#its not Stockholm syndrome. but it is. but its not. but it is

[luv-gukkie]

★j𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 ★

pairing: yandere! min yoongi x f. reader

genre: fluff? || smut || non-idol au || yandere

summary: after a couple of months of just staring at the same four walls, you realize you do love yoongi as much as he loves you, or maybe you’re just trying to survive.

word count: +2.1k

tags/warnings: yoongi kidnaps reader, unprotected sex, yoongi is delusional asf...(a ‘bit’ crazy in the head), pregnancy, murder(s), stockholm syndrome, mentions of drugging, unconsensual touching, dom! yoongi, sub!reader, stalking, reader starts going crazy lowkey

notes: this is more like a small drabble for yoongi :) and its kinda written to show that the reader is losing her mind, sorry if it’s confusing!

༻❤︎︎ ★ ★ ❤︎︎༺

min yoongi was a man of a few words. he liked to relax his mind with his own devices; never one to say much with other people, even to himself. he was an introvert from the very start. his past relationships were always left in pieces; left with girls in tears while munching on tubs of ice cream left and right from such a lousy boyfriend who never cared about them. how he couldn't save their relationship from ruins, leaving it to dissolve with no worries at all for the future of what they could be. if he's honest, yoongi doesn't even know (or care to) how he managed to get women to go out with him. what he thought was just a couple of hookups was actually a relationship to some of his 'girlfriends'. maybe, he just couldn't understand women or maybe, just maybe, he was a sleazy ass who preferred to be by himself.

but, yoongi preferred to say that he loved his alone time more and wasn't prepared for a full-time relationship. the peace that he had built within his mind was enough for him. yoongi didn't really need anything else around him except for money, which was his income from working a boring office job from nine to five; monday to friday with decaf coffee in his hands daily and blue light glasses to protect him from the screen of his desktop.

the constant noise of the people around him were just annoying crowds that he couldn't handle. that was until he landed his eyes on you. it's a day he clearly remembers from sunrise to dawn. how could he ever forget seeing such a pretty face?

it was just his luck that his apartment was far from the city. one word could describe his apartment: perfect. the land was extremely quiet since no one else lived around. the only exceptional noise that would interrupt the silence would be the animals: the deers that would constantly communicate with the others, bunnies hopping around, hummingbirds that chirp with soft ends, or the baby opossums that would sneeze to get their parents' attention. yoongi's house had more than enough of love. he lived for it. however, it never hurts to add more to a loving house, especially when he was missing someone by his side. yoongi couldn't believe his luck on how this apartment was so excluded from the world; from the hands of society. it's exactly what he needed when he wanted to play his guitar with no one knocking on his door to disturb him. or when he wanted to listen to his music out loud, or to keep you safe in his home. its like it was meant to hide someone inside it, and the best part is that no one would ever know. no person can search somewhere they don't know exist. in other words, you were meant to be his.

the second you were inside, yoongi had basically erased your existence from earth. your missing poster left on wooden poles, shops, and shown on the news. and yet, not a single trace of you was found; questions about your appearance went unanswered. everyone was clueless on what could've happened to you. your disappearance was a complete mystery to everyone: where had you gone?

are you still alive?

it was uncomfortable to wake up. your head was pounding and the dizziness that took place in your head only further pushed you to have nausea. "finally." a deep, unsettling voice boomed out of somewhere. startled by the sudden noise, you quickly glance up to catch sight of a man's eyes. he stood right next to the door. that was the beginning of a new chapter. you were slipping away from sanity as time passed. most of the time, you were left alone. 'where am i?'  You just sat on the bed trying to figure out what happened; what was happening. the man who stood in the corner — you learned his name was Yoongi — left after a while. he would talk a little with you before leaving the room, saying something about grocery shopping.

you kept up a calm facade for the sake of survival. You had to or else you didn't know what your captor would do to you. you had full knowledge that he had the possibility of hurting you, or even worse, he could kill you. just like he had the guts to take you from your own freedom and dreams from when you were a little girl.

but there was no stopping time. it crept up until you realized that you've done nothing to help yourself get out. you've sat there day and night, acting like a good girl for him when it wasn't even you who wanted to be there. you've wasted seconds that led into days and you hope that it doesn't go on to years because you've truly lost yourself in this house. so, you prepared and waited until he left to act out. what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

as soon as Yoongi disappeared from your room and heard another door close, you took the opportunity to do what you don't usually do. all your yells for help and screams of desperation were drowned by the trees. You kept losing hope each wasted second. you were watching it slowly fall away from your grasp, and you couldn't do anything. the remorse of watching as the days went by and you were still stuck in a room locked in by your captor. It was just him and you. You and him. but he swore on the stars that when the time comes, it will no longer just be him and you, but mini-hims and mini-yous waddling around the house.

the small interactions you had with him were uncomfortably awkward for you, and you could clearly tell that he knew. and yet, he stuck around, choosing to stay and 'talk' with you. he didn't want you to think you were alone. he would be there for you.

as the weeks passed, the situation worsened for you. at first it was him moving into the room along with his things, then the part where he started sleeping next to you, and eventually to changing in front of you, touching you, and kissing you. Soon enough, it got more intense. That's when you knew you had to get out someway. You knew what step was next when his touching didn't stop at a few pecks. yoongi began to play with your tits, holding your ass tight to his crotch every night. you just couldn't get away from him.

everything was fucking shut tight. you felt the heat of anger crawling in your body. each window was locked, even the cabinets were locked.  there were also hidden cameras. it was just your luck when you had found one in the bedroom hidden perfectly. you were very surprised when you saw it peeking out of the lights. it just proved to you that yoongi was a fucking lunatic. he had been watching you and you were fucking clueless about it. but it also meant that there could of been hundreds of these tiny cameras recording you. you needed to get out.

you couldn't take it any longer. You were watched every single second. You were touched when he was home. You just couldn't keep it going like this. it was your breaking point. you screamed, sobbed, and whimpered at the fact that you were here. 'pathetic', you thought. there you were crying miserably on your mattress without trying to escape.

you heard the door open and then close, you dug your head into your pillow as the footsteps came closer. "it's okay." You immediately felt the presence of Yoongi by your side, pulling you up into a hug. he was panting. "I was worried about you." The hug got tighter. "I came here as fast as I could."

yoongi had worried about you. in that moment, you realized that maybe you gave up long ago. That's why you let him do what he did, after all, a whole year did pass without your knowledge. missing posters crumbling on the floor as the world continued to revolve without your existence. You had gotten used to his presence, his kisses, his behavior, and his love towards you. You were so frightened at first and used his attraction for you as a shield.

he kissed your lips gently before sticking his tongue inside of your mouth. your arms unconsciously wrapped around him. And for the first time, you let him touch you with his love and lust. the unbuckling of his belt made goosebumps grow out of excitement. With one thrust, your pussy sucked him in whole. Yoongi lowly groaned while you whimpered at the sudden feeling of his cock inside of you."I love you."

