim-fitting cast underneath that stretched from mid-thigh to mid-shin.

Exhausted by even that small amount of movement, Tao dropped back onto the threadbare pillow with a sigh. The bunk above him shifted.

“Tao? You awake?”

Vic dropped down from the upper bunk, and crouched at Tao’s side.

“Hey,” he said when he saw Tao’s open eyes, “How’re you feeling?”

Tao took a breath and turned his face away.

“I’m glad you’re alive, Vic,” he said slowly, “But fuck you.”

“Woah, what?” Vic laughed nervously.

“I know about you and Lark,” Tao hissed.

“…Oh.”

“Yeah, ‘oh!’” Tao looked back at Vic, suddenly filled with rage. “Why the fuck would you do that?!”

Vic sat back on his heels, the guilt clear on his face.

“He begged me to, Josh,” he said quietly, “I didn’t understand what… I just didn’t understand.”

Tao fumed in silence for a minute.

“If it weren’t for my leg,” he said eventually, “I’d kick your ass, right now.”

“Yeah, that – that’s fair,” Vic yielded.

“And now Lark is… fuck!” Tao pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to push away the visions of Lark, lying like a broken doll on the stone stage. But it wasn’t just Lark – it was all the rebels who had died that night. Tao’s friends, his comrades. And who knew how many more had fought to the death rather than be captured. The sense of loss threatened to overwhelm Tao, clawing at the inside of his chest and stealing his breath.

“I’m so sorry, Tao,” said Vic, his voice hollow with unshed tears, “I’m so sorry.”

Tao didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what would happen to them. He didn’t know what would happen to what once was the United States, now that the Commander was dead.

Somehow, he felt that it would be bad.

~~~

Marina was inconsolable when they reached the rendezvous point and Karlo and Tao weren’t there.

Faye had revealed a rare human side, and held her tightly as she screamed and cried.

They set up camp in the penultimate level of a parking garage, the only structure left of an otherwise leveled town. It gave them good visibility of the surrounding area, and a long radio reach.

They listened to coms chatter all night. The news that the Commander was dead was met with solemn silence – as was the announcement that a group of captured rebels were being taken to the Capital prison.

Marina started looking at maps.

In the weak light of early morning, Marina approached Becca.

“Is it possible to make bombs out of car batteries?”

Becca didn’t reply. But when Hannah said, “Oh hell yeah you can!” Becca didn’t exactly say no, either.

~~~

Being trapped in the prison cell was torture. Tao was provided no pain medication, so he sweated, and groaned, and writhed. The lights never turned off, so he slept in fits and starts, daydreams seeping into nightmares spilling into daydreams. The axe coming down. The deathmasks of his friends. A car in flames.

Food was delivered to them through a slot in the door at odd hours and in inconsistent portions, as if to keep them confused. Or perhaps, with the Commander gone, his systems were falling apart. Who knew.

It felt like days before their monotony was finally interrupted by the door flinging open with a bang, startling Tao and Vic out of their restless dozing.

General Gordon stood in the doorway, a wild smile on his face.

“Tao, right?”

Tao kept his mouth shut, watching the General warily, but Gordon shrugged.

“Don’t bother lying, Lark told us everything.”

“He’s alive?” gasped Tao, pushing himself upright.

“Of course he’s alive, why would I waste an ass like that?”

Tao gritted his teeth. “What do you want?”

Gordon’s eyes glinted above his smug grin.

“I want to make a trade.” He stepped further into the cell, and a soldier moved to take his place in the doorway. The soldier held a pair of crutches.

“You get these,” the General proposed, “As long as you listen very nicely, very politely, to this recording that I have.” He pulled a small device out of his pocket.

It would be nice to not need Vic’s help to use the toilet, Tao thought, but there was no way this was that simple.

Gordon didn’t wait for an answer, however. He continued on.

“Yes, Lark’s been a very good boy for us. After we patched him up, I decided the boys in the barracks deserved a treat. They’ve been so loyal. I stop by every once in a while, and Lark makes… just the prettiest noises.”

He hit a button on the recorder. Wordless, rhythmic, painful cries, high and plaintive, came through tinny and small from the recorder’s meager speaker.

Tao felt every muscle in his body tense. The pain in his leg pulsed as his heart rate picked up. Horror and rage flooded his system.

“What the fuck?” he hissed.

“Ah-ah-ah!” Gordon scolded him cheerfully, “You have to listen quietly if you want-”

“Fuck your crutches!” With nothing else at hand, Tao threw his pillow at the General. It hit him in the face, and when it fell harmlessly away he was no longer smiling.

