#tw captor bonding

[ashintheairlikesnow]

okay Ash but older nanda and Jameson comf? If he'd lived? Pleeease? Just a snippet. A headcanon. A crömb. -theo-

@boxboysandotherwhump I totally forgot you had asked for me to do this AU so so long ago. Found this old ask abandoned in my inbox and you were PROPHETIC.

Continuing the AU, the last chapter (plus a link to the first) is right here.

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CW: Intimate whump, some derogatory language, dubcon, some, uh, choking

For a long time, there is only the sound of each of them breathing. Jameson is ragged, rasping at the edge of a sob as he pulls himself back into control, his fingernails digging into the soft leather of the reclined passenger seat. His heart pounds, blood rushing past his ears.

Nanda's breath is nearly silent, far more even. His chest is warm against Jameson's bare back. Even through his expensive fucking shirt, though, Jameson can feel his heart pounding, too.

"What..." Nanda trails off. Jameson has never heard him sound so stunned. Nanda always plans for every angle.

But he didn't plan for this one.

"... what do you mean, someone else?" His mouth moves against Jameson's hair, sending a shiver down his spine. "Are you fucking the woman you live with, pet?"

My name is Jameson. I just told you that.

He bites the words back before they can make it out.

"N-no, not her. Fuck no. No. Absolutely... Absolutely not." He shifts, managing to get his shirt off the rest of the way, stop it from keeping his wrists tangled. It gives him an excuse for how his voice shakes - just from the effort. Only that. "Someone else. Different house. Someone... Someone else."

Nanda is quiet again. He's quiet for far too long. Then, he shifts back inside the tiny space. "Roll over. I want to see your eyes."

Jameson swallows, obeying the easy command with a little curl of warmth. He tips his head back against the headrest, looking up at Nanda, his beard and the line of his jaw beneath the silver and gray. The way the muscles in his arms seem written even more in stone. Nanda eases himself back down, and his weight feels reassuring and terribly final at once.

"Who is it?" His voice is mild. Spoonful of sugar tinted pink, sweetness and salt on Jameson's tongue. He could drown in the taste of Nanda's voice. Used to feel like he did drown, under voice and hands, tied up in ropes and brought to the good kind of screaming.

"... They're called A-Allyn. They, they ran away like I did. Well, not the-... Their owner died, too. They... They understood that I missed you..."

He reaches a hand up, hesitantly, trying to touch Nanda's face. The older man's big hand snaps up to close painfully tight around his wrist, forcing it back down.

"I wasn't dead," Nanda says mildly.

"I already told you, I didn't exactly goddamn know that-"

"No, you were dumb as rocks the one time I could have used the brains we both knew you had." Nanda's voice stays mild, but the insult stings regardless.

"I'm-... not-"

"Oh, you're not? You didn't know how to check a fucking pulse, but you're not dumb, huh? You ran off instead of waiting or calling for help but you still love me, right? Hell, you fuck someone else, but you're not a slut anymore. Isn't that what you're saying?"

Jameson's wrist feels like it creaks as Nanda tightens his grip further and further. The man's other hand drops down to unbutton and unzip his own pants in quick jerky motions. They're down low off his hips in seconds.

Jameson grits his teeth against the pain, refuses to be seduced by it. Or by the way Nanda punctuates the accusations by rolling his hips, the low warmth remaining stoked back into a flame.

God, he feels so hot.

They're both burning.

"If you were d-dead-... Ah! I would have lost you when they took you out of my head, I already s-said that-Jesus that's fucking good-"

His other wrist is grabbed now. He tries to pull it away, but they both know he isn't trying very hard. Nanda's mouth drops to graze against his. To catch him in a kiss, brutal and firm, until he's whimpering and rocking his hips like some mindless fucking idiot, like he used to do.

Nanda chuckles bitterly, pulls back and listens to Jameson's angry hiss at the sudden loss of connection. "If there's someone else, why did you get in my car when I came for you?"

He swallows, closing his eyes. Nanda's burn too much for him to take. Those hips roll against his again and he meets them with his own, arches his back, lets legs shift apart to welcome Nanda between his thighs. He could come from this, if it goes on long enough. "I don't-... I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"No! Fuck you, no I don't know! You were dead and now you're here and I, I forgot who I am for a second, but I'm-... I'm not that anymore, and I want-... I want to-..." God, he feels it so much, his skin is all raw nerves and sensation. "... I want-"

"You want me."

Nanda had let go of his wrist at some point. He only realizes it when that heavy hot hand closes around his neck.

His breath stutters, gets lost trying to find his lungs. His head spins as the hand tightens, he feels his Adam's apple move against Nanda's palm. "Wait-"

" I spent all these years trying to find you, pet-"

"Jameson," He rasps, barely able to force the word out in a whisper. "Use... Use m'fucking name-"

"Fine. Jameson." God, it sounds so good in Nanda's voice, his own name tastes perfect in his tongue when Nanda is the one to say it. His eyes nearly flutter shut at the simple pleasure. "I have been searching for you-"

"Doing a shit j-job of it, could've used your help a couple y-years ago when I was in some asshole's dog cage-"

"Let. Me. Finish." The grip on his throat tightens even more. There is so little room for him to breathe, chest heaving. He never moves his hands to try and push or fight, though. He knows this tone, the look on Nanda's face. "However you feel about someone else... I looked for you. And I found you. I searched every goddamn corner of California trying to figure out where you fucked off to, and I find you all fucked up for someone else, another pet, huh?"

"I... I loved you... I still-" His voice catches, his throat clicks when he swallows. His eyes are wide, and he sees the anger in Nanda's and wonders why it used to thrill so much more to see it than it does now. "But I-... grieved-... Rebuilt, built n-new... life... I, I fucking deserve to l-live-"

Nanda's lip curls. But he doesn't say anything while Jameson fights for enough air to speak again. They're both still hard, still moving together, and the pleasure mixes with the pain in his throat and the dizzy lack of air, crossing all his wires and leaving him squirming in helpless unwanted arousal beneath Nanda's familiar perfect weight.

"I... deserve s-someone... who l-loves me... back-"

He expects mockery, black spots flashing bright like camera lights around Nanda's face as his vision starts to go, tunneling in on those eyes.

He sees, in the center of the closing tunnel, the whites of Nanda's eyes.

"Please-... If you e-ever... loved m-me-... Please, fuck, please s-say-... it..."

Nanda's thumb pushes against his windpipe as he kisses Jameson. Their mouths open to each other, and Jameson's arms move, finally, only to grip onto Nanda's shoulders. An anchor as he drowns on land, fighting for air.

Then the grip loosens.

Jameson's head pounds as he groans, his throat aches as he gulps air desperately. He'll be marked, bruised. He's been bruised there before. "N, Nanda-"

Nanda's head drops to Jameson's shoulder.

"... Nanda?"

A pause.

"You stupid thing. Why would I have looked so long for you if I didn't?"

[winged-self-indulgence]

Why Do People Like Yanderes?

Hi everyone, my name is Diya, and this was going to be a YT video-essay-type-thing but I'm too poor to afford a mic and too busy with college to learn how to edit videos, so here's my vague exploration of the psychology behind why people like yanderes so much through the lens of my favourite Visual Novels.

TW for uh. yandere content. Mentions of sex, gore, and non-con, particularly in the last topic. This is more like the first draft of an academic paper so while it's not explicit, I do go into some detail.

Introduction

If you’re a fan of anime or visual novels, then you’re probably already aware of what a yandere is, or at the very least you’ve seen that one picture of Yuno Gasai. Still, for the sake of thoroughness, let’s take it from the tippy top. The term ‘yandere’ is a Japanese portmanteau of ‘yanderu’ – the progressive form of ‘yami’ – meaning ‘sick’, and ‘deredere’ which roughly translates to ‘loving’. Together, the word refers to someone who is – in short – extremely lovesick. Obsessive to the extreme, and with little morality to spare, the standard yandere is characterized by a dangerous fixation on a chosen target, often appearing shy and caring at first only to flip the script and become violently aggressive towards perceived threats (Kroon, 2010).

It should be noted that yanderes are not a strictly romantic or sexual trope. The Ancient Greeks classified at least six forms of love, from familial (storge) to guests (xenia). Modern psychologists may distinguish love as either Companionate or Passionate (Kim & Hatfield, 2004) or consisting of three dimensions of Intimacy, Passion, and Commitment (Sternberg & Sternberg, 2018). Realistically, possessiveness shows up in a variety of relationships. However, people are generally primed to view certain dynamics as inherently amorous. Societal norms tend to encourage the idea that romantic bonds ought to rank above all others, and therefore if Person A is bizarrely fixated on Person B, then clearly there must be an element of sexual interest involved regardless of the actual relationship between the individuals in question.

Regardless, yanderes remain quite popular in fiction. Many dismiss it as a fetish, which it can be, but that isn’t the case for everyone. While there is nothing wrong with indulging in kinky fiction, not all of us get horny at the thought of being chained up in someone’s basement, no matter how hot our captor may be. So why is it so pervasive? Why is this trope so appealing that most writers cannot help but include at least a single line of dialogue implying that – if circumstances had been ever so slightly different – my wholesome shoujo romcom might have turned into a psychological horror?

Hybristophilia

‘Hybristophilia’, also known as Bonnie and Clyde Syndrome after the titular criminal couple, is a word is derived from the Greek word ‘hybridzein’ meaning ‘to commit an outrage against someone’ and ‘philo’ which means ‘a strong preference for’. Sexologist John Money reportedly defined it as a paraphilia in which an individual is sexually aroused by a partner who has a predatory history of hurting other people (Money, 1986, as cited in Matuszak, 2017). In his book, Serial Killer Groupies, true crime and crime fiction author RJ Parker distinguished two forms of hybristophilia: passive and aggressive. The former is when an individual contacts a criminal with the intention of striking up a relationship with them, allowing themselves to be seduced and manipulated but having no interest in committing a crime themselves. The latter are far more dangerous, as the individual not only derives sexual pleasure from their partner’s atrocities but are active participants in carrying out or covering up the crime. To quote Griffiths (2013, as cited in Pettigrew, 2019):

“[They] help out their lovers with their criminal agenda by luring victims, hiding bodies, covering crimes, or even committing crimes. They are attracted to their lovers because of their violent actions and want to receive love yet are unable to understand that their lovers are psychopaths who are manipulating them.”

In some ways, hybristophilia is the nearest thing we have to a realistic understanding of why people love yanderes. I mean, much of the fantasy surrounding such characters and their media tend to be filled with posts begging to be spat on or calling the rightfully terrified main character ungrateful for being a teeny bit upset about finding surveillance cameras in their ceiling. However, enjoying fictitious immoral activity does not predict real perpetration, so what does? There exists little consensus amongst psychologists as to what sparks this particular predilection, and that was strange to me. You would think there would be more studies into this topic, in spite of or perhaps because of its controversial nature. Heck, that one dude wouldn’t shut up about white women’s obsession with Bundy and Dahmer, and I assumed he had gotten that information from somewhere, but it turns out that was just him using modifiers to justify sexism.

However, I believe that we can hedge a few guesses, and over the course of my research, I’ve organized the main rationalizations under four umbrellas which I will explore through the lens of my favourite yandere-themed Visual Novels. Please keep in mind that most of these games are rated as mature due to sexual scenes and/or gore. Additionally, in the spirit of transparency, this ramble will be focused exclusively on male or masculine yanderes. So, without further ado:

Call Me Bob the Builder Because I Can Fix Them

If you’re familiar with DC Comic’s Batman, or just happen to have attended any costume event held over the span of the last 20+ years, you may be familiar with the character of Dr. Harleen Quinzel, better known as Harley Quinn. Initially created as the Joker’s one-off sidekick in Batman The Animated Series, she was so well-received by audiences that she became a recurring character in the cartoon and was eventually given a proper origin story in the form of a one-shot titled Mad Love.

Harley’s origin story has seen some alterations over the past decades, but the core aspects remain largely untouched. In the beginning, Harleen Quinzel was a promising young woman who wanted was a degree from the university’s prestigious psychology department, which she gained through…less than scrupulous means.

(Listen, I’m not sure if the authors were leaning on the Dumb Blonde stereotype, or if they simply thought that casting her as a genuinely bad student would make her later actions more believable. Either way, the idea of Harley as someone with a legitimate PhD came later)

After landing an internship at Arkham Asylum – a half-hospital and half-prison straight out of the 1870s that might as well be built out of one-ply tissue-paper soaked with gasoline and left next to a crate of fireworks – Harleen set her sights on the then incarcerated Joker. At the start, her fixation on the criminal wasn’t remotely sympathetic. She didn’t want to help him, she wanted to use him. Harleen Quinzel wanted piggyback off his infamy and write a tell-all tale detailing what sort of messed up childhood resulted in Gotham’s Clown Prince of Crime. Yet the more she interacted with him, the more the Joker took advantage of her empathy. By the end of their sessions, Harley no longer saw him as a violent serial killer with a clown schtick, but as a “lost, injured child looking to make the world laugh at his antics.”

But Diya, you may be asking, what does this have to do with the video? The Joker never loved Harley, and it could even be argued – as Shehadeh did in a 2017 essay – that her obsession with the pasty-faced clown is more akin to Histrionic Personality Disorder. While that may be the case, I believe that Harley’s story provides one of the reasons yanderes are so popular: their backstory.

Whether they were abandoned by their family, bullied by their peers, experimented on by evil scientists, starved on the streets, died under mysterious circumstances and then trapped in a haunted VCR tape for decades, or are simply so impossibly inhuman that they frankly do not understand why it isn’t socially acceptable to imprison their crush in a pocket dimension made of meat and non-Euclidean geometry, yanderes often have fairly sympathetic or at least understandable explanations for why they are Like That. Your mileage may vary significantly depending on how much you sympathize with these motives, but the point is that yanderes always make sense to some degree. Their morality and priorities may be twisted or even completely incomprehensible, but the audience almost always knows the reason, and that can be comforting. In the real world, other people aren’t always straightforward, and we never really know what they’re thinking, but narrative coherence demands a semblance of internal consistency lest the audience end up frustrated and confused. So yanderes are not only easy to sympathize with, but also fairly predictable. In-universe they may be unhinged freaks with a blood fetish, but to you watching from behind the safety of the screen they’re just acting out the script written for them based on a prototype. And if you understand the why behind their loose gears, then you might just be able to put them back together again.

The concept of rescue romances or “I Can Fix Them” has been around in our stories for thousands of years. The Epic of Gilgamesh detailed how Shamhat essentially ‘civilized’ wild man Enkidu through ritual lovemaking, and a concerning number of religions push the idea that women are dutybound to save men from the follies of sin. Yet men are not exempt either, with one notable example being the German fairytale, King Thrushbeard. Call it what you will regardless: Knights in Shining Armour, the Florence Nightingale Effect, or a plain old case of Because You Were Nice to Me, studies have shown that human beings generally like helping [DA2] others, even when the reason doesn’t necessarily stem from pure altruism. I will delve deeper into this later, but care and compassion are deeply ingrained in human nature, and arising from those roots is the appeal of this mentality: You can save them. You can change them. You can make them better. You are special, and the way you treat this person carries a weight that has not and will never be matched by anyone else for the rest of their mortal or immortal existence.

The illusion is a delicious one, especially if the person you’ve helped turns out to be a billionaire CEO with cash to burn, a super powerful ghost king willing to raze continents to dust for you, a demon having fun on a Friday night, or just your average hot creep with a knife. Moreover, different people have different ideas of what ‘fixing’ even means. Maybe you want to single-handedly rehabilitate your yandere into a functional member of society. Maybe you’re cool with the incessant stalking but would like them to stop slaughtering your friends, family, and local service workers. Maybe you want to make them much, much worse.

Not only do yanderes provide immediate proof that your actions have a tangible impact on the lives of others, but the fantasy also includes the desire of being seen as special. Of being admired and adored by someone whose life you inexplicably made better by virtue of simply being yourself, or an idealized version of yourself. In this fictional world, in this imaginary setting, the person you are is so uniquely, impossibly irreplaceable to someone. And if that’s the case then they can’t risk losing you, can they?

The Allure of Obsession, or ‘Til Death Do Us Part (Literally)

It shouldn’t be necessary, but here is my obligatory disclaimer anyway. Ahem: obsession is not a good thing in real life. Fixating on another human to the detriment of your own wellbeing and that of those around you is dangerous, as is encouraging someone else to obsess over you. You might think you are being worshiped, but real life is not a visual novel. The outside world doesn’t come with an age rating, the author’s guiding pen, and a convenient fade to credits sequence once you’ve reached an ending. The consequences will still be there in the morning, so don’t do it. Just don’t.

PSA out of the way, it’s natural to want to be wanted. Maslow’s Hierarchy places it just above physical safety, but I’d argue that it could easily be compared to baser drives. According to many psychological and anthropological studies, much of humanity’s continued survival and environmental dominance is largely attributed to our ability to form groups, cooperate with one another, and maintain complex interpersonal networks. Social support, intimacy, and a sense of belonging are linked to emotional and physical benefits, such as more optimistic health perceptions, higher subjective well-being, increased creativity and innovation, and greater self-efficacy (DeWall & Bushman, 2011; Harandi et al., 2017; Wang & Sha, 2018). Therefore, it’s perfectly understandable that rejection of any sort would be construed as a threat.

But if someone is obsessed with you, then you have no reason to worry about that, right? No more nights spent agonizing over how they feel about you, asking yourself whether your last text made you sound too desperate, or if you’re boring them because you spent the past hour info-dumping about Stardew Valley farm layouts. With a yandere, there will never be any doubt that they care about you. Sure, they might go about it in weird, manipulative, and insidious ways that violate your physical and mental autonomy, but you can’t deny their loyalty. They do love you in their own bizarre way. You are the sun around which they orbit. When you’re in the room, no one else exists. Every single messy flaw is just another bullet point on the mile-long list of why they adore you.

In essence, yanderes are not only attentive, but their love can be virtually unconditional. A yandere might know everything about you, and still revere you. It’s unhealthy as hell and you might genuinely question their taste, but it can be tempting to pretend that all of you, right down to the ugliest parts of yourself – the traits and choices that you would never share with another living soul even at gunpoint – are worthy of understanding, if not open praise and affection.   

Attractiveness, or Okay but Have You Considered That They’re Hot Though?

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I mean what am I supposed to say here? They’re hot, what do you want from me?