Yoongi waited. Were you going to say it back? his hips pounded into you with a harsh pace. You guttered nonsense as you quickly held onto his shoulders for support. the overstimulation flourishing on your cunt as his cock disappeared inside of you. "I-I love you..."

He kissed your nose gently. Yoongi stayed still until you came, cunt squirting around his cock with need. He moved his cock out slowly before filling you back in, his hot tip reach your cervix. a smile on his lips as he continued to repeat his desperate actions. a yearn in him to hear you moan in his ears louder. to make sure his cockhead reached your soft spot good enough that you would be whimpering under him as his cock perfectly managed to hit your g-spot. yoongi sucked on your skin, groaning against it as your pussy clenched around him. you were so perfect. his fingers dived into your hair as you milked his dick dry. his pace got sloppier, soft grunts escaping his throat as you legs wrapped him closer to you. yoongi pushed himself until he was deep inside of you, cumming with a loud moan leaving his lips. limbs comforting each other as the stars shined brightly until the sun outshined them once again.

the constant fear of you leaving had vanished in yoongi. replaced with a loving emotion that never left him once. While you slept in his arms, he eyed you. his fingers tracing over your arms, "I really do love you." And he meant that. That's why no one was ever around the area his apartment was in. He made sure the cameras he brought were in use to protect his territory from trespassers. buying red, bold signs to keep people out of what's supposed to be kept hidden, and for anyone who didn't listen, there's a reason he bought a shotgun. he killed anyone that passed the border between your world and reality. it's really the main reason for the cameras that were placed everywhere: inside and outside.

And as time passed rather quickly, your stomach grew and your tits swelled with milk. yoongi couldn't contain the pure excitement when he found out. you were pregnant with his child; a family both of you were able to grow out of dreams. yoongi smiled as he talked day and night, chuckling as he pressed his ear and hands to your stomach. he couldn't be happier that everything he dreamt of was finally happening.

All he had to do was wait and the perfect family he had planned for years prior had been achieved. you were clueless to everything he'd done, maybe cause of the constant drugs that he put in your food and drinks. secretly hiding away inside the locked cabinets. yoongi's lips kissed your head with softness while you carried his tiny daughter in your arms after nine months of constant patience and care. "I really do love you, __." the tears that swelled up in your eyes reminding you of your past; memories that once rested coming back to haunt you. you felt the knot inside your throat, the disgusting taste of wanting to throw up because of the gruesome sight in front of you. The doctor's snow-colored coat was splattered with his own blood. he was dead, stabbed to death by your yoongi. the knife in the middle of his chest tensing you up along with the other harsh cuts against his skin. "I had to", was all he repeated, "for our baby." his fingers gently wiping the tears from your cheeks, "say it." You felt like you couldn't breathe during that moment. everything was taking you back to day one. "i-", you paused as your voice trembled, "i love you." the pile of blood grew, drowning out the wooden floor. a faint pink colored yoongi's cheeks, "i love you more."

[mugentakeda]

just wanted to let you know i am Eating your dai li lu ten au. long feng doesn’t know how to be Normal towards his new subordinate because everyone in the dai li, including himself, grew up being indoctrinated and turned into human weapons in an incredibly toxic and soul crushing environment (bc i don’t think the dai li only started being Like That after long feng gained control, and i think it’s canon they start training at 13?)…just like the FN royal family grew up being indoctrinated and turned into human weapons in an incredibly toxic and soul crushing environment, so for lu ten there are a surprising amount of uncomfortable similarities…This Is Fine

LITERALLY THISSSS and lu ten is like. his shiny new subordinate. but in order to keep a sharp eye on him obviously lu ten operates as long fengs personal agent. but it develops beyond "I have to have him near me to keep an eye on him". being long fengs Only personal agent makes the way lu ten is treated compared to the REST of the dai li make sense- high clearance, solo missions that take him outside of ba sing se, his room (cell) being personal (its a room. but its a cell. Its still his room. it has a nice bed and lounging chairs and a tea set and scrolls and whatever the fuck else you have in your room) and deep under lake laogai (away from the sun). harsh punishments that are like 2 shots and a blunt away from torture. but the thing is- and this is where the silco and jinx influence comes in- their dynamic is obviously built on manipulation, but long feng doesn't like... actively manipulate him with words or actions. the regularly scheduled chi blocking and dai li-special brainwashing, yeah, but he doesn't add onto it by feeding lu ten ideas or playing with lu tens mind. its not anything like ozai and azula, or mother gothel and rapunzel. its far more casual and trusting. professional, since it is still a boss and his subordinate, but since lu ten is special, there's a taste of domesticity. long feng doesn't make lu ten bust his ass for the paternal mentor side. its like 'dad and the cat he didn't want'. long feng isn't suspicious of what lu ten does on his solo missions. hed get defensive on lu tens behalf if one of the other dai li heads that do know about lu ten being a fire nation prince would imply that he might betray long feng and ba sing se. he doesn't try to push anything onto lu ten because he doesn't have to- everything long feng wants in lu ten as his agent develops on its own, naturally. hes not cold and calculating when hes punishing lu ten for failing a mission, even if the punishments are crazy harsh. he hands over delicate business that could threaten ba sing se's security to lu ten with relief because long feng trusts him more than he trusts the other powerful dai li heads and politicians that are near long feng's level of power in ba sing se- and not even because lu ten will answer to him anyway, or because he has no reason not to- just because he trusts that lu ten will get the job done right. he trusts lu tens productivity and skill not just as a worker, but just as a person. the pride and care is genuine, and it coexists with the fact that he would definitely use lu ten against the fire nation as a last resort defense if worse came to worst. and yeah, long feng notes their similarities and vows that since lu ten is a special case agent, he will be treated by long feng humanly, and with respect and care. it's almost like a parent vowing to not be like their parents before them, but like. dark sided and evil

[sebbiknees]

guess who became obsessed with monster hunter world in like a WEEK hehejherjh I hate this dog.

ive decided to draw his ass

[kawareo]

peepaw and his cringe grandson

update: finished work here!