“Fine.” He clicked the recording off, just as a voice was asking, “You like that, don’t you, you dirty-” “Have it your way.” Clearly pissed that his mind-games hadn’t gone according to plan, he turned on his heel to leave. But as he was passing through the doorway the whole building shook with an unholy, cacophonous crash. It sent Gordon stumbling, and reverberated through Tao’s bones.

“What the hell is that?” the General shouted over the continuing rumbles, then, seeing something off to the side exclaimed, “Oh shit!” He took off, slamming the cell door behind him.

Vic jumped down from the upper bunk and pressed his face to the little window in the door.

“Oh shit indeed!” he echoed the General, “Tao, you’re never going to believe this!” He grinned over his shoulder.

“What?” Tao demanded, his hopes rising.

“It’s the Watch, they blew the fucking wall open! And…” Vic took a step back and tried the door. It opened. “Yes!”

Tao, grunting with pain, heaved his injured leg off the bed to rest on the floor. “Come help me!”

“Hang on!” Vic ducked through the door out of sight for a moment before returning, bearing the crutches. “They left something behind!”

He helped Tao to his feet and situated the crutches under his arms. Outside their cell, the building continued to rumble and shouts echoed as orange-suited prisoners ran past their door. Tao followed Vic out of their cell into the chaos.

The prison block, Tao could now see, was a two-story structure of cells encircling an empty, open space in a U-shape. The side with no cells, to their left, was blown open, with clouds of dust yet to settle over scattered rubble. Through the hole in the wall was another chamber, but it obviously reach the exterior somewhere beyond that – the prisoners, who had all at this point realized this was their chance at freedom, were making a collective mad dash for the open wound in the building. Standing within the tide, but letting them through, was a group of Watchmen; kitted out with stolen and scavenged weapons and tactical gear, blacked out with spraypaint. One of them held two prison guards on their knees at gunpoint off the to side; looking around, Tao couldn’t see any other guards.

“Let’s go!” Vic started across the atrium towards the Watch, waving an arm, “Over here!”

“Wait!” Tao shouted, “Where did that rat-fuck General go? He knows where Lark is!”

Two of the Watchmen had spotted them and run over. It was Hannah with a rifle, and someone else with a pistol, who shouted, “Where’s Karlo!”

Tao did a double take. “Marina?!”

Indeed, it was Marina’s face peeking out from under an oversized helmet. Her angrily determined expression was a familiar comfort.

“Where’s Karlo? Is he here with you?” she demanded.

“No, but a man was just here…” Tao scanned the room, and almost dropped a crutch when he pointed, “There!” A face flashed in one of the cell door windows before ducking down. “He knows where Lark is!”

Hannah unslung an extra rifle from her shoulder and handed it to Vic. “Let’s get the bastard!”

They charged towards the cell where General Gordon was hiding, Tao taking a second to figure it out before finding he could swing himself along fairly fast on the crutches.

“How the hell’d you get here?” he asked as they moved.

“It’s fuckin’ wild out there, boss!” Hannah replied, “Everything’s falling apart now that the Commander’s dead, soldiers are abandoning the Capital or holing themselves up in barracks, Capital civilians are rioting, this prison was being run by a skeleton crew!” They reached the cell door. “Once we started blowing shit up, motherfuckers ran.”

Vic looked into the cell through the little window.

“There are more of us than there are of you!” he shouted, “Drop your weapons, now!” There was a pause, then he looked over his shoulder with a grin. “Fuckin’ cowards!” He flung open the door and lifted his rifle. Inside stood Gordon and the soldier who had been carrying the crutches, their arms raised and their pistols on the floor. Gordon’s face was a twist of fear attempting to hide behind rage.

“Kick ‘em to me!” Vic ordered, and they had no choice but to scuff their guns across the floor to the rebels. Hannah scooped them up, sticking one in her own belt and handing the other to Tao. Tao tucked it into his waistband, and stepped forward.

“You’re going to take us to Lark now,” he said, “You got that?”

Gordon was breathing hard, trying to sneer but failing as his chest heaved and his hands shook.

“Fine,” he hissed.

Vic gestured with his gun for the General to walk forward. Then he swung his weapon towards the soldier.

“Eh. We don’t need you.” He aimed down and shot the soldier in the foot.

“Vic!” someone shouted over the solder’s scream, “Geneva convention!”