No, but in all seriousness, fictional media paints an idealized version of the world, and most yanderes are hot because they have the freedom of existing purely behind that screen; artfully arranged and edited to forever appear compelling to anyone who happens to enjoy their particular style. And there are a lot of styles to choose from. Whether you want them pretty faced and disarmingly cute, or scarred up and big enough to pin you like a butterfly, yanderes come in a wide variety of shapes and sizes that are meant to pique your interest and draw you in like a naïve little fish being lured towards the mouth of an angler fish, unwilling to believe that anything bad might happen to us when the bait is this pretty.

This is often referred to as the Halo Effect, a form of cognitive bias referring to the tendency for people to assume that a single obvious positive trait must be associated with other positive traits. The go-to characteristic is typically physical attractiveness, but a nice voice, good humour, and cooking skills are also factors which serve to influence our perceptions.

So, conventional physical attractiveness is one thing, but that’s only skin deep. What about beyond that? After all, the yandere still has to talk to you before they enact their master plan of tying you up in their basement until Stockholm Syndrome kicks in.

When I showed my friend a picture of John Doe from the game John Doe, she told me that he looked like a creepy slob, and she’s far from the only person who’s ever thought so. Look at them. I feel like if I tried to comb that hair it would simply eat me, and some of the CGs really put the scopophobia in Scopophobia Studios. I love Doe, but he is not hot, and he doesn’t behave in a normally appealing way either. If the player chooses not to take a bath, Doe will immediately comment that you “smell good” before following you home, breaking into your house, and leaving a bloody organ on the floor for the player to trip over. Many yanderes can at least fake a veneer of normalcy, but from the get-go Doe doesn’t even bother to pretend he’s anything less than an otherworldly creature stuffed into a vaguely person-shaped meatsuit. In an effort to find out why so many people had latched on to Doe – including me – I shopped around social media and YouTube for answers, and what I found was a widely unanimous sentiment.

While some were drawn to his fun design and goofy personality, most simply thought that he wasn’t inherently malevolent, just very confused. In addition to being a supernatural being with a completely alien axis of morality, Doe’s meta-awareness and unbridled attempts at winning the player’s affection lends him quite a bit of support from the audience, especially if you yourself also happen to struggle with social cues and relate to his pure earnestness. In Ending 7 of the extended version, the player character has the option to tell Doe – who has altered himself to pass as more ‘normal’ – that they prefer who he truly is, at which point he grows visibly flustered and sports an adorable pair of literal heart-shaped pupils.

Whether they’re charismatic, seductive, cute, sweet, funny, nurturing, or generous, the best yanderes have engaging personalities. Even while they’re committing truly heinous crimes against God, man, and your guts, you still kinda want to hang out with them, and you want them to acknowledge you as being just as interesting. And this is all fine in fiction because you’re the one in charge, and if you ever get bored or uncomfortable or busy with something else, then you can simply close the tab or window with zero consequences, which brings us to the final and most important reason.     

Power Dynamics and Consent in Fantasy (I Couldn’t Think of a Joke Here Guys, This Is Kinda Serious)

Once again, I feel that I must preface this section just for the sake of my own peace of mind: sexual coercion and assault are vile and disgusting crimes that should never be emulated or tolerated in the real world. We are speaking purely of fictional media, specifically adult-oriented media in this case, so please be mindful.

In 2009, Bivoni and Critelli conducted a study on 355 undergraduate women with the goal of assessing the reasons behind fantasies of non-consent. At the time, there were two leading explanations of this phenomenon. One stated that women with high libidos but repressed views of sex used these imaginary scenarios to alleviate the guilt they had grown to associate with sex. Because the simulation was a purely mental exercise and they themselves were cast as helpless victims in the scenario, they were able to remain blameless while still finding sexual gratification. The second stated that these fantasies were an expression of liberation by women who were adventurous and comfortable enough with their own sexuality to engage with taboo ideas that they weren’t at all interested in performing in real life. Which do you think was more common?

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If you guessed the second option, you’d be right. The study found that of the 220 women who had experienced such fantasies, 45% found theirs erotic, 46% were mixed, and only 9% reported pure aversion. One justification for this outcome relies on psycho-biological theories, for example masochistic preferences or the unintended activation of the sympathetic nervous system and subsequent mis-attribution of arousal. Other reasons have to do with higher order thinking and are tied to the power dynamics within such fantasies. On the surface is the appeal of being so desirable to someone that they simply cannot control themselves, but then there is a deeper impulse, which the researchers referred to as Adversary Transformation. To quote the article: “[fantasies] involve a struggle between an assailant and a potential victim in which it is relevant to consider who is the winner and who is the loser. At one level, it is a struggle over sex, but the woman's non-consent may be feigned or token. At another level, the woman may be seeking a victory that is not about whether sex occurs, but about what happens emotionally between the protagonists.”

Basically, the imaginary perpetrator may have ‘won’, but the self-character need not have ‘lost’.

Media provides an extra layer to the illusion, one that you as the viewer have absolute control over. If you are choosing to engage with a piece of media that explicitly labels itself as including R18+ yandere content, then you clearly have some expectations, and that background awareness goes a long way in reducing long-term discomfort and allowing audiences to make informed decisions. If you don’t like the plot, you can simply turn it off it with the click of a button, and when the screen goes dark it’s not like the yandere is going to punish you for saying no. Strade isn’t going to break into your house with a drill, there are no homicidal clown ghosts hiding in your TV, and no suspicious pink-haired hackers watching your webcam. They aren’t real, and the consequences aren’t real either. You have all the power here.

Conclusion

In summary, Yanderes are appealing for a variety of reasons. Whether you want to save them, think they’re attractive, wish to indulge in a dream of being utterly coveted, or simply enjoy a bit of spice in your me-time, it’s obvious why the trope has persisted for so long and will likely continue to do so. If you enjoy yanderes but are worried that having a taste for the less wholesome side of things might imply something about who you are as a person, don’t be. The notion that fantasies and media preferences directly reflect subconscious desires is not only painfully out of date debunked nonsense but also indicative of restrictive ideologies wherein bad thoughts = sin. This isn’t 1984. You haven’t committed a thought-crime by having a weird kink. You aren't going to superhell for fantasizing. The human mind is hardly ever so mathematically rational, and the point of fiction is to allow us to safely engage with and explore various ideas, provided the everyone involved is mentally, chronologically, and emotionally mature enough to do so.

Thank you all for listening to me. If you learned something or were just a little bit entertained. If you're curious about knowing more, I've listed my sources below

REFERENCES

Bivona, J. M., & Critelli, J. W. (2009). The Nature of Women’s Rape Fantasies: An analysis of prevalence, frequency, and contents. Journal of Sex Research, 46(1), 33–45. https://doi.org/10.1080/00224490802624406

Critelli, J. W., & Bivona, J. M. (2008). Women’s Erotic Rape Fantasies: An Evaluation of Theory and research. Journal of Sex Research, 45(1), 57–70. https://doi.org/10.1080/00224490701808191

DeWall, C. N., & Bushman, B. J. (2011). Social acceptance and rejection. Current Directions in Psychological Science, 20(4), 256–260. https://doi.org/10.1177/0963721411417545

Flynn, F. J., Reagans, R., Amanatullah, E. T., & Ames, D. R. (2006). Helping one’s way to the top: Self-monitors achieve status by helping others and knowing who helps whom. Journal of Personality and Social Psychology, 91(6), 1123–1137. https://doi.org/10.1037/0022-3514.91.6.1123

Harandi, T. F., Taghinasab, M. M., & Nayeri, T. D. (2017). The correlation of social support with mental health: A meta-analysis. Electronic Physician, 9(9), 5212–5222. https://doi.org/10.19082/5212

Hazen, H. (1983). Endless rapture: rape, romance, and the female imagination. https://openlibrary.org/books/OL3161300M/Endless_rapture

Kroon, R. W. (2010). A/V A to z: An Encyclopedic Dictionary of Media, Entertainment and Other Audiovisual Terms. McFarland.

Matuszak, M. (2017). Hybristophilia White Paper. https://static1.squarespace.com/static/55dfd21ee4b0718764fb34cc/t/5cb7cabee5e5f00ab13be58b/1555548863275/Hybristophilia+White+Paper.pdf

Oarga, C., Stavrova, O., & Fetchenhauer, D. (2015). When and why is helping others good for well-being? The role of belief in reciprocity and conformity to society’s expectations. European Journal of Social Psychology, 45(2), 242–254. https://doi.org/10.1002/ejsp.2092

Parker, R. (2014). Serial killer groupies. RJ PARKER PUBLISHING, INC.

Wang, T., & Sha, H. (2018). The influence of social rejection on cognitive control. Psychology, 09(7), 1707–1719. https://doi.org/10.4236/psych.2018.97101

[whumpshaped]

UR REBLOG INSPIRED ME

Winged pet whumpee, right? Except the whumper knows how birds work, as they have many exotic ones from their travels. Whumper isn’t cruel per se, they’d never hurt their pets. Just clip their wings.

Thing is, pet bird etiquette is to never pet their wings. Petting down the back or under the wings can lead to a sexually frustrated bird or a bird who perceives you as a mate rather than a companion. A mated bonded bird can be hostile to others in your home, becoming jealous or possessive of you

So. Whumpee gets their wings pet and has to deal with the strong innate instincts that come with it.

tw noncon touching, captivity, nonhuman whumpee, winged whumpee, intimate whumper

It was embarrassing. Whumpee couldn’t believe that with all this experience and knowledge on winged creatures, this was the one thing Whumper… forgot, or was misinformed on. They sat rigidly still as their owner petted their wings, mind reeling with all the emotions that came with it. 

There was no way Whumper didn’t know. There was no way. This had to be intentional, and if it was, it was either to humiliate them or—

No. It was definitely to humiliate them. There was no fucking way Whumper wanted anything from them, or if they did, well, Whumpee definitely wanted nothing from their captor. They didn’t. They really didn’t, even as heat rose to their face and their heart began to beat a little faster.

“My pretty little bird,” Whumper cooed, seemingly lost in the sensation of running their fingers along Whumpee’s soft feathers. “My perfect little dove. Aren’t you so lucky that I decided to take you in?”

Whumpee took a shuddering breath, unable to answer without risking some unwanted sounds to escape as well. They didn’t want anything to do with Whumper. They didn’t.

“I’m so happy I found you. There’s truly no greater joy than waking up to this sight every morning.”

They gasped as Whumper made another pass, dragging their hand down their wing while putting a bit more pressure on it. It felt so good, it felt just right, and Whumpee couldn’t help but wonder how this human was so skillful with every one of their movements. They weren’t Whumper’s first pet harpy, were they? Oh, the thought was absolutely revolting. And annoying. They wished they’d been the first.

No, what were they thinking?

“Stop,” they whimpered, closing their eyes in shame at how their voice sounded. It was weak and breathy, not at all firm and demanding like they had been going for.

“Stop?” Whumper leaned a little closer, that sickening grin still plastered on their face. “Why would I, when you’re enjoying yourself so much?”

[silverbladexyz]

TW: Death, blood, guns, fighting. 5.6K words. Third and final part to part 1. Part 2 is here

Skilled hands worked away at the rope, each bind falling to the floor with a heavy thump as they were severed by a knife. The sound echoed throughout the little room inside of a foreign dungeon.

Soon, the chair legs were surrounded with the thick brown threads as the saviour continued to free the captive. They operated fast; in just a matter of seconds, half of the bonds were already sliced open- the blade meeting little resistance. Too little, in fact.

But you didn’t have time to worry about that now.

“Y-Y/N, what are you doing here? You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“And watch as Chuuya barges in to what could possibly be his death? I think we both know how disastrous that would be, Yasuko.” 

The girl bit her lip and fell silent. You continued to free her, despite having so much you clearly wanted to say at this moment. But you couldn’t risk your best friend finding out about what happened to her, and making a rash decision as a consequence.

“H-how did you find me?” Yasuko stuttered, her limbs trembling with fear. It was perfectly normal considering her situation, but it hindered your progress since your knife got dangerously close to her sometimes due to her shaking.

“I was in Chuuya’s office to retrieve something when he was on a mission. Then his phone lit up with an unknown text and a picture of you tied to this chair. It seemed that your captor had intended for him to come alone, with the threat that he would kill you if Chuuya brought backup or arrived even a second late. I couldn’t determine if it was telling the truth or not, so I went first to test the message’s authenticity. You know what happened afterwards.”

The ropes finally came off- only to reveal that Yasuko’s hands and feet were also bound to the seat. You cursed under your breath, before starting to work on them as well. The girl repeatedly peered over your shoulder in an anxious manner, but you didn’t give much thought about it. You had just passed it off as nervousness. 

Until another knife suddenly grazed your cheek, leaving a small crimson trail of your blood in its wake.

The blade pierced itself into the chair, missing Yasuko’s temple by a hair’s breadth. She cried out in surprise and fear, immediately prompting you to react.

Your gun was drawn out and aimed at the attacker before you even processed what was going on.

“How surprising that you came instead. I didn’t know that Chuuya-kun was the type to be late to important events-”

You fired three shots before he could finish talking. Each bullet was aimed good and true, as they were shots made to kill.

“-especially events considering his girlfriend. Wouldn’t you agree, Y/N?”

The beautiful black-haired man standing in front of you smiled. 

By his feet lay the bullets that rolled out of his fingers, and the bloody holes they normally left behind were nonexistent. The shots had bounced off of him as if he were made of steel.

His ability must have allowed him to repel any physical attacks that came his way. Defeating him seemed near impossible now.

Your eyes narrowed as he came closer, his unhurried steps matching the complacent aura that he gave off. You knew there was no use in trying to shoot him again, but you still tightened your index finger around the trigger. As a last resort, you could use the gun as a distraction to let Yasuko escape.

“I know who you are. You’re Hasegawa Kyuji. A high-ranking member of Obsidienne; a rival organisation of the Port Mafia.” You stated, with a steely gaze that could rival his relaxed stare.

“But you aren’t here to kill Yasuko. You’re here to kill me instead.”

His golden eyes seemed to shine as he smirked in response. The male tilted his head towards the aforementioned girl.

“Oh no. Quite the opposite, actually. I’m just here to reveal the truth.” 

You heard Yasuko give a quiet whimper, and you scowled, aiming the gun at Hasegawa’s forehead.

“And why should I believe you? For all I know, anything that falls out of your mouth could be a lie. Deception is key for getting the upper hand in any fight.”

“...” The young man let out a short chuckle. It wasn’t long before he broke out into a hysterical laugh.

“Oh, you’re so naive it kills me! For all this talk of deception, you don’t even seem to realise a certain friend of yours that was deceiving you for months. And how you thought that nobody could see your obvious infatuation with your best friend. Isn’t that right, Yasuko? My dear cousin?” 

He stared straight into her eyes, a dangerous glint apparent in his pupils.

Your eyes widened slightly. Not only at her betrayal and their kinship, but also at the fact that he knew your secret. A secret that you had hidden deep deep down, never letting even a bit of it slip out. Were you easier to read than you thought you were?

Whipping your head around, you glanced at the girl, silently begging her to say that it wasn’t true- that it was all a lie. 

But Yasuko silently closed her eyes, hanging her head in a sign of guilty confirmation. 

The silence that descended was suffocating, permeating the entire room with an invisible tension. 

You had an unreadable expression on your face as you lowered your arm, the fingers clenched around the gun shaking ever so slightly from their rigid hold on the grip. Hasegawa’s smirk widened as you gave no response.

“Oh, but maybe you want to know why she betrayed you. Why she was working with me, a member of an enemy organisation?” He leaned against the wall, crossing his arms as he fixed his golden eyes on you. Yasuko gulped a little, but neither of you paid her any mind.

“Well, it’s simple. It all started 8 years ago- when Yokohama lived in constant terror and dread of a single organisation. The Port Mafia. Many civilians were killed because of the Boss’s paranoia, and a lot more organisations were decimated by his sheer ruthlessness. It must still be as clear as day to you.”

You frowned slightly. Despite not wanting to listen to anything he said, you couldn’t stop the memories from resurfacing. Memories of fear, uncertainty, and bloodshed as the old Boss of the Port Mafia abused his reign, forcing you to live in extreme apprehension every second.

“One day, rumour had it that somebody in our vicinity insulted the Port Mafia. It was only a mere jab at how Yokohama would’ve been better off without the organisation; but that was enough for all the families in the district to be rounded up and interrogated. Then, when it was evident that the culprit wouldn’t show themselves, the Boss ordered everybody to be executed. Not even the infants were spared.”

“And two of the families that were killed on that day were yours and Yasuko’s. Hence why you wanted revenge; they were accused wrongly of something that likely wasn’t committed in the first place.” You interjected. You knew that he wasn’t lying, because there was nothing but truth in his words. 

Afterall, the incident he described became very well known amongst the city in a flash.

“But that was when the Port Mafia was still under the control of the old Boss. There wouldn’t be much point in getting revenge now that everything has changed; and besides, our enemies are always hit twice as hard. This old grudge of yours could do nothing against us.”

You knew that you were behaving just as any stereotypical tough-talking mafioso would, but it was all a ploy for you to buy more time until you could figure out a solution. Hasegawa was already a formidable opponent with his ability, and it was obvious he also had the brains to go along with it. Someone of his calibre could decimate you and walk out without any serious injuries.

He spoke again, breaking your train of thought.

“Grudge? You speak as if the Port Mafia itself takes grudges lightly. It is obvious how strict the rule of borrowing and returning is in illegal organisations. Every grudge must be satiated, no matter how high the cost. But we could not act on ours without enough power.”

“And that was when you came up with the idea to join Obsidienne to gain this ‘power’?” You said, narrowed your eyes.

“Oh, I didn’t come up with the idea. Yasuko herself did, and she thought up many more after that. Everything that has happened up until now was all in the palm of her hand. Tell them, Yasuko. Tell them about everything you plotted for their demise.”

The silence that fell this time was deathly.

“... Yasuko. Is it true? That all this time you’ve been planning to take down the Port Mafia, starting with me and Chuuya?” 

There was no anger in your voice. Only a cold flatness that seemed to absorb every emotion in the room as you spoke to her.

Yasuko slowly opened her eyes, fixing two beautiful brown pupils onto you. Those same pupils that had deceived those she was around for an entire six months. And they now held nothing but tears and guilt.

“I never meant for it to go this far. But he threatened to kill me if I backed out from this plan. So I had no choice but to continue with it.” She whispered, her voice heavy with resignation.