[disguisedcheezed]

Day 2 - Y section

You can tell I had so much fun that I drew this prompt 3 times and wrote (in a restricted time frame) blocks of text from a fanfic that keeps me awake at night.... Yeahhhh.

[sciderman]

I really don't like how we're just glossing over the fact that Gwen cheated on Peter let alone MJ hiding this from him.

who's glossing? i'm writing a whole fic about it.

2. they were on a BREAK

3. you're forgetting that peter and gwen are dramatic irony the couple™ and at exactly the precise same time gwen had her tongue down mary jane's throat peter had his tongue down harry's. the exact same night.

the joke is that peter has been burying all this guilt for years thinking that he'd failed gwen and was terrible and dishonest and she was an angel who was too good for him until he finds out. gwen was always just as much of a messy bitch as he was. but he was too busy spiralling in his own messes to realise that gwen was just as messy as he was.

4. mj didn't tell him, sure. but that's because she assumed gwen told him. i don't think mj's the sort of girl to say "hey by the way i fucked your girlfriend shitlips" even if that would be hilarious. she didn't think it was a secret though and definitely thought gwen told peter.

and yeah. i'd hesitate to call it cheating - they were definitely on a break. they might not have laid down a law, and definitely both feel ridiculously guilty about it, but they. were. on a break.

i think it was just a necessary thing, for both of them.

i think for me, i'm not about the moral black-and-white of relationships - it always got me down when people point at the piña colada song saying it's terrible. it's about cheating. that's objectively bad and evil so says it in the bible thou shall not commit adultery yadda yadda yadda. no, no, shut up. that's not what the song is about. the song is about rediscovering there's stuff you've overlooked about your partner. that you can think you love someone, but not actually know them. and you can learn more about them, and realise they're not what you thought, and you can fall in love with them all over again. for me, that's like, the most romantic thing ever, actually. and those who look at it through the "this song is about cheating" lens completely sleep on how genuinely, sincerely cute and romantic it is. that it's a song not about cheating, but discovering stuff you didn't know about your partner, and falling in love with them all over again. finding out that actually, you're both the kind of person who's crazy and lustful for life enough to run away with a romantic stranger on a wild escape, but you were both too afraid to admit that to each other. i love that song. it's so much more sincere and human than any stupid love song. nay sayers get away from me.

i think peter and gwen are a lot like that piña colada song. neither of them are a villain. both of them make mistakes and both of them were messy and both of them had stuff to figure out before they could make it work together.

i... sighs... i'd like people to kind of stop expecting these guys to be right all the time. they're disasters. i wouldn't be interested to write them in any other way. and i promise you wouldn't be interested to read it, either. i'm here for the messy bitches who have stuff to figure out. shout out to the messy bitches who have stuff to figure out.

[dirtytransmasc]

[mild tw for marital rape/forced 'consent' its only referenced a little, but it feels necessary to mention it]

imagine Alicent only standing up for herself when Aegon is in the picture. Imagine her talking her son to her chambers cause he's fussy and won't go down for bed and was asking for his mum, and she has him tucked close, blissfully asleep, and Viserys calls for her.

she knows she can't refuse, but she tells the servant he had sent to make him aware of Aegon's state. he still demands that she be brought to his chambers and that the babe go back to his nursemaid. she looks down at her baby, who's now woken due to the disturbance, who is staring up at her with soft tired eyes, a little yawn escaping him.

she doesn't want to go, she doesn't want to be forced to take her husband, to pleasure him at her own discomfort. she doesn't want to leave her son, to have him sent back to bed where he will remain restless and in the care of someone who is not his mother. she had never want to refuse more than she did in that moment.

she hesitates, her facade falters. Aegon is still looking up at her as tears well up in her eyes. he quirks his head at her, fingers reaching for her cheeks as if to comfort her. with a sudden conviction, she takes him in her arms, rising from the bed, requesting a robe and a blanket. when her servant looks at her in question, she clarifies that she will be taking Aegon with her and does not wish to rouse him in attempts to dress him. they look at her with shock, but don't voice the concern written on their faces.

they bring her Viserys's favorite robe. Alicent recognizes it from her time with Rhaenyra and Aemma. she's worn it before, Viserys has made sure the servants bring it to her every time he requests her. she hates the way it feels against her skin, knowing why he makes her wear it. she wraps aegon in his blanket, soft and royal blue, his hands beginning to play with its golden tassles as she tucks him inside her robe, pressed to her chest with care.

even as fear bites at her heels, anxiety churning her stomach, she walks to Viserys's chamber with her held high. she knows she is only asking for her husband's wrath; she knows she should just obey him, but she just can't. her son will not suffer a sleepless night and horrid following day all because her husband feels the need to use her body once more. he will not suffer at his father's hands tonight, even if she has to endure Viserys's anger for it.

she enters her husband's chambers, finding him in bed, in a white night gown, clearly ready to use her; he was never subtle when he asked for her, not even the first time.

she pauses in the doorway, pulling back the robe slightly, making him aware of Aegon's presence. she watches his face fall, barely muted anger. she holds onto Aegon tighter. part of her fears he may hurt her for this disturbance, but more of her fears he will hurt Aegon on her behalf.

"I told the damned servants to take him," his voice is warped and cruel, just an angry scowl of sorts.

"Aegon is not well, dear husband... I could not leave him," she admits before he can say anything else. she puts her foot forward as a mother, hoping to claim mercy from the man who made her one.

he mutters something in response, not quite loud enough for her to hear. she has a feeling she is grateful for that.

"what was it you needed, my dear?" she tries to sound sweet and kind, in attempts to abate his anger, "I'm sure I could still attend to it."

"you know what I wanted," he yelled. it had been the first time he'd truly raised his voice to her. she couldn't help but gasp, stepping back one step, than two, stopping when Aegon began to fuss, curling around him instead.

"Please Viserys, the baby." she ducks her head down to press her against his whispy white hair. her son his huffing, as if about to cry, and she's sure if she could see his face, his little cheeks would be red and his eyes would be crinkled and wet, his lip puckered. she begins to rock him slightly, still afraid to move.