Tao turned to see Becca and the rest of the Watch had joined them, along with the surviving captured rebels and what looked like a few new volunteers, in their orange prison uniforms.

Vic beamed at her. “Sue me later?”

“Quit fucking around!” Tao shouted, and turned on Gordon, “Take us to Lark, now!”

Gordon slowly walked forward, keeping his arms raised. He was doing less to hide his fear, now, and watched them all warily.

Becca stepped aside to let him through.

“Lead the way, fucker.”

~~~

First, Previous, Masterlist, Next

Taglist: @angst-after-dark, @sunshiline-writes, @flowersarefreetherapy, @pigeonwhumps, @whump-em, @morning-star-whump, @thecyrulik, @honeycollectswhump, @pumpkin-spice-whump

[acursedworldofaus]

Dragon’s Blood (Part 1)

Yandere AFO x Oblivious (AFAB) Reader

CW: implied non-con, implied somnophilia, implied trespassing, implied stalking, implied impregnation/breeding if you squint.

Gray dawn light streams through your window. You turn away from the unwanted brightness, trying to eek out another morsel of sleep by burying your face in your pillow, noticing sleepily that it smells oddly sweet, spicy, and earthy, somewhat like dragon’s blood. The scent is like a ghost of an echo, though, and the more you chase it the less you smell, as if you imagined some phantom fragrance. You write it off as residual imprints of smells from your shop in favor of pretending you aren’t conscious. Unfortunately, hiding only works for a few minutes before the uncomfortable feeling of wetness between your legs drives you to the bathroom for another early morning shower. Ordinarily, you would shower once before bed, but now you find yourself showering twice a day: once after work, and once before to prevent yourself from walking around with slick fluids caked onto your thighs and labia. If you don’t, it’ll congeal, dry, then flake. 

Gross.

You glare at yourself in the mirror after you strip naked, wondering what the hell happened for your brain to have weird wet dreams every night this month. You keep waking up soaked with damp panties. The weird splotches dotting your skin from your collarbone to your ankles haven’t gone away either. If you didn’t know better, you’d think they were bruises, but that can’t be it. How would they get there after all? You sure as hell haven’t fallen recently. Maybe you have a blood disorder you don’t know about? Which, now that you think about it, isn’t random bruising a sign of that?

You decide to go see a doctor if it doesn’t change anytime soon, quickly washing away the night’s slimy residue before getting ready as normal and heading into work at your tea, herb, and spice shop. You grab a cinnamon roll along the way and make tea once you arrive, then sip and nibble as you prepare for opening. Hours pass normally as your regulars drop by for their orders. One of them, a gentleman by the name of Shigaraki, always comes by for something or other. He stops by today as well, all smiles and easy conversation, smelling faintly of something sweet, spicy, and earthy that seems oddly familiar, no doubt due to how often he visits. As per usual he has his charisma cranked to the max, and flirts with you nonstop as you package his latest order, aka the most recent tea you recommend he try.

“I can’t help but notice, Tea-chan, that you seem to be glowing today,” he comments in his lilting tone, just shy of purring.

”Really? I certainly don’t feel like it,” you murmur. “I haven’t slept properly for this entire month. I keep waking up feeling tired.”

And it was true, too. On top of waking up uncomfortably wet, you keep waking up feeling bone tired. Perhaps another thing to look into? All together, each individual observation sounds like a symptom cluster you really may be sick.

”Really,” Shigaraki-san insists. “You look even more beautiful than usual.”

His complement makes you blush. You finish wrapping up each canister and transfer them all into a colorful paper bag emblazoned with the shop logo. Your hands brush as you hand it to him, and he accepts it with a winning grin. His red eyes gleam like rubies in the brightness of afternoon sun, while his white hair shimmers with a golden tint. A halo of light surrounding his head lends to the illusion of an otherworldly being clothed in human skin standing before you. Something stops you from labeling this hypothetical supernatural creature as angelic. 

“Well, if that’s the case, then thank you, Shigaraki-san. I appreciate such kind words even if I don’t feel they’re true.”

”I’ve told you that Hajime is fine,” he says, waving away any future attempts at distance or formality. “And of course they’re true, Tea-chan, whether you believe them or not.”

He’s tried getting you to use his first name without an honorific for his last three visits, but it feels too informal, too forward. 

“Fine, fine,” you relent, reddening further. “H-Hajime. Thank you. Please take care.”