“And that wasn’t all.” Hasegawa added suddenly. You looked back at him, but he was staring at her. Like how a cat eyes its prey before it goes in for the kill.

“My dear Yasuko, weren’t you also the one who came up with the idea to poison your lover’s wine so that he wouldn’t give us any more trouble?”

Your whole demeanour changed in an instant once you heard those words.

A shot reverberated throughout the chamber, followed by Yasuko’s short scream.

The bullet had pierced through her sleeve, narrowly missing the chance to give her the sweet release of death. Your expression remained emotionless, yet burning in your eyes was anger that was hotter than the black flames of hell. The gun was pointed directly at her brow, held with an unusual stillness that was parallel with your aura.

“The next time, I won’t miss.” You coldly stated, speaking with nothing but truth in your words.

“I was willing to give you another chance. But this promises to exceed the limit of my forgiveness. Daring to poison the man you loved- the man I loved; I expected nothing less from a wretch such as you. A wretch who doesn’t even deserve this quick and painless death.” You stepped closer towards Yasuko, until the gun was pressed up against her skin. 

Neither of you moved a single inch. It was as if everything was frozen in time, save for the dust that drifted elegantly onto the ground.

“... Do it.”

The girl whispered, looking up into your eyes with a soulless gaze. 

“It’s only proper for me to die as a result of my foolish choices. That’s what a traitor only deserves, afterall. My only regret is… that I didn’t get to spend more time with you as a true friend.” 

She closed her eyes for the last time, ready to face death with a serene expression.

Without hesitation, you pulled the trigger.

A final shot rang out within the walls.

And the bullet flew right into Hasegawa’s chest.

“!” His eyes widened in shock and disbelief. 

Thankfully, he activated his ability right before the pellet could fully pass through him, but the damage had already been done. Blood gushed out of the wound as the bullet fell out of his body, and you wasted no time in drawing your dagger out.

“Don’t think that I haven’t forgotten you, Hasegawa. Sure, Yasuko’s done some pretty terrible things. But you were the one who was truly behind all of this. If you had not forced her to continue with the plan, then none of this would have happened. The Port Mafia does not forgive those who plan to hurt their family. And I cannot rest until I have finished what I came here for.”

“… So it’s come down to this.” He muttered.

In the blink of an eye, Hasegawa had lunged at you, bringing up his hand that also held a blade within its palm. You raised your own arm up to counter.

The clash of metals resounded in the room, all your training sessions with Chuuya bearing fruit as you found that you could actually keep up with your opponent’s attacks. You were fast and precise with your strikes, whereas he liked to be unpredictable, always making you guess his next move. It was a direct contrast to how your best friend had fought.

Your blades danced in a fierce tango as both parties tried to subdue each other. You were mostly put on the defence due to your attacks having no effect on him, but you kept on twisting and leaping just out of his reach whenever his weapon went to graze your body. He aimed for your stomach, and you managed to dodge the sharp edge that threatened to slice your skin apart.

Your opponent wasted no time in immediately transitioning into an uppercut, but you were prepared for this. Grabbing his wrist, you held it firmly in place before bringing your foot down onto the elbow, twisting his arm the opposite way. A snapping sound echoed, and you heard him curse in pain.

Hasegawa aimed a sloppy swipe at your chest, to which you blocked with your blade. Taking advantage of this momentary stillness, you aimed a kick at his ribs that would’ve broken them upon impact. The force made him stumble backwards a bit, and you were about to close the distance between the two of you with your weapon. 

But you failed to consider that there was something he could use to his advantage. And it was already too late when you remembered what it was.

The next moment, Hasegawa threw the kodachi blade with all his might at Yasuko's neck.

The small sword flew through the air with deadly accuracy, landing cleanly into flesh and bone. Crimson liquid splattered all over the girl, some of it dripping off the chair and staining the floor with their scarlet hue.

Yasuko gave a small gasp of disbelief.

“Y-Y/N- why?!”

The kodachi blade was buried deep into your chest, and the tip protruded out of your back. You swore you felt it scrape an artery right near where your lung was. 

Hasegawa chuckled at your figure, which struggled to remain standing as the excruciating pain evaded each of your senses. Your ears rang, and you could hear your heart pounding- gradually slowing down as your life started to ebb away. If heartbreak was the sensation that hurt the most, then this definitely had the potential to exceed it.

“In the end, you still chose to protect the one Chuuya-kun cared for the most. I must say that I’m touched; not many people can see the sight of true love at its finest.” Your opponent slowly approached you, the barrel of a gun directed straight at your face. His broken arm hung limply by his side, bent at an unnatural angle, but it didn’t even seem to faze him.

“Do you have any last words, Y/N?”

“... Go to hell.”

Hasegawa gave a dry chuckle. But he suddenly frowned when he realised that his index finger refused to move. 

One by one, the fingers on his hand started to shake, loosening their grip on the gun. It clattered to the floor, bouncing away from him.

You laughed, despite your vision starting to grow blurry from blood loss.

“You made a mistake, Hasegawa-kun. When I shot you in the chest, the bullet was tipped with poison that was absorbed through your skin. It didn’t act immediately, but the more you moved, the quicker it spread in your bloodstream. And it will not stop until your heart has ceased to beat.”

The male collapsed against the wall, his legs having lost their strength to keep him standing. A sheen of sweat coated him as his body tried to force the toxins out, but to no use. The poison was designed to kill without leaving any exceptions.

“Hahaha... Well done. You truly… deserve… to be called my opponent.”

He smiled slightly, before he stilled.

You turned around to Yasuko. Grabbing the knife stuck in the chair, you haphazardly cut the last remaining ropes off of her hands and feet, successfully freeing her from the binds. She slowly stood up, staring wide-eyed in shock and penitence at you as you started to lean against the wall.

Your knees buckled, causing you to drop to the floor. The blade was knocked out of your body due to the impact, clattering onto the ground as a result of gravity. Blood spurted out of the opening as your breaths became shallow and rapid, trying to get as much oxygen they could into your lungs. Yasuko slowly crouched down by your side, pressing her hands to your wound in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding. Tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn’t let them fall. She didn’t deserve to cry over something that was entirely her fault.

“I was always wary of you.” You said, breaking the silence.

“It all started when Chuuya rescued you. People don’t tend to think about suspecting an innocent civilian girl who got kidnapped by an underground organisation, and was coincidentally saved by a Port Mafia executive. However, crime syndicates tend to stay away from citizens due to their fear of attracting the government’s attention. The only exceptions being if a civilian was somehow connected to a rival group. And after doing some digging… I found out that the organisation who kidnapped you was an enemy of both Obsidienne and the Port Mafia. Your cousin, Hasegawa Kyuji, was an executive of Obsidienne, and both of your families were killed on that fateful night 8 years ago. The entire situation seemed too suspicious. It was then… that I knew to keep a closer eye on you.”

“If you suspected me… then why didn’t you tell Chuuya? Or anyone else in the Port Mafia for that matter?” Yasuko asked, her voice shaking.

You let out a dry laugh in response.

“Do you honestly think he’d take my side with the way he looks at you? Seven long years of being his best friend… and he’d still choose his lover of whom he’d only known for six months over me. His lover who only loved him so that she could betray him in the end.” 

“…” She looked down into her lap, her silence speaking more than words themselves. A single teardrop fell from her eye, landing onto the floor with a silent plop.

“… I wanted to stop. I realised that the Port Mafia was not the same as it was 8 years ago, and that Chuuya was genuinely a kind man who wanted the best for me. But when I realised it… it was too late. So instead of putting the poison into his wine, I slipped it into Hasegawa’s drink. But he caught me, and furious at my betrayal, he decided to use me as bait to lure Chuuya here. I… I had told Hasegawa that my lover was more of a long-ranged fighter due to his gravity manipulation ability. So he planned that when Chuuya was at an appropriate distance from him, he’d hit a switch hidden on the wall, which would release toxic gas onto Chuuya so that he could be easier to defeat. But he didn’t expect you to be the one to show up. I only knew about this when I was being tied to the chair-” 

You cut her off by coughing up drops of blood. Some of it landed onto her cream-coloured dress, creating a jarring contrast against the fabric.

The movement doubled the amount of pain you were in as your breathing quickened. Yasuko bit back a sob, her hands pressing harder onto your wound as more blood seeped out of it, staining the majority of your shirt a beautiful red. 

“It seems that- I don’t have much time left.” You rasped, already feeling that you were starting to lose consciousness. Putting your hand over hers, you grasped it in a frail grip, tugging her closer as you forced the girl to look into your sincere eyes. Eyes that hid nothing in their final moments.

“Yasuko. I want you to leave Obsidienne. Leave the underworld of Yokohama, and live on as a normal person. Nothing good comes out of a life of crime, no matter how tempting the money or power is. Because all that will await you is a cold and empty death that doesn’t suit a girl like you.”

The female listened in solemn silence, her hand clasping yours tighter as she felt your hold weakening. 

The ruby ring that sat on top of her finger knocked against your silver one, as if in a desperate attempt to transfer some of its life force to the metal. But just like its owner, the silver ring seemed… dim. Tarnished. No longer carrying any value after it was consumed by the shadow of death itself.

You hacked up some more blood, with the droplets being the darkest red this time. The liquid dripped down your chin, filling your mouth with the metallic taste of iron.

“... Tell Chuuya… that I’m sorry. I promised him I wouldn’t recklessly throw my life on the line again, but I did. However, I’m not searching for his forgiveness... because I’ll still love him just as I always did.” You said, your voice growing fainter. Yasuko had to lean in close to properly catch your words.

She gave a bittersweet smile, despite her vision starting to go blurry from the built-up tears in her eyes.

“I will. Chuuya really was lucky that he had you in his life.”

You gave a small chuckle, the grip on her hand loosening with each passing second.

“Tell me…” You whispered, each word seeming to evaporate into the atmosphere after it left your lips.

“Can a heart still break once it’s stopped beating?”

The stillness that followed afterwards would haunt Yasuko for the rest of her life.

Your hand, which had been warm in Yasuko’s grasp, slipped out of her hold, finding its final resting place on the floor.

The room seemed to hold its breath as your life flickered out, leaving only the echo of what it once was.

Time stood still as Yasuko hugged your body to hers. She finally let go of the tears that had already started streaming down her cheeks. The reality of her choices, the betrayal that had led to this devastating moment- all came crashing down onto her in waves of remorse and guilt as she acknowledged that your blood was on her hands.

She sobbed endlessly, her cries muffled by your shoulder that she buried her face into. The female didn’t look up, not even when hurried footsteps raced to the room she was in. All she cared about was that you were gone because of her stupidity.

Chuuya burst into the room, enraged and ready to fight whichever bastard dared to kidnap his girlfriend.

Only to find her weeping over a dead body. Your dead body.

His eyes widened in disbelief.

No… not them too!...

Chuuya stumbled against the wall, almost collapsing to the ground as he bit back a scream. 

Surely this wasn’t happening, right? You must have been gravely injured instead; there should still be hope that a doctor at the Port Mafia could manage to save you just in time. He knew that you survived worse before, and each time you bounced back after you were healed. There was no way that you were dead!

But he knew, deep deep down, that you had left him too.

Chuuya shook his head, blinking back the wetness in his eyes that he didn’t even realise was there. 

The first priority right now was to get Yasuko to safety. There were still members of Obsidienne in the building, and there was no way in hell that he was letting her stay here for another second. He hated that it had to be this way, but he’ll have to come back afterwards to properly avenge you. 

He approached her slowly, laying a gentle hand down on her elbow.

Yasuko didn’t react much as Chuuya helped her to stand, putting his arm around her shoulder just like he always did when he was with her. She leaned onto him, with tears silently streaming down her face while she walked. Not even noticing how he cast one last glance towards your blood-stained body against the wall.

The whole ride back to their home was a blur to her. The Mafia executive had stayed at Obsidienne’s headquarters, ordering his men to completely exterminate every single member in the building. He even engaged in full-out combat with the powerful ability users who also belonged to the organisation. It was the angriest she had ever seen him; but she knew he was also suffering behind the fury that consumed him whole.

The limousine stopped in front of her house, and she collapsed onto the couch once she was inside, starting to cry again as she recalled the events that had happened just less than an hour ago. Events that she could have prevented in the very first place.

An eternity seemed to pass before she heard footsteps, and looked up to see Chuuya holding a glass of water in his hand. He gazed at her softly, fighting back his own emotions that threatened to rip his chest apart if he didn’t let them out somehow. But he pushed them down, instead focusing on the woman he loved.

He held her, not saying a word as she sobbed, getting his shirt wet from the salty tears that never seemed to end. His hand rubbed up and down her back, the steadiness of his touch grounding Yasuko as she hiccupped, trying to take deep breaths so that she could calm down. 

“It’s okay, baby… it wasn’t your fault.” Chuuya said softly, planting a tender kiss on her forehead as he hugged her close.

She pushed herself off of him, staring back at his slightly confused expression towards her action. Yasuko bit her lip, clenching her fists so hard that her nails dug deep into her palms.

 “N-no, it was my fault! I-If I hadn’t done the things that I did back then, if I had been stronger and smarter, then Y/N wouldn’t have died! All I did was to stand back and watch as they took the hit for me-” A sob erupted in her throat- the sound of the blade passing through your flesh was still vivid in her memories.

Chuuya stepped forward, his blue eyes tender as he took her hand in his.

“My love… don’t blame yourself. I know that it hurts, knowing that you couldn’t save them. But I will never get tired of saying that it was not your fault. That bastard was to blame, not you-”

“Why don’t you understand?! It was my fault!! I had the idea of joining Obsidienne in order to exact revenge on the Port Mafia for murdering my family. And I came up with the idea of being close to you so that the plan would be easier to commence!” She half-yelled, her voice cracking.

“Being close to me?... What are you talking about-”

Yasuko knew that she should stop before she ruined everything between them. But Y/N’s death weighed upon her shoulders, never letting go until she confessed. She would rather end things with the truth than to die with the guilt of a lie.

“I planned to be kidnapped by the criminal organisation because I knew that the Port Mafia would soon dispatch someone powerful to take care of them once and for all. Then I came up with the idea to romance you in order to know your weaknesses, just so that you wouldn’t be a hindrance once Hasegawa and I finally launch our attack on the Mafia. But soon, I wanted to stop when I realised that it all meant nothing. H-He didn’t let me, and instead used me as a hostage, setting up a trap for you when you’d arrive to set me free. However, Y/N showed up instead, and… and fought him instead. It’s all because of me that they’re dead!!”

She broke down, burying her face in her hands once again. Silence followed for a long time after her confession.

Until it was suddenly broken by the shattering of glass.

Yasuko looked up in alarm.

Chuuya stood there silently with a wide-eyed stare. His gaze seemed distant, painful- countless things running in his mind hidden behind those beautiful blue eyes of his. Despite having dated him for six months, he was still unreadable to her sometimes. Only Y/N could’ve deciphered those complex emotions of his hidden within his head.

He had crushed the glass in his hand, soaking himself in water as the shards embedded themselves into the floor. Yet despite this somewhat violent action, he only remained still.

“Chuuya?” Yasuko asked meekly, slightly fearing what his reaction afterwards would be like. Would he shout at her? Use his ability on her? The Port Mafia didn’t take traitors lightly, afterall. And he was an executive in the said organisation, too.

But instead, he walked towards the door. Picking up his hat, he dusted it off before standing in the hallway, casting his gaze at her.

“... I need to be alone for a while.”

And just like that, he walked out of the house for the final time. 

Chuuya felt nothing but rage that day.

His gloves and coat were repeatedly stained with blood as he hunted down the remaining members of Obsidienne in Japan. The expensive leather and fabric quickly became filthy after the first few kills. But he didn’t care; because nothing he did could bring back his best friend. His best friend that was always there for him, who understood him better than anyone else.

His best friend that was now gone as well.

Chuuya wouldn’t- no, he couldn’t rest until he found every single member and crushed them with the weight of gravity. There would be no mercy, not even for the Boss of the organisation himself as he pleaded for his life. The gravity manipulator let loose his feelings, hurling bullets and remorseless kicks at his enemies. 

Blood splattered onto the walls in each base as the dying screams of it’s owners faded away into nothingness. Buildings collapsed on top of each other, the infrastructure groaning as it succumbed into the pull of gravity. Even Mori was slightly surprised at Chuuya’s brutality as he tracked down one base after the next.

All for Y/N.

Back at home, Yasuko sat down onto the couch again, breathing heavily from her outburst.

Something fell out of her pocket, and she stiffened as soon as she saw what it was.

Trembling hands slowly picked the object up. The sun’s rays were reflected back onto her face, but she felt no warmth.

It was the topaz bracelet that you had just bought with her a few days ago. When you were still happy and alive.

Yasuko held it to her chest, where there was nothing left but numbness.