"your'e dismissed," he grunts, but his tone gives it away. she knows he doesn't mean it, the if she leaves she will be in more trouble. she questions staying, calling a servant to take Aegon and giving him what he wants, but decides against it. he would not come before her son, not now, not ever.

"I'm sorry, my dear, another night, when I do not have Aegon to tend to," she forces some cheer into her tone, "he is still so young, so helpless. he needs his mother. I'm sure you understand?"

"he is not the only one in need of you." he had not lost his anger yet. not even for the sake of his son.

"yes, of course. forgive me. only he is not as understanding as you, my love." that wasn't the truth, Aegon was more kind and understanding at a year old, than viserys was in all of his years. "I will leave now. I am sorry for the disturbance."

she pauses for a moment, waiting for her husbands reaction. when he doesn't lash out at her, she breathes a quiet sigh of relief, feeling as though she has evaded a great beast. her heart calms in her chest, slowing from its fluttering and her stomachs stops its dizzing ache. she questions turning and running, fleeing from his presence before he can change his mind, but knows better.

she hurries to his side, eyeing him all the while, each step calculated, avoiding cracking any eggshells, until she is close enough to kiss his cheek. he allows it, and gives Aegon grace when he reaches out for him, letting him play with his finger a moment, before pulling it away, not even turning away fully before sneering. she takes that as her cue to leave, this one being much more genuine than the last.

"goodnight dear husband." he says nothing. she takes Aegon's little hand, waving it slightly, "say goodnight Aegon."

her son tries to imitate her, though unintelligible, as a toddler would. she continues to smile and coo at him even when his father ignores him, not letting him feel his father's scorn, quickly turning towards the door and back to her own chambers.

the second the door is close she feels herself sag, she would have fallen to the floor right then and there had there not been kingsgaurd watching. instead she holds her head high once more, walking calm and steady, like a queen should.

Aegon settles his forehead against her collar, giving a great yawn against her skin. she smiles at him fondly, kissing his brow, earning a tired little giggle from him. it hits her that he is unaware of the trouble he just saved her from. she feels equal parts relief as she does terror; she hopes he never knows, never understands, but is so so thankful for it none the less.

the second she steps into her chambers she pulls of the robe, setting it aside carefully despite the pain it brings her, respecting the memories it carried. she pulls back the covers before smothering her and her son amongst them. he's quick to curl against her, quite tuckered out after their harrowing adventure, even if he was unaware of its true weight. she herself still wanted to cry, but was similarly too tired to keep her eyes open for another moment. tomorrow, she tells herself, tomorrow will be difficult, but tonight you have your son, tonight you have a chance to rest.

so she does, she holds him close, tracing fingers over the gold threaded patterned of his blanket, feeling the shifting of his chest as he breathes and the tickle of his hair against her neck. all is well in that moment. she drifts to sleep at the thought.

[charles-jpg]

love, unconditionally | in honor of charles' renewal

if I’ve got to suffer it may as well be at your hands. - jean paul sartre

[catscidr]

Could we get some Dottore x escaped experiment reader? Gn if possible, doesn't even have to be smut. I just can't find anything along those lines and I like your writing style :)

i. note — hehehoho i might have uuuhhh used this ask as an excuse to go off a lil and try something new teehee °ᗜ°) but this was really fun to write!! thank you nonnie for the suggestion, and thank you very much for liking my stuff enough to req something!!! i hope u all enjoy ii. includes — dottore, gn!reader iii. cw — unhealthy and toxic dynamics, no dialogue, mentions of cannibalism, mild body horror, one (1) dead body, not quite stockholm syndrome but maybe kinda, reader is a mess and dottore is not a good person (shocker). minors do not interact, age in bio or block. iv. wc — 2k -> posted on ao3 too!

To humans, running is what they do when they’re late to work, when they’re working out, or even when they’re playing games at recess as children. To predators, running is what they do in order to secure their next meal. To prey, running is what they must do so they can escape from the predator’s clutch in one piece, to not end up as a mangled corpse serving as someone or something’s food. 

You have more in common with prey than you have with humans, despite being one yourself. 

It hasn’t always been that way. One moment you were enjoying the warm afternoon sun of your home region out on a walk, and the other you found yourself thrown over someone’s shoulder with a bag over your head. 

You always find yourself reminiscing, yearning to feel the warmth you felt that day— minus the incident. You used to be a model citizen; someone people would rely on. 

A shame no one helped you when you desperately needed it. 

Your own mind is all you’re left with, as you’re clumsily tripping over your feet, rocks scraping your skin and blood trickling down your legs. The feeling is almost peaceful; but after running for so long, and with how often you’ve gotten yourself in this exact situation, you’re starting to second guess your motive for running in the first place. 

Is it a form of entertainment, are you growing bored of the four padded walls engulfing your five senses at all hours of the day that you feel the need to get the energy out of your body like a hamster does by using the wheel in its cage? Is it to leave the predicament you found yourself in after trusting someone you, under no circumstances, should have trusted? 

Or is it because you gradually have come to find yourself sharing more similarities to a dog, begging its owner to even unenthusiastically throw a plastic frisbee for a smidge of attention to fulfill your need to be seen, to be heard, and now you feel the responsibility to own up to that label you inflicted upon yourself? 

The lines between reality and your thoughts have blurred so much it frightens you. 

...Or, rather, it should scare you. After spending so much time in your own head, one would find that it’s surprisingly easy to come to distrust your own mind. You’re not sure if you should believe what goes through your head, even less believe what you feel. But at the same time, you’re all you have. You have no choice but to trust yourself, even when you shouldn’t. 

Only a select few are aware of how dreadfully strong and outright stubborn the human mind can be, whether it be from their own personal experience or from seeing others slip into a state like yours. 

Unfortunately for you, He’s familiar with your situation. Painfully familiar. 

… 

Sometimes you wish you were a luna moth. Delicate and radiant, people would be torn between praising you for your beauty and shunning you away for the crime of looking different than what they’re used to. You wouldn’t be a butterfly, would not conform to what society wants you to be. You would be able to be who you want, look however you want to without worrying over other’s opinions. 

The people that did like you, though, would treat you with care and would do everything in their power to make your stay in this world a pleasant one. A stay that would only last a week. 

Not long enough for you to become familiar with the horrors that await humanity. Seven days filled with nothing but genuine smiles, void of empty promises. 

You’d crawl out of your cocoon, eat good food, find someone to help continue your bloodline, then die somewhere peaceful and hope that your crumbling, decomposing body will bring relief to someone desperately needing something to eat. 

But you’re not a moth. 

… 

It’s unbearably cold when you come to your senses. Peeling your eyes open, you glance around to find yourself surrounded by cold limestone, barely illuminated by the cave’s entrance just a few feet away. The hairs on your skin rise from the wind guiding snow through the passageway, making you curl into yourself in a pathetic attempt to keep your body’s temperature from dropping too low. 

You look down at yourself; your pants are ripped at the hem, and you see messy splotches of brownish red staining the fabric and your skin, going all the way down to your calloused feet. You’re not sure how long you’ve been out for, but it must have been at least an hour given how the bleeding from the numerous scratches and gashes on your legs stopped without any assistance. 

The cave felt completely foreign to you, but even then, it brought you more comfort than He had. Or at least you think it does. 

You feel free. Despite the way your body shivered endlessly from the wind howling into the cavern, despite the dull but searing pain that made it feel like your feet were scorching that traveled up your legs, despite the way you couldn’t move your lips from how dry and cracked they were, split from sheer cold. 

You think this is the most freedom you’ve felt since you’ve gotten yourself stuck in His maw. 

... 

The wind is reduced to a soft, soothing melody when you wake up again. Almost calming enough for you to drift off to sleep a second time, but a nagging feeling in the depths of your gut told you that it was a bad idea to fall unconscious this time around, so you try to shake off the numbness in your limbs instead of succumbing to the call of the void. 

Standing up proves to be a challenge as your legs buckle under your weight. You catch yourself before you fall, holding onto the rough formation of a rogue stalagmite; it’s a struggle to hold yourself up, but at the very least you didn’t give yourself a concussion. 

The pain isn’t completely unwelcome, though. Your feet are throbbing, and the palm of your hand holding yourself up with the help of the stalagmite stings. As you blink the drowsiness away and the blood begins to flow through your limbs correctly again, you straighten your back to take in your surroundings properly. 

The cave’s entrance was filled with thick snow. There was enough that it would reach your stomach should you walk up to it, ignoring the snow that fell into the grotto, and not the snow that partly obscured your way to the outside world. You can’t see much outside, only the faint outline of pine trees wavering in the distance, far enough that you can only barely make out their form. 

Looking away from the blinding whites outside, you notice how utterly desolate the cavern is. Not even a single trace of a life was left behind in this cold, worn hollow. Maybe it’s better this way. You’re not sure you would have appreciated seeing even a wild hare or a fox in here, much less a bear. 

Sitting down on the rocky ground again to give your legs a break, you take a moment to think back to what got you here in the first place. 

You faintly recall rusty medical equipment, convulsing organs, and seeing Him jot down notes. You remember a plate being handed to you, the vague image of a man covered by a stained sheet of what used to be white, and the bile that rose to your throat when your gaze focused on what was on the plate itself. 

Everyone knew the Doctor was a twisted man, but you doubted He was twisted enough to force someone to cannibalize one of their peers. 

Clearly, you were wrong. 

Then, you remember making a mad dash for the thick iron doors of his laboratory. By the grace of god, you were able to leave; and you now found yourself in this desolate cavern, tucked away from civilization. 

As far as you were aware of. 

But you shouldn’t trust your mind. You knew this, yet you also knew not to trust yourself when you told yourself you couldn’t trust yourself. Simultaneously believing in logic and being a mess of paradoxical jargon— it exhausted you to think about. So you try not to. 

Whether by a stroke of bad luck or because of something else entirely, your dull sense of hearing picks up the faint sound of snow crunching beneath boots. Your hands and legs scramble to take you where you can hide as much of yourself as you can behind a rock formation, and you stare out of the cave’s entrance, holding your breath. 

The sound becomes louder. An almost gentle woosh noise accompanies the scrunch of snow, and soon after it stops, you’re able to make out a blurry figure approaching the cave’s entrance. The icy flakes make way for Him at His command, hand waving to get rid of what was keeping you physically separated from Him. 

The pure white snow behind His body glinted off his intricate accessories, the light forming a halo so otherworldly that it left you utterly breathless. 

His boots make a soft clicking noise against the limestone as He steps into the grotto, your safe haven for however long you had been here— now not. Not a single word left His lips as he assessed your rugged appearance. 

You wish He would smite you right then and there. He was most likely able to, and with ease, but you doubt He would willingly discard one of his longest-running experiments for disobeying a rule that you had broken many times before anyways. 

Your jittery gaze follows His movements as He outstretches His arm, offering you a gloved hand, silent. 

Did he know how much you simultaneously trusted and distrusted your own judgement? You stare at His hand, unmoving, heart racing against your ribcage— torn between bolting away, into the darkness of the cave, or intertwining your fingers with His, allowing Him to take you away voluntarily. 

This was mercy either way. You could either die at the hands of whatever lurked in the shadows of the grotto, or you could die at the hands of the man that brought you so much pain it morphed into comfort, solace. He stood, unmoving. Observing you. 

You knew Him well enough to know that He was taking mental notes on your behavior even now, outside of the familiar comfort of his lab in Haeresys. 

Both options were foolish, but you weren’t exactly known to be in the sanest state of mind. 

Pulling your arms away from your body, you bring a shaky hand up to take ahold of His, allowing Him to pull you up to your feet. You almost fall as a result of your nerves, but thanks to His quick reflexes you find yourself tucked in his arms, cheek pressed up against His navy cravat. The hand that wasn’t holding yours comes up to pat your head, gently untangling the knots that had formed in your hair. You melt into His touch, eyes fluttering shut to bask in the warmth He provided. 

As you stand there with Him, knees weak, body upheld by His will alone, you shove down the thoughts that brew in the forefront of your mind. Usually you would welcome the noise, even be grateful that you, at the very least, had yourself to lean on. But you find yourself wishing to lean on Him more than yourself, both literally and metaphorically, keening at the comfort He brought you. 

You knew you couldn’t trust your mind, so why not trust His instead? If you couldn’t rely on your own instincts, judgement or thoughts, then how bad would it truly be to let someone other than you become fully responsible for your wellbeing? 

... 

You were neither a moth nor human.

You were a dog.

[moeblob]

So it occurs to me that I posted most of their lore on my OC blog (though a few posts on here have the story info) and honestly I think it's very important to note that the entire reason a guy from Florida is recruited to help defeat the demon lord isn't him as the hero. His younger brother (by about ten years younger) is the Chosen Hero and... not very good at it. So the goddess (Solei) who had selected the hero has to begrudgingly go back to earth and convince his older brother to help save her world.

(Also Reynold admits to Solei that "Sascha could never be a bad influence. He's the best impulse control I've ever had" and she really doesn't like to hear it. That's terrifying.)

[denkies]

Some of yall do not know the difference between "media that glorifies Bad Thing" and "media that portrays Bad Thing and the audience has to use critical thinking skills" and its actually concerning

[petrichormore]

I think today’s encounter with Ron could be a hallucination but the only thing that makes me hesitate to agree is Ron’s info on the federation. Info that we as an audience know is probably accurate but that q!Bad would have no actual way of knowing. He can’t hallucinate new information. Also, said information was exactly what he didn’t want to hear. If he was hallucinating a fantasy world where he didn’t accidentally kill/eat Ron, it doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me for his brain to include made-up federation info that actively upsets him. If it was a scary, negative hallucination maybe - it wasn’t though. Buuuut you never know I suppose. Either way I’ll enjoy it.

[umihoshi]

[avvail-whumps]

‘guns for hire’ — uncharted territory #28

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content warnings: psychological whump, mentioned multiple whumpers, intimate whumper, manhandling, restraints, untreated broken bones, untreated injuries, forced to eat, punishments, past minor character death (and self blaming for it), manipulation to the highest degree man, stockholm syndrome, dub-con kissing (it’s technically consensual but...eh)

Leo wasn’t able to get even a scrap of sleep or rest. No matter how exhausted he was, with his mind straining from the sheer weariness, the throbbing pain in his fingers ripped any sort of relief from him. 

The concrete was cold and uncomfortable on his ribs. He hadn’t moved from that spot against the wall, curled up and shivering, his face damp with tears and drying blood. His fingers had gone a deep red, angry and sweltering with pain, enough that it brought Leo to dry tears anytime it would begin to swell. 

The pain made nausea press against the back of his throat, but Leo had already emptied any last food out of the contents of his stomach, so luckily he didn’t have to worry about the idea of throwing up. 

That same, harrowing sense of depression began to sink its claws into him. It was torture in of itself just being down here; the single dim bulb hanging over the chair, the bleak, crusted walls blocking him in from every direction. The alignment of terrifying tools on the walls only seemed to make his mind bend with horrible images and scenarios. Keeping him paranoid enough to not want to fall asleep. 

It wasn’t like he could anyway. 

Clammy, cold sweat clung to his forehead, a cold shiver wracking through his bones. Leo wanted any form of comfort, Roy’s jacket wrapped securely around him, but there wasn’t anything to cling onto. Not a single scrap or crumb. He was horribly alone down here, with the terrible events replaying in his mind. 

Guilt stung his stomach. Michael. 

God, the man had only been trying to help. He had picked Leo up without question and was helping him back to safety. If he’d never heard his car, then maybe Michael would have never been killed. His mind cruelly reminded him about the photo on the sun visor. The one where he stood smiling beside a red headed woman. 

Leo pinched his eyes shut miserably. 

That could have been his wife. His friend, his sister. Michael would have a family waiting for him back home, or god forbid any children, and Leo had got him killed. Remorse settled deep within his chest, settling there like a parasite. 

He swallowed heavily. His throat was dry. Too dry. It must have been hours since he’d been dragged down here; maybe less. The basement was like a tortuous vacuum, warping any sense of time he might have had. Unable to even sleep, he was left feeling utterly hopeless and small. 

Through his crusted eyelashes, Leo blinked hazily as he heard the sudden screeching of metal. His heart lodged in his throat and his stomach sank to his feet, head lifting up from the ground. It caused his vision to swim slightly, black spots guarding his vision. His joints popped uncomfortably as he unfurled himself from his position, watching Roy enter the room. He shut the door behind him, noticing a bowl and cup of water in his hands. 

Leo instantly licked his lips. He eyed the water with an aching throat, the air like ash with each unsteady intake. The man’s hair and clothes were slightly damp, and he wondered if it had been raining outside. 

Rain. God, Leo would do anything right now just to feel the rain on his skin, the pleasant wet smell lingering in the air. Roy shook off the little dew drops, setting down the bowl and cup to pick up a roll of duct tape as well. As he approached, he tore a long strip open, tearing it off with his teeth. 

Dread pooled into his stomach. 

“Roy?” Leo croaked, fearfully staring up at the man once he got closer. 

“Stay still,” he ordered, grasping his arms and pulling them behind his back. The duct tape wrapped around his wrist, before he took the roll and began to pin his forearms together uncomfortably behind his back. A quiet whimper escaped his lips, but Leo biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself quiet. He was dreading making any of this worse for himself. 

Roy brought over the bowl and water. He set it on the ground, and with a churning stomach, he realised it was porridge. A horrible sense of déjà vu swept over him, trying to swallow down the bile at the back of his throat. The man tilted his head, brow cocking after a few seconds of intense silence. 

“Well?” He hummed. “Aren’t you going to eat it?” 

Leo’s head tilted back, meeting his eyes in a mix of fear and confusion. His bottom lip wobbled open. 

“But…But my—” 

“Don’t tell me you’re getting picky now, lion,” Roy drawled, a hint of frustration in his tone. His arms were folded over his chest, cold gaze pinning him down. “Are you being ungrateful again?” 

“No!” He blurted, frantically shaking his head. “No, I-I’m not. I promise, Roy. Please, I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, I swear…” 

The man let out a curt sigh. His fingers were suddenly winding through his hair, scalp screaming at the ruthless tugs. Roy shoved his face into the bowl without a care, hand pressing uncomfortably on the back of his head. Leo gagged against a face full of mushy porridge, the food almost suffocating him, but Roy’s grip was unrelenting. His back was arched painfully from the position, scuffed knees digging into the concrete ground. 

Only when he felt like he was losing air did Roy finally grant him mercy. 

His head was jerked up violently, a pained gasp escaping his throat as he desperately gulped in enough air as he could possibly manage. He could feel the lumps of porridge smeared around his mouth and nose, spluttering. Roy’s face was twisted into a small grimace. 

“Please, stop,” he wheezed, his breathing ragged. “I-I’ll eat it, I promise. I’ll do it…” 

The mercenary hummed, yet he let go of his hair. His scalp throbbed, but he bit back burning tears in his eyes. Leo took a moment to suck in a shaking breath, not daring to even twist the duct tape in case he bashed his already throbbing fingers. His glossy eyes flickered up to Roy, who was watching him intently with a dark, awaiting expression on his face. 

A burning shame crept through his heart. 

He shifted on his knees to try and relieve the crippling pins and needles, but it was useless. Even as he leaned downwards, his back arched in a way to stop him from falling, Leo’s cheeks flushed in humiliation from the embarrassing position. The porridge was knocking him sick, the urge to scrub it clean off his face completely overwhelming. It was hard to get any food in his mouth like this. Not unless he made a complete fool of himself, which was exactly what he had to do. 

It only took a few minutes before Leo’s stomach was going queasy, and he struggled to lean back. 

“Please, I can’t…” He broke, eyes welling with tears. “I-I think…I’m going to be sick.” 

Roy scoffed, and soon Leo found his head being shoved abruptly into the bowl of porridge once more. “Are you really going to waste it?” He sighed curtly. “Because you aren’t getting another one.” 

The secretary squirmed slightly, but he knew there wasn’t anything he could do. He hesitantly let his tongue dart out, licking the remains of the porridge from the bowl with a queasy stomach. Roy’s fingers were cruel and tightly fisted in his hair, nothing like what he would usually do. Right about now, those fingers would have gently been carding through his hair, and Roy might have even been praising him for doing a good job. 

The tense silence, and only the sounds of eating was making tears run down his face. He was tired of all the rough touches that brought him nothing but pain. Why was Roy doing that now? Even after his initial escape attempt and the agonising whipping that had come after it, Roy would still hold him and whisper sweet nothings in his ears. Leo really needed that. He needed it more than anything, and it felt like it was breaking his heart in two. 

The touch left him once he was finished. Leo choked on a little sob. 

“I’m sorry,” he whimpered, his shoulder shaking. “I’m really sorry, Roy.” 

He hated the fact that he meant it. That there was sincerity in each word he produced. Because Leo was sorry; he should have never ran in the first place. 

Roy wasn’t looking at him, instead moving the bowl away. 

“Please,” he whispered shakily, choking on a wet sob. “Please, I-I need you.” 

That got him looking. 

“Need me?” He repeated, eyes narrowing slightly. “What you did just showed the opposite, lion.” 

He frantically shook his head. “I thought you were going to hurt my dad,” he choked. “I-I wanted to stop, I swear, I-I wanted to go back, but I was so afraid that you were going to…that my dad was gonna—” 

His chest collapsed, and he melted off into incoherent murmurs and whimpers as Roy gripped his jaw in a bruising grasp. He poured water into his mouth, a good amount of it spilling down his chin and chest, before he was wiping away the now cold porridge from his face. Leo relished in the contact as much as he could, but it didn’t last long, like tiny little scraps for a starving lion. 

“You’ve been really bad, you know that?” Roy murmured coldly. Leo hiccuped, frantically nodding his head before he had the chance to even think. 

“I know,” he whispered quietly. “I know, I know. I’m sorry.” 

“And you got some poor sod involved too,” he sighed, shaking his head in disappointment. He was crouched down now, arms resting on his legs as his eyes bore into him intensely. Leo wanted him to reach out, or do anything to ease his aching heart. He was almost annoyed at himself for locking himself away when he did, when he’d become so used to garnering Roy’s affections after so long of being hurt by the other mercenaries. After how long he’d genuinely missed him. “You do understand he’s dead, right?” 

Leo weakly nodded his head this time. “I-I know. I didn’t mean to…to…” 

“Didn’t mean to do what?” He frowned. “It was your fault, lion.” 

He’d told himself that. Over and over again, and it still made a stab of pain slice through his feeble heart. Michael was dead because of him. 

“I know,” he choked, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. More salty tears leaked down his face. Roy tilted his head, his frown deepening. 

“What was that, lion?” 

“It was my fault,” he sobbed, head hanging slightly as he struggled to steady his hyperventilating breaths. “I-If I hadn’t asked for his help, then he’d be—” 

“Alive?” Roy cut in cruelly. “Yeah, lion. He would be.” 

“I killed him.” 

His voice broke off, the horror in that statement sinking straight to his core. If only he had never been able to fight off Roy, then maybe Michael could have found his way to wherever he had been initially headed. He could have reunited with the red headed woman, and he might have continued to live a fulfilling, happy life. Leo had ripped that away from him, and nobody would know what happened. 

“These are the kind of things that’ll happen if you break the rules,” Roy pressed, seemingly uncaring about the broken expression on Leo’s face. “Isn’t that right, lion?” 

Leo bit back a sob, nodding his head. 

“So you understand why you need to be punished?” He questioned, making his clumpy eyelashes flicker open slightly. “Because I’m not doing this because I feel like it. I’m doing this because you broke the rules. You only have yourself to blame.” 

He numbly nodded his head again. 

“I know,” he whispered. He had always known, really. He only had himself to blame, and blame he did. His eyes hesitantly flickered upwards, sucking in a ragged breath. “I promise I’ll be good.” 

Roy’s lip twitched into a slight smile. “Say it like you mean it.” 

Leo swallowed the lump in his throat. 

“I’ll be good for you,” he whimpered. “Only you. Please, I-I just want to be good. I’m tired.” 

He was tired of fighting. He was exhausted down to each little cell in his body, and no matter what he tried, no matter how many times he attempted to go home, he knew it was never going to happen. He didn’t have anything left in him to try. 

“I know you are, baby,” the man hummed, his voice taking on a softer tone. His breathing almost hitched, pulse thumping against his skin at the different nickname. “That’s why you have to do one last thing for me, okay?” 

Leo nodded his head eagerly.

“Those lot are leaving by the end of the day,” the mercenary informed slowly, and Leo’s heart skipped a beat at those words. “But I’ve promised them twenty minutes with you before they go. To do whatever they want, within reason, of course. That’s your punishment for what you did.” 

His bottom lip quivered open, but he didn’t say anything. A shock of horror flashed on his face, cultivating a look of amusement on Roy’s to match. The idea of being alone with the mercenaries again was making dread pool into his stomach. For twenty minutes. 

The man’s eyes softened, and his head tilted in this alluring way. “That was why you ran away, wasn’t it? Because they gave you a hard time?” 

Leo stared at him. His mind wrapped around those words, viciously sucking them into his thoughts before he had the chance to think for himself. The other mercenaries had caused the most damage, that much he believed. That much he knew. At least Roy cared for him. At least Roy was kind and didn’t beat him within an inch of his life for no discernible reason other than sick torment and pleasure. At least Roy held him when he so desperately needed it.

He opened his mouth, but the man beat him to it. 

“Or did you also run away because of me?” He murmured gently, a feigned look of pity on his face. “Because if that’s the case, lion, then I’d have to have twenty minutes with you too.” 

“No!” Leo cried, shaking his head frantically without thinking. “It wasn’t because of you! I-I couldn’t stand being alone with them anymore. Roy, please, you have to believe me. I only need you, n-no one else.” 

“Again with that,” the man chuckled, his eyes running over his face for a brief moment. Leo sucked in a sharp breath, subconsciously leaning forward when he reached out to cup his jaw. He seemed to instantly melt into the touch, leaning keenly into it. He was warm. Warm, and gentle, like he might break. His thumb gently brushed against his lip, and Leo’s ears flushed red. Roy tilted his head, something gleaming in his eyes that was making his spine shiver. 

“You say you need me,” he murmured quietly, the sound like a pleasant rumble in his stomach. “Why don’t you show me exactly how, lion?” He paused, shrugging his shoulders. “If you want.” 

Leo swallowed, his lip quivering under his touch. He hadn’t realised he was so close, his words like a tempting fruit just in reach of his greedy fingertips. There was a distinct, rapid banging in his head, and Leo realised in shock that it was the sound of his own heartbeat. Simple touches suddenly weren’t enough. He felt like he could hardly think, so maybe that was why he slowly leaned forward, and gently placed his lips on Roy’s. 

The man didn’t move, only breaking apart not even a second later when Leo winced backwards slightly, as if realising what he’d done of his volition. 

Because you wanted to, his mind hissed, clouding the judgement that was struggling to breach through the thick padded walls. You know you wanted to. 

The mercenary’s quiet chuckle dragged him from his poisoned thoughts. 

“Well,” he grinned. “Not what I had in mind.” 

Leo’s eyes widened. “It…wasn’t—?” 

His breathing instantly picked up. The last time he’d done something like that, it had been because he was willing to do anything to avoid punishment, thinking it was what the man wanted. Roy’s eyes had looked miffed and angry back then, shoving him away after a fraction of a second their lips touched. Now, Leo had genuinely done it willingly. He felt a horrible sense of loathing for himself for kissing that man of his own volition, and not even to get out of a punishment. He was terrified he was going to be angry again. Like he’d made another mistake. 

“But, lion,” Roy purred, yanking him from his destructive thoughts. The hand under his jaw slipped back so he could swoop down and kiss him, taking him by surprise. His words were breathless against his lips. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.”

His hand pressed against the back of his neck, and Leo allowed himself be drawn closer. A sudden hunger hit him, and when Roy went to deepen the kiss, the secretary eagerly let him without a second thought.

tag list – @unorganisedalienrubbish @d-cs @rabidrabidme @sordayciega @burningkittypoet @whumpawink @mannerofwhump @suspicious-whumping-egg @welcome-to-the-whumpfest @whatwasmyprevioususername @crilex29 @firefly017 @dutifullykrispyland @wibbly-wobbly-whump @there-will-always-be-blood @anonintrovert @justawhumpjunkie @whumptastic-world @ha-ha-one @whatwhumpcomments @whumpterful-beeeeee @anonymous1235 @sonder35 @unforgiven235 @whumpasaurus101 @mj-or-say10 @professional-idiocy @seaweed-is-cool @theelvishcowgirl @atomicsandwichprince @sunshiline-writes

[mentallyill-daydreamer]

TW: blood, needles, noncon drugging

They had the radio for an hour in the after noon if they were good and took their punishment well enough that morning. The breeze was salty and crisp as the ocean air filtered through the small gap of the window as whumpee drew and sat on their old mattress that stayed on the dirty hard wood floor of their room. Foot steps approached. Whumpee quickly hid away their drawing pad and tucked themselves in pretending to sleep.

The door creeked open a bit and whumpee tried restraining from jumping at the noise and notifying whumper they were awake due to the fact they didn't want to spoil their own plan.

They couldn't spoil their plan.

Whumpee mangled under their skrawny rags trying to find the right sewn in secret pocket they had installed when whumper was away one weekend and whumpee had the time to sneak out of their room and get the supplies to do so. Once they found the right pocket they grasped the syringe tightly. It had been their only chance of escaping since the attack incident. Whumpee couldn't let this plan fail. They couldn't bare another punishment like the last time they had done something so drastic, so risky. When they were being drugged from the last time they had been transported they snatched a vile of sedative and hid it away. Whumpee just hoped it wasn't expired and lost its effect.

Whumper approached the sorry excuse for a bed that whumpee was 'sleeping' on. He crouched down and stroked whumpees pail malnourished sucken in face.

"aww, they couldn't even stay awake for their night time beating. Guess I'll let them off easy toni-"

Whumpee practically jumped on whumper, rapping their legs around his torso holding his head down with the free arm and jabbing the shot into his neck. A moan of pain was released from whumpers mouth as they lay weak on the ground with in seconds.

Whumpee gasped, exasperated at what they had done. They felt a blanket of guilt run over them. They didn't want to feel this way. They didn't know why they felt this way. Did they come to like whumper?!

No. They came to love whumper.

Their only sense of comfort in the last seven months of their lives were with whumper. They were cruel and mad but also soft and warm at other, very rare times.

Whumpee crumbled onto whumpers chest rapping their arms around them sobbing as the realization of what they had just done sunk deeper and deeper into their subconscious.

"... That was a very, very, big mistake you've just made whumpee."

Whumpee tried jerking away almost instantly but we're held back. Whumpers sharp nails dug into whumpees back. Piercing further and further until breaking the skin. Whumpee felt hot streams of blood down their back soaking their clothes.

The sedative, was infact, expired.

[lastwave]

i am the worlds #1 masky apologist. his motives are unintelligible to YOU. i get it though