Triumph flashes in his eyes followed by amusement and affection before his features smooth out and return to normal. He tips his hat to you in lieu of a verbal response then departs for who knew where.  It’s not as if he shares much about himself besides once telling you he helps people with their Quirks. You assume he means he’s a Quirk counselor. It explains his bespoke suits considering how much those counselors make in a single week. 

You put him out of your mind as ninety-six year old Takeda-san hobbles in for an herbal mixture meant to help with arthritis pain. You have a duty to your clients to keep your head clear so you can meet their needs. You dole out teas and herbal remedies for upset stomach, for anxiety, for ear ache, for sleeplessness and headaches. You shove all thoughts of how handsome Hajime is, how good he smells, how soft his skin looks, and countless others down until they quiet, at least until closing. Unbidden memories of him spring to the surface as you lock up at sundown, ready to make the journey back home.

[an-albino-pinetree]

There is slight dark themes in this comic! There is no Nsfw, and nothing is shown, there’s nothing graphic done or said, but the “comic” itself is about the lead up to a non consensual act. You could look at this as both dub con or non con, either way, if those themes upset you, I wouldn’t read this! Thank you! - Implied touching, Carnival is way too chipper given the circumstances, examination stuff, reader is referred to as “patient”, light violence mention, POV, scopophobia:

[howlsofbloodhounds]

WHO'S IN THE MOOD FOR ME SPEWING RANDOM HEADCANONS BECAUSE I HAVE NO IDEA HOW TO MAKE THEM IN AN ACTUAL ASK

if you dont who cares you gettin them anyways 🫵

Nightmare is constantly cold, dream is constantly warm

Nightmare continuesly cuddled up with his human friends because of that, humans have body heat, he doesnt, therefore he will steal yours and you better shut your trap about he's cold because he knows that. Deal with it.

When they were younger nightmare and dream used to cuddle up whenever possibly because they're hot and cold so they balance eachother out

(You know the thing of signanothername where nightmare went 'back' to his previous form? Yeah heres some about that)

In my head it isnt nightmares legs thats fucked up its his back, i mean he got like 4 tendril thingies his back has gotta be fucked up

(Gonna use my mothers back problems as reference for this 😎)

He can walk on his own, on bad days it may look a bit more like a limp but offer him help and he will hiss at you, quite literally

Especially right after the whole going back he was weaker then before, both because yk, he went back to his previous form, and injuries (they were probably battling, so like, yeah) so after internally panicking he decided to start judging dream for everything, and not hesitating to tell him

If he cant hurt you physically he'll hurt your feelings

Nightmare continuesly hisses at anyone who comes 6 feet near him, if they keep getting closer he'll bite

The ghosts are still with him, they kept throwing stuff at people whenever they came close to nightmare

Nightmare hissing is a hilarious image. But of course he’d been an asshole even when he’s injured or otherwise bedridden. Dream forget about his ass ong. /j

But yeah I can definitely see nightmare having fucked up legs and a messed up back. his corruption seemed pretty violent, especially for a 6 year old. (It still kills me how the twins were only 6. like why tf these villagers abusing and using and manipulating these babies. like what the hell guys)

And I love how the twins cuddle because they run different temperatures, and also likely because they can only really trust or give touch with eachother.

if they went to the villagers for anything like that, nightmare would’ve been shunned or hurt, and Dream would’ve only likely been given a hug if he did or gave something to them first; and perhaps the touches and hugs would go on longer than he wants.

{ @brokenramunebottle }

[yellow-computer-mouse]

Headcanon Time!

was just scrolling through the utmv headcanon tag so hehehehe

name color (under cut) is fave color (also hc) btw!

Nightmare

Dream

Dust

Blue

Ink

Red

Violet

Nightmare

He/They/Dark

The transest man you've ever met

Is super dramatic and does a lil song and dance number to keep his sanity

Likes Will Wood, Bears in Trees, Twenty-One Pilots, The Front Bottoms, 6arelyhuman.. RIProducer...

He got dragged into BiT by Red and he hates it

He's super embarrassed that he listens to vocaloid (for some reason)

He's autistic

Like. Almost all the DSM-5 symptoms to a T.

He has really intense flat affect and low empathy

He has troubles with speech and didn't start speaking until he and Dream were like 4.

Even still he pronounces the letter t as more of a d sound

Except in butterfly... catch him calling them "blubberflap" ...it feels better on his tongue, okay?