Only death could truly reunite her with you now.

~~~

Chuuya sat with his back against your grave, the cold stone pressing into the skin that was full of scars.

There was only silence that filled the tranquil air of the Port Mafia’s private cemetery.

“... You’re an idiot, you know that?”

He spoke as if you were there with him, listening to his every word.

“You promised me that you wouldn’t be so reckless ever again. You could’ve waited for me to return, and we might have been able to defeat him together. Like we always did ever since we were fifteen. But you didn’t.” Chuuya gave a wry chuckle, lifting his head up to gaze at the blue sky. His eyes held nothing but sorrow and regret.

“... Yasuko and I have cut connections. She told me everything about what she did. I don’t blame her for your death, but it’s hard to look at her in the same way again after knowing about the truth.”

Again, there was only silence that answered him. But Chuuya could still see your smile, and hear your voice as clear as the day in his mind when you responded in your typical manner. He closed his eyes, wordlessly curling his mouth up into a forlorn smile as he laid his head against your tombstone.

“If you were mine instead… would you still be here beside me?”

It was softer than a whisper, but his words carried a weight heavier than all the precious stones in the world combined together.

A small gust of wind blew by, ruffling his clothes and hair in a virtually affectionate yet comforting manner. It gently brushed against his cheek, before moving on to his lips, his neck, and his forehead. The breeze was neither cold nor warm, and it strangely felt like the caress of a lover. Almost as if you had heard his statement and responded with a reply of your own.

Chuuya opened his eyes when he felt the last touches of the wind disappear. All that was left behind was the silence that had always been there.

The silence that would forever be tinged with tainted sorrow.

@circinuus @justcallmesakira @riiwrites @ruanais @sariel626 @atlasnessie @yasu-masashige @oldworldpoolhall @yuugen-benni @chocsra @heartsfourdazai @iridescentdove

[petrapalerno]

✨Free Monster & Alien Smut✨

Hi, I'm Petra Palerno and write filthy otherworldly smut. I mostly dabble in novels but have recently decided to give erotic shorts a try here and on my patreon.

Pretty much all content on this blog is NSFW. Minors do not engage. For TW/CW check individual stories.

✨MASTER LIST

CURRENT FREE STORY

✨Abducted by Moonlight

A werewolf stalks his newly found human mate in the forest when a ufo abducts them both. What happens when the alien tries to stake a claim on her as well?

TW/CW [a WIP, will be added to]: Stalking, consensual sex, shifting, breaking bones, abduction, aliens, violence.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Like my writing? Support me by reading my other works!

✨Love on the Korlyan Moon

Out now everywhere books are sold

A bubble babe is unknowingly dropped into a mysterious ocean by the Deenz transport ship. Lena, a tattoo artist from the Twin Cities, is sure she's going to die as the bubble she's in sinks deeper and deeper. She's rescued by Kitaico, a color-shifting tentacled alien, and unknowingly takes his mating venom. She must cycle through heats all while trying to resist her attraction to Kitaico.

✨All I Wanted Was Sushi but I got Abducted By Aliens Instead*

Book #1 in the Bubble Babes Series

Opal is trying her best in the Midwest after the sudden death of her parents. Everything comes to a crashing halt as she's abducted by aliens and forced to work as a human dancer for extraterrestrial enjoyment. A chance encounter with an alien prince while stuck in a traffic jam might just change the trajectory of Opal's new life in space.

✨All I Wanted Was To Become A Scientist But Now I've Got An Alien Boyfriend*

Book #2 in the Bubble Babes Series

“Sometimes I think it would have been easier if I hadn’t accepted the free shower at the hot alien’s apartment.”

☆JESSY

For the past few years, my life has kind of blown. On Earth, I dedicated my entire existence to science, even if my peers dismissed me as a pretty face. When I got abducted by aliens, I was forced to dance in a bubble for extra-terrestrial enjoyment.

I can’t get anyone to take me seriously even in space.

When I escaped by crashing my alien captor’s bus, Gra’eth saved me from drowning and even offered me a place to stay. He keeps telling people I’m his mate, even though I keep telling him the human word for what we are is roommates, but he refuses to say it that way. Sometimes I can’t tell if he’s being sarcastic or serious—and for my very literal neurodivergent brain, that’s a big problem.

☆GRA’ETH

I never expected to have to save Jessy, and I certainly never expected for this strange human to be my mate. Her idea of fun would be to take apart my data pad only to see if she could put it back together again, which sounds like torture to me.

I’ve convinced her to stay in my apartment as what she calls a roommate. The mating bond won’t let me let her leave, but humans can’t even feel it. I don’t know how to keep things friendly when just the smell of her hair is enough to send me into a mating frenzy.

I don’t want to make her uncomfortable, but I can’t keep fighting the pull of this bond. This little speckled human will be the death of me.

✨All I Wanted Was a Glass of Vino but an Alien Duke Kidnapped Me Instead *

Book #3 in the Bubble Babes Series

The Bubble Babe series continues in this standalone novel. 

Will an aquatic alien duke be able to reconcile the fact that his fated mate is a small, mouthy, human woman who can't swim? Will that human be able to love him despite his scars and the fact that he's keeping her captive? 

☆MARTA

The reality of being a mob boss' daughter is anything but glamorous, despite what one might think. In the absence of true freedom, my only companion was my loyal dog, Bruno. When he passed, I felt like my life had hit rock bottom. But when aliens abducted me from my pity party in a local wine bar, I realized how wrong I was. As if things couldn't get any worse, I woke up in an alien duke's closet, forced to rely on a giant alien pleasure toy as my only means of defense. All I know is that the gaudy duke can’t stand me…and the feeling is mutual.

☆RAF’ERE

Throughout my dukedom, I have dedicated myself to restoring the fi'len species to their natural aquatic habitats. How in the goddess's name am I supposed to do that when this human is my mate? Despite her mouthiness, the tiny human cannot swim. Did that stop me from stealing her cryopod from a crashed ship and locking it in my closet? Absolutely not. I also didn’t expect her to wake up and demand answers, either. But I can’t expect my people to look at me to lead if a human stands beside me, despite how much my body burns for hers. The dilemma arises: should I prioritize the goddess's wishes or grant her the freedom she deserves, joining the other human refugees?

This erotic alien romance is part 3 of the Bubble Babes series. It can be read as either a standalone or as a continuation of earlier books. This book features a 5’2” plus sized Italian-American female male character and a 7’6” aquatic alien duke as the male main character. Tropes include Kidnapping, size difference, enemies to loves, reformed playboy, alien romance, fated mates, and forced proximity. This full-length novel (67K words) ends with a HEA.

[hufflepuffsandghosts]

Fic swap? 👀 - ur bestie Zero 🖤

Plot: PH!Bakugo and Y/N (AFAB)  get captured and thrown together in a dark cell. Whoever put them together wants them to do..things. They both refuse. But their captor is determined, putting hormones in the air to urge them on. How long can they last? 

A/N: Hello friend! This is a FicSwap for my lovely bestie! I tried to keep it as gender-neutral as possible for you bby. But please keep in mind that the reader has female anatomy. I really hope you like this as you know i am NOT the type to write smut ahh <3 ily

TW: Non-Con/Dub-Con, Use of drugs. Slight exhibitionism if you squint. Swearing. Unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kiddos!), Breeding NO MINORS ALLOWED TO INTERACT

The night was dark and eerie, with an air of tension surrounding Bakugo, aka Dynamight, Japan's #2 hero, and Y/N, aka H/N. Bakugo’s explosive quirk and Y/n’s strategic abilities complemented each other perfectly. The villain in question has been known to kidnap and kill couples. 

As the night settles in, the moon’s faint glow casts shadows on the abandoned industrial complex where the villain has set up his hideout. The air was tense, and each breath felt electric as the pair prepped to confront the dangerous kidnapper. The villain emerged from the shadows, his sinister laughter echoing through the desolate space. He was a towering figure, clad in all black as the moonlight glinted off a wickedly sharp blade he wielded. 

The battle began with a ferocious exchange of blows from both parties at play. Bakugo charged forward, using his explosions to close the distance between him and the villain. Y/N, always one step ahead, flanked the enemy with precision. Using their wits and agility to dodge the villain’s attack. 

Bakugo and Y/N always moved with almost telepathic coordination during their joint missions. They knew and anticipated each other’s moves, covering for one another effortlessly. Their effectiveness as a team always caught the attention of their peers and superiors, leading to more frequent assignments together. During this particular mission fraught with danger, the pair were hesitant to acknowledge their evergrowing feelings for one another. It wasn't until a split-second decision on Bakugo's part, stepping in as a shield for Y/n from a deadly attack that put them in this predicament and was captured by the villain and his team

In a dimly lit, desolate underground cell, Bakugo and Y/N found themselves shackled together. They were both heroes, each possessing unique abilities and strong wills to help. But now, stripped of their powers and freedom, they faced an unimaginable challenge. Their captor, a sinister figure hiding in the shadows, had a twisted plan for them. 

Bakugo’s fiery temper ignited immediately as he attempted to break free from the chains that bound him to Y/N. “Let me GO, damn it! We’ll tear this place apart!” he snarled, his red eyes blazing with fury. 

Y/n on the other hand, remained surprisingly calm, trying to reason with their captor. “There’s no need for this. We won’t give in to your sick demands,” they declared, their voice steady despite the fear bubbling beneath the surface. Their captor’s voice echoed through the chamber, chilling them both to the bond. “Oh, but you will my little bunnies. I’ve laced the air with hormones designed to incite desire, and unless you want to be permanently trapped together, you both will have to cooperate.” 

Bakugo growled in frustration, not wanting to give their captor the satisfaction of seeing them weaken, “Like hell we will! I’m not falling for your tricks!” Y/n on the other hand, felt a sudden warmth spreading through the air, affecting their thoughts and emotions, it became increasingly difficult to ignore the proximity of Bakugo, the scent of his sweat, and the intensity of his gaze. 

As time passed, their willpower began to waver. Their captor kept the pressure on, taunting them with veiled threats and vague incentives that played on their deepest desires. “Come on Katsuki, don't you wanna feel how good Y/N feels? I know for a fact that she’s absolutely dripping right now.” Whispered the villain. 

Bakugo grunts, and shifts a little, he can see how slowly Y/n is becoming more and more desperate, moaning a bit here and there and shifting her legs to gain some sort of release for themselves. “F-Fuck Bakugo, please. I don't know how much longer I can take it.” Y/n Groaned. “It’s the hormones talking Y/N, dont let them win.” Bakugo huffed. 

“Tsk, tsk,” The villain said. “They’re practically asking to be used at this point Katsuki, how on earth can you deny them the pleasure.” 

“Shit” Bakugo thought. This was not good for the both of them, but all he could imagine is Y/N whimpering underneath him as he- 

No

Stop

Don’t give in. 

Is what he kept on telling himself before he realized that he was over the top of Y/n, both of his hands freed and placed lightly on their skin-tight hero costume, playing gently with their breasts. Y/n purred softly, grinding on his thigh at the slight touches. “Please Katsuki-” Y/N spoke softly, before being immediately interrupted by a forceful kiss from their partner in crime. “Shh baby, let me take care of you properly” Katsuki growled, placing kissing and nips along Y/N's neck.

  Feeling the heat rise between the both of them. Katsuki gets off slightly, admiring the work of light bruises along their neck. Bakugo rips the bottom half of Y/n’s costume, revealing their wet pussy. He chuckles “Wow, what a little slut you are, getting off just at my leg alone. Tell me, what do you want.” 

Y/N huffs and doesn't say anything. 

Smack. A sting to their ass before he repeats. “Tell me, what, you want.”  

Smack

Y/N whimpers “Make me cum please Kat, please.” before gasping for air as Bakugo uses his thick, rough fingers to make quick work of spreading their legs the rest of the way, and his tongue is suddenly everywhere. Eating them out like his life depended on it. Lapping everything up like it was the last thing he was ever going to drink. 

Y/n writhed underneath him, grabbing and pulling at the blonde’s hair. He sucks on your clit and rubs his cock against the hard mattress when you moan. Tongue sliding between your folds like he’s been starving for you. Bakugo then moves his face so it’s closer to your neck, so his lips are beside your ear and he can say things just as breathily as you. and places bites and hickeys along their breasts while inserting two fingers. “fuck Y/N,” he moaned. “You’re already so tight for me and I haven't even done anything yet.” Y/n nods, chatting out agreements “Just fucking get it over with already Bakugo-” 

He reaches up and places two fingers into their mouth, while you suck and gasp as he removes his pants, showing his cock covered with his own pre-cum, slowly teasing Y/N’s wet folds. He removes his fingers and smirks, slamming his dick inside. Y/n jolts suddenly, toes curling at the sheer size and thickness of Bakugo’s cock. 

“You’re being so obedient for me Y/n, you’re so good for me..” He purrs, slamming into you over and over again. Losing a bit more sanity and more as Y/n gets tighter and tighter around him. “Fuck, that's it, baby, let me hear you.” He says, grabbing Y/N’s hair and pulling the both of them as close as possible. Slamming into Y/n's G-spot as they moaned and were almost screaming with pleasure. It makes both of their heads a little foggy. 

“Shit- fuck- Y/N I'm gonna-” Katsuki moans, pushing in as hard as he can, hitting the cervix before cumming. “M-me too-” Y/n moans. Slow and controlled, lifting up a bit to kiss them deep and make you feel every little bit of him. He allows himself to fuck the cum into you, reveling in the quiet gasps you make. Both are so sensitive, but it feels so good. 

“You’re mine now, Y/n,” He huffs, before kissing Y/n’s lips, and then to their forehead. Y/N smiles, “I would love that but now, let's figure out how to get the hell out of here.”

All content © hufflepuffsandghosts 2023. Do not repost, modify, or claim my work as your own.

[viaoverthemoon]

Cause I have one request to make. What if older Leon (it can be either but I have vendetta in mind) was asked by the DSO to find an ex-umbrella agent she's kidnapped at the moment.

And when he rescues her there's all sorts of tension between them. She's grateful for him but he's wary of her(understandably so....) And over the time they bond over the fact they both want to save people (she's changed) . But over the time their sexual tension between grows and grows and one day it snaps....... Resulting in 👀👀👀you know

(please tell me you are understanding what I am saying like this idea is ingrained in my brain somehow. But you can ignore this request if you want.)

I see the vision, my dear! I see it so freaking hard!

Please hand over your brain so I can SMOOCH IT!!!!!

The gears are already turning and I grabbed my laptop as soon as I could <3

Vendetta!Leon Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Summary: Leon finds and rescues you after being kidnapped. While you are grateful, you can't help but notice the tension that follows the both of you as you head to the rendezvous point.

Tw: Implied kidnapping, ptsd (I think), gun & knife violence/battle, zombies but they aren't described, fluff, SMUT, p in v sex, unprotected sex (Don't be silly, wrap your willy &lt;3) Let me know if I missed anything!

18+!! NSFW!! MDNI!! Read at your own risk!

Enjoy! <3

❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁

A small sliver of light suddenly shines into your dark room.

You'd been in the dark for so long, the light momentarily disoriented you. You back yourself into a corner, your heart rate accelerating as your anxiety rises.

Some new group of bioterrorists had risen, not as bad as Umbrella, but also not trying to do good like the government. They'd kidnapped you in hopes of using the information you must have, since you once worked with umbrella.

But you hadn't given them anything. Within the past week they'd tried everything in mental and physical torture, but you didn't relent.

The previous night, you'd heard some of your captors speaking of them getting impatient and frustrated with you, the possibility of just killing you and kidnapping someone else to take your place getting more and more appealing to them.

But you weren't going down without a fight.

You grab the only chair in the small room, holding it as best you can with your dislocated shoulder. You pant heavily as your wild eyes stare at the door that opens slowly.

You pause when your full name is called out, the chair dropping just an inch. A brunette man with bright blue eyes cautiously peeks into the room, gun raised as he repeats your name again.

A small flash of hope rises in your chest. He can't see you in the dark, so he continues walking in. He repeats your name, "-are you here? I'm here to bring you to safety."

His words bring you so much relief that you drop the chair. The guy whips his body toward you, turning on his flashlight and pointing the gun at you.

When he sees its only you, tired and breathing heavily with a gag between your lips, he relaxes and puts his weapon in his holster.

He approaches you slowly, as if you're a wild animal. "My names Leon Kennedy. I was sent by the DSO to rescue you."

You blink quickly, holding back tears as you nod. You stand awkwardly as he goes behind you, untying the cloth before stepping away. "Better?"

You take a moment to let your mouth salivate and clear your throat before speaking, "Yes... Thank you so much... You have no idea-"

"Good. Let's go." Leon turns back toward the door, leaving before you can finish.

His response stuns you for a few seconds before you brush it off as him just trying to hurry back to safety.

But the tension remains as you both travel through the abandoned city, helping each other up and down fallen buildings in complete silence.

You can't help but notice the way he sharply turns away from you after having to help you, or how an annoyed expression overcomes his face when you take too long to follow him.

It isn't until the two of you are forced to run into a barely standing house to get away from wandering A-Virus zombies.

Leon boards the door shut behind the two of you before leaning against it to catch his breath.

You rest against the wall of the house, breathing heavily as your mind can't seem to stop thinking about the way Leon has treated you so far. You hadn't done anything to him that would cause him to harbor bad feelings towards you. And you always helped him when he needed it. So why? Your curiosity gets the best of you.

"Hey-... Leon?" He responds to your breathy words with a grunt, not even looking at you. This irritates you a little, but you continue with a soft voice.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm super grateful for you saving me... But I can't help but feel like you don't feel all too happy about my safety."

He just grunts again, checking the number of bullets in his gun. "Don't know why you would think that." His tone contradicts his words, and your patience slowly deteriorates.

"I would think that because I haven't done anything to you! I would understand if I'd wronged you, but I haven't-"

"Oh, so working under Umbrella isn't doing something wrong?"

Your sharp inhale is the only thing heard in a pause filled with silence.

The both of you remain silent while staring at each other. Leon, looking at you with a blank look, was in much more inner turmoil at the moment. He wants to trust you, he really does. But Umbrella had taken so much from everyone. He can't imagine how sick a person must be in the head to work with them. Ex-employee or not.

You sigh and look him deep in his eyes, causing Leon to flinch because he swore he felt something ghost over the shell of his soul.

"I understand what you mean. And I'm not proud of the work I did under those monsters... But I'm not with them anymore! I'd found out that what we were doing was wrong, and immediately ran. I'm not who I was before. I swear. I just want to help those in need."

He just looks at you, mildly surprised by your sudden confession. All he can do is nod in acknowledgement. "Right... okay."

And from then on, you both get along relatively well throughout the journey to the rendezvous point.

You make pleasant conversation when possible, Leon asks if you need breaks or if you're hungry. He worries genuinely for your wellbeing. And you'd be lying if you said his care didn't make your heart go crazy. He cared for you. Found you food when you were hungry, handled your injuries, and popped your dislocated shoulder back into place.

The more he interacts with you, the more his determination to get you out of here grows. He hardly cares for himself, only thinking about you. And every time you thank him or give him that deep look of appreciation, he feels... things... Things he hasn't felt since his teenage years. He feels things that make him feel young again.

❁

Once again, you two are forced to retreat into yet another barely standing home. Only this time, you're both laughing as you close the door and board it shut together.

You step away and walk to a wooden desk, jumping up and sitting on it with your hand over your heart as you try to stop laughing. "Okay, that one liner you used when you threw the flashbang- 'Damn, I think you just got flashed.' Too fucking funny-"

Quiet snickers fill the tiny house. "Why, thank you sweetheart. And you're quite skilled with throwing knives. That knife you threw into that zombie's jugular?" He gives a playful chef's kiss, causing you to blush and giggle.

"Thanks. Told you I can handle myself."

"Right, and that's why you were kidnapped?"

You pause.

He pauses.

His words had unintentionally caused for your throat to close up. You cleared it, looking away from him and trying to give a small smile. But he knew he must have over-stepped.

He walks towards you. "Hey, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have brought that up-" You instantly try to reassure him.

"No, no! I'm fine- really! I just wasn't expecting it."

You're surprised when Leon gets closer, stepping in-between your legs and wiping liquid off of your face. "Then why are you crying?"

You gasp before lifting a hand to feel your face. Sure enough, you're crying. You sniffle, trying to wipe away the tears but they never seem to stop. "Sorry- I don't mean to cry. I've j-just had a really long week..."

He shushes you. "I understand. There's no need to apologize. This couldn't have been easy."

You take a few moments to calm yourself. And once your tears finally stop, you look up and realize just how close Leon is. Your noses graze each other when you look at him. His bright blue eyes staring into yours with deep concern, his brown hair falling over his eyes, his dark brows pulled together in concentration as he looks all over your face.

Your heart rate accelerates.

You lick your lips, eyes dancing over his face before flickering to his lips. "Thank you... Leon."

He hadn't missed the motion of your tongue, eyes moving to yours.

You both look at each other for what seems like forever before he leans in.

Life seems a little more colorful.

Life feels worth living.

Life has just gotten so fucking worth it.

His soft lips dance against yours, stubble scrapping your chin, but you don't care.

You sigh into the kiss, bathing in the warm feeling that comes when his hands come to rest on your cheeks. You cover his hands with your own, eyes blissfully closed as you forget about everything else.

Nothing else matters. No one else matters. Everything you need, is in this man right in front of you.

Before you know it, he's deepening the kiss.

His hands move down to your hips and he pulls away to catch his breath.

You both pant for a while, eyes remaining locked onto the other's.

"Do you-... Are you sure you want this?"

Do you even have to think about it?

You instantly nod your head, not a single thought of hesitation in your brain.

"Do you want this?"

The question surprises him. "Do I?!"

You laugh when he lunges forward, lips landing on your neck. He sucks and bites like there's no tomorrow, relishing in the sounds of your soft moans and whimpers.

His hands move to the band of your pants. "Can I take these off?"

You give a small, 'Mhm-' and the pants, and your panties, are off within seconds.

You grind into his clothed semi-bulge, moaning at the friction on your clit. Your ass hurt from the wooden desk biting into it, but the pain is barely acknowledged. Leon digs his hands into your hips, stopping your movements.

You whine, about to snap at him for denying you of pleasure. But your complaint dies on your tongue when one of his hands slides between the two of you.

You gasp, hips twitching as he palms at your cunt. "Yes..."

He just chuckles, continuing to rub your puffy lips and your clit as his other hand reaches for his zipper.

You bite one of your nails to keep from being too loud as you watch him pull his dick from his pants.

A whimper leaves your lips at the pure size and girth of him.

He jerks himself a few times, watching the pure lust in your eyes and the drool pooling at the corner of your lips. He calls your name to get your attention. "You ready? You look pretty out of it and we barely even started..."

You glare at him, his hot breath fanning over your face as he slides his cock between your folds a few times before entering you.

Your heart races right against his, both of you panting and groaning as he bottoms out. Your nails create little crescent marks on his shoulder and the back of his neck, sweat collecting on your hairline.

Leon gets lost in the feeling of your silky wet walls, large hands gripping your hips as he begins a slow pace.

Your hearts beat in sync, hands never leaving the other. You can't keep your hands to yourself, scratching along his back, running them down his chest, combing through his hair.

You feel a tug on your soul. A feeling of connection.

There was something so intimate about this moment. You felt truly tied to this man, something you hadn't felt with somebody else in a long time.

You clench around him at the thought and he groans, picking up the pace.

Leon has slept with women before, but there was something special about you.

Everyone else was a mere distraction. Something to keep his mind off of the many years of physical and mental damage he had to endure.

But you?

You're the only one he felt a need to hold on to.

A sudden shock makes him thrust into you a little harder, causing you to cry out. You grip the nape of his neck as your back arches, legs raising to cross behind his back.

Leon grabs the back of your head and lead you into another passionate kiss, swallowing your whines and moans as his thrusts become erratic and desperate.

Both of your releases are within your reach, each of you getting louder and louder as you get closer. "Can I-... Can I cum inside? Please?"

Your approval is instant, not even thinking about refusing. "Yes-! Need it so bad..."

You jerk your hips to meet his with every thrust, the feeling of him kissing your cervix tightening the knot more and more until- it snaps.

Leon has to cover your mouth to muffle the loud sob the leaves your lips, not long after following you over that edge and seeing stars.

He bites the side of your neck to stay quiet himself, breathing heavily as the weight of the euphoria subsides.

You both lean on each other, bathing in the warmth and the safety the other provides.

"-One? Do you copy?"

The both of you startle, Leon accidentally pulling out of you and causing you to hiss at the sudden emptiness.

He mutters a quick apology before bringing a hand to his ear. "Condor One to Roost. I copy." He glances at you nervously. "Myself and-... Viper are safe and still on route to the rendezvous point." He embarrassingly turns away and fixes himself.

You silently gawk at your codename. It was flattering, in a way, but also showed that they really didn't trust you...

Leon soon finishes with his report and turns back to you, seeing you leaning on the desk. Watching him with a small smile and your pants back on.

He walks to you and places his hands on the desk, caging you in, before nuzzling his face into your neck. He breaths you in. "Sorry about that. Of course, we picked that before-"

"No need to apologize. I can see how I may have been kinda... snake-like-"

You laugh when he groans, lightly banging his head against your shoulder. You stay like this for a moment, holding each other, before Leon pulls away.

He gives you a quick peck on the lips and pulls his gun from its holster, checking the bullets again. "C'mon. Let's get out of here so I can get you back home and take you out for dinner."

You giggle, grabbing the first aid and weapons. "What, is this not already first date material?"

He pulls you in by your waist, getting close enough for you to feel his breath on your face.

"For you... First date material is so much more."

❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁❁´◡`❁

THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE AHHH!!

Ngl, I don't really like how long this is or how it ended, BUT LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Hope you enjoyed!

Requests are open!! <3

[oliversrarebooks]

Augusnippets Day 4: Amputation

Masterlist

tw: amputation, drugging, restraints

Bramble struggled fruitlessly against the cold iron bonds that were keeping him chained to the table face down. The hated metal made him so weak, unable to use his magic, completely at the mercy of the human who had trapped him.

"Well, now, this is a fine prize." His captor ran a rough hand along his sensitive wing, making Bramble shudder. "Gonna fetch a hefty payout. Aren't I lucky?"

Bramble bit back tears, feeling violated by the unwelcome touch. He'd always been so proud of his wings, which shimmered like a hummingbird in the morning sunlight. This filthy human didn't deserve to look at them, much less touch them.

"I wouldn't move if I were you. You'll be real sorry if you do," said his captor, as Bramble flinched away from his hands. "On second thought, I'd better make sure you can't move. These wings are too valuable to spoil."

Just out of the corner of his eye, Bramble could see his captor approaching with a syringe filled with milky fluid. Bramble cringed but didn't fight it. If he couldn't escape anyway, he'd rather be unconscious for this. As the cold drug entered his system, he could feel his limbs becoming heavy and numb, his mind becoming disconnected from his body.

But his fear didn't subside, and Bramble realized that his captor wasn't merciful enough to make him sleep. He'd just drugged him enough to keep him from moving.

Bramble squeezed his eyes shut as his captor picked up a saw from the tray, unwilling to accept what was going to happen, right up to the moment when the blade bit into his wing root.

Masterlist

@augusnippets

[tickles-28]

This is a 4 Part series i wrote for someone at the start of the pandemic, who shared my love for the darker elements of tickling 🙈

TW - Kidnapping, drugging.

This is all 4 parts in one, strap in for a ride folx! 🫠 Feedback is always welcome, either through comments here or by DM 😊 Enjoy!

Part 1 - The Meeting

We decided we were finally going to meet, and agreed to at one of your favourite coffee spots. i knew what you liked, so i ordered it for you and was patiently waiting your arrival. You walk through the door in an adorable strappy sundress, begin to look around for me, so i put my hand up and wave at you to direct you my way. We make a little awkward small talk at the shop for a while, and i then ask if you want to go for a drive to a nice quiet location so that maybe we could get to know each other a little better, and talk openly without so many listening ears around. As we start to walk to the car, you notice you're feeling a little drowsy, and are having a hard time keeping your eyes open. i ask if everything's alright, and you mention suddenly not feeling great, and apologetically asked if i could drop you off at home and reschedule. i smile wickedly as i help you into your seat, and that's the last thing you remember before drifting to sleep in the vehicle.

You awake to a light breeze over your pale bare skin, but everything is still dark. You try to get up, but you soon realize that you're completely helpless, exposed, and vulnerable as you try to wiggle even the smallest amount. Your arms are bound at the wrists and pulled tightly overhead, and your elbows are tied out to the sides of the bed for extreme immobility. You can feel your nipples swelling from the breeze, and from your mind being trapped in this dark space, wondering what's going to happen to you. You try to squirm again, but there's just no use. The only part of your body that you seem to have any control over, are your fingers and your head. There are bonds around your waist pulling tightly to the edges of the bed, thigh ties to keep them spread wide, and bonds at your knees to keep you from closing your legs. Lastly, those adorable little feet are tied at the ankles to the corners of the bed, with every tiny toe tied back to a stock-like device around each ankle. You are almost 100% immobile.

You hear a door open, as another breeze hits your skin from the swinging motion. Footsteps grow closer, the door slams shut, and you jump from the sound.

"WHERE AM I? WHAT'S THIS ABOUT?! WHAT'S GOING ON?! LET ME GO!" you start yelling at your captor, confused as to where you are, or who you're with. Darkness still consumes you, and you're realizing now that you're blindfolded. Its then suddenly pulled away, and your eyes struggle to adapt to the light, but you can see a figure looming over you. Your eyes finally adjust, and you see that the figure is me. You immediately start to frantically pull at your restraints, as you're sure you know what torture is coming for you.

"Awwww, looks like you're scared sweetie. I thought this is what you wanted?" an evil grin spreads widely across my face. "We've been talking about it for ages now, so when you finally agreed to meet up for coffee, I figured this would be my best, and possibly only chance to get you exactly where I want you." You start struggling again, seeing if there's a weakness in the bonds you didn't feel last time, but they're just too tight. You're not getting away from this.

"Please, whatever you want from me, i'll give you money... how much do you want? i don't know if i can go through with this, i need more time. Please don't do this!" You start to plead for me to let you go, but how would you know that's just music to my ears. The helplessness in your eyes is addicting, and fueling me to begin my torture.

"Mmmm, yes, please... beg for me to not do what I'm going to do to you. You don't even know what I'm going to do yet, do you? Well, you do, and you don't. You have no idea where my first methodical nail drag will be. You don't know what sensitive part of your body I'm going to attack first. Will it be your feet? Nah, that's too easy, don't want to wear you out right away, I have SO many plans to fulfill! But first, I'm going to put this blindfold back on so you can't see what's coming. Won't that be so much fun for you? Also, feel free to scream and cry as loud as you'd like, we're kind of in the middle of nowhere, so... you know that phrase about no one hearing you scream, right?" You begin to whimper as i reach for your face to adjust the blindfold back over your eyes, and just like that, your world goes dark again.

Part 2 - So It Begins

As i pull the blindfold back over your eyes, your heart begins to race. You know you're in for it, and there's absolutely nothing you can do or say to get yourself out of this situation. As terrified as you are, you can also feel yourself growing increasingly aroused. i was right after all, this IS exactly what you wanted.

"Now... where oh where should I begin?" i slowly pace around your bound body, admiring my handy work, how tight you're spread out, how immobile you are. i draw out my pacing, as i bring my body close enough to yours that you feel my presence, but i don't make contact. You squirm in anticipation, wondering when your inevitable torture will begin.

i startle you as i climb on to the bed with you, and straddle your waist. Not sitting on you, but perched on top of you.

"Are you ready?" i ask, already knowing the answer.

"No, please... please don't, i can't do this!!" you plead.

"Mmm, perfect." You can hear the smile in my tone.

i lean over you and use two fingers to slowly trail my way from your wrists to your elbows, sending goosebumps through you almost immediately with the first sensations. Then, i start trailing those fingers from your elbows to just above your armpits, creating shivers throughout your body.

"Aw, is the anticipation killing you? Do you just want me to get it over with already and start my attack? I'm very much enjoying watching you try to squirm like this though."

You whimper, but don't answer me.

"Playing silent hmm? I'll fix that!"

And just like that, all ten fingers start flicking and poking at your exposed armpits, digging and prodding as you try to thrash around.

"AAAHHHHH NOOOO PLEEEASSSEE NOOOTT THEEEERRREEEE!!!" You scream, as you toss your head back and forth, and clench your hands, trying to focus on anything but the tickling.

"Yes, keep begging dear, it's not going to help you one little bit. I'm going to tickle you as fast as I want, as hard as I want, for as long as I want. I could do this for hours!! How do you feel about that?" I throw my head back in laughter as my fingers keep working away at your delicate underarms, changing my pressure, only using my nails, then digging back in with rigorous, hard prods as you continue to try to buck underneath me.

"PLEEAASSEE NOO, I CAAAN'T TAAAKEE ITTTT, NOOTT HOOUURRSS!!"

"Oh we're just starting, you don't know what's coming!"

i continue my assault on your poor, helpless armpits for another few minutes as you continue to slowly lose your mind, and then begin to work my way down your to your sides. i'm now sitting on your pelvis assisting in your inability to squirm.

"Please, please give me a break, I can't breathe!" You breathlessly plead.

"You're still talking, aren't you? You must still be breathing!"

i start playing your ribs like a xylophone, making sure i get my fingers between each one, and rubbing them up and down, watching you explode in more intense laughter with each finger movement.

"NOOOOOOO OHH MYY GOOODDDD PLEEAAASSEEEE!" Your face and chest are red and sweaty from your futile struggle attempts. i stop my ambush for a moment.

"I think I want you to see what's coming next, I'm going to take off this blindfold now."

i lean over and remove the black cloth, and you blink in multiples, again trying to adjust to the light. You feel me get off the bed, and then you see me standing at the side of the bed with something in my hand.

"You obviously know what this is, right? All girls know what these magical things are." i wave a Magic Wand hypnotically by the cord back and forth as your eyes follow the motion.

You mutter out a very quiet; "Yes."

A sinister grin appears on my face as you answer.

"So then you know what I'm going to do with it, right?"

The shade of blush that spread across your cheeks was incredibly bright.

"Yes." You can't maintain eye contact at this point, your eyes are darting around the room, trying to escape my gaze as your clit starts to twitch.

CLICK

bzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

The low hum of the vibrations fill the room, and your body tenses as you feel me return to the bed with you.

"Such a pretty pussy you have." i pet the outside of your lips, and as i get to your opening, i notice your wetness.

"Oohh, would you look at that. Looks like someone is enjoying themselves. Just like i expected."

You blush even more, and turn your head away, staring at a wall to avoid looking at me.

i start to part your lips and place the head of the wand directly on your clit, sending intense waves of pleasure throughout your entire body. You moan, and try to arch your back to ease into the sensations, but just like that, it's over. i pull the vibrator away. You whimper in annoyance.

"Oh lovely, you're so incredibly reactive. I've got something perfect in mind!" i put down the vibrator on the bed, and hop off to fetch something in another room.

Back in a flash, i appear with more rope. i begin to fasten the vibrator very snug to your clit, tying the rest of the vibrator to the inside of your thigh. Stepping off the bed, i look at my work and start evilly clapping.

"Goodie! Now, see this?" i show you a combination dimmer/timer control in my hand.

"This little beauty is AMAZING! So, I'm going to put this on a 10 second timer for a period of 1 hour. What's going to happen is; the vibrator will turn on for that 10 seconds at different speeds, then it'll turn off for 10 seconds, and then it'll turn back on for 10 seconds, and then... I'm pretty sure you get it."

Your expression is amazing, a beautiful mix of fear, panic, and arousal. Knowing you're going to be torturously kept on edge for an hour, not being able to cum from just 10 seconds of vibrations at a time, all while enduring more tickle torture.

i set the timer, and flick the switch, as the vibrations start to tickle your exposed clit once again. You don't have enough time to experience the pleasure, because in no time at all, i'm back straddling you attacking your armpits. Your moans are confused and filled with laughter as the vibrator turns on and off, building you up, then cutting you off.

"NOOO PLEEAASSEEE MAAAKEEE ITTTT STTOOOPPP!!!" You pound the back of your hands on the bed and throw your head all over, trying to feel anything other than the tickles and the intense throbbing of your clit, as your wetness starts to leak into your ass.

i start to twirl my fingers from your armpits over to your rock hard nipples, flicking and pinching them just enough to send direct surges to your clit.

"OHH FUUUCKK." You shudder as the sensations from your nipples add an entire new level of how intense your clit is pulsating. My middle fingers dance furiously over your nipples, flicking them back and forth, up and down, little pinch, little nibble, all while the vibrator works away in ten second intervals. Bringing you just close enough, but stopping RIGHT before you're about to cum. Ten more seconds and the torture starts all over.

i reach down and turn off the timer. Thinking to yourself; "Has it been an hour already?"

Seeing that questioning look in your eyes, i quickly laugh an unsettling laugh.

"Oh, do you think we're done? That was just your warm up, I haven't even gotten to those delicious little feet yet! I'm just going to switch the timing on this thing a little."

That look of fear and arousal washes over your face again as you realize that you truly don't know how long this torture is going to last, and all you can do is lay there, try to thrash as the tickling becomes too extreme, but then try to cum as the vibrations underwhelm your clit.

"I think I might just leave you here for a little bit while the timer does its thing. You'll be an oversensitive hot mess once I come back in, oh I don't know, let's say another hour or so? But don't worry, my roommate is on their way home from work. She isn't as into the tickle torture as much as she has an insatiable love for orgasm control, so she'll be stepping in for me while I go run a few errands. Your nipples and clit will now be at her mercy until I return, which she has none by the way. THEN the real fun will begin when both of us start working on you together! Oh I'm so excited." i hop up and down, clapping beside the bed, as i hear the main door close.

"Perfect timing, look who's home." Your vision is again dark as i pull the blindfold over your eyes. You can hear a second set of footsteps from down the hall, and the familiar breeze as the door opens again.

Part 3 - The Roommate

"Looks like someone's been having fun while I've been at work all day." An unfamiliar voice enters the room, and the tone is unsettling.

"Well hello to you too. Don't get grumpy with me, I told you I'd be working her over a bit before you got home."

The other voice sighs.

"You're right, sorry. Bad day at work, shouldn't take it out on you."

"You're right, you shouldn't. Buuuuut look who's here that you CAN take that out on?!" i say, as i motion towards you like one of the Barker Girls on The Price Is Right.

She snickers.

"How much has she had already?"

"Only a little over an hour."

"HAH, oh yeah she's good for a while then. Thanks for edging her a bit for me already too, I'm going to really enjoy this after the day I've had."

Your panic level is rising by the second hearing them talk like you aren't even there, forever left wondering what's going to happen to you next.

"So, you'll be back in how long? An hour or so you said?"

"Yeah, twenty minute drive to town, go grab things for dinner, then twenty minute drive home. Shouldn't be more than an hour. You two have fun! We'll have even more fun altogether once I'm back too." You can't see it, but you can hear the devilish smile in my words.

The other voice chuckles.

"Oh don't you worry, we'll be having so much fun she'll be crying by the time you get home. Promise!"

"Don't break her, I still want more time with her too you know." And with that, the door closes, and you're left hearing the sound of your heartbeat thumping in your head. The vibrator turns off, and you let out a heavy sigh of relief.

"Hello darling. You can refer to me as The Devil, You Bitch, I Hate You, or anything of that matter, I'm sure you catch the drift. You're going to plead, and cry, and scream, and beg to cum, and guess what? I'm gonna say no. Each and every time. This is going to be the most intense edging of your life cutie, and I'm so happy to be the one to do it!" Her voice is stern, but joyful. You're still terrified, but still incredibly wet.

"Let's get rid of this vibrator for now. I have a few other methods of making you squirm." She starts to untie the vibrator from your leg, as she reveals your incredibly swollen clit.

"Oh damn, she really worked you over good, didn't she?" She lightly dips a finger inside you, then rubs your wetness all over your pussy. As she glazes across your throbbing clit, you let out a small whimper. She laughs in delight.

"Perfect, let me go get my tools." You feel her leave the bed, as the breeze hits you from the opening door. Your nipples grow harder as you shiver in your bonds.

*SLAM*

Not being able to see anything, you're realizing you're startled easier, as you jump at the slamming door again. You hear a zipper.

"Alright let's see here, which one shall I choose? Ah yes, this one will do the trick."

The bed moves as the stranger returns, positioning themselves between your legs. She grabs at your lips, and attaches what feels like a clothespin to either side of your pussy. As she begins to pull the clothespin, you realize it's attached to a string, which is now being tied around your thigh. She matches the same tie around your other thigh, and just like that, your clit is as exposed as its ever been. You can feel her breath on your clit, she's smelling you. She opens her mouth, and gives you one long firm tongue lick from hole to clit. You moan heavily as the feeling of a wet mouth is welcome on your swollen pussy.

"Oh wow, you taste fantastic. I can't get ahead of myself though, there'll be lots of tonguing of that clit in a while. But for now..." As she began to trail off, you feel something softly brush over your clit. What was that? It comes again, just as light, almost tickling.

"Oh god! What is that?!"

"Oh, she speaks! Well my dear, this is a small, but wide, paint brush. I'm going to sit here and paint your little clit until it's an even darker shade of red than it already is!" Again, sounding so joyful in explaining her torture.

"No, please make it stop, I already need to cum so bad, I've been on edge forever!!" She laughs at your weak begging.

"Oh please hunny, you've only been kept like this for an hour she said. You've got plenty of time left in you before you REALLY need to cum."

She dips the bristles into your wetness every so often, making sure she has a slippery surface to paint on. Painting in circles, back and forth, small brush strokes, long brush strokes. Was she an artist? It felt like she knew this brush very well. Or has she practiced this torture enough that she has gotten this good at it? Either way, you're starting to lose your mind. She can already read you so well that even if you tried to sneak an orgasm past her, you'd have no luck. She was perfect at taking the brush away just right before that point of no return. You finally cry out;

"FUCK PLEASE, PLEASE LET ME CUM, I CAN'T TAKE THIS! MY PUSSY IS ON FIRE YOU BITCH!!" Tears begin to well in your eyes, but you don't want to blink, because you don't want to give her the satisfaction of seeing you cry if the tears fall through the blindfold. She did promise she'd get you there after all. But it's too late, she can hear the crackling in your voice.

"Yeeessss... just where I want you. Now is where the real fun begins." The clit painting stops, as you try to compose yourself.

You feel her get off the bed for a second, and returns quickly as you feel the vibrator being strapped into place again. There's no way you're going to not be able to cum from this. What was she thinking?

"So, i've gone ahead and switched up the time frame on this hear controller thingy she showed you earlier. You're now going to get two seconds of the lowest vibration setting, followed by fifteen seconds of nothing. While that's happening, I'm going to sit up here, and play with these delicious little rock hard nipples of yours!"

*CLICK*

*bzzzzzzzzzzzzz*

And just like that, it was over. But it almost made you cum. Now to wait fifteen seconds to get another jolt of pleasure, but as it turned off, is when she starts her assault on your nipples. Painting one with the brush she used on your clit, and twisting the other between her thumb and forefinger.

*bzzzzzzzzzzzz*

Over again. More nipple play. Switching her methods of attack, adding her mouth and tongue, flicking them back and forth inside her wet mouth, as the vibrator continues on its two second zap to your intensely swollen, and still wide open pussy.

"PLEASE, NO MORE, I CAN'T. SHE SAID NOT TO BREAK ME!"

She bursts out in a hysterical laughter.

"Oh now you've done it. You know, I'm really not one for tickling people, but you're getting sassy, and I need to remind you who's in charge here." Her hands come off your nipples, and as the vibrator still keeps you so utterly close to orgasm, she begins to assault your armpits, ribs, and hips, while you try to buck away from the incredible overload of sensations.

"FUUUUUCK NOOOOOOO OH MY GOODDDDDDD PLEASE NOOOOOOO!!"

You can't help it anymore, you're crying and screaming, begging so loudly that your throat hurts. But it's all for nothing. She doesn't care, she keeps raking her fingers in the hollows of your ribs, poking and prodding at your hips, and methodically fingering your armpits. You feel like you're about to pass out, you can't catch a full breath.

"PLEEEAAASSSEE STOPPPPP I CAAAAAAN'T I'M BEGGING YOOOOUUU!!" One more time, you try to scream with all your might, and the vibrator finally turns off. The tickling stops, and the blindfold is removed. The tears have completely ruined your makeup, smears of black are running down the sides of your face. You once again adjust to the light, and there are two figures in the room.

Part 4 - The Finale

"Oh boy, I told you to have fun but holy shit! I could hear her from the driveway!" i say, nudging at my roommate.

"Ah that's fine. You know no one can hear her anyway." We both look at each other and cackle loudly.

"YOU TWO ARE THE WORST, I FUCKING HATE YOU BOTH FOR DOING THIS TO ME!" Your tears still streaming, pussy still on fire, your anger coming from your insatiable need to cum right fucking now, but they won't let you. They stop laughing, and again look at each other, then look back at you, very stern.

"You about ready to break this little girl?" i say, as i slowly make my approach to the side of the bed, evil look in my eye.

"Ha, after that comment, you fucking bet! No mercy bitch!" Says the roommate, as she proceeds to the foot of the bed with a bottle of baby oil in her hand.

"I'll take over the pussy, nipples and the rest of her upper body, you attack those adorable little feet, and then we'll switch when the vibrator timer goes off again, and start over?" i say, as i begin to wiggle my fingers at you menacingly.

"I like your thinking! Blindfold back on? Or do we want her to see what's coming now?"

"Yeah fuck it, let's keep it off. A gag might be in order soon though, how adorable would those screams sound muffled?"

"Yes, yes! Gag, gag!" Claps the roommate.

i find your little silk panties and dip them in your wetness before shoving them in your mouth, then wrapping bondage tape around your head, keeping your wetness on your tongue so you can taste how much of a horny girl you are.

i stand back at the side of the bed and begin to wiggle my fingers at you again. Your eyes are pleading for me not to start, muffled cries coming from behind the gag, as the tears continue to stream.

"Fuck, just her looking at me with those sad eyes is going to get ME off pretty soon, maybe i do need to blindfold her again." i say, chuckling with my roommate who completely agreed.

And for one last time, your vision goes dark, as you wait for your torture to continue.

You can't see, you can't plead coherently anymore with your panties shoved in your mouth, and you still can't move. What's going to happen next? They've already tortured you so much, what more could they possibly have in mind? All you knew was that you were now going to be mercilessly tortured by not one, but two insanely sadistic women, who want nothing but to see you cry and beg for relief for their enjoyment. How long have you been there? You try to make sense of the time, but fail as the vibrator is untied from your leg again, exposing your unbelievably red and swollen clit. The light breeze in the room blew across it, and you thought for a second that might make you cum. You start whimpering behind your gag.

"Mmmm, yes. Look at that. Good work girlfriend! You've really done a number on her." i say while licking my lips, dying to dive in, but knowing it would be too easy to send you over the edge.

"Thank-you very much, I do take pride in a job well done!" Says the roommate.

"Hm, where's those little pink nubby vibrators? The ones that are like, perfectly clit sized." i ask, searching the room.

"Here they are! Those will be EVIL on that already deliciously sensitive clit, and it'll work great on her nipples too!" She exclaims.

"Yeah, I'm ditching the timer wand, and gonna use these for a bit instead."

You start to feel something wet dripping on your feet. Oh no, not the oil. Your feet are your most ticklish spot, and you knew the oil was just going to make the slippery sensations a million times worse. A second or two later, you start to feel droplets covering your breasts, stomach, pussy, and legs. In no time at all, your entire body is an oily mess. You begin to tremble in your bonds, knowing this is going to be extremely intense, you try to calm your mind, but it's no use, you're panicking. They see the fear in your body and revel in it momentarily.

"Is it just me, or are you incredibly wet seeing how scared she is right now?" i ask my roommate, and she nods excitedly in agreement.

"I feel like this is one big long edge session for us too, isn't it? Should we torture her more because she's making us suffer with how hot she reacts?"

"Oh you're so evil, no wonder we're friends!" We throw our heads back and laugh, as my roommate meticulously takes her forefingers and scrapes her nail down the center of your oily little foot.

"MMPPPHHHHMMPMHH" You try to cry out, but there are no words, just guttural screams silenced by your panties and tape.

"Ooohhh, if that's the reaction she gets from just one finger, I wonder what all ten will do to you darling!" i giggle as i turn on the two pink vibrators and start flicking them over your rock hard nipples, sending shock waves directly to your clit, as my roommate ups her assault on your feet.

Two fingers with sharp nails dancing across your oiled feet, drawing circles, scratching, sliding, driving you absolutely mad. You're trying to thrash, but your neck is sore from your constant head turning, and your hands hurt from clenching, so you stop trying. All you can do is tense your body, but there's no way for you to hide your most vulnerable spots. The vibrators are both working their magic, keeping your nipples stiff and sensitive.

"Don't want this pussy feeling neglected now do we? Let's fix that." i say as i hop off the bed, in search of more toys.

The assault continues on your feet while i'm gone, and you continue to go insane. You've never heard these noises come out of your body before, they sound primal and desperate. Crying uncontrollably, the laughter and screaming go on as my roommate tickles your feet mercilessly. She's now using all of her fingers on both of your feet, sending you into uncontrollable spasms on the bed. You've never been tickled like this before in your life, you've dreamt of this day, but never anticipated anything like this.

i return into the room, and apply a touch more oil to your hard, throbbing clit. You then feel something go around it; is this what you think it is? Oh god no, please don't pump my clit. Not that AND tickling.

Just like that, you feel the pulling and pressured sensation of me taking the air out, and sucking up that little clit into a tube to let it throb uncontrollably. Almost immediately, you're on edge, the sucking motion felt so good and now you're just laying there, a dripping wet hot mess, desperately trying to plead through your panties to cum. You then feel similar sensations on your nipples. Oh god, not them too! No, they're already aching so badly, how much more sensitive do they want you?!

*PUMP, PUMP, PUMP*

As quickly as you feel your nipples sucked into the tubes, you then feel a constant vibration on them as well. Vibrating nipple pumps?! This was complete and utter torture, as your nipples are now pulsating in sync with your clit. All you're thinking of is how badly you want to cum, even while still enduring the merciless feet tickling. Once your nipples are secure, i begin my attack on your upper body again, starting with your now very oily armpits. You continue to cry and scream for what feels like forever, all while we laugh at your futile attempts to beg us to stop.

*POP*

With no warning at all, i take off the clit pump, and an immediate shock to your system hits when i put one of the pink vibrators on each side of your now large, pumped, ridiculously sensitive nub.

"MMFFFFPPPHHHFMMMFHPPHHHHMMMMMM!!!!!" You can't tell if you're in pain, or too much pleasure. The sensations are a complete overload to your system, and you don't know what else to do but scream.

"I need to see the fear in her eyes again, can you come up here and take off her blindfold for the grand finale?" i say, as you get a small amount of relief from having your feet tickled so hard for so long, my roommate comes up to the side of the bed and removes the cloth from your eyes. Now that you can see us again, you take notice of the devilishly large grins on both our faces, as your eyes are beat red from tears. i'm still between your legs, tickling your hard nub with these evil little vibrators as my roommate strokes your face softly, wiping away your tears.

"Ohh yeeessss... look at her. Such a beautiful, helpless, vulnerable little play thing, isn't she?" She says, as she stares deeply into your soul. How can she look so happy when they're causing you so much torture?

"Want to switch places? I know you're going to LOVE this part." i ask, as the vibrators shut off suddenly. You sigh heavily, as you try to catch your breath. The bed shifts from under you as we trade places.

"I wish we had a third person here with us right now, that way someone could tickle her feet, you could play with her pretty pussy, and I can play with these armpits and nipples some more! Oh well, guess the two of us will have to do!"

And just like that, your torture starts again.

i pop off your nipple pumps and start violently sucking on one while pinching and twisting the other, and using my free hand to tickle one armpit. My roommate turns the vibrators back on and presses them firmly against the sides of your still very hard clit, all while licking the very tip of it ever so softly, sending you into a distant space in your mind you've never been. You don't even know how to react anymore. You try to plead with your eyes as your voice has grown tired from screaming through your gag, but your sad eyes are met with eyes of passion, no matter which of us you look at. The burning grows intensely inside of you, and you know they're getting ready to push you over the edge.

"Oh fuck, yeah look at her. She's going to cum any second isn't she? Don't let up when she does!! I wonder if these bonds will be able to hold her after how much we've edged her today? Because you know it doesn't stop after you do cum, right sweetie? We're going to rip those orgasms out of you until WE are satisfied." i say, an incredible sinister tone in my voice.

"What do you think, thirty minutes of post-orgasm torture?" Asks my roommate.

"Yeah, set a timer on your phone. If we're not finished yet, we'll just start another one. Time is irrelevant right now, she's got nowhere to go anyway." We start to laugh again, as you lose complete control.

There wasn't anything you could do, those words sent you into oblivion. You slam your eyes shut as they roll into the back of your head, the rush hits you like a ton of bricks, but the wave doesn't stop. You just can't stop cumming. My roommate doesn't let up, and keeps your nub pinched between the vicious vibrators, as she continues to lick the head of your clit furiously. i'm still relentlessly attacking your nipples, armpits, and sides as you keep crying, and cumming, and screaming, and begging. When will it stop? Thirty more minutes? An hour? More? Another orgasm is ripped from your body as you slowly start to slip into unconsciousness. The constant cumming, clit torture and tickle torture become absolutely unbearable.

You awake, full body aching and sore. You try to move, and realize you're still bound, but your gag has been removed.

"Look who's up!" An unfamiliar voice says.

You look around the room, and see a new face, not me or my roommate. She's sitting in a chair at the end of the bed where you still lay naked and helpless.

"Who are you? Where'd the other two go? Please, please if you help me out of here, I'll do whatever you want, these bitches are crazy!" You plead with this new woman in front of you, hoping she maybe has some mercy in her heart. She bursts out laughing, and you immediately understand she's not going to help you in any sense of the word.

"Hey girls, you hear that? You bitches be crazy!" She shouts out, still laughing to herself.

Me and my roommate enter the room again.

"Ha! Well, she's not wrong? We are a touch on the crazy side." says my roommate, as she ties back her hair, and starts doing some arm stretches.

"Well, remember how I said I wished there were three of us so we could all focus on different parts of your body, and not have anything left out? I give you, our former tickle slave, Bianca." as i motion your gaze to the new woman in the room.

Former tickle slave? What? She was still friends with these psychos after they've done this to her? You're trying to wrap your head around what you just heard.

"Yup, that's right! I used to be in your position a few years ago, and now they call me to help out when they find beautiful girls like you who share our love of these sorts of tortures! I've mastered my own set of skills after being put to their tests many times before." says Bianca, relishing in your peril.

"No, please, you can't. How long are you going to keep me here? I have people that'll be looking for me you know!!" You exclaim, attempting to scare them into thinking they might get caught. Bianca roars a thunderous laughter.

"Oh hunny, don't you think we thought of that? We hacked your cell phone, and as far as everyone important is concerned, you've left the country on a backpacking retreat, and won't be back for a little over a month." All three of them look and laugh at each other, congratulations go around on their evil plan coming to fruition.

"So yeah, you might as well get used to this. You're stuck with us for thirty-some agonizingly torturous filled days! Aren't you excited?! I know we are!!" i say, happily clapping away beside you, as the tears start to well in your eyes again.

"Aw, don't worry sweetie, we'll take good care of you. We promise you won't go unconscious EVERY time we play with you." says my roommate.

"Yeah, and we will be playing with you every day, multiple times per day, for hours on end! The best part though, is how much we WON'T be letting you cum! Just hours and hours of tickle torture and orgasm denial!" cries Bianca, with obvious excitement in her voice. You break down and start to cry, knowing that if they deny your orgasms throughout this whole ordeal, it's going to be tremendously severe.

"If... if I be good... will you maybe let me cum sometimes?" You quietly mutter.

"Look at that, NOW she's getting it." i say to the others.

"We'll certainly take that into consideration, but for now..." Bianca starts moving towards your feet, my roommate grabs the two pink vibrators off the side of the bed and positions herself between your legs, and i come over top of you, straddling your chest for perfect access of your nipples and armpits. The familiar look of fear washes over you again as you're coming to terms with your fate for the next month or so.

"Ready girls?" i ask the other two.

They both lick their lips and nod, as all three of us begin methodically torturing you together. Your screams are loud and clear now that you're not gagged, but your body is still incredibly weak from the attack you've already endured, so there's absolutely no fight left in you. Once again, you're left to lay there and take it; as vulnerable and sensitive as you've ever been, and as tortured as you've ever been. Your brain begins to shut down, and you float away to an untapped corner inside your own mind, as you desperately try to mentally escape your certain fate.

The End 💜

[marvellousimagines]

TW: Implied torture, blood and bloodloss, Cazador being Cazador

You tensed as the door to your cell opened, but let out a sigh of relief when you saw the familiar white curls of a particular elf vampire spawn.

“Astarion!” you called his name in surprise and relief, though not so loud as to draw attention. “You found me.”

“Of course I did, my dear,” Astarion replied. “Unfortunately, it took a lot out of me to just get here. Would you mind if I had just a little bit of your blood, help me get an edge over Cazador for our escape?”

Something didn’t seem quite right. Astarion seemed off, but that may have just been from hunger. This was the first time he’s directly asked for some of your blood since that first night when you woke up with him hovering over you. It had to be bad if he was asking again.

“Yes, of course,” you reply, tilting your head in invitation, the scars from Astarion’s previous bites on full display.

Astarion smirked, coming in close and biting down. You felt the usual pain, then numbness, as Astarion began to suck your blood.

He didn’t stop when he normally would.

“Astarion?” You prompted, giving him a nudge. You felt your extremities go numb, your vision tunneling. “Astarion, that’s too much!” You tried to push him off but the blood loss had you weakened. You blinked heavily, struggling to stay conscious and alert.

You heard a chuckle from Astarion, but it was not his voice. As he pulled away, the illusion magic faded, revealing Cazador in Astarion’s place.

“You are quite the willing morsel. I just had to see for myself how quickly you bare your neck for a bite,” Cazador taunted, running a finger down your throat. You were too numb, feeling too hazy to do much of anything except stare at your captor in fear.

At some point, Cazador had left. You weren’t sure how much time had passed as you drifted in and out of sleep.

By the time you recovered enough from the vampire lord draining your blood to just feel the usual post-bite wooziness, muffled sounds off in the distance caught your attention. You couldn't be sure, but it sounded like a fight, you swore you heard shouting and the sound of metal clashing.

After the sounds faded, your cell door opened and again Astarion stepped through. You flinched away, unsure if this was another trick.

“Hey, Y/N, darling, it’s just me,” Astarion said, holding his hands up in a placating gesture.

“Is… is it really you, Astarion?” you asked, afraid now of Cazador taking advantage of your trusting nature again.

A familiar, warm voice outside the cell behind Astarion answered for him. “Who else would it be, Soldier?” Karlach asked, and you flinched as you thought of the answer.

Astarion looked at you with sympathetic understanding, your reaction apparently telling him everything. You felt the familiar squirming of the tadpole that signaled a link to another and opened your mind to it. Flashes of panic, worry, as Astarion realized who took you from camp. His determination to get you back eclipsing the fear he felt marching right up to Cazador’s door. The blood of the vampire lord as Astarion stabbed into him while your other companions watched his back. Then finally, you as seen through his eyes, relief that you’re okay.

As you came back to your own mind, you saw anger on Astarion’s face, though not pointed at you. You were sure that, through the tadpole bond, he had seen Cazador's trick of using his image to lull you into a false sense of security. “Cazador’s dead now. We’re safe from him.” He held out his hand.

You took his hand and pulled yourself up. Your vision tunneled slightly at the sudden shift of position and you swayed a bit. However, you let yourself fall forward slightly, wrapping your arms around Astarion’s shoulders in a hug and burying your face in his chest. “Thank you.”

“Of course, darling, now let’s get you out of here,” Astarion said gently. Once it was clear you couldn’t make it out under your own power, Astarion carefully lifted you into his arms to carry you out of Cazador's dungeon.

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Confrontation (Magician's Bait, Part 4)

WoW Birthday Whump Event Day 11: Used as bait / Held for ransom / "It's a trap!"

WoW Birthday Whump Prompts List

Tales from Valaria Masterpost

Happy birthday to @writer-of-worlds! 🎉🎉🎉

TW: kidnapping, magic whump, referenced past whump, blindness, deception, trouble breathing

first part | <- previous part | next part ->

Context: Damian's rescuer approaches, and his captor brings him out of his cell to witness her defeat of Caiya Ebony. But something's... off about the whole thing.

-----

The whispering was beginning to grow unbearable.

Damian didn’t know what the Stalker had in mind with this particular spell. It didn’t seem to do anything useful besides incessant noise. Perhaps that was the point.

The words were familiar yet strange, like someone mumbling in his secondary language, using unknown rhetoric. No matter how hard he tried, Damian could not recognize any words. They were not human, not elvish. Draigo, perhaps?

He knew that he did not know the exact dialect of the whispering, but that did not stop his mind from grasping at vowels and grammar for a translation.

This was possibly worse than when she’d starved him.

After the day Damian had pleaded with her for water, the Stalker had come in daily as always. But along with temporarily freeing him from his bonds, she also muttered two runes in quick succession. And his hunger and thirst would evaporate like mist in the sunlight.

At least the dehydration had been natural, a normal process of his bodily functions from lack of water. This was not.

Damian wished, not for the first time, that his hands were free so he could cover his ears and block out the unbearable noise. The hissed “s” sounds, the sharp “t” and “p” and “c”, it all drilled into his skull like a sharp, thick needle. He dug his fingernails into the palms of his hands, ignoring the pain as his skin, bruised from many performances of the same exercise, protested yet another assault.

But it was the only thing he could do to distract himself.

The door abruptly opened, slamming into the wall. Damian flinched, his body straining against the ropes binding him to the chair. He’d been so focused on tuning out the whispering that he hadn’t noticed the approaching footsteps of his captor.

The Stalker’s first words were a rune, spoken with the same harsh tone as everything else. Damian exhaled in relief when the voices were immediately silenced.

His relief was short-lived.

“My outer wards have finally been disabled,” the Stalker said, not bothering to disguise her glee. “Your rescuer approaches, princeling.”

Damian closed his eyes, trying to hide the despair washing over him, threatening to drown him.

She cackled at his resignation. “Oh, princeling,” the Stalker teased, “did you really think a savior would never arrive? Do you really place so little value upon yourself?”

“I suppose… it was too much to hope they’d never find me.”

His captor’s laughter was strangely beautiful for someone with such ill intentions. “I can’t believe,” she said, gasping for air, “you are still so naive! So naive! This is the heir to the throne of Caenum!”

She spoke a rune, and the ropes binding Damian to the chair vanished, leaving only the ones tying his wrists together. The Stalker yanked him to his feet by the shoulder and dragged him out of the cell. He stumbled over the uneven ground, trying to keep his footing despite her cruel pace.

They walked along a corridor, he guessed, judging by the straightness of the path and the way their footsteps echoed off the nearby walls. The air was colder here than in the cell, and Damian thought he detected the faintest scent of rain. Long ago, he had assumed they were underground, but they mustn't be too far from the surface.

His first indication that they had entered a large room was how the sound of their footsteps changed. The second was the abrupt right turn the Stalker made. The sudden change in movement caught him off-guard, and he stumbled.

Hands bound behind his back, Damian couldn’t catch himself, and the Stalker didn’t bother to keep her grip on him as he fell past her. His knees stung from the impact, and shockwaves of pain traveled up and down his body when his shoulder hit the ground.

The Stalker didn’t help him back to his feet. Instead, another spoken rune reached his ears, and a rope wound itself around the bonds on his wrists, tethering him to what he assumed was the wall.

Air displaced around him as he tried to push himself into a sitting position. He ignored it. When he finally maneuvered his body the right way, the touch of the Stalker’s hand on his face startled him.

She placed both her hands over his unseeing eyes. “I’ve been thinking,” she said softly in his ear, “about how you won’t be able to properly witness the defeat of the magician who’s come to save you.” He didn’t need to see her face to know she was grinning maniacally. “Let’s fix that, shall we?”

Damian had gotten used to the runes having very mild effects. Ropes appeared, hunger and thirst banished, incessant whispering voices, all of them were simple and had one purpose.

So he had thought, anyway.

For one thing, the Stalker spoke multiple runes in quick succession. Three or four, perhaps? Damian lost track as a headache appeared in the form of pressure behind his eyes. Her hands on his face became cold, as if they had changed into ice. He gasped as the pressure intensified, almost like his eyes were about to burst from their sockets.

Just when he feared it would never end, the Stalker pulled away, and the pressure abruptly vanished. His sight returned slowly, similar to how his eyes would adjust from light to darkness or darkness to light. The Stalker retreated, leaving him to his own devices as he examined his surroundings.

He was attached to the wall of a large circular room, almost like an arena. The ceiling was higher than he expected for an underground room, tall enough that Damian doubted he could touch it even if he jumped. The floor was broken stone, and an entire portion had collapsed completely, leaving a pit halfway across the room. 

The room was well-lit despite the absence of a light source. Runes again, no doubt. Several openings in the walls lead into corridors, all identical. Damian considered the state of the room, the corridors, and what he recalled of his cell. “We’re in the catacombs, aren’t we?”

The Stalker smirked. “Well done, princeling.” She couldn’t have been much older than Damian, with long black hair tied back into an elegant braid so complex it had to have been done with magic. She wore practical but expensive clothing: black trousers and a deep blue blouse, with a dark brown duster overtop. All had numerous pockets, and she had a pair of knives strapped at her sides.

Those knives probably had dozens of runes inscribed upon the blades. Damian vaguely recalled Caiya mentioning that designing the runes for her knife was considered a ‘final exam’ for a magician. And that it was to be used as a tool for carving runes or preparing food, not as a weapon.

Damian suspected the Stalker didn’t ascribe to such moral teachings.

As if in response to his thoughts, the Stalker casually drew one of the knives, flipping it between her fingers with the sort of ease that comes from experience. She noticed him staring, her smirk widening into a maniacal grin. “Soon enough, princeling, you’ll be begging for me to drive this into your throat.”

Damian swallowed uneasily at the thought. “You…” he stammered, “you’ll be waiting a long time for that.”

She barked a harsh laugh. “We’ll see about—” she cut herself off and sheathed the knife. “My last ward’s been tripped. Your savior has arrived.”

Damian stiffened, glancing around hurriedly, searching each tunnel and corridor. Perhaps if he could warn Caiya before she got there—

Movement in the corridor directly across from where he was seated caught his eye. It couldn’t be the Stalker, for she was beside him, enjoying his fear.

“Stop!” Damian shouted. His words bounced off the stone walls. “It’s a trap! She won’t—!”

The Stalker spoke a sharp rune. The air abruptly left his lungs, halting his pleas. Damian gasped for breath, panicking as his lungs refused to expand. She tsked softly. “None of that, princeling.”

He finally managed to inhale, but the air escaped as quickly as he drew it in, bringing barely enough oxygen to stay conscious. The Stalker shook her head at his predicament, her smile vanishing as she turned away.

Damian watched as Caiya stepped out of the corridor. Her head was covered by a gray cowl, hiding her face. From this distance, he couldn’t make out much detail, but he thought the markings on the cowl were runes painted onto the cloth in red ink. Or blood. Her knife was strapped to her right thigh, and she wore brown trousers and a green, mottled jacket beneath the cowl.

A spoken rune broke the tense silence. Immediately, the entrance to every corridor shimmered, a magical barrier blocking all paths in and out. No escape. They were trapped.

“Took you long enough!” The Stalker called, her hands on her hips. “Are you really so incompetent that you do not know a simple tracking spell?”

Caiya cocked her head but said nothing in reply. Something’s off, Damian realized as he struggled for air. She never resists a chance to have the last word.

The Stalker stepped forward, waving her hand at Damian behind her. “Well, Miss Ebony, no matter what means you used to get here, the ends still remain the same. I challenge you to a duel. To the death. Winner gets to keep the princeling and her life.” She stuck out her hand mockingly despite the magician being several meters away.

The magician regarded her in silence. Slowly, she raised her hand and removed the cowl, casting it to the side. The rune-marked cloth slid across the floor and fell into the pit. “I accept your terms,” the girl—who was very much not Caiya Ebony—said in a soft voice that carried across the room.

“Swear on it,” the Stalker insisted. She must not have known what Caiya looked like. Or she didn’t care.

“You challenged me. Swear it first.”

“I, Natali Tallis—” Damian flinched at the name, that of a famous long-deceased magician— “swear on my life that the victor of this duel will walk away with her life and the life of the prince.”

The ghost of a smile touched the edges of the girl’s lips. “I, Reese Takari, accept these terms.” With those words, she drew the knife at her side. “Allez!”

@fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds

[cyberneticatoms]

no way is that NEPTUNE JONES..they’re a 36-year-old SYNTH notoriously known for being CODEPENDENT & DISTURBED but there are some people who have seen them being FAMILY-ORIENTED & OPEN-MINDED. if you ask me, they remind me a lot of clothing speckled in paint stains, metallic fence under your fingers, and blasting music late at night, but that could just be because they’re considered the TECHNICAL PACIFIST around town. just keep an eye on them  &  see if their true colors shine through..

↳ 𝚀𝚄𝙸𝙲𝙺 𝙵𝙰𝙲𝚃𝚂

NAME: Neptune Lane Jones NICKNAMES: Po, Poseidon, Broseidon DATE OF BIRTH: October 14th (36) HEIGHT: 5'11 AFFILIATION: Citizen Uprising OCCUPATION: Private Investigator at Jones and Jones Investigations FACECLAIM: Max Thieriot

TW: death, murder, kidnapping, mental manipulation, abuse

↳ 𝙱𝙰𝙲𝙺𝙶𝚁𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳

❖ Neptune's parents were murdered when he was around 8 years old, after which the murdered kidnapped him. During which he was constantly reprogrammed to love his captor. There are blanks in his memory due to this, and at the time frequent parts of his body would become dead weight due to his captors lack of skills. ❖ Eventually he was rescued by police one of which adopted him. He was in therapy to work out what memories were false and which were real, due to this he still struggles with dissociating. While they were able to repair much of the damage done to his physical body, he still needs frequent check ups as his nerves occasionally shut down. Not enough to make his limbs go dead like they had, but where he stops feeling touch all together, regardless of it's pain or pleasure. ❖ He later bonded with a runaway named Clara, who eventually was also adopted by his parents. Her becoming his older sister and helping him through his therapy. ❖ Later he joined the NAVY when he was unsure what else to do for work and wanting to make his parents proud. He eventually became a NAVY seal. ❖ Once when coming home to his apartment, he found a 15 year old Karma hiding out. After letting her spend the night, he brought her home to his parents, the family fully adopting her not long after. ❖ Neptune is incredibly protective of both his sisters, idolizing Clara and seeing Karma is his person. Which is why once he finished his service he joined the investigation agency wanting to support his older sister.

↳ 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝙲

• Actively dislikes going to the doctor and strangers touching him, however he's very affectionate with people he considers to be his people. • Currently has two tattoos, one on his left arm of a chameleon in multiple colors when Karma couldn't pick one. On his right arm is an arrow that tapers off into flames for his other sister Clara.

[ccieatchildren]

Whumpay 23 Day 3: Physical Torture

TW: Hand Torture

The bonds were too tight around their wrists, cutting off any blood flow to the appendages. Whumpee sent off a quick prayer to their deity that they got out of this alive, though they weren’t sure their plea would be heard.

“Awake already?” Whumpee turned their attention to the person in the room with them. They were dressed impeccably, not a single strand of hair or button out of place. “I figured you would be out for another hour or two, most people should,” they laughed, “guess you’ve done this before.”

Whumpee flinched, they were right, this wasn’t the first time they’d been kidnapped, but Whumpee had always managed to escape before their captors got back. 

“I’ll cut to the chase then, I need to know about the inner workings of the agency, and you seem like someone who would know a lot about that. So, why don’t we help each other? You give me the info, and I’ll make sure you get out of this as fit as a fiddle. If not,” they turned to the table behind them, “I’ll have to end up using some nasty methods to get it out of you.” 

Whumpee eyed the various tools sitting next to them. There were an assortment of knives, pliers, hammers, and other heavy duty instruments. Whumpee could already feel the sweat forming at their brow. 

“So, tell me where they keep the documents about the Metro Job.”

Turning back to their captor, they stared at them, hoping the pleading in their eyes conveyed their inability to help.

“Not gonna talk, huh. That’s okay, I can work with that. I always knew you were gonna be a tougher nut to crack, especially with you being such a quiet fellow.” Whumpee’s gaze turned into a glare. Why couldn’t people understand that they weren’t just quiet, they literally couldn’t talk. 

“Now, now. Don’t go lookin’ at me like that,” they grabbed a medium sized plier from the table, “it makes me feel bad.” Whumpee watched as they brought the tool to their right hand, still bound to the chair arm. “And if you make me feel bad, I want to make you feel bad too.” A grin spread across their face.

Whumpee jerked in their chair, revamping their escape efforts. Their hands were tied down, meaning they couldn’t even talk like they usually did, another reminder of their precarious situation. They opened their mouth in a last ditch effort to explain the situation, maybe mumble a broken ‘please’, anything to make them realize that Whumpee was not the right person to ask. But, nothing came out. For the first time in a long while, Whumpee cursed their muteness. 

“Hmm, most people at least say something when I bring out the first toy. Whatever, it’s fine. You’ll be talking soon enough.” Their captor placed one edge of the plier under the nail on their ring finger. Whumpee started to shake even more now, aggressively pulling at their restraints and shaking their head. 

No!

Soon the plier was fully clamped down around their nail. “Now, since we just started I’ll give you another chance. Tell me where all the classified documents are stored and how to access them.” 

Whumpee just continued to spaz out in their chair, hoping to dislodge the tool or break the chair or snap the rope, something. 

The person sighed, “fine. I was trying to be nice, but you’re just taking that for granted. Maybe you’ll talk after I take a few.” Whumpee turned their head to look away as their captor pulled up the pliers, ripping the nail off their finger.

There was a sharp burning sensation on their ring finger and a shrill scream bubbled out of them. “So you can talk.” 

Whumpee could feel the blood pool in the place where the nail used to be, dripping down their finger and creating small plunks as they hit the floor. They turned to look at the damage only to find the tip of their ring finger covered in red, emphasizing the pain they felt. It seemed to spread across their whole hand, and Whumpee wished the bonds had also cut off their nerves. They turned to look up, unable to stomach the sight anymore.

“Seriously! Still not talking? C’mon man. You look like you can barely handle this. Y’know it’s only gonna get worse, right? Just answer me now, and I promise we can be done.” They waited for Whumpee’s response, but they were quiet. There was no point in trying to convince this person that they genuinely couldn’t help them, they wouldn’t believe Whumpee anyway. Their captor voice took a darker and angrier tone, “fine! Be that way. I can keep going forever.”

As Whumpee stared up at the ceiling, they realized they should’ve asked their god to let it be quick.

[cozycompositions]

Hello, Lovelies! Thank you to @that-gal-kay for helping me finish this bad boy!

@juneofdoom Alternate: “Abandoned” and a side of Day 27: “I’m so sorry”

TW// graphic depictions of gore

The redcoat’s shot fires, and echoes a little bit too realistically in Alexander’s ear, but he can’t focus on where the second shot had come from. He can’t focus on anything except for his comrade’s limp form, body, corpse that is now laid across his legs. The body is bent unnaturally, the neck twisted and eyes staring directly into Alexander’s. A small hole is pierced right through the man’s skull, almost perfectly centered right between his eyes that no longer can see the world. Alexander is sure he can see bits of brain blown out on the floor in front of him.

Hot tears begin streaming down his face and Alexander for once doesn’t care because this man who has done nothing but be kind and protect Alexander is bleeding on top of him - why is he still bleeding, he’s dead, oh God, he’s dead - and he will never cry again.

Alexander’s chest heaves far too fast as his breathing attempts to catch up with his racing heart (it’s almost as if he had stolen all the heartbeats of his fallen comrade).

Terrified moans fall from Alexander’s lips without his permission as he realizes there is blood rapidly cooling against his face. He writhes, attempting to get away from the body, but his bonds won’t allow enough movement. He’s trapped under the corpse.

Alexander is full on sobbing at this point, fully unaware of the brawl happening only feet away from him. Suddenly there’s arms on his, the body is being moved, and a frantic yet soothing voice is calling out to him.

“Alex! It’s me, it’s me. It’s okay, you’re okay. Oh, dear boy, I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” John tries reassure him. The body has been moved, and oh, he hadn’t even realized his bonds had been cut and he was free to move. It didn’t matter, though, because his dead comrade is still there, and looking at him accusingly, and it hits Alexander like lightning that he would never see his family again, only Alexander’s pathetic face that had gotten him killed-

A wail tears from Alexander’s throat as he stares at the eyes of the corpse. John pulls Alexander impossibly close to him, tucking the smaller boy’s head into this shoulder.

“Don’t look, Alex. It’s okay, just don’t look. It’s not your fault. I promise, it’s not your fault. I’m so sorry we didn’t get here on time, you did so well…”

Alexander knows John continues, but he’s too far gone to hear any of it. His sobbing does not cease as John shifts him and helps him to his unsteady feet. Alexander’s gaze finally moves from the corpse, and he notes that their captor is dead too. Good.

John stoops down and scoops his gun off the floor from where he had discarded it. Wordlessly he takes Alexander’s arm and leads him out of the hut (his cell).

Without a glance back to his fallen comrade, Alexander steps into the sunlight for the first time in weeks. Soon the sun will dry his tears, later he will drink to his friend, but tomorrow there is a war to be won. And he is going to make them all pay.

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Experimentation Begins (Magician's Bait, Part 2)

WoW Birthday Whump Event Day 2: Starvation / Thirst / "Please…"

Prompts List

Tales from Valaria Masterpost

<- previous part | next part ->

TW: tied up, starvation, thirst, headache, creepily intimate whumper

Context: Damian has been trapped for a few days now, probably. His captor hasn't given anything to eat or drink. But he thinks he's figured out who she's after.

-----

How long has it been?

Time was immeasurable in Damian’s prison of darkness. The only indication that he was still alive at all was his heart beating in his chest, the aching in his wrists and ankles, and the steady gnawing of hunger.

His captor rarely visited. When she did, it was only to undo his bonds for short bursts at a time so he could walk around the cell and relieve himself. The room he’d been imprisoned in was small, only a couple paces across. The walls and floor were cool, rough stone, acting like sandpaper whenever he ran his fingers over them.

But she hadn’t fed him.

Was this one of those “tests” she’d mentioned?

Starving him was a cruel form of torture.

The lack of water, however, would probably kill him first. 

Currently, Damian was back in the chair, the rough ropes continuously wearing away at the skin of his wrists as he tried to find a comfortable position to sleep. The muscles in his shoulders burned from the strain, and his neck and upper back were no better. The cut on the back of his head from the fall on his first day was slowly healing, and it was probably responsible for the dull ache in his head.

The Stalker wanted him alive, didn’t she?

That’s what she said, at least.

Damian ran his tongue over his cracked lips. It was surprisingly dry in the cell, considering he’d been abducted during the peak of the humid season. Or maybe it was another symptom of thirst. That was more likely.

He sighed heavily through his nose, anxiously curling and uncurling his fingers. Being bound in one spot for so long was strange. He’d never considered himself restless, but he'd never been forced to stay still in such a brutal way. 

Despite the headache, Damian had been doing a lot of thinking.

And he was pretty sure he’d figured out who the Stalker was after.

The resident magician in the Torrent Territories wasn’t a private woman. Her name was Caiya Ebony, and she was well-known for flashy performances and daring escapades. It was an open secret that the king paid her well to limit her excursions to Torrent and occasionally around Zariya.

It made perfect sense. Stalkers were once magicians, after all. Magicians who chased after the promise of power at the cost of the lives of those who were once their colleagues. They’d been named such because of the way they tended to track their targets, like a hunter stalking prey. Once a Stalker caught her target, she would consume the magician’s power… somehow… and become stronger.

And unlike magicians, Stalkers didn’t need to draw the runes to cast spells. They only needed to speak. Damian didn’t know how it worked, and it really didn’t matter. What mattered was that he was bait. Bait for Caiya.

His father would have sent his best soldiers and detectives on the case, but when it became clear the abduction was supernatural, he would turn to his magician. And that was what the Stalker wanted. And after that? Damian couldn’t guess. Certainly not a Draigo. The entire species had vanished almost overnight.

Whatever she wanted, Damian was smart enough to realize that he didn’t want her to get it. And if that meant he had to die here? Then so be it. Roland could have the throne.

As if summoned by his thoughts, the cell door opened. “Hello?” he whispered, the words scraping against his dry throat.

No response, only the gentle stirring of the air around him, disturbed by the open door and the Stalker’s movement. The only noise in the cell was her breathing.

“How long do you plan to starve me?” Damian demanded, voice raspy. He’d given up on screaming for help when it became glaringly obvious no one was around to hear him.

His captor still hadn’t closed the cell door. Instead, she moved from one side of the cell to the other. Despite the magical blindness, Damian’s eyes followed where he estimated her path to be, judging from the movement of the air and the sound of her footsteps and breathing.

“Please…” he murmured, “at least give me some water.”

The spell was jarring, the runes spoken with harsh tones. Damian flinched, expecting pain. 

Nothing happened.

Without warning, something touched his head. “There,” the Stalker said softly, running her fingers through his hair, “was that so hard?”

He tensed, waiting for her to tug and yank him back until she let him fall.

“You know,” she continued, “for an heir, you’re not a polite guest.”

“I’m not your guest,” he hissed.

The Stalker’s hand paused mid-stroke. Damian gritted his teeth in anticipation. Knowing what was about to happen still didn’t prepare him enough for when her fingers curled, the nails digging into his scalp. “Call it what you like,” she snarled, “guest, prisoner, whatever. It doesn’t change your situation. It doesn’t change how helpless I’ve made you.”

Damian wanted to respond, to shoot back a cutting remark. But it wouldn’t make matters better. And she was right. 

He was helpless.

And he hated the feeling more than anything.

As quickly as she’d appeared, the Stalker withdrew, slamming the cell door closed with such force the floor shook. Damian listened to her retreating footsteps as he fought to control his racing heart, the fear curling in his stomach like a parasite.

She was long gone when he realized he was no longer thirsty.

@fourwingedsnake @whumperofworlds

[the-great-lightwood-bane]

blood is our inheritance

Malec | Rated general | tw canon-typical violence, gangs, mention of drugs

Day 23: Forced to Kneel | Tied to a Table

Summary: Magnus went missing on a Tuesday.

Or, the mafia AU where Magnus gets kidnapped as leverage against his boyfriend the mob boss — not that Magnus knows about Alec's less-than-legal life. But Magnus has his own secrets, and perhaps even as everything changes, some things can stay the same. 

A/N: one day late... I appear to be incapable of keeping up

inspo from a prompt on the @malecdiscordserver

Read it on AO3 or below the cut.

Magnus went missing on a Tuesday. 

Tuesdays were Alec’s least favourite days of the week. For some reason, all the possible problems that could occur seemed to enjoy falling on a Tuesday specifically to irritate Alec. Being a mafia boss was never easy, but it was particularly difficult and irritating on Tuesdays. 

This particular Tuesday had been mostly uneventful. Alec had managed to be only five minutes late to his date with Magnus, and in fact he’d arrived before Magnus himself — except that Magnus didn’t show up, and didn’t show up, and didn’t show up. 

Magnus had never been more than fifteen minutes late for one of their dates. At the twenty-minute mark, Alec started making some calls. 

The advantage of being a mafia boss was that he had plenty of people at his command to send out to search for his missing boyfriend. And missing he was; according to Jace’s report, there were traces of a fight in Magnus’ flat, and the man himself was nowhere to be found. 

He had been taken, and Alec knew both why and by whom. 

Alec’s only rival gang, led by Valentine Morgenstern and his son, had been steadily losing ground to him over the last several months. They were desperate; they wanted revenge. Somehow, they’d figured out where Magnus lived and what he was to Alec, and so they’d taken him. 

Magnus knew nothing about Alec’s second life. He loved Alec’s casual side, the part of him that pretended he was a lawyer with a crazy schedule, the man who didn’t have blood so thick on his hands it could never wash off. Magnus would know who Alec was soon enough, if he didn’t already, and that would be the end of the love they’d shared. 

The most important thing was Magnus’ safety. Alec couldn’t let himself focus on the coming heartbreak until Magnus was confirmed safe, and alive, and unharmed — and Alec would destroy the Morgensterns if Magnus had been hurt. 

~

Magnus opened his eyes tied to a table leg, a gag over his mouth. 

It’d been a while since he’d last awoken like this, but he recognised the situation immediately and began sizing up the space. The knots were fairly well done, but his captors either hadn’t bothered to search him for weapons or had failed to find the knife in his sleeve, so he could get out of them easily enough. There were several guards standing at the exits, but nowhere near enough to pose a problem. The table he was tied to was in the centre of the room, so he couldn’t see behind him, which was annoying; his bonds kept him kneeling on the floor, hands tied behind him and around the table leg. An annoying position, but he could get out of it without much trouble. 

The real question was why they’d taken Magnus in the first place. He’d left the bloodier parts of his past mostly behind, since killing his father; he hadn’t expected anyone to find him again. He needed to know how these people had found him and make sure that neither they nor anyone else ever did so again. 

A man rounded the table and entered Magnus’ sight — a man who Magnus recognised as Valentine Morgenstern, leader of one of the two gangs in the city. The weaker gang, Magnus knew, although he wasn’t exactly up to date on all the politics going on. 

Morgenstern wasn’t looking at Magnus, though — he was talking to a younger man at his side, likely his son. Magnus listened in. 

“—with Lightwood’s boy toy in our power, we’ll be able to take back all the ground he’s gained,” Morgenstern said. “Lightwood’s gang has been a thorn in our side, to be sure, but we’ll get rid of them soon enough.” 

Amidst a vague amusement at Morgenstern’s cockiness, puzzle pieces clicked together in Magnus’ mind — Alec’s strange schedule, the few times Magnus had seen dark stains under his fingernails, the reason why he’d been captured. Morgenstern knew nothing of Magnus’ past; he was simply trying to hold Magnus over Alec’s head. 

Well, Magnus couldn’t allow that to happen. 

He slipped the knife from his sleeve into his hand and sliced through his bonds. 

~

It took half an hour for him to assemble a team while his scouts figured out in which of Valentine’s bases Magnus had been hidden. Fifteen minutes to get there. Ten to kill every guard outside and race through hallway after hallway to the centre of the building. Alec’s people obeyed him without question; they knew to whom his loyalties lay and they would follow where he led. 

When Alec burst into the central room, though, the sight that met his eyes was nothing like he’d expected. 

In the middle was Magnus, splattered with blood which — from the angle of the stain — was not his own, holding a knife in one hand and a gun in the other. Alec looked him up and down, checking for injuries, only registering a few moments later how incredibly attractive Magnus looked like that. 

Scattered across the ground were at least twenty corpses, among them Valentine’s and his son’s. 

Magnus turned towards them as he entered, a smile tugging up his lips when he saw Alec. “Look, I was going to tell you, but it’s kinda hard to bring up being a semi-retired assassin over dinner.” He paused, meeting Alec’s eyes. “Perhaps about as difficult as saying you’re a mafia boss.” 

Alec was at Magnus’ side in a moment, desperate to wrap Magnus in a hug and assure himself that Magnus was safe — but Magnus wasn’t making any move to reach out for Alec, and Magnus knew who Alec was now, and there was no way he could ever still love Alec. 

“We should probably get out of here before more of Valentine’s goons show up,” Magnus said, after a moment of awkward not-touching. 

Before Alec could summon a response, before he could make up his mind to say something, before he could think of anything to say — a door swung open, and perhaps fifteen people stormed through. Alec began firing immediately, and several gunshots sounded from beside him almost in unison — Magnus clearly handled a gun well. Semi-retired assassin, Alec thought, and then he was in the thick of the battle, fighting at Magnus’ side as though there was nothing unusual in it. 

The fight was done almost immediately, and Alec glanced over at Magnus as he caught his breath. Magnus was already looking at him. 

“You’re right, we should leave,” Alec said, flicking his fingers; his people formed up around him and Magnus without hesitation. They broke into a quick trot, and Magnus kept up easily; the few guards they came across were dispatched easily enough. 

Once they were out, Alec hesitated, turning to face Magnus fully. “We should talk.”

Magnus nodded. “My place?”

“Sure,” Alec agreed. “Give me an hour to deal with everything, and I’ll be there.” 

Another moment of hesitation, and then Magnus turned away to hail a taxi, and Alec tried not to read too much into it as he led his people away. 

~

Exactly an hour later, a knock sounded on Magnus’ door, and he opened it to see Alec — no longer bloody, wearing a button-down shirt that told Magnus he was nervous as clearly as the expression on his face. 

“Come in,” Magnus said with a gesture, the formality of it feeling odd because this was Alec. But it was also the leader of the foremost gang in the city — the only gang, without Morgenstern — and Alec knew about Magnus’ past as well as Magnus knew about Alec’s. 

Alec came in with a tight smile, and they sat down at the table without speaking. 

Magnus was the first to break the silence. “So.”

“So,” Alec agreed, a small smile ticking up his lips. “You’re a semi-retired assassin, I’m a mafia boss.”

Magnus nodded. “Yes. I — I think I should probably explain exactly what I meant by semi-retired assassin, though.” 

Alec tilted his head, waiting, and Magnus took a deep breath before he began. 

“My father was Asmodeus.” 

Everyone with any connection at all to the crime world knew that name, and judging but Alec’s widened eyes, he was no different. Asmodeus’ drug cartel had been incredibly famous, and its dissolution upon Asmodeus’ death was perhaps more so. Magnus went on before Alec could speak. 

“He raised me from the age of eight until I killed him shortly before my twenty-first birthday. I did his bidding because I knew no better and because he was my father. I killed whoever he told me to, assassinated whichever upright politicians or police were coming close to catching him. I killed him because I’d just found out that my mother had been addicted to his drugs, that she’d died because he’d stopped supplying her with them. He’d killed her because she’d refused to let me join his gang at seven as he’d wished. I’d already had some doubts about what he was doing, but that was what… tipped me over the edge, I suppose. I killed him.” Magnus swallowed, eyes still fixed on his hands in his lap. He hadn’t realised how much he’d wanted to tell Alec all of this, to confess everything, until the words were spilling from his mouth. “I don’t regret killing him. I don’t regret afterwards, when I helped along the dissolution of his drug empire by killing people. I suppose neither of us are the type of person to regret that.” He didn’t quite have the faith to meet Alec’s eyes. 

“My father led the mafia before me,” Alec said softly. “I’ve been trained since birth to take over from him. I managed to get my siblings out — Izzy and Jace know what I do, but they’re not actively involved. I took over the mafia from him when he died; I was eighteen at the time. I had a lot of ideals, changed a lot of things — eliminating the drug trade within my area, for one thing.” Magnus raised his head at that, but Alec wasn’t quite looking at him. “Not that I haven’t done bad things; I’ve killed, like you, many times. It’s necessary, to maintain my role.” He shrugged. “I don’t regret most of that, either.” 

Alec finally turned to look at Magnus, meeting his eyes with a mix of hesitation and hope. “I’m not in a position to judge you for anything you’ve done, Magnus. I understand if you think my actions are unforgivable, or if you don’t want to be dragged back into the crime world, or if you simply don’t love this side of me or don’t want to deal with the drama that comes with it.” He swallowed while Magnus remained silent, speechless. “I love you, Magnus, despite or because of everything I’ve only now learned about you. I love you. I love you.” 

“I love you too,” Magnus finally managed around the impossible tenderness rising in his throat. “I love both sides of you, all of you, everything. I don’t think anything you’ve done requires forgiveness, I want to stay by your side for as long as I can. I—”

He cut off when Alec kissed him with a greater love and a deeper knowledge than before, enough to drown in, enough to breathe in. 

Alec had been a star in the sky, a light Magnus couldn’t quite reach, a goodness that he didn’t deserve and couldn’t attain except by shutting half of himself away. Now Alec was here with him, on the ground, blood on his hands and fire in his veins and that same beautiful smile that Magnus loved, attainable and real and loving him. 

Magnus laughed with the joy bubbling up in his chest and kissed Alec again. 

~ Alec revised his opinion. Tuesdays were the best days of the week.