Has CWP, CFS, and POTS.

Denies this

Likes sharks

Denies this

Likes bugs

...Doesn't deny this, actually

He has a pendant of a bug trapped in amber

It's his favorite thing ever

Killer took it once and was not prepared for Nightmare's reaction

Panromantic asexual

Asexual through trauma

Has very bad social anxiety

Like. Bad.

He has had one (1) anxiety attack (that he can remember) and he hated it

Only time he's ever actively ran away from someone talking to him

Bonded with a pygmy of himself and now it's a service animal and squeaks at him when he's gonna have a fainting spell

He's an age regressor! Usually regresses around 4-6

Sleeptalks loud enough to wake up other people

Has caught himself sleeptalking (he felt himself reach up and say something as he was waking up)

English is his second language, Spanish being his first!

He learned a lot of grammar and pronunciation through the other bad guys

Because of this, he did not know "hoe" also meant farming tool and not just slut

He has a lot of allergies.. main ones being something in a specific soap scent (he can't figure out what), mildly to dogs, severely to rabbits, pollen, something in those fake pinecones, and dandelions!

Most of those make him break out in hives

He has a lot of stuffed animals and blankets

His bed's essentially a nest

Summer is his favorite season

He likes swimming.. if only he knew how

Dream

They/He/She

Genderfluid, masc/andro leaning

Intersex as well! He has unusually high levels of estrogen

He usually wants to present as the opposite of his gender.. like he's an effeminate dude or a masc chick

Straight > bi-curious > pan > bi > gay

They want to garden!!... but they kill everything they touch

AuDHD

Hyper-empathy

Cries when someone drops a stuffed animal

Teases Nightmare relentlessly for his speech impediment (in a sibling way not a bully way)

Is lactose intolerant

Has a lot of GI issues bc autism

Nightmare bullies him for this (again sibling way)

One of his legs is longer than the other!

His favorite season is winter

He learned how to swim because Nightmare read him a detailed description of what happens when you drown and he has been deathly afraid of swimming ever since

Is a complete and total caffeine addict

Dust

They/It/He

Transmasc agender therian

Their theriotype is a lynx :)

AuDHD

Their special interests are birds, music, and Portal

Their favorite is GLaDOS and they are eternally disappointed in the simps

They don't get shifts

They also have OCD and schizo-affective disorder

They badly doodle birds on sticky notes and leave them around the castle

They're semiverbal/nonverbal and mostly communicate through ASL and little eeks

They will tell you to "go eek yourself"

This is easily misheard as "go eat yourself"

They are not telling you to kill yourself. They are telling you to eek yourself

what this means is unclear

They like playing Stardew Valley

They marry Abigail or Krobus every time

Every. Time.

He's a DM for D&D with Blue and Red and a couple others

Blue

He/Him!

AMAB nonbinary!

SWAG!!!!

He's deaf!

He's autistic!

He's scarily observant!

He's EVERYTHING AND MORE!!

He knows your full name!

He will not tell you how!

It is surprisingly not through stalking! He would never!!

He can remember the names of every single child in all of his classes throughout school!

He still holds a grudge against Kelly from second grade!

To be fair, she was a bitch!

He plays jumprope with his war hammer! Yes! Jumprope!

He spins it and jumps over it as he does so!

This is to assert dominance!

He runs a tattoo parlor!

He plays D&D with Dust!

His character starts cults themed around himself and rakes in NPCs as followers!

This is not concerning!

be not afraid

Ink

They/He

Bisexual

Their favorite color changes all the time!!

Right now it's red :3

They use kaomojis ☆*: .｡. o(≧▽≦)o .｡.:*☆

And star emojis ✨⭐🪄🌟🌙💛💫

very good

His love language is penguin pebbling!

Once he knows you like something he will never stop bothering you with it

Just

best boy

Red

He/Worm

He's nonbinary and doesn't care to explore past that

Surely the fact that he hates his gruff voice and wants to wear skirts has nothing to do with gender

He loooooves Bears in Trees and pestered Nightmare until he listened to them (he loved it)

He's autistic but has no clue

Everyone else knows

He's a lot

But he's friendly

Almost too friendly

He's very loud

But he's friendly!

He also can't spell

Violet

She/Him

Transfem bigender genderfluid demigirl

As in

She's transfemenine bigender

and those two genders are genderfluid and demigirl

👍

She's best friends with Nightmare and makes him paint his nails (he loves it)

She makes him leave his house (he doesn't love it)

She will bring you waffles

10/10 friend

[yandere--stuck]

Insomniac!Darling: hey what are these pills for

Yandere, eyeing your drink: