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Whump Prompt #1350
Anon asked:
Do you have any whump love potion stuff? Maybe with a seperate party trying to force two folk together, almost two whumpees and one whumper who likes the feeling of playing god?
I’ll be honest I could only think of some NSFWHUMP ideas for this one - though everyone is welcome in the replies/reblogs to share their own ideas!
TW: MENTIONS OF NONCON | ABUSE
To start off mildly, the whumpee could just straight up be allergic to the potion which causes negative side effects. (Stomach pain, hives etc)
The whumper might use it to get the whumpees on their side/or uses it to make the whumpees adore them, so whatever the whumper does to them, the whumpees still love them. For example, the whumper could beat them both to hell and back, but the potion forces them to believe the whumper does it out of love. It’s pretty messed up but would make for good psychological whump.
^ there could also be a moment where the potion wears off for one character, but the other character is still under the influence. This causes a huge argument, and maybe the whumper separates them for a while because of it.
The whumper could also use it in a noncon situation. In which the whumpees are made to desire eachother for the whumpers own personal reasons. The whumper could begin with low doses before upping it to see how things play out. This could have dire effects on their current relationships.
^ This could even be used as blackmail material in the right hands. (Eg, publicising love letters written while under the potions influence, or the whumpees being caught holding hands etc etc)
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spielzeugkaiser · 1 year
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[MASTERPOST]
Okay, I needed to get my whump out before I touched omegaverse Jaskier and Milek with it, soo... back to those two!
Geralt is not having a good time; and it was said before, but seldomly shown, but. Julian is pretty detached and cold at times. Jaskier has a lot of empathy, but at his current state he can be very dismissive, even annoyed at times, when something rattles his defences. (Also, because I know not all if you have seen that comic - the one who gave Jaskier the shiner and the bruises was Geralt. Just for context.)
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whump-queen92 · 3 months
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This gorgeous art is by the wonderful and talented @kotosk
Chapter 13: The End in the Beginning
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga, Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Relationships: Edward Elric/Roy Mustang, Alphonse Elric & Edward Elric
Characters: Edward Elric, Roy Mustang, Alphonse Elric, Serena Joy Waterford, Commander Fred Waterford, Russell Tringham, Rosé Thomas, Maria Ross, Aunt Lydia Clements, June Osborne, Janine Lindo, Jean Havoc, Major Miles
Additional Tags: Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Mpreg, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rape Recovery, Rape Aftermath, fmab crossover the handmaids tale, Conditioning, Forced Pregnancy, Religious Cults, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Post-Canon, Dubious Consent, intersex!Ed, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Minor Character Death, forced to have sex, Hurt Edward Elric, Eventual Happy Ending, Slow Burn, intersex!Alphonse, intersex!Russell
Summary:
My name is Offred. I had another once, but it's forbidden now. Lots of things are forbidden now.
_
Inspired by the Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood
Edward Elric has been many things in his short life, a son, a brother, a friend, and a state alchemist; now, three years after defeating Father on the Promised Day, Amestris has fallen into the hands of religious tyrants. Held prisoner in Gilead by the ruthless Commander and his cold and barren wife, Edward is reduced to Giver, a living incubator for the leaders of Gilead to breed, and behind closed doors, abuse.
There is no escape, no fighting back, but there is hope. There is Mayday, and there is Roy Mustang, who has charmed his way into the depths of hell to rescue him.
But this is Gilead, and Roy is powerless here.
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satancopilotsmytardis · 4 months
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Title: Home is Where...
Pairing: ShigaDabi
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-con
Tags: Yandere!Shigaraki, non-consensual somnophilia, sex toys, anal fingering, handjobs, semi-public sex, crossdressing, forced feminization, domestic submission, abusive relationships, anal sex, dacryphilia, League as family. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat
Summary: A commission for @psi-neko , who wanted to see Yandere!Shigaraki, domestic submission, somnophilia, and more family moments with the League! 
The League has moved into a new safe house and Dabi is on lockdown after garnering too much attention from the police and heroes. He finds himself slowly but surely taking on more of the household chores, and that Shigaraki seems to be watching him at every moment. That's nothing to be worried about though, right? After all, the smell of rain that he keeps waking up to must just be his imagination, he always locks his door at night after all. 
Dabi is not entirely sure how they went from living on the streets to Shigaraki calling them all back to a quiet neighborhood in the suburbs. He really has no fucking clue how the boss somehow got a three-story house with four bedrooms and a finished basement, fully furnished with the utilities on. No idea if this was a safe house or something that AFO had before that he somehow managed to figure out was still safe prior to Kurogiri getting arrested or what, but he's not going to look a gift horse in the mouth too much. Really, really not going to complain when, despite arriving last, he ends up with one of the bedrooms upstairs with Duster, Compress and Toga in the rooms on the second floor, and Twice and Spinner taking the basement. 
They all get settled in, making sure that the blinds are shut tight in every room. If they can just do their best to not draw any attention from the neighbors then they should be able to stay here a while. But once they've gotten the lay of the land they all end up back downstairs in the living room for a debriefing, first one they've all been around for at the same time since just after dealing with Overhaul. And everything is fine, he would dare say normal even. He's been out recruiting, Toga and Compress have been doing spy shit, Spinner and Twice have been trying to find anyone that might be able to reproduce the quirk erasing bullets for them. All the stuff they're supposed to be doing--
"For the next few weeks, you four can also start looking for recruits again, but anyone even remotely interested has to be vetted by myself or Dabi prior to any meet-ups, understood?" Shigaraki doesn't even glance in Twice's direction as he says it, but they all feel that slight sting. Yeah well, none of them are mad at Jin about that-- he didn't know how much of a psycho Overhaul was gonna be. But Magne is still gone, Compress is still permanently disabled. It still was something that hurt them and they're making do in the aftermath. Whatever. "Dabi, you'll be at base until further notice. You can help me coordinate and decrypt the files my teacher left behind." 
He blinks. "What? No, I'm in charge of recruitment, Giran said he had something interesting in Fukuoka--" 
Shigaraki levels him with flat red eyes, "No. You've drawn far too much attention to yourself in the past few weeks. You're the most recognizable of us and your quirk is the most obvious and easy to trace. You're on house arrest until things cool off." 
He is really about to start bitching in earnest, but then he notices that Shigaraki isn't even clawing at his neck anymore. Which means he is dead set on this and just as ready for this to be a physical fight as Dabi was gearing up for a verbal one. He grits his teeth and bites out, "Fine." Which is a lot less of a fight than he would have put up at the beginning. At least they have a whole house to hole up in. Better than the shitty bar or the shack they were using a few weeks ago. 
The others seem to let out the collective breath that they were holding and Compress speaks up next. "I can check on things in Fukuoka, if you'd like." Dabi waves him off. They can do whatever the fuck they want. He doubts it was anything that interesting anyway. 
They finish up the meeting and when that's done, there's a pause. Been a long time since they had somewhere safe and comfortable to stay. Takes all of ten minutes before they all start to break off to do their own things. Thinks Toga is going to take a bath, Compress heads towards the kitchen to make sure that the rest of them actually eat, Spinner and Duster start in on some game from the ancient console gathering dust under the TV with Twice cheering them on, and he makes his way up to his room. As annoying as being locked down is, he has been doing the most running around for the past few months, has barely had a place to sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time. Can't exactly say that he's going to resent the opportunity to pass out for a solid eight hours in an actual bed. 
The others, very wisely, don't bother him once he shuts himself away for the night. 
///
Dabi learns three things very, very quickly once he is on house arrest. The first is that he is bored all of the time. He always bitched at the others for being sat around doing nothing when he popped back into base with updates, but he gets it now. There just isn't that much to do. He and Shigaraki work on trying to coordinate and run down leads based on what they still have from AFO, but that's a lot of putting out lines and waiting for a bite. They can't train with their quirks without drawing attention, and they can't leave the house. Thank god they have power and internet here at least because he's pretty sure he would be pulling out staples just for something to do otherwise. 
The second thing that becomes increasingly obvious is that the rest of his cohorts have never lived in a house like this, or if they did, they were never responsible for its upkeep. Spinner and Twice are so bluntly and obviously reclusive bachelors and they are always leaving dishes in the sink and laundry in the dryer. Pretty sure neither of them have ever touched a fucking vacuum in their lives either. Toga knows how to do chores and usually doesn't make too much of a mess, has gotten glimpses of her room and it's cluttered with as many cute things as she can get her hands on to make her space feel warm and homey, but generally clean. Compress, unsurprisingly, seems to know how to keep things in order, but he's not around as much since he has been traveling the most. Shigaraki, from what he can tell, also knows how to clean up after himself, but he definitely wasn't doing the majority of housework with Kurogiri or AFO. And Dabi is trying very, very hard not to care, or think about any of that. He lasts all of nine days. Gets up one morning and finds the sink piled high with dishes and mud tracked in from the back door and unfortunately cannot contain himself any longer. 
By the time the others are making their way downstairs he's vacuumed and scrubbed the floors, dusted everything from the baseboards to the ceiling fans, wiped down the counters and furniture with cleaner, cleaned the bathrooms, washed and put away the dishes, made breakfast, and written out a grocery list to plan for the rest of the week. There's definitely a confused, sleepy air hanging around the others as they come into the kitchen, an island at the center and dining area tucked off to the side before leading into the backyard, and find food laid out and waiting. 
"You... cooked?" And Spinner sounds genuinely baffled. 
"Yeah well, none of you fucking can." He snaps, Compress excluded, but he's not in a particularly charitable mood at the moment. 
"You cleaned too." And Shigaraki's tone is more considering. 
He sneers at them all. "Clearly none of you are capable of that either. If you make a mess on purpose I'll fucking incinerate you." Turns back to the sink to finish rinsing the cooking dishes and get those loaded into the dishwasher. "Food's getting cold." 
Really not expecting Toga to press along his back, catching him in a tight, warm hug that does something unforgivable to his chest, as she murmurs, "Thanks, Dabi." 
Genuinely glad he always sounds gruff with them when he mutters back, "Whatever, leech." 
So he takes over the household stuff, and that only alleviates his boredom about thirty percent of the time. Unfortunately, that does lead him to his third observation: Shigaraki seems to be always watching him. 
That's something he becomes aware of by inches. At first, he just noticed that he started seeing Shig at least once a day, then a little more often. He chalked that up to the fact that he started cooking most meals now that they weren't living off of convenience store food and cup noodles, but no. Whenever he was in one of the other rooms, Duster would wander in and find a reason to stay. Usually didn't make small talk with him, which he was perfectly happy to avoid, but he didn't know why the other man would keep getting into his space. Definitely didn't like how Shigaraki always seemed to be watching him with those sharp, creepy blood red eyes whenever he glanced up from whatever he was doing. Something about the look robbed him of the attitude he would have leveled at the others for staring. 
Maybe it was because Shigaraki never did it when the others were around, which left some kind of alarm bell ringing in the back of his mind. But their creepy boss hasn't done anything yet. Doesn't know how he would even bring it up without sounding insanely paranoid on top of his usual bitchiness. So Dabi doesn't say anything. 
Probably should have. 
///
Things come to a head one night after dinner. The others are still all out, might not come back for a day or two depending on any difficulties they might find traveling. He and Shig eat, they don't talk much, not usually in an uncomfortable way. More in a  not really knowing what to even talk about when it's just them that's not work, and they've already dealt with that today. So instead things are quiet as they eat. When they're finished, Dabi starts to clean up. The annoyance about doing the housework had worn off stunningly quickly in the wake of not having much to do. At least he can be useful while trapped in the house. And the cleaning, cooking, just... putting things in order, it taps into something in his head. Calms him down. Can't control how fast he's going to get to his revenge, hasn't been in control of most of what's happened to him for the past decade, but at least in this place, he's able to exercise some control over his situation. 
He's fucking glad they have a dishwasher though, because the seams across his palms are already not thrilled with how much he's been irritating them with scrubbing floors, and tubs, and surfaces. Lets out a soft hiss of breath as the hot water hits his seam and that one has just had it with his bullshit today. A thin trickle of blood goes pink and washes away with the water. He turns off the tap and is about to reach for a towel, but he's abruptly paused when Shigaraki is right in his space. His skin heats sharply as his panic spikes when the other man catches him with four fingers around his wrist. Duster acts as if he hasn't even noticed, like this is normal, before bringing the towel to his hand and gently drying his skin. He's careful not to pull at his staples any more than Dabi already has, but it's still so strange that Dabi can't relax. 
"I didn't realize you would be such a good homemaker." Definitely hasn't ever heard Shigaraki's voice low like that and it has his skin bristling. Especially when he tries to pull his hand back and Shig holds a little tighter, raised finger dropping just enough to keep him from giving a more insistent tug as his nervousness spikes. 
"...Better soldier, if you let me stop spinning my wheels." He tries to sound mostly unfazed, but he doesn't think he pulls it off. 
"No, I like having you right here, where I can see you. Where I know you're being so well-behaved for me." His mind goes unhelpfully blank when Shigaraki lifts his hand, dips his head, so he can press a soft kiss to his aching seam. Dabi bristles slightly. Tries to pull his hand back again, and that last deadly finger lowers a little more. He stills. Lets Duster press his palm briefly to his cheek before he straightens and lets go of him. It takes more restraint than he knew he had to not snatch his hand back from the space between them, to move slowly and deliberately, leaving the rest of the dishes and stepping around the other man who has practically trapped him between the sink and island. 
"Not sure what it says that you're turned on by housework, but I'm not interested, Duster." 
Sends something very cold through his gut when Shigaraki keeps watching him with those dissecting red eyes and the barest touch of a smile curling his lips. "You will be, firefly." He really does not like how sure the other man sounds and as soon as he's far enough away that he'd be able to set off his flames faster than he thinks Shigaraki could reach for him, he turns and heads swiftly back upstairs to his room. Throwing the lock into place isn't really that much of a reassurance when the whole door could be turned to dust in a few seconds, but that would be pretty hard for Shigaraki to explain to the others. Still has a hard time falling asleep that night. 
///
Shigaraki doesn't treat him any differently while they're working, but he is always watching him while he's in the common areas of the house, especially when he's cleaning or cooking. Doesn't try anything again, but those red eyes are following him into his sleep. 
The first dream happened after he finally managed to sleep the night Shigaraki cornered him in the kitchen. Had been so simple. Cool lips against his cheek through the dark, fingers trailing along his throat, down his chest, stopping as they drifted low on his stomach. And then nothing. He woke up the next morning foggy and confused, but didn't think too hard about it. Not until the same thing happened the next night. The lips in his dream trailed a little further along his jaw, the fingers starting on his thighs and working their way up. He did his best to ignore it, but when he swore that he was starting to come out of sleep with the smell of petrichor in his nose, the smell that follows Shigaraki around, he started to question if it was just paranoia and weird dreams. Still hasn't said anything though, doesn't know how he can even bring it up without stirring the pot in a way he really doesn't want to, especially when his door is always firmly locked when he comes to each morning. 
Wakes up this morning with the memory of lips pressing softly to his own and resolves that he's going to have to do something about these weird ass dreams before he loses any more of his mind. He gets dressed, though he's given up on his villain gear, sticking with casual clothes until he's allowed out of the house again, and heads to go get started on breakfast. Not expecting to nearly trip on a small brown box as he opens his door. Dabi pauses, nudges it with his toe, half expecting it to be some kind of prank. He would absolutely not put it past Toga to try to glitter bomb him-- but the box is light and inert against his socked foot. He picks it up and retreats over to the desk to get the scissors. 
When he gets it open he finds a pair of black rubber gloves inside. It's a gift that only serves to confuse him more. Isn't sure if it's an apology for being so weird the other night, or if Duster is just that level of inept that the whole situation came off so much creepier than he'd intended. 
Either way, his seams are a lot happier with him when he wears them as he's wiping down the counters after breakfast, and Duster looks a little self-satisfied as well. He doesn't thank the other man. An additional fee for being such a creep. 
///
Dabi is starting to think that there is a plot happening in the house, and paranoid or not, it definitely seems to be conspiring against him in particular. Because this is the second time in as many days that he's walked into a room and conversation has abruptly died. 
"What the fuck is going on?" Maybe a touch nastier than he usually is with them at this point, but he does not like how they all are suddenly pretending to be busy with their own things as he comes in to get started on dinner, the kitchen open to the living room. 
"Nothing!" Toga says too loud, too quick, too bright with a big smile full of fangs. Doesn't believe her for a second and she must know it. But she continues anyway, "What's for dinner?" 
"Fucking nothing unless you spill the beans, brat." 
"Oh, that's alright, Dabi." Compress says as he pushes off the couch, already undoing his cufflinks to roll his sleeves. "You've been doing so much of the domestic chores, why don't I handle dinner tonight?" 
And he really doesn't know what to do with the way that makes his chest kind of hurt a little. "Whatever, do what you want." Feels incredibly petulant when he turns his ass right back around and heads upstairs. Fine, if they don't want him to know whatever's going on, if they want to mock him for trying to find ways to occupy his time, then they can fend for their fucking selves. He drops onto his bed and figures he'll go down and eat after the others are finished. He hears Duster pass by his room and the door shut softly half an hour later. 
He wasn't even tired when he laid down, but in a matter of minutes his eyes are so heavy he couldn't keep them open if he wanted to. 
///
Cold hands on his body, cool lips against his neck, a weight settled over him. Dabi squirms in the dark, trying to shift away. Something in him knows that the sensations are wrong, that something is going on, but his mind is so thick and foggy he can't pay attention. The dream presses in closer. It pushes up his shirt to expose his chest and there are lips and fingers there too. Teasing little licks and tugs at his piercings that are making his skin go hotter. A lot hotter when there's pressure against his crotch. When after a few teasing strokes and squeezes, a hand is slipping into his pants. Oh. Dabi lets out a thin moan, forgetting the discomfort from before as he has good friction against his cock for the first time in ages. Can't even remember the last time he jacked off. Just knows that having a cool, firm touch against his overheated skin is sending his pleasure higher. The touches are firm and sure, they move against him and he lets himself be swept along by the sensations. His skin is nearly humming, everything feeling so much more intense in the blackness of his dream. Wonders if that's why he imagines the smell of petrichor again. 
"Shigaraki?" His tongue is so heavy, the word slurred so much that he barely thinks it can even count as a word in the first place. But the hand around his cock stills for a second, but then it's moving again, firmer, faster, and the lips are back at his neck. Makes everything feel so much better with an insistence that has him moaning and squirming again, his cock dripping against the phantom palm stroking him. Is teetering on the edge of his orgasm so soon. Is sent over the edge when teeth start at his neck, licking and sucking, and then biting hard enough that he's whimpering as that little flare of pain is enough. His orgasm feels so good as it washes over him. It leaves his muscles trembling softly as he settles again. As the teeth pull themselves from his skin and lips press another kiss there instead. 
The darkness feels much heavier again and the rest of his dream is blissfully empty. 
///
"Dabi?" Toga's voice coming through the door, accompanied by a knock. Fuck, he feels like he got hit by a train. Can't remember the last time he slept so hard. He starts to shift and is abruptly more awake than he was a moment ago because the inside of his sweatpants is soiled and sticky with old cum. His face burns and he glances at the door, overwhelmingly relieved that it's locked as she tries the handle gently.
He thinks he manages to sound annoyed instead of embarrassed when he snaps, "What, leech?" 
There's a slight pause, "We made breakfast, are you going to come down?" Breakfast? He glances over at the clock and blinks. Nine a.m. It was definitely barely after seven when he came in here last night. Doesn't know how that happened. Fuck, the others probably thought he was acting like even more of a mopey teenager than he was. 
"Yeah, I'll be down in a bit, brat." Anything to get her to leave so he can be mortified about the mess he's made of himself in private. Hears her footsteps going and gets out of bed, stripping out of his sweats and trying to clean up a bit with some tissues before he has to make his way to the bathroom. He thought he was in a coma during the embarrassing wet dream years, really didn't think he was going to have to deal with them now. Must have been more pent up than he thought to have such a weird dream. 
He's not really thinking that much when his hand moves to his neck, to where he remembers teeth. It's tender to the touch and the blood drains from his face. throws on clean clothes and heads to the bathroom. The mirror offers no insights, his skin too dark to see a bruise. Dabi tries to calm down. His door was locked, he'd unlocked it himself, heard it rattle soundly in place when Toga tried. Must have just slept weird and his dreams turned the ache into a sensation that went along with the rest of the dream. He tries to shake the uneasiness from his mind as he cleans up and gets ready for the day.
By the time he's made it downstairs, he can already hear the others all lively in the kitchen, food already on the table. 
"Yo, there you are, what happened to you last night, man?" Spinner greets from in front of the fridge, taking out the pitcher of orange juice. 
"I tried to knock last night and you didn't answer," Shigaraki says dryly, not even looking up from whatever game he's tapping away at on his phone. Shigaraki? Tries to shake himself quickly before heat can head to his face. Must have heard him through the door. Must have been why he'd thought of him--
"I put on a book," taken to listening to them while he's been working around the house with his headphones on. "And it literally bored me to sleep." Not really expecting a palpable release of tension to be banished from the room, but the others all seem to perk up, except Duster who looks completely nonplussed by the whole situation. 
"So you're not mad?" 
Definitely was last night, but that feels a million miles away now. "No, is that about to change abruptly?" 
"It depends on how you feel about puns, I guess," Spinner says, which instills no confidence in him as Toga rushes over to the table and pulls a flat box off of his chair, before bringing it back to him, nearly bouncing. 
"Open it!"
"We wanted to thank you for everything you've been doing for us over the past few weeks," Compress tells him more calmly as he hesitantly takes the box. Kind of wants to crawl out of his skin as he opens it under their watchful eyes. 
The ache in his chest goes so much sharper as he pulls the bundle of blue and black fabric from the box. An apron, messily died into a black and blue gradient, puffy paint messily declaring 'If you can't take the heat, stay out of the kitchen!' on the front. Little blobs of blue paint frame the kanji on either side that he thinks are supposed to be flames. He doesn't say anything for an agonizingly long moment, doesn't know how to speak when his lungs feel like they've collapsed in on themselves. It takes him a second to look up and he finds that they're all watching him, an earnestness across their features that he thinks is going to tear him open at the seams. 
"You're all a bunch of fucking saps." But his voice is not as even as he'd like it to be. 
Says something about how well he's let them know him that none of them comment on it, instead letting him slip into his chair at the table and starting the usual chatter as they start to eat. They still leave to go out on their jobs, he's still on house arrest, but when he goes to clean up the mess from breakfast, he does it with his gloves and apron on. 
///
Things go back to normal, for everyone else. The others were apparently sneaking around the house and whispering because they were trying to figure out how to make the gift and were worried about him overhearing, but now that the cat is out of the bag, they're all back to normal. And Dabi is still having wet dreams like a horny teenager and he's absolutely fucking mortified about it. He's been sleeping so deeply, feeling hands all over him in the dark, stroking him and bringing him off, kisses pressed along his jaw, cheeks, and neck, fingers toying with his nipples, he feels so filthy every time he wakes up with cum staining the inside of his pajamas. Never had this happen before and what's worse is that every dream is full of indistinguishable heavy darkness and the smell of rain. Which means that he's dreaming about Shigaraki every time and he really doesn't know what to do about that. Only just started getting along with him for work things a few weeks ago, didn't think that would develop into anything else, but apparently, the other man had infected him with that kiss against his seams to have his subconscious so needy for him. 
Not that he's ever going to let Duster know that. 
The dreams become such a persistent and embarrassing routine over the next week that Dabi finally gives in and tries to cut them off. Fine, he's clearly more sexually frustrated than he thought he was, okay, so he deals with that. He honestly is more interested in going out and railing or getting railed than masturbating, but since he's still on lockdown, he settles for this. Digs out a packet of lube from the bottom of his duffle and gets on his bed. Tries to think about anything besides the dreams and his creepy boss, but the four-fingered touches keep coming to the forefront of his mind as he starts to stroke himself. By the time there are thin wisps of smoke coming out of his seams and he's dripping against his palm, Dabi has his knuckles pressed to his mouth, trying to muffle any sounds. Would be absolutely mortifying if, 
"Tomura," Shigaraki heard him gasping his name through the wall as Dabi stripes his hand with his cum. Mortifying enough as is. He cleans up, pulls his pajama bottoms back on, and hits the light, hoping that he's staved off the dreams for the night. If he can just avoid waking up in soiled sweats again, then he will accept this as a win. 
///
Hands on his body, rougher than before. They pull at his pajamas, never tugged at his clothes like this before, taking them off as lips move almost frantically across his jaw. Until they seal over his own. Definitely never done that before. Fingers on his jaw as soon as he's pulled away his sweats, pulling his mouth open so a tongue can push greedily inside. Dabi lets out a muffled sound, not sure what's happening why the dream is so much more than it usually is, jolting slightly when the hands go back to his thighs and spread them wide so that a solid weight can settle between them. Dabi feels more overwhelmed, more devoured by the touches than he has in any of the dreams before, the mouth barely leaving his long enough for him to breathe, and he starts to struggle, trying to escape the overwhelming sensations. It has the hands around his thighs tightening sharply, hard enough that it pulls at the staples there and sparks pain across his skin. 
He lets out a sharper gasp as his eyes open, trying to flinch away from the pressure. Shigaraki holds him still as he presses in to kiss him again. 
Dabi lets out a thin sound of shock as reality comes crashing in on him. Not wet dreams, not a dream, Shigaraki touching him, coming into his room-- Panic, fear, disgust, all spike so sharply in him as he reaches for his quirk, as he tries to get his sleep-heavy limbs coordinated enough to push him away, to light him on fire for touching him-- and his quirk doesn't react at all. His arms feel like noodles as he gets his hands against Shigaraki's chest. Can't put any force behind the movement. Tries to bite him, and it's barely a nip. 
Shigaraki pulls away after a moment, red eyes locking with his and dark with his lust. "There you are, firefly. Was hoping you would wake up for this." 
"G...et off," hard to speak too, fuck, everything feels heavy and hazy. Been sleeping so hard lately, fuck, not sleeping. Drugged. Doesn't know how Shigaraki has been doing it, but he must have been. Dabi is far too paranoid to sleep through someone sneaking into his room. 
"Oh sweetheart, why would I do that?" Dabi is choked with panic as he feels Shigaraki wrap four ungloved fingers around his half-hard cock, stroking him like he's already figured out every way to make him hot. Has, probably, in the week he's been molesting him in his sleep. "When you wanted me so badly earlier you couldn't even wait for me to come and see you, pretty boy." 
He tries to shake his head, tries to squirm away, can barely move at all. "S-stop," 
"Been waiting so long for you to show me that you were ready for more." Terror and anguish crash in on his chest when wet fingers start to rub against his hole, making him nearly whimper. 
"Don't!" Can't get as much force behind the word as he wants, but the more he tries to focus, the easier speech becomes. If he shouts--
"Shh, don't want the others to hear you, pretty thing." Duster sinks a finger inside of him and Dabi lets out a harsh pant. Can't move enough to fight him, can't use his quirk for some reason, if he has to scream for help then fine, anything to keep from being raped by his psychotic boss. The hand around his cock shifts to his thigh, Shigaraki starts to drum his fingers against the skin over his artery, a deliberate, threatening rhythm as his mouth trails along his cheek so he can murmur in his ear. "You wouldn't want them to come knocking and find you like this, would you? Pretty cock dripping and hole stretching so eagerly around my fingers, door locked, not even struggling? Do you really think they would believe you if you said you didn't want it?" He pushes in a second finger as he's speaking, rubbing and stretching, and then crooking-- Dabi lets out an involuntary moan, his eyes squeezing shut as Shigaraki rubs against his prostate and sends unwanted pleasure spilling out across his nerves. "When your body is so clearly desperate for my cock, sweetheart? Scream if you want, precious, happy to show off the cute sounds you always make when I'm touching you." Lips pressing softly and sweetly against his cheek as Dabi whimpers, words dying in his throat. The fingers keep tapping along his thigh. Prepared to kill or maim him if he tries anyway. 
He grits his teeth and swallows away any screams or further protests as Shigaraki keeps working him open. Gets him stretched and wet, his body forced pliant from whatever the other man dosed him with. And then he's shifting, pulling his cock free from his sleep pants and Dabi can't help it, lets out a weak sob. He doesn't think he's ever felt more helpless since he was a child as Shigaraki spreads lube over himself before resettling between his legs and pushing his thick head against his hole. Duster presses more soft kisses against his cheeks, under his eyes as the first drops of blood slip over his cheeks, shushing him gently. 
He cries harder as Shigaraki presses inside of his body. Wanted to be full like this a few hours ago, and his body keeps betraying him by feeling so good as he's stretched so full of Duster's cock. Bites as hard as he can at his lip, trying to chase away the pleasure dancing along his nerves, but Shigaraki must want it to feel good. Kisses him again and again, hands moving over his body, one returning to stroke his cock in time with his deliberate rolling thrusts that have him sinking in so deep and rubbing over his prostate each time he moves. A slow, deliberate, building rhythm that soaks his body in unwanted arousal even as his stomach curdles. Can't help the little breathless whimpers that keep sneaking out of him. 
"Perfect, baby, so pretty when you cry, feel so good," fucks him leisurely, like he has all the time in the world. "So glad you finally called for me, firefly. Didn't know how long I could keep waiting," more kisses, hands holding him a little tighter. "Told you that you would want it, can't wait to have you like this every night." 
Doesn't know if it's terror or shame that consumes him as Shigaraki keeps murmuring in his ear as he works them both steadily towards their climaxes. Just knows that by the time it's over he's been broken again in some new, fresh way he has no idea how to cope with. 
///
Dabi's not quite sure how it could even happen, but somehow he managed to pass out after that. Wakes up feeling foggy and a little sore, his gut hollow, and skin cleaner than it should be. And cuddled up against Shigaraki's chest, deadly hands petting softly over his skin and face pressed into his hair. Dabi tenses, reaching for his quirk--
"None of that, firefly." A burst of pain starts somewhere near his lower back, a spike of something numb and cold before agony creeps through him and he loses all of the breath in his lungs in a split second as he hears his skin crack. Dabi sharply drops his temperature again, doesn't dare try to reach for his flames again and the pain stops. The whole room is spinning as he realizes that Shigaraki just used Decay on him. Hands on his cheeks, forcing him to look up, and Dabi can't help the muted sound of terror that slips out of his lips to have him touching him there. Duster's eyes are warm, a soft smile on his lips, "Shh baby, it's alright, can you take a slow breath for me?"
Can he? Dabi forces himself to as Shigaraki rubs his thumb just under his eye, can feel four points of contact against his cheek. He manages to suck in a breath. 
"Good boy, out." He listens, trapped between deadly hands, until he's not hyperventilating anymore. But the pain still radiating out from his back is sharp and raw. "There." He holds very still as Shigaraki leans in and presses a soft kiss to his lips. 
"Shigaraki this is-- you can't do this," He doesn't know if he's ever heard his voice so thin and terrified. 
Shigaraki's voice has no right to be so soft as he pulls Dabi even closer until their foreheads are pressed together. "Why not? You came and found me, you decided to stay by my side, you've been so eager to show me how useful you can be. You've been practically begging for me to make you mine." One hand stays on his cheek, but the other wraps back around his waist, pulling their bodies even closer, and Dabi's panic spikes. "I was going to wait a little longer, until you came to me again, but last night, you were so needy, so desperate to be claimed, I couldn't leave you aching." Lips against his temple. "And now you don't have to worry about that again. Never going to be needy now that you're mine." 
"Shigaraki--" Words turning to ash in his throat as the hand trails down to his ass, swallowing hard and trembling, not sure if he's more terrified of the sting of Decay or if he's scared of him forcing his fingers inside dry. 
"Mine, Dabi, you understand that, don't you, sweetheart?" 
"Stop, Shig, please--" 
"Mine," Duster murmuring the words against his temple, "Because everyone knows you're with the League, because if you try to run, no one will help you. Because if you try to use your quirk," the hand moves up to his back again, pressing roughly enough on the wound that he cries out softly. "I'll have to use mine." Did it over one of his patches of scars, he realizes dizzily. Even if he told the others, if he tries to show them proof-- probably just looks like one of his staples tore loose. Anguish is building in his chest. "I don't want to do that. You're so beautiful, I don't want to have to punish you, but I will if you make me."
"Don't," Always thought Shigaraki was kind of creepy, but Dabi never expected to be scared of him. "Please, we can forget about this, I won't say anything--" Has had so many horrible things happen to him, what's one more? Can put this away, can hide it, and hold on until he finds an opportunity to burn Shigaraki out too. 
Shigaraki ignores him, "There are some rules that you'll have to follow now that you're mine, baby boy. And as long as you follow them," fingers digging into the wound again, making black spots burst across his vision, "I won't have to punish you again. Understand?" 
He really thinks he might vomit, but he forces himself to nod. 
"Good boy, we're going to go over them now," Shigaraki presses a soft kiss to his forehead. "On your hands and knees, baby." 
Dabi gives a weak sob even as he starts to move.
///
That was three weeks ago. Shigaraki made sure that he was settled into his ownership, made sure that he was used to his new routine and Dabi had a few more patches of Decay across his body from fighting at first. Stopped soon enough when he realized just how unhinged Shigaraki is, when he was made abundantly aware that if he kept struggling that he wouldn't even make it to a fight with his father. 
The others still come and go for their own jobs, Shigaraki still has him working on things he doesn't need to leave for, and... has him doing the housework. Mocked him for that before this started, but now it's become clear that's part of whatever delusion the other villain has constructed. That this is their home, not just a safe house, that Dabi is doing all of this as an act of service, of devotion. Makes him sick to his stomach because it kind of was before Shigaraki twisted it. Started cleaning just because he couldn't stand the mess, but then the others had been so surprised, so happy with it all. He'd started doing it for them. Thinks that's the only reason he doesn't hate it now as he keeps at it even when--
"Are you almost finished, baby?" Deadly hands catch him around his hips as Shigaraki's body presses along his spine. He doesn't even shiver anymore. Routine. 
"Yes, sir." Was cleaning up after prepping things for dinner. The others won't probably be back until late, just wanted to have things ready to throw in the oven once they came back. Routine to have Shigaraki peppering kisses along his neck, a hand slipping over his ass and making him all too aware of the plug keeping him ready to take the other man's cock whenever he wants him to. 
Routine to have him wake every morning, shower, prepare himself for the day, and then have to go into Shigaraki's room, get on his hands and knees, and let the other man open him up and slip the plug inside. Makes him wear it until they turn in for the night, only takes it out then. At first, he thought that would mean that Shigaraki would be using him every day, but he doesn't. Just wants the constant knowledge that he will again to sit on his nerves. He belongs to Duster, keeping him full of the plug is a reminder. 
But Sir does actually seem to want him right now. He can feel him pressing half-hard against him as his mouth moves over his skin, the other hand snaking around to slip under his apron and shirt to toy with the seam curving across his stomach. Dabi hates how quickly he's learned every place that can make him hot, how he always makes sure his need is so high against his will that by the time Sir's cock is buried inside of him, he can't do anything but sob and moan, his body betraying him when he rocks back to get more friction. He does his best not to squirm as his face starts to heat with his humiliation. 
"Please sir, just a few more minutes? I just want to keep things tidy for you." 
"Yeah, sweetheart?" But his mouth is more insistent against his neck. Sensitive there from his scars and none of his other partners ever touched him there because of them. Between that, the probing touches slowly drifting lower across his stomach, and Tomura grinding his cock against him, it has him close to trembling embarrassingly quickly as sour arousal starts to slip along his nerves. "Always being such a good girl," Dabi's humiliation spikes sharply, his face burning as he really does start to shake. Another thing of Shigaraki's. Likes to call him that, treat him like his little housewife. Makes Dabi disgusted with himself because it has his cock starting to harden. Worse because Duster chuckles against his skin, knows how hot that makes him too. "What if I want you to be a mess, precious?" 
The hand moves from his stomach up to his mouth and Dabi opens automatically. Knows that he's supposed to. Sir presses his fingers past his lips, has him lick at them. He's already wet, but he would rather have more than less when it comes to being split open around Sir's cock, so he licks at his cool skin until Tomura is satisfied. Is expecting the other man to make him bend over the island again and tug his sweats down so he can remove his plug and fuck him full, but instead his wet hand slips down his front, under his waistband. Dabi lets out a thready moan as he wraps his fingers insistently around his cock and starts to stroke and tease him. Doesn't know if this is better or worse, but Shigaraki doesn't always want to get off himself when he corners Dabi. Seems to take so much delight in making him 'feel good' like for every second of forced pleasure, Dabi isn't left sobbing just as long. Tomura's mouth goes back to his neck as he strokes him, his other hand slipping under his shirt to toy with the piercings through his nipples. Dabi tries to ignore everything else, just let it happen and then it will be over again. 
At least... at least Tomura's obsessions all just want him subservient, want him... enjoying himself if not happy. Doesn't seem to delight in any greater cruelty than making him cry. Doesn't seem to actually enjoy hurting him with his quirk when he misbehaves. It could be worse, it could be so much worse, he remembers how his mother used to not be able to walk, how her pale skin would be mottled with bruises over and over again until she finally got pregnant with Shoto. If he has to endure this, then he'd rather Shigaraki be obsessed with the idea of them as a happy couple rather than as a plaything to be used and ruined at his whim. 
"Tomura," Gasped out because he's starting to drip as the other man plays with his ladder, his mouth sucking a bruise no one will be able to see on the sensitive patch of skin just below his ear. 
"That's it, princess, show me how much you want it." 
Hard to make his shaking muscles comply, but he forces himself to start to move, fucking into Shigaraki's hand as his arousal creeps higher and higher. Will probably be over once he cums. Tomura will probably want him on his knees later before he takes out his plug. Tries to put that out of his mind. Friction is friction. 
He's so close when he hears the front door unlock and his veins are drenched with ice. He tries to twist away from Shigaraki. The others don't know about this. Doesn't want them to know. Doesn't know how he would tell them. What Shigaraki would do to them if they tried to stop what's happening? Duster is more than willing to use force to get what he wants, has let so many other members of the League be tossed aside if that would get him closer to his goals. Would he hurt them to keep him just like this?
Sir's hand moves faster over him, keeping his pleasure sharp as he hears Spinner enter the house with a loud, "Yo," in greeting. 
"If you track in mud," Dabi is almost proud of how little his voice shakes, how agitated he manages to sound instead of humiliated, "I'll kill you, gecko." Rain has been pattering against the roof all day. Must be soaked. He's dripping all over Tomura's hand. Dabi shoves his knuckles between his teeth to muffle any sounds as Duster twists at his piercings and sinks his teeth into the other side of his neck. Just hard enough. Learned that just the right spark of pain--
"Yeah, yeah, I'm taking off my boots." 
Dabi lets out a harsh pant and a muffled cry as Shigaraki rolls his hips against his, making his plug shift inside of him, and that does it. Spills all over his boxers and sweats, his legs wanting to drop out from under him. Can't let the unwanted pleasure of his orgasm shake through him for too long, realizes that he did exactly what Sir wanted and made a mess as he moves away from him, going over to wash his hands before helping him to put things away. Dabi is about to be absolutely mortified when their companion walks in before he realizes that his apron is hiding the wet spot from view. 
Spinner comes in and starts to give them an update about a potential group of recruits he's found and Dabi pretends to pay attention. Can't focus on anything but the cum drying against his skin. 
///
Dabi feels even more off than he has for the past few weeks by the time he gets up the next morning and makes his way to Shigaraki's room. He barely knocks, Duster always seems to know where he is, and at this point, he's absolutely positive that the whole house is bugged in some way or another, and Shigaraki's door is always unlocked for him in the morning anyway. He steps inside and abruptly realizes that Shigaraki's room must also be soundproof because Tomura is on the phone. He's still in his pajamas, his plug isn't waiting for him on the bed or nightstand, Shigaraki sitting at the desk tapping away at a tablet that Dabi hasn't seen before. 
"--press is extracting that information as we speak." Duster also has the box of quirk-erasing bullets on the table. "Once that's finished we'll be moving to a location closer to your main lab." Oh, talking to the monster maker. That's actually probably good news as far as their goals go. Means that they might be moving forward soon. Shigaraki glances up at him and waves him off. Never let any of them talk to the monster maker, clearly doesn't want him eavesdropping on this conversation. Dabi is more than happy to leave the room without the unwanted accessory. He starts back towards his room. None of the others are home this morning, as far as he's aware, and he might as well wait for Duster to finish his call before he starts on breakfast--
A recklessness surges through him. He gets dressed in his civilian clothes, doesn't dare try to grab his bag, doesn't take anything that would make it obvious that he's not coming back. If things are bugged then Shigaraki is likely to stop him if he sees even a trace of his intentions. He heads downstairs and writes a note, just says he's going to pick up a few things for later, even takes his phone with him. He'll ditch it on the street near the shop and hop a train. At least then if Duster can somehow track it, he might buy himself a little extra time. Dabi doesn't waste any more time and starts on his way. It's the first time he's been out of the house in... god, months? 
He makes his way as swiftly as he can in the direction he wants to go, but it's not raining for the first time in days, and even overcast, people are all over the streets, trying to soak up the fresh air while they can get it. It makes moving slow going and frustrating. Not going to be able to just slink along the main streets, too risking with so many people out and about. Going to have to take side streets and back alleys. Wouldn't normally be a problem but that slows his progress to a crawl. He was always planning on hopping a train in the seedier part of town but this is torture. Takes him an hour just to get into the commercial district. 
Really shouldn't be surprised that he's barely there when his phone chimes. Not surprising at all that it's Shigaraki's name that pops up with the alert. 
Duster: I didn't give you permission to leave. 
He takes a breath, tempted to ditch his phone right now and just sprint to the nearest train station. But Shigaraki didn't call him. Duster always calls them when he wants something. He doesn't like having anything written down in case one of them gets caught. Did he not call because he's already following him? Because Dabi would be able to tell he was moving and not in the house? Never seen Shigaraki text unless he was giving Kurogiri an extraction point--
The next text comes through with the name of the street he's on and Dabi's gut goes leaden. Should have known better. Duster never thought to lock him in the house, just told him to stay and he had because Dabi knew that getting away would be impossible. He takes a shaky breath and responds, 
Dabi: I just wanted to pick up something special for tonight. It's just going to be us, isn't it, sir?
Keeps going without a response. 
Dabi: I'm being careful, I promise I'll be home soon.
Duster: One hour, Dabi. 
Doesn't make an overt threat over the phone, but Dabi knows that he's in for hell if he doesn't make it on time. Has only been punished for small things, flinching away from his touch, trying to push him away, talking back. He doesn't want to know what Tomura will do to him if he's not perfect. 
His eyes scan the street a little franticly. Needs to find something to make his outing seem worth it, and he needs to do it quickly. 
///
It's honestly a miracle that it starts raining as he exits the grocery store. It means that people start to tuck themselves back inside and he's able to run and it just looks like he's trying to keep his shopping from getting too wet on his way to his destination. The rain is probably the only thing that keeps him from being late as he slips back into the house fifty-five minutes after Tomura's warning. He lets his quirk vent through his skin, his tension over the past almost-hour high enough that as soon as he loosens his hold on it, the water starts to evaporate from his clothes. He moves to get out of his boots and pauses at the array of shoes his are joining. 
"Dabi!" Toga's voice is bright from the living room. 
"Don't track in mud," Spinner mocks him from the same direction. He catches his breath, stops steaming, and hangs up his jacket before making his way in their direction with his bags. 
Sure enough, the rest of the League is there, Shigaraki included, all gathered around in the living room. Looks like someone brought back takeout for lunch. "Don't you all have jobs?" They weren't supposed to be here. His eyes flit to Duster's and Shigaraki is watching him, but doesn't say anything as he pivots and starts to head towards the kitchen. 
"Circumstances ended up bringing us all home a bit early." Compress remarks. 
"Aren't you happy to see us? Bah, he's never happy!" 
"What'd you get?" Toga asks as she bounces over from the living room to the island as he puts the bags down. Immediately reaches for the black bag that's clearly not from the grocery store and he reaches out and smacks her hand away reflexively, a few harmless sparks leaping off the back of his hand. 
"None of your business, leech." 
She sticks out her tongue as she moves to the other side of the island and he pulls the bag away and puts it beside the fridge so she can't grab for it again as he starts to unpack the groceries. 
"Sorry for not giving you more forewarning," Compress tells him more reasonably. 
Dabi can feel Shigaraki watching him. Knows that the longer that he waits to talk to him, the more trouble he'll be in. God, he's not even wearing his plug. He's going to be in so much trouble-- "You should be," Keeps turned fully towards the fridge and does his very best to not let his voice shake at all as he continues, "You're interrupting date night." Things go so quiet that he can hear every raindrop pattering against the window and then--
"Date night?!" 
"I told you! Shiggy's been smelling like love for months!" 
"There's no way-- I totally saw this coming!"
He feels his face heat, chances glancing at Duster while the others are getting so animated. Tomura is watching him, looks a little surprised himself, and then, his eyes go soft and warm. Maybe he is in love with him. Maybe whatever this fucked up thing he'd pushed on him is the only way he knew how to act on that. Doesn't exactly think that All For One or Kurogiri were teaching him any kind of sane form of affection. No excuse for what he's done, what Dabi knows he's going to keep making him do, but it's going to happen either way. An easier-to-look-at veneer is more for his sake than anything else. 
"You know it's been ages since we went to Giran's. What? We just saw him--" Spinner elbows Twice hard in his sternum to cut off his contradiction. 
"You're right dude, we should go over for poker night since we're all free for once." 
"Aw but--" Toga immediately whines, wanting to soak up any potential threads of romance like a sponge. 
"That sounds like a wonderful idea, Jin why don't you give him a call?" Compress says pointedly. 
It's genuinely astounding how fast the others clear out, at that. And Dabi's gut turns at how... excited they are. Toga is beaming, hugs him and Shigaraki, Spinner gives Shig a thumbs up when he thinks Dabi won't notice. Happy for them, they make that abundantly clear before they're all gone again, willing to get soaked and head two districts over to go see Giran just to give them their privacy. Fuck, that would be so sweet of them if this were real. They're all gone in a matter of minutes and Dabi finishes putting the groceries away, sure that he's in for a punishment, and just waiting for it. 
He tries to keep his quirk from spiking his temperature with his panic when, as soon as it's quiet in the house again, Shigaraki is moving towards him with deliberate steps. Opens his mouth to apologize, to say anything as he turns to face him, anything to try and make what happens next not hurt as badly-- Dabi doesn't expect for Shigaraki to catch him around the waist and pull him in, pressing in for a kiss. He lets out a soft sound of surprise, but Shigaraki just takes that as an opportunity to lick deeply into his mouth, backing him against the edge of the counter and holding him there. Keeps kissing him like neither of them need to breathe. Until Dabi has his hands tangled in his hair and he's trying to gasp against his lips to just get a second of reprieve,
"Tomura," 
Duster kisses any other words out of his mouth. Keeps going until Dabi's dizzy and his body is a little too hot. Not sure if it's his quirk or not. Doesn't think Shigaraki has kissed him like this before. Dabi... isn't sure anyone has ever kissed him like this. Like they can't get enough of him, like the thought of a millimeter of space between them is unthinkable. When Shigaraki does finally pull away, Dabi is dazed and then gagged with his nerves when those red eyes are so warm and so close to him. Adoring. 
"I'm so proud of you, firefly." Knuckles running gently over his cheek. "I was beginning to think that you would never be ready to tell the others. Should have known you would surprise me. You always do." 
Doesn't even mention his leaving. Not even a whisper of threat in his tone that warns him of an oncoming punishment. Okay, that's good, okay. He can... play along. That's what he's been doing anyway, hasn't it? "Barely seen you all day, didn't want them to spoil tonight." 
"Yeah?" Tomura's tone is slightly amused as he presses a kiss to his cheek and along his jaw. "And what do you have planned for tonight, firefly?" 
Humiliation turns his gut into sour knots, but he makes himself mirror that sweet smile on the other man's face. "Can I surprise you? You've been," he tries to put whatever is left in him to protest away. He needs to stay alive long enough to fight his father, keeping the monster obsessed with him happy is the only way that's going to happen. And after that, it won't matter anymore. He just has to get there. Already planning on doing anything to make it. What's one more horror? "So good to me while I've been getting used to things. I want to show you how much I appreciate that." 
If anyone else had ever kissed him the way that Tomura does after hearing him say that, then Dabi thinks he might have doubted the end he'd been planning for himself. Because Shigaraki kisses him like he believes every drop of his affection is real. That this is love instead of something brutal and twisted. Dabi pretends for a second too, is breathless again by the time he's released. "Alright, precious. Do you need me to help with anything?" 
"No, sir. I just want to make things perfect for you, Tomura." Hesitates with bile in the back of his throat as his face heats with his shame. Duster sees his hesitation and waits, "You were busy this morning, will you," really thinks he's going to be sick but if he can avoid getting maimed--but he still can't bring himself to ask for the plug. "I want to be ready for after dinner." 
The next kiss has a little more heat in it as Shigaraki starts to steer him towards the stairs, "Of course, pretty boy, always happy to fill up your needy hole." 
"Thank you, sir." Hopes he mistakes the thinness in his voice for arousal as they start to move towards the stairs.
///
There's real work to do through the late afternoon, the others gave updates while they were here, the monster maker is interested in rekindling their working relationship. It's all good stuff for the League, movements towards their goals. But Dabi is only half paying attention. Is really using the bout of normalcy to meditate on everything that's going to happen as soon as they stop working. Feels like that time comes in minutes instead of hours, but eventually Dabi excuses himself to go get started on dinner. Shigaraki lets him go, eyes still way too affectionate as he does. He preps for the meal meticulously, making sure that everything is as perfect as he can get it, and loads the final dish into the oven to cook while he goes about tidying up the rest of the downstairs. 
The others came and went like a tornado which means that by the time he's finished cleaning it actually looks like he did something. But all too soon he's finished with that. Usually leaves prep dishes for after they've finished eating, but he isn't even sure they're going to get to eating tonight, certainly doesn't think he'll be able to delay the inevitable by claiming he needs to deal with them, so he might as well just take care of it all now. When everything is spotless and the smell of dinner is starting to waft around the house he stops dragging his feet and goes upstairs to get changed. 
The black bag wasn't from anywhere particularly scandalous, it's not like there was a fetish store right next to the grocer, but he did not know how he would explain the clothes he got from the modest boutique any more than the plug he's been wearing around. He thinks that he would almost rather pull his skin from his staples instead of slipping into the lace-edged navy panties and matching bra and the dress he'd managed to grab. It's probably a good thing that he's so thin and not too tall, or finding anything in the shop that would have fit him at all would have probably been an impossibility. As is, the A-line black cocktail dress probably wouldn't have fit his broader shoulders if he had picked anything with sleeves instead of straps, but the fabric is just thick enough to cover his bra and sit comfortably over his shoulders, trailing down into the fitted bodice and flared skirt. He looks at himself in the mirror and wants to puke. Doesn't know how Shigaraki could look at him and see a housewife, but this will likely not dissuade him from the notion. Whatever. As long as he doesn't say anything about it in front of the others. 
He forces himself to head back downstairs, giving a brief knock against Duster's door and calling, "Dinner should be ready in ten," before swiftly heading for the stairs. He puts his apron back on to keep his dress as tidy as everything else as he takes the chicken from the oven. Both it and the vegetables roasted alongside come out without any notable issues and he starts to plate things as he hears Tomura coming down the stairs. He is pulling the wine from the fridge when he comes into the room and doesn't force himself to acknowledge him a moment sooner than he has to. 
Really not expecting to find he's not the only one who's dressed up as Shigaraki picks up the plates off of the counter, wearing black dress pants and a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled. Never seen him in anything besides his villain stuff and his sleepwear. Takes him a second of his brain trying to play catch up with how well this 'date night' excuse has gone to cover his escape attempt before he remembers, 
"You don't need to do that, sir. I'll get them--" 
"I know, precious, but your hands are already full. You've already done so much today, baby, come sit down." Pauses him to press a kiss to his cheek and Dabi picks up the wine glasses and follows him over to the table. Tomura pulls his chair out for him like he's a gentleman and not a monster. "You look beautiful, precious." 
He hates himself for how his face heats and how the blush doesn't feel as unhappy and humiliated as it did before. "Thank you, sir." 
Dinner is kind of a blur. He thought he would be playing the simpering housewife, and he is to a degree, but not as large of one as he thought. Shigaraki wants him docile and adoring, but he still wants him, and the conversation shifts easily from work to books he's been reading, to things the others have been getting up to, and all the like. It's calm. The food turned out well. Dabi forces himself to eat even though his stomach is still tight with his dread and finds himself wishing he could drink enough to numb what's going to happen when they're finished, but with how high his nerves are he's more likely just to burn off the alcohol and end up being hung over in half an hour. 
When they're finished eating, Dabi expects to be pushed along upstairs to get on his knees or roll over for the other villain, but Shigaraki helps him clear the table instead. He lets Dabi pull on his gloves and apron and start to wash the dishes, and to his surprise, Duster starts to dry them and put them away, the conversation continuing from the table. And for a split second, he feels it, sees it. The domesticity that could have been real if it had been allowed to bloom naturally. But it doesn't last long. Already mostly washed up before dinner, so soon enough Duster is putting away the last plate and Dabi is reluctantly taking off his apron and gloves again. Not a surprise when Shigaraki moves closer then, catching him with four fingers around his waist and he makes himself tilt his head to accept the kiss immediately. 
"Let's go upstairs, beautiful." 
"Okay," not like he really has a choice about that. 
Shigaraki laces most of their fingers together on one hand and he follows along up the stairs. Is in Duster's room all too soon, and that is a bit of a surprise. Unless he's putting in his plug, Shigaraki always fucks him in his room. Makes his sheets smell like sex that Dabi can't escape without doing laundry constantly, hasn't ever fucked him in his bed before. He shivers slightly when Duster's cool fingers catch the edge of his jaw. Still not used to the coolness of his skin, doesn't know if he ever will be. But he lets the other man kiss him, heat starting to build in it as he's pulled in even closer. 
He makes his hands work, reaching to start to undo the buttons on Tomura's shirt as the kiss deepens. He has to do this, has to survive. What's one more horror? Dabi forces himself to pretend. At least Shigaraki always wants it to feel good for both of them. At least he doesn't think he needs to be scared about being torn open and left bleeding on the sheets. He makes himself stop thinking. Anyone's hands on him, gently pushing him back until his legs hit the edge of the mattress. Someone else's shoulders he's pushing the fabric of their shirt over as he sinks onto the sheets. Doesn't work very well as he spreads his legs so that Duster can climb between them and it's a careful four-fingered touch that's just starting to push up the hem of his skirt. 
"So beautiful in this, baby girl. Didn't know you wanted to get dressed up like this." Mouth moving across his jaw to find the sensitive parts of his neck and send heat spilling out alongside his humiliation in his veins. 
"...I thought you would like it, sir." 
"I do, princess." Voice dripping with his affection and arousal as he finds the zipper running down his back. Dabi blushes hotly as he arches up, pressing more of their bodies together so that he can catch it and start to tug it down. Hates how good the coolness of Shigaraki's body feels against his heated skin as he does. Pulls the zipper low and then starts to slip the straps from his shoulders as he kisses along the same path his hands are traveling. "Do you want to dress like this for me again, sweetheart?" 
No. "Okay, but," his face is so hot as Duster pulls the bodice down his body and sees his bra. Red eyes darken and he can feel him hardening against his thigh. Mortifying how seeing that want, feeling it, is making his own start to spike nervously higher. "Just for you? I-- I don't want anyone else--" 
Tomura catches his lips in another more demanding kiss, swallows up his breath and words before he has him kicking away his dress as he settles back between his legs. Can't help the startled moan that slips out into the kiss as his hands move across his body and tease at his nipple piercings through the fabric cupping his chest. "That's fine, precious, I know you're shy. Can just be something for us." Eyes dragging over him and lingering half hard and already straining the soft fabric of his panties. "I'll have to get you some more things to wear. Will hardly be able to keep my hands off of you knowing you're dressed so cute under your other clothes." 
Lets that tangle up in equal parts arousal and misery as he realizes Tomura is going to keep him in panties as constantly as he keeps him full of his plug. But Sir is trying to make the arousal sit higher in his veins. Seems to want to work him up tonight and knows all of the places that he needs to touch to get that happening faster. Made worse by the constant press of the plug in him, and as his arousal grows, it makes his prostate more sensitive. Every little shift has it prodding against him more intensely and he can't help it when he squirms just wrong and it settles with a pressure firm enough to have a loud moan slipping from between his lips, his hips immediately jumping, wanting to get friction against his aching cock and back again against the plug. He whimpers when he feels how hard Tomura is too. 
"Ready for more, baby?" Lips pressing sweetly against his as fingers trail lower, until he's stroking him through his panties. Dabi's insides tighten unhappily, but that just puts more pressure inside of him, makes his nerves tingle with more of the unwanted pleasure. But he knows what he's supposed to say, 
"Please, sir?" Glad that Duster kisses him again, that he can pretend that he's just so needy for more that it's impatience that has a weak sob slipping from his lips as the sound of him undoing his belt is so loud in the quiet room. He doesn't have long before the last barrier between their skin is removed and he's trying to shift to get onto his hands and knees. Prefers that when Shigaraki does this. At least then he can hide his face against the pillows and sheets, can muffle some of his sobs, and save himself a little of the indignity he's being forced to endure. 
But Shigaraki stops him today, makes him settle with his head against the pillows, and his legs spread wide for him. One hand comes up to stroke his thumb across his cheek. Smears away one of the thin trickles of blood that have managed to sneak out from his eyes. "Stay like this, darling, I want to see you." The other hand moves to catch the base of his plug and Dabi wants to hide, wants to turn his face away as he lets out another moan as it drags along his slick, twitching walls as it's pulled free. "Always blush the prettiest pink when we make love." 
His whole body tenses before he can stop himself, his temperature spiking slightly with his distress. Doesn't know why that upsets him so much, already knew in the back of his mind that's what this was for Shigaraki. But hearing it makes a pain blossom inside of him that he doesn't know what to do with or even where it's come from. Hits him so hard that his distress is plain even through the delusion that Shigaraki has constructed for them apparently, because the next second he's pressing their foreheads together and shushing him gently. 
"It's alright, baby boy. I know you're not there yet. I can wait for you to be ready, as long as you know how much I love you, firefly." Tomura, thankfully, doesn't make him respond. Just gives him more sweet, soft kisses as he starts to press inside. Dabi throws himself into the way his nerves all lit up at being so much fuller, anything to distract him from the agony alight in his chest that he hadn't expected when he'd been resigning himself to the horrors he knew would be coming for him tonight. It's easier for him to suffuse his body with the shame that his reluctant pleasure gives him as Tomura moves inside of him, as his lips and hands move over his body than to accept anything else that is happening in his chest or head now. 
Tomura makes love to him, fucks him, uses him as a receptacle for his fantasies. Makes him fall apart again and again until he's barely conscious, and then pulls him close and keeps murmuring his affection against his hair and skin. It's a mercy when the blackness of sleep finally comes for him, even if that doesn't guarantee that Shigaraki won't use him again while his mind is quiet. 
///
When he wakes next it's to light pressing in against the curtains, blankets angled around his naked skin, and his face tucked tight against Duster's chest. Clinging to the other man in his sleep. His distress and disgust swell because the hands petting along his back are so light, not holding him here. Dabi tries to disentangle himself without getting dusted and startles when he feels a weight around his wrist and hears the tinkling sound of metal on metal. 
The suppression cuff is hooked around his left wrist when he pulls his hand into view. He tries automatically, stupidly, to bring his quirk to the surface of his skin, but it's like missing a step in the dark, leaves him fumbling and terrified. "Tomura?" 
Immediately gets a kiss pressed to the crown of his head before Duster catches his chained hand and laces most of their fingers together. "Last night was wonderful, sweetheart, I loved my surprise. But I told you that you had to stay put. You still deliberately disobeyed me." Brings their entwined knuckles to his lips so he can press a kiss there too. "So from now on you're going to come to my room when it's time for bed, and we're going to sleep like this until I can trust you to be good again." Never going to let him sleep in his own bed again, he knows instinctively. Going to keep him as close as possible until he's his docile, perfect pet, or at least until Dabi acts like it. 
"Yes, sir." His voice is barely his with how small it is. As far as punishments go, it could still be so much worse. Not like having a separate place to sleep ever protected him from Shigaraki in the first place. Doesn't put up any resistance when he catches his chin with two more fingers and tilts his head up to give him a kiss. 
"Good boy. Are you ready to get up, sweetheart? Not sure when the others will be home, want to make sure you're all ready for the day." 
///
They didn't need to rush, though Dabi was honestly more than happy to exchange the handcuff for the more familiar helplessness of his plug, because the others creep in around the mid-afternoon, poking their heads into the living room like they're afraid they're going to find them fucking on the island. Not that Shigaraki hasn't fucked him on the island before, but whatever. As soon as they see they're just sitting in the living room, finished with work stuff, and Dabi's just listening to one of his books while waiting for the laundry to finish as Duster taps away at one of his games, their trepidation quickly leaves and they pour into the room. 
"How was--" Spinner cuffs Toga across the back of her head and parries the immediate retaliation of one of her knives to cut off her question. 
"Welcome back," Duster says with some amusement. Dabi decides, for his sanity, he's going to ignore it all and pulls his headphones off of his ears. 
"You guys eat yet?" 
A round of negatives and he starts towards the kitchen. It's kind of a surprise that Compress follows him there as Toga definitely tries to get any details she can out of Shigaraki, and Twice and Spinner try to reign her in. At least Compress knows how to cook, and they start to make lunch in a mostly comfortable silence as the others grow more raucous in the room beyond. It's only when Twice has launched into a rambling story riddled with loud contradictions, that Mister catches his attention and speaks softly under the din. 
"Thank you for everything you've been doing, Dabi." 
He shrugs, "It's not a big deal, barely have anything to do while Duster has me on lockdown." Not expecting Compress to gently catch his elbow and he really hopes the leather of his gloves is thick enough that the older man doesn't feel his temperature spike with his fear. 
"It's a bigger deal than I think you know, Dabi." Still careful and soft, speaking quietly enough to not draw attention from the others even as his eyes stray back towards the living room. "I don't know what your family situation was like," and god fucking damn it, does Compress just seem to be finding every sore spot to poke at right now. Though thankfully he doesn't keep touching his arm when Dabi pulls away. "But it's clear that the others have never had a home before. I don't think any of them are even capable of telling you how much it means that you've been going out of your way to care for them, and the house, and to treat them like family. This fight will be long, drawn-out, and brutal, and for as much conviction as Shigaraki has, we already know that all of us may not survive to see the end of it. You showing them what it's like to have a home may be the only time they ever get to experience it at all." 
A lump swells in his throat. Toga snarking at Spinner. Twice is gesticulating wildly as he continues to tell his story to Shigaraki, his cheek resting against his knuckles and listening with a wry, amused affection that he never saw on him while they were in Kamino. A home. A family. Shigaraki raped me. The words are choking him. He could say them. He could turn to Compress right now and tell him, ask for help. Compress isn't like the others. He's older, more level-headed, definitely the most stable and mature. Compress would help if he thought he could. And Dabi would destroy the home the League has made here, found with each other. Sour every good memory they have in this house. Doesn't even want to think what Shigaraki will do in the wake of his delusion being broken. If he'll receive the brunt of his retaliation or if the League will. No. He swallows the lump, hides away the words. Locks them up deep inside where he's locked up his name. He's already going to burn one family to ashes. He's not going to do the same to the one he actually... likes. 
"God you're way too melodramatic, Mister." His voice sounds more level than he'd expected it to. Finishes getting things swiftly enough and then calls to the others, "Yo, food's ready."
They make their way into the kitchen, still lively as ever, Spinner's got some new game for them to play after they actually debrief. They get their food with scattered thanks and Dabi waits until most of them are headed towards the table before he catches Duster's sleeve between two fingers to pull him to a stop. Only manages to take a shaky little breath before he closes the space between them for the first time. Tomura stills, thinks he might have actually surprised the other man again. But then he curls a hand around the back of his neck and turns it softer and deeper than Dabi would have on his own. 
When he pulls back Dabi barely manages to breathe, "I love you." The words aren't for Shigaraki. Not now. Maybe someday he'll be able to pretend that they're real, pretend that he means them. But right now he says those words while looking at the monster who's taken more of him than he even thought he had left, and he whispers them for the friends who are whistling and mocking them from the other side of the room. He's only ever endured his suffering for hate before, and that left him half insane in his isolation before he found them. Maybe enduring this, knowing that they'll get to hold onto their happiness a little longer for each moment he does, will be easier with his love for them sitting in his chest and worn on the apron draped around his neck. 
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nastyatticman · 9 months
Text
vague non con adjacent idea
imagine working in a haunted house with some kind of wax museum / living statue theme, and you’re one of the statues
imagine it’s a slow night, and Vincent Sinclair comes through alone, pausing to admire you up close.
you’re waiting for just the right moment to scare him, letting him get close enough to touch you. you let him, somehow.
he’s moving slowly and from what you can see of his half covered face, he’s handsome in his own right. maybe that’s why you let him touch the fabric of your costume?
it’s not like this guy is some pervert who’s trying to grope your ass or anything. he feels the fabric of your coat between his fingers and raises an eyebrow, nods, looks back at your face, and smooths your coat back down.
he looks around quickly. no one is nearby, and you can’t hear anyone coming up behind him, either.
the man reaches into your coat, feeling his way down your side - and stops.
he looks up at your face, eyes wide, and slowly pulls his hand back.
you grab his arm before he can get away.
“at least buy me a drink first!”
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theboyskinkmeme · 4 months
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Please give me de-powered Homelander, at the mercy of Butcher, who just wants to hurt him, REALLY hurt him... for as long as he wants in any way that he wants. Want Homelander trying not to break, trying to be defiant and strong, but he's not used to real pain. Eventually he's brought to tears and begging. Get as creative as you like with methods of pain, non-con, etc...
PROMPT #13
fills get submitted HERE
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gojonanami · 2 months
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https://www.tumblr.com/gojonanami/739810914403074048/bloodsucker-gojodid-this-guy-cheat-on-reader?source=share
Now he wants her back? Is he gonna make her his gf now atleast. I need to know what happensn next ahh. Bloodsucker gojo mf is cocky and I like it sighhh gimme more cocky vamp gojo :<
I guessed u might have forgotten this fic lol since its written quite some time ago
well it's implied that between the time him and reader broke up, he got bit and turned into a vampire -- and gojo is just out for blood (pun intended) and wants reader at the same time--
i mean he probably takes her with him because its also implied she turns into a vampire too now - so who knows? girlfriend or long term, long distance, low commitment, casual, vampire girlfriend lol
but also this fic is dark content- so it's very dub/con, basically non/con, because vampire gojo basically kind of compels reader to be with him when he sneaks up on her. so reader should not be dating him, as much as she should be running away from him because he's terrible lol
no i remember the fic, but the details escaped me since i wrote it months ago and i have a terrible memory T_T (see previous ask from today where i talk about my terrible memory in the tags lol)
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ofc-fics · 1 year
Text
The Shadows Reach (Angelique) NSFW
Read the tags. Not my gif. I rarely make gifs. Read the tags. 
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You didn’t mind the quiet, who really did? But everything in moderation. Too much quiet and your already powerful hearing went to the extreme. Whiring and stomping, construction and screams, little sounds, big sounds, were all amplified by an intensified hearing you never quite adjusted to. Just another part of your curse. You’d heard every sound imaginable in the past who knew how long you were buried. 
Oh, how impolite of you. You were the second-born to Joshua and Naomi Collins. Your older brother pissed off a witch, after stealing her from you. You weren’t bitter or anything. Really. You preferred that he was the one to piss her off because this witch... was your family’s servant. In its way, the curse was a blessing because too much longer without an eye-opener and you might’ve loved her. Only her curse on your family was as eternal as your life. And your brother's. 
The witch cursed you both into vampires, to feel eternal agony, and then locked you in coffins, far from one another. You didn’t know any of this, though you often wondered what had become of him. With eternity to while away, locked in a box, there was little else to do but wonder. 
Time passed so slowly and without anything to break it up so you had no idea how long had passed. Sounds were often muffled, though you still had no problem picking them up. The understanding of the sounds was the difficult bit. 
A new sound startled you from your self-starving status between sleep and at peace vs awake and with a throat like sandpaper. There were definitely footsteps coming toward you. The same footsteps you felt like you’d heard all your life: impatient and confident. Something was chipped away from the outside of your prison, the sound getting closer and closer. The air suddenly got fuller, chock-full of oxygen, though you hardly needed it. 
Time seemed to slow as the lid of your coffin flew off with a loud slam. Hearing only muffled sounds after so long, your instincts kicked into overdrive and you flew high into safety. A ceiling blocked your continued ascent and you landed. 
Angelique Bouchard stood before you, dressed as a prostitute, donning a grin much more cocky and confident than you ever remember her having. Her still striking eyes bore into you. You turned, still fast while she never moved. 
You charged the now-blonde with the intent to kill her, though you felt no hunger to feast on her as you had every other creature since becoming this. You’d barely landed on her before you were flung across the room. Her laugh was just as you remembered. Your body moved quickly again, hopefully giving you an advantage, You found one of two open doors. One went up a set of stairs, one led outside where you could see sunlight. You remembered the burn of its rays and didn’t quite wish to die. You raced up the stairs though every door shut before you could use one. With no other options, you chose death. You raced where you feel the heat.
There were multiple windows. The biggest was your best choice. You made for a wall of a window, which was covered by a large and heavy curtain. Your grip had nearly brought it down when you were pulled away by nothing. You landed hard in a corner, then watched the minuscule amounts of dust and hair fill the air as the fabric collided with the cool ground. 
The blonde was all the way in your space, encroaching so close you wished you did desire to drain her dry. Still, the hunger grew now stronger in her presence. It was still prominent and you were half tempted to sink your teeth into her throat all the same. You’d seen her bleed when you were human. That would’ve been enough had the sweet, metallic smell not taken over your senses. The woman held a clear bag, air-tight and bulging with the deep red fluid. A corner had been torn off and the liquid was leaking down the side. Regardless, the metallic taste already coated your tongue and before you grasped the bag. Your strength nearly got the better of you, though you managed to get your lips around the tear. 
You were messy, unrefined, everything Angelique adored seeing on you. Your nice, noble clothes were getting blood dripped down the front and you clearly didn’t care. That sent a rush of power to her head. The first bag was barely in your grasp before it was drained and she presented another before you cold realign your target to her. 
This bag was sealed, but you’d gotten the gist. Blood still splattered your clothed chest as you tore into it, but you really couldn’t seem to care. The tearing, dry windpipes you still instinctively used rubbed against each other, causing agony, all day. Now, that pain was soothed. The blood which had once made your human form ill now felt like the coolest, softest, richest dessert to calm a boiling stomach, achey limbs, and a spinning mind. It all came down to this. Your new everything. You wished you could kill the witch. And it was nearly an option when the bag of perfect medicine was gone. Time had slowed while you were imbibing, but it didn’t feel like it had been long at all. You were still in such pain and hoped to take it out on the bane of your existence. Only, there was another bag. You feared this would be the rest of your life. This time, you eyed the revealed sun-rays determinedly. 
A hand caught your eye and you jerked away, an involuntary growl rumbling in your chest. Despite it being an accident, you were very pleased. 
Angelique laughed again, throatier, deeper. Your eyes shut and your chest warmed. Damn, you wanted to dive into those sun-rays. That very hand attached to that very witch, clamped onto your shoulder. 
Your chest rumbled again. You turned your chin down, pointed it at her hand, and your mouth left the empty bag to snap at her like a dog. You’d been gone from civilized society so long. Like apparently everything else, your actions only amused the witch. She pulled back in the nick of time, meeting your dark gaze all too easily. She looked at you the way you used to look at her, or how she used to look at your brother. It broke your heart and you slumped against the wall you’d been thrown against, away from Angelique. Your eyes never left her, but the empty bags in your grip suffered for your emotions. 
While Angie appreciated having your attention, she couldn’t bare to leave you in the pained state she was sure you were in. The fact that she put you there was irrelevant. She’d been upset at the time, with your brother, but that wasn’t the point. Angie knelt before you, causing you to shuffle further against the wall. She held out another blood-bag, though not to you. She removed the clamp and tube cover - held it out to you calmly. Like trying to explain evolution to a wild animal. “Drink from the spout.” She held the tube as if to show you. “No teeth.” 
Her French accent was gone. Who knew what else? A part of you mourned it, but another pushed such humanity far away. You wished to bite her, but instead took the bag of blood. It started to flow up the tube and eventually dripped onto a started to flow up the tube and eventually dropped onto a stone floor. You wouldn't allow anymore to go to waste and listened to your maid. You were sucking every drop you could down, but the spout limited you. You examined the room around you while trying to drain the bag. This method was cleaner, though slower, and you were a hair from tearing in when a hand touched tours. You growled again. 
“There are plenty more I have for you. I won’t let you go as hungry as this again. I promise.” She smiled wide, with too much teeth. It felt predatory, but you felt more so. “Try to slow down.” Angelique moved from her knees to her hip and slid closer to you. Another growl, this one singular and simply a warning. She didn’t drop her smile. If anything, the one in her eyes brightened. “Taste it. The curse isn’t all bad.”
Slow intakes, one mouthful at a time was... better, you begrudgingly admitted. It was like euphoria coated your tongue. It sang down your throat after you swallowed. You relaxed against the wall, consuming three more in much the same fashion. Eventually, your eye’s slipped shut and a part, of you relaxed. She would not feed you to merely shut you back in the box. The light of the room lit up the backs of your eyelids to allow you a comfortable rest. You didn’t notice Angelique making her way closer to you until you felt her a hair away from you. Your growl returned with a vengeance, though Angelique was very unafraid. She simply produced another bag and slowly moved her hand up to slide into your hair. You kept growling, but did nothing when there was a blood tube in your mouth. Angelique seemed to sense that and used it to her advantage, as she seemed the type to do nowadays. She brought her hand down through your hair and repeated the action. Your growl’s origin moved to the back of your throat, sounding more deafening and threatening while Angelique continued on taking it to mean your aggression was fading. It had not, nor had your rage. That did not prevent you, apparently, from relaxing your muscles. 
Angelique could’ve made you, you knew, but this felt more like you were finally safe and you were reacting. “You’re so tense,” she mumbled by your ear. Her other hand trailed down your arm almost soothingly, but you recognized that move. You grabbed her wrist and twisted. “Honestly....” She wretched her pale wrist from your grip, her other hand falling away as well. “Calm yourself,” she barked. “I won’t hurt you,” she insisted, her eyes exploring you lecherously. 
You let out another low, throaty warning growl, eyes dark as onyx. 
Angelique gave up her wrist which you let go. Disheartened, she produced another and let you silently sip it down. You never could stand Angelique disappointed and eventually melted into her side. She didn’t dare touch you, but smiled over your shoulder. You laid your head on hers, eyes still on the sunlight floor. 
A few dozen blood bags later, you felt less inclined to kill the first humans you passed. The burning in your throat settled into a familiar constant hunger. You were finally calm, waiting for an explanation. The arm round your waist had other ideas. Your vision and your eyes grew dark, face falling flat. In a single, uncontrolled move, Angelique was across the room, back-down on the stone. She laid just out of the daylight. In a heartbeat, you were on top of her. She already had another bag out, but you weren’t so easily distracted without the overpowering hunger. Your clawed hand was squeezing her throat, eyes pitch black. Your own throat rumbled, aggressively and with a deep hatred. 
Angelique’s grasp on her leverage tightened desperately in minor fear of her life. The plastic popped and blood everywhere. Your clothes were already a soaked mess so that wasn’t a  big deal, but Angelique and her blonde hair splattered. Blood is thicker than water so it stayed on her rather than dripping off to the side, onto the floor. 
Your all-encompassing pupils flexed to a smaller size, allowing for a ring of red just past the whites of your eyes. The dark retreated more the more you took in from the witch. You slowly leaned down and pressed your face into her hair, breathing in the scent of fresh blood plus... something just Angelique. It made you moan against her blonde locks.The witch could see the eye color she’d been deprived of for 2 centuries when you pulled back from her. Your gaze traveled her face, though you clearly didn’t see her. 
That was the first time it occurred to Angelique how detrimental a box for 2 centuries was to a person’s mental health. Your had never been very stable to begin with and she’d been playing with yours and your brother’s minds for some time before cursing and imprisoning you both, 
You accidentally knocked her from those thoughts by licking a glob of blood from her cheek. Ice blue eyes pierced you, though you paid her no mind, working on the delicious, distracting smell. Your chest rumbled gentler than it had any other time that evening. You were... purring, Angelique distinguished. She didn’t move, allow you to... take care of her as you pleased. You kitten-licked all over her face, contented purring rumbling nonstop. It grew louder, clearer, and more like a moan when you opened your mouth. It was practically a hum, when you left your maw wide, tongue wandering the expanse of her throat. 
The blonde moaned in abandon, hips canting up to meet yours. You paid no mind to her movements until she fisted your hair. You yanked from her hold, growling down, violent in a moment and your grip on her throat tightened to the point cracks appeared, spreading quickly. Before you’d had a chance to examine her injuries, you were flung yourself, but twisted in the air. You landed hard against the wall, but slid down it and landed well. You were again pushed against the wall, Angelique before you again in another moment. “I woke you up on a whim, I will put you back down.” She huffed in exasperation. “I won’t hurt you,” she insisted. 
You’d heard that before, even from her. And, anyway, she just threatened you. You growled in disagreement. 
Angelique paused and seemed to understand. “...again. Not unless I have to bury you again.” 
You growled again. 
“Somehow, some way, she still understood you. Frowning, she moved her head to look around you at your back. She moved her hands to disrobe you, but another growl made her think better of it. Silently at her wit’s end, Angelique simply produced another feeding bag, you finally noticed, by magic. 
A part of you feared its contents, but your logic knew if she wanted to curse, enchant, or poison you, she could’ve done so with any other bag. You fed slowly, watching her cautiously. 
“...Come with me,” Angelique finally decided, leading you up the stairs she had barred you from using. 
You did, and saw the rest of her house. It was nowhere as grand or  massive as Collinwood, you’d never been fond of the drafty, empty home. You were shown a well-tiled room with acoustics and what appeared to be a jade tub as a part of the wall, and a light, strange-clothed curtain pulled to the side. 
Angelique bent over the edge, you purposefully diverted your eyes, and turned one of the knobs. Water poured from the ceiling and you stepped back abruptly. Her head turned as she heard your retreating footsteps. “Indoor plumbing,” she explained as steam filled the cool room. The blonde stood right and faced you again. Without preamble, she moved behind you. She moved slowly so as not to spook you, but she took your corset strings. It was just like home again. Angelique was playing servant again, to gain your trust again. She helped you undress, though you insisted on being modest until she left the room. She explained the hygienic advancement before leaving you to bathe standing. It was a revelation and a travesty. The world moved on and got along fine without you. 
The towel left for you was large and plush, and so soft. But your clothes were missing. With a frown, you ran your hand through your hair, switching between rubbing and scrunching. You dried yourself off next, somehow managed to turn the lovely, warm water off, then stepped out into the room you and Angelique entered through. 
The now-blonde was standing at the foot of a large bed, her back facing you. Aware of how nothing you were wearing, you went to step back into the lavatory. Your host turned too soon, spotting you easily. Her cold eyes examined every speck of bare skin you were attempting to hide. But Angelique somehow moved faster than you and caught your wrist. You growled again, though she was not intimidated. She pulled you beside her, showing you the selection of clothes spread on the bed. Your growling ceased as you understood and it occurred to you that she wouldn’t have forced you back in your coffin. You weren’t released on a whim, and she bought these clothes recently, and for you. You had always been bigger than the petite French woman and these clothes were not for her. 
You tried to retreat again, but she held you firm. 
“I’m not picking out your clothes,” she scolded lightly before holding up a garment you recognized. She knelt before you to help, but you were back in the lavatory in an instant. You heard her exhausted sigh then her footsteps. She  knocked on the door. “I’ve seen you in worse straits than this,” she reminded you. This was true. She’d been there for your first monthly, and everyone after that. She’d been there for a few traumas you wished you didn’t remember and would never repeat. Still, you said nothing. She sighed once more, surrendering to you once more. “Fine, try to dress yourself. I will be just outside your door should you require  assistance.” This woman enjoyed messing with your mind entirely too much. That was precisely what she said anytime you were uncomfortable with aid and she was sure you would need some, especially hers. The outer door opened and shut, and you slowly opened yours, sticking your head out. Angelique was nowhere in sight. Sadly, that didn’t mean much. 
Nevertheless, you stepped from the bathing room and re-approached the clothes-laden bed. The undergarments were lighter than you expected, than you remembered. The women’s clothes had expanded! The options had such variety! Trousers were supplied! One was a dark, but smooth fabric, another was a blue, thready fabric. They both had pockets, another unexpected development. You so wished to wear one such pair for the storage, but you had nothing to store. One skirt was long as your usual type, but another would only reach your knees, and it was torn on the side. Angelique was rarely wrong, and had never made an oversight in the time you'd known her, so you estimated this was intentional. You wondered how you would keep your legs warm in such a chilly town. One proffered dress was designed just as short: another was as long as the ones from your youth. And the shirts! You were accustomed to frilly, many-fold clothing, but the low collars and short, belly-exposing style was new and deeply improper. 
You sighed and went about dressing, trying different clothes together. ome modern fasteners gave you pause, but you were a smart girl and you were more than capable of figuring it out. Until you weren’t. 
Unbeknownst to you, Angelique was watching you through the bathroom’s other door’s room: her bedroom. The mirror allowed her to hide in the shadows as she was accustomed to, while it hid none of you from her. She saw you chose the long skirt she’d known you would pick. She also saw you struggle with a shirt donning modern buttons. She was surprised you weren’t accidentally tearing clothes with your new strength. Well, it was hardly new, though you’d had little chance to practice with it. The blonde held her hand at her own throat. The cracks healed, but she remembered your hold. It was meant to be threatening, but your grip on her always felt... secure. Like if given the chance, you would never let her go. It was all she ever wanted and she wanted from you again. She remembered your infatuation with her before she grew enraptured with your brother. She never realized how much of a mistake it was to let you go until after she’d buried you beneath where she would build her own grand home. 
Unable to resist, she left her room, then entered by your door she’d claimed to remain outside of. It wasn’t as if you would ask her for help anyway. She took the shirt from your grasp, ignoring the sound of protest you didn’t make. She pulled the opposite front side of the shirt apart, making the buttons pop apart. You gasped and flinched, causing Angelique to smirk. She helped you into it like she was your servant again. She buttoned the front up for you, watching you take the last button and investigate it. 
You pressed the bump into the hollow part and jumped again at the click. You pulled it apart and pressed it together a few times until you were satisfied it wasn’t broken and wouldn’t break. 
Angie buttoned it low enough to show some cleavage and you buttoned it to your throat. She smirked. 
*
Modern Collinsport was... loud. And bright. And brought you out into the world at night and the city was still simply... alive. Collinsport was full of windows which were full of lights and object. You stood before a barrel for crackers and gaped at the small precise lights surrounding the edges of the glass. You suspected this was magic. 
When had Angelique become so public with her practicing? You feared a public burning before reminding yourself you didn’t care anything about her. You really wished your heart could understand the concept. The lights went out, startling you. You jumped, then was forced to look at your temptress as she laughed deep and dark at your naivety. 
Her hand rested on the window, first 2 fingers pointed to an odd piece of architecture jetting out of the wall. It flicked down when Angelique’s fingers did and you jumped again, watching in awe as the light returned to the glass enclosure. You gazed at the lights and then the switch. Your fingers touched the opposite side of the window to the fairy lights. 
A hand on your waist prompted you to continue walking along the cement walk-way. You whined as you were pulled away. You frowned hopefully at her and had to fight tears at her callous laughter. 
Everywhere you went, everyone knew Angelique. That prompted some curiosity about you. No one recognized you, a small mercy. You were no more comfortable in the spotlight than you were 2 centuries.  
Angelique reveled in the lack of change. She got to play hero, hiding you with the arm you chose to shield you and with vague answers. It would bite her later, but Angie ruled this time and she could use the mystery of you or your family name to boost her reputation more. Mostly, though, she just wanted you. Your attention, your love, your voice. Oh, how she missed your voice. She couldn’t even dream of it anymore. Her memories of your singing and your high keens and even simple conversations were lost. Your voice was gone from Angelique. Perhaps it was gone from you as well. 
The docks had changed. Angelique, or Angie as your town’s people called her, explained it was a metal to make them stronger. New age, you reminded yourself. You sighed as the sailors tied their knots wrong, and rusty boats rested at the far corner soiling the entire docks. You were prompted along again and you had half a mind to insist you could stay and watch the new age. You could do it, but you knew you would have to tell Angelique in order for her to entertain the hope. 
A big tour of your small home and you were back at Angie’s. You hesitated at the beginning of her driveway. One of the few things you had wanted to see was Collinwood. And Angie knew that. She had to have. The now-blonde stepped back to your stiff, stubborn face. You met her eyes with no fear. 
Angie smirked, knowing what she’d left off. “Collinwood is gone.” She took your elbow. “My curse destroyed your wretched family and took the manor with it.” 
You still didn’t move. Unconvinced eyed bored into the witch. 
Angie sighed. “I’ve had it with your stubbornness.” Her hand formed a claw and the hunger burns from your re-awakening erupted back in your throat. She straightened her arm and you were forced to your knees. She enjoyed you in this position far too much. “Say something!” she demanded, voice steeped in desperation. 
You stared up at her defiantly. You wanted to curse at her, scream, make demands, a million frustrated actions, but you restrained yourself. 
Gritted teeth shielded a growl, though it did nothing to muffle it. Her elbow jerked back and you flew to your feet and knocked into Angie. She held you in a tight grip, pulling you down the driveway. Your feet caught on the ground and you resisted her grasp. She had definitely mastered her commanding voice, you discovered w, when she shouted your name in scolding and to demand you obedience. When you did nothing but stare and go even more stiff than a corpse, one hand flew up to your hair, pulling you with much more success. A pained scream flew from your throat. The other hand never surrendered its grasp on your hip. She still used the hand to help maneuver you. Upon hearing your, albeit limited, voice use, she yanked you to be on the same level as her, her face right against yours. “So you can speak.” 
You spit over at her. 
Enraged, she threw you against her front door. When had you reached it? Before you had a chance to react, or heaven hoped, run, she was pressed all the way up against your back. The moment broke by her grasp on the door handle and her forcing the door open. You were shoved in after, then taken up the stairs by just your hair in her fist. 
You thought you were going to your room until you were forced to keep going. You passed your door, but was forced to the next. 
This bedroom was larger than any you’d ever been in. Angelique had clearly been determined to best your family in every way. Her room was painted a blue-green color combo and the large room felt even bigger due to the high ceiling. You both would drown in the massive bed and you’d never find each other or a life raft. A massive wardrobe rested on a far wall, though the large, walk-in closet still held her shoes and you almost thought the wardrobe was for over-flow. The massive open floor-space left a target for Angelique to toss you on 
Your arms caught you, but this was revealed as a pit-stop when the witch seized your hair again, the roots burning as you resisted. The bed was miles closer when you laid eyes on it next. The massive bed was like a giant cloud. When you landed harshly, you feared you would sink through and remain trapped with her  and in her bed. The blonde mounted you, looking down with the eyes of a predator. Her harsh grip never relented, though you were able to fight back now that the world had stopped spinning as you were moved about. Your hands met and opposing strengths pushed and pulled, gave and took. You slapped the cheek you’d spat on and she pulled dark locks out by the root and you fears your head would pop off with the force of her hold on your throat. You held her wrist, scratching and wishing you could bite her as rage boiled the blood in your stomach. Another growl slipped over your lips and her grip on your neck tightened even more. 
“That’s it. Use that voice.” Her legs around your waist tightened and Angelique leaned in closer, her face coming to hover above yours. Her lips grazed you before she whispered, “Let me hear you.” Her soft tone almost made her demand sound like a plea. Anger shifted into sentiment and her hands began urgently tearing at your clothes. Your strange button didn’t even go flying. Her grip returned to your throat, though far gentler. Her free hand groped every inch of free skin she’d denied herself when you were dressing. She kissed you. 
You cursed your weakness, how easily you melted into her cloud at the touch of her lips. One of your hands buried itself in her new pale locks. Neither of you needed air, but “Angie”, it seemed, needed the intimacy. She broke apart from you to rest her forehead against yours. “”Oh,” you hummed lowly, “I hate you.”  Another growl resided in your throat, but you held it, and all other sounds back. 
Ice blue eyes flew open and she seemed too in awe to recognize the hateful words. If anything, they seemed to encourage her. Her hands were rougher as she handled you, firmly, but not painfully maneuvering your head by your hair and palming your breast with far too much confidence. “You don’t,” she finally answered without doubt. “My girl,” she mumbled under her breath. She pressed her lips to the skin beneath the curve of her thumb. “.. could never hate me.” She sank her teeth into your next, prying a moan from between your lips and coaxing your chest up against hers. Angelique growled, pulling your skirt up over your legs, knees, then hips with her stubbornness. And there your skirt stayed while Angelique moved lower. 
Your hand stayed in her hair and that’s how you discovered her trajectory with your eyes shut. It had been so long since you’d felt anything so nice, a loving touch, and it was all too easy to fall into it. “Ahn-” 
Her devil-tongue traced loops over your sopping center, derailing your thoughts masterfully. “I was always so determined to own you, I forgot to earn it.” That was all she said before wrapping her arms around your thighs and diving in. 
A high keen tore from you throat and your hops wiggled. You’d shoved your shoulders back against the pillow, legs tightening. “You.”  Angie nearly felt hope, past the elation of you speaking again, until you finished your protest. “...killed my parents.” You whined back in your throat. “My whole bloody family.” The last word came out as a whine as Angelique’s... magical tongue covered your core. 
“Get over it, kitten. That was centuries ago.” The witch eyes your exposed, drenched, and barrier-free sex. She bared her teeth before lunging at her life-long goal. Her teeth enclosed then teased your clit mercilessly. You whined and writhed under her, your legs giving her the most trouble. 
You couldn’t be blamed for the consequences of her actions. You were resolute in that, one of the last things you were resolute about that night. Pain didn’t even register as it crashed into the ecstasy of her teasing fingers and her grip on your legs. Words evading your throat again, but this time not by choice. The sounds pried from your weren’t human and eventually the blonde got fed up with your reactions getting in her way. She pulled back to rasp a very sexy word in an even sexier voice. Suddenly, you were unable to move. Angelique pulled you even closer, intoxicating eyes taking in your limp form as she did as she damn-well pleased with you. Slipping her mouth lower, her tongue moved inside of you. 
It pushed and push and kept going, filling you up until your eyes slammed shut. You choked on the sounds torn from your throat, and you were practically shaking. You did feel like you were moving, but you knew that was impossible. She pushed her hot, wet muscle further inside you and it curled. “Ooo...!” you crooned involuntarily. 
Angelique hadn’t quite been planning this part of your reunion, but if she had it would have disappointed. One hand left your thigh, arm still looped around ti, to massage her fingers against your bundle of tense nerves. You wailed even more, treacherous limbs refusing to get you any closer to losing your ind which, for some reason, was all you wanted. That demon-tongue just kept coming. She provided no relief, only more tension which left you on the brink of tears. Sobs ripped from your chest all the same and Angelique fed off them, feeling harder. Her tongue ran along your every wall until they quaked around her. You were moaning mess with ruined hair. Eventually, she searched your highest wall. Her smooth tongue found a rough patch that made you wail rhythmically. She ran her entire tongue along it, curving at times. The sides of her forked tongue teased the spongy wall while the rest of her tongue continue trusting in and out of you. 
You wept, every part of you trembling, quaking under the force of Angelique Bouchard. Her top teeth gnawed at your clit, sharp nails digging into your pale thighs, and her tongue still moving in and out of you. You wanted to buck up into her, but remained trapped in your own body. She was beyond your comprehension. Your mind was a jumbled mess of half-thoughts, hormones, and a series of high pitched keens. Somehow, Angelique was still inside you, pitching you higher and higher, and her tongue also rubbed a curled loop over your sensitive nerves. In that instant, your body was released and you didn’t even notice. Your back went as taunt as a bow and Angie was the arrow with electric precision. Your hips rolled into her warm mouth with thoughtless expertise, your head forced itself into the pillow, knotting it cruelly, and one hand pulled up at her scalp while the other shredded her shoulder, drawing blood. No sound escaped you as you flooded and soaked Angie, eyes crossing. You were only just returning to yourself as the witch pulled you higher against her. 
One hand fell from her shoulder, limp on the bed. Solid, and thicker, something slid into you with no resistance. “Ahngeli-” Your hand tightened in her hair. “Too-”
“I’ve finally got you-” She curled her gingers as she moved within you, “Right where I’ve wanted you.” Your hips flinched into her hand and she used the freedom to plant her arm across your waist to manually pun you You could still move, which was fun for both of you. “And you want the games to end?” she pressed the tip of her tongue to your sore nub. 
You jerked your hips away, though you didn’t get far. “Bloody...!” You watched her the entire time she did this, though your head fell back she began a new teasing. 
“Angelique...” bubbled over your lips pitifully. 
*
The sun was starting to paint the sky beautifully when the witch awoke. She looked down at your naked form with a victorious grin. Not only had you slept together, finally, but you slept at night. Her chest filled with pride at the guarantee you wouldn’t bump into your brother who, after fixing and contracting the cannery, returned to his routine of sleeping during the day and rising at sunset. The ancient witch began an even older lullaby, trailing a hand through your loose locks. Her fingers wandered down the column of your neck, and over your shoulder. Her arm over-lapped with your own and there you both laid, a sleepy morning with her favorite girl. 
The sun marked the passage of time, which was lucky because Angie didn’t. As it traveled her bed, ice blue eyes came open. The rays came too close to you, your fingers shaking red at the mere proximity. 
A smug, knowing smirk donned Angelique’s face as she knotted your fingers together. The pink faded and, half an hour later, the light shone on your entire arm with no smoke in sight. 
It was nearly nine and Angelique was ready to start the day in any way. Luckily, not long after, your body woke up to the bright sun blinding your shut eyes. Your waking was a slow process and Angie adored every second. You wrinkled your nose, a human habit suspended and now brought back, your fingers twitching along hers. You stretched and something popped. You purposefully relaxed more than you had before in your long life. You buried your face in your arms to hide from the blinding sun before you slowly brought your head back out. Your eyes stared directly at the sun and Angie smiled over your shoulder. Your face was warm. A faint smile donned your features and you stood. The blonde watched you pull the curtains apart, revealing more sun. The ground around you shone brighter in the morning rays, and your arms spread wide at your sides. You gasped haltingly, though slowly and gradually. Your eyes found the lock on the window and you un-latched it and pushed it open. 
Morning air... crisp, fresh, morning Collinsport air. You’d forgotten it smelled different from evening air. It smelled like hope. Or maybe that was just your wishful thinking. 
Unbeknownst to you, the blonde taking in your happiness was feeling just the same. 
*
It took time you both had and patience Angie was sure she didn’t. You were non-verbal again, and you weren’t comfortable with random touches yet either. Even when you saw it coming, the woman who cursed you still did not have your trust. 
Passion never took the two of you again and Angie’s gentle seduction only freaked you out. She was at her wit’s end again and her magical disruptions had you hiding. And you could go in the sun. Angelique feared you would use her gift to safely leave her, but couldn’t bear to rescind it. 
You went to work with her every day, and Angie praised her intellect to sound-proof her office. The morale trips through the cannery were Hell for you, though you recognized her need to keep you close because of her paranoia. You were just another thing she owned. Modern canneries were... loud. People speaking, you could handle. Modern machines made loud beeps, chirps, hisses, clunks, and the people had to shout louder than you could handle. Her office, a large room with a long table and a million paintings of Angelique’s 200 year evolution, was quiet.
*
Modern courtship was strange. Walks at night, you were familiar with. It was expected. But you and Angie  never left her home unless the sun was out. Your dinners were eaten before sunset and if you took too long, Angie rushed you often. When you ate the good modern good; there was little you could stomach. She was threatening to drive you mad. You were suspicious and quieter than usual. Days spent in a bright town, your brought town, and nights were spent isolated with the woman who ruined your life. 
Another work day with Angie ended early when a blonde standing before the remodeled Collins Cannery cut a ribbon. 
Those idiotic men she worked with were driving Angie to the brink. It was hardly their fault. They didn’t know the cannery was a beacon to the most important person in their CEO’s life. 
And it was. While old, white men wasted Angie’s time, you wandered in to the sun. The cars on the road made you jump every time they passed. The blonde before the cannery you’d manged for nearly a year resembled your mother, though. It gave you courage. Perhaps it blinded you. Either way, you crossed the cement target lanes. You stood out front. Business had moved inside and the building made those terrible sounds that Angie’s did, giving you pause. 
You stared mindlessly until something grabbed your arm. It startled you and so you didn’t resist getting spun around. A redhead held your arm. You stared at the short, curled locks. You’d never seen red hair. You reached out to touch it and she let you, in a state of shock herself. “Jesus,” was all she said at first. You didn’t say anything, big surprise. “Are you Y/N?” You didn’t react. “You look just like your portrait with Barnabas.”
You wondered if she was a relative. You could also understand your family home becoming popular in the modern day. Perhaps that was why Angie didn’t want you going near it. 
“He said-”
Your eyes flew to her deep green. They were callous usually but soft now; you were familiar with the type. “My brother died centuries ago,” you cut her off, speaking outside of Angie’s home for the first time in 200. 
It wasn’t callous. It was scientific, like when your cousin, the doctor, Arnold, heard of your miraculously healing broken arm. She was intrigued by you. “Not. Had him in my office this morning.” Her gaze turned lecherous, taking you in. You were, again, familiar with the type. “We should get you back to the manor. You had 5 descendants who would take you in.” She thought you were lost. 
“Curse of my own, boil.” Angie’s voice came from  behind you. You had no chance to turn before she was at your side, touching you. 
The redhead slowly flushed before her face kept burning. Angie was good with heat: taking heat from your skin and placing some in some random harlot. You doubted she was honest. Barnabas would never allow you to remain in her home, imprisoned for as long as he was alive. Angelique turned to you. She didn’t bother asking you any questions. You could lie or use the moment to flee. “Curse of my own, fall.” 
Everything went dark. 
*
Light filtered in slowly. And it was faint. It seemed to be on the outreaches of your perception. You opened your eyes wide to get a full view. 
Angelique pushed herself into your field of view so she was all you could see. Just how she liked you. You stared at her in blatant confusion. She smiled widely, expectantly. Eventually, her patience ran out. She groped you. “Secret’s out, again.” She smiled wide again. You felt distinctly cold. “Not to worry, kitten,” she sang, high pitched and teasing. She narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips, leaning in, predatory. Even to you, the immortal killer. She got closer, essentially pushing you flat against a cold floor. You’d grown re-accustomed to warm beds and daylight, and it settled back into your bones, like you were in the Earth again. “I’ll not lock you away again. Well, not in the box. But I think your day-trips are done.” She half-winked - you didn’t understand either - and added, “For a time.” She smiled like the sun. “You were doing so good too!” she praised. 
You wiggled away. You hated how owned she made you feel, owned by her. 
Angie frowned, disapproving; her grip tightened. She kept you close. “We were. You would’ve been mine and everyone already knew it.” She sighed in disappointment, in lost dreams. “We’ll get back there, but, until then, you’re not leaving this room.” She pulled away. 
Alarmed, you went to follow, but you couldn’t. Your arms caught and they could go no further. You looked down to see manacles, still... manifesting. You looked up at her urgently. . “Angie- Ahn-jel- Angelique- don’t- don’t do this. Angel-” You shook your head and stared, determined. 
At the age-old nickname, dating back to your shared youth, Angie smiled gently, though still wide. Borderline manic. Ok, blatantly manic.
You were slow and gentle, as if she would shatter, presenting your wrists. “P-please, let me out.” You were shaking in your terror. 
Angelique misinterpreted, as she always did. She cupped your face. “No.” And she left you alone in the dark, again. 
246 notes · View notes
nyctcphiliacs · 3 months
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open to: m/f/nb muse: dahlia walton; the princess
Dahlia couldn't quite remember when it started, her compliance to their requests. She supposed it started subtly initially, giving in a little at a time, making things easier for herself. And they were right; the more she allowed for, the easier things became until suddenly things weren't too terrible at all, at least compared to what had been before. The sound of footsteps was always the first thing to draw her attention, yet an eagerness began to replace the dread that used to fill her form. The look of disgust that used to twist features became one of admiration over the days, or she supposed it was weeks now. "Good morning," Called tho she dared not move, at least not yet.
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ex0rin · 10 months
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Hide and Seek (E)
From the Merry Whump of May 2022 (why yes I am a year late on this one 😅)
May 9th "You can cry, it's okay" (E) Hide and seek | Phone call | Midnight 
Rumlow/Bucky - 4850 words
non-con/rape, conditioning, anal fingering, anal sex, rough sex, riding, choking, the mildest of daddy kink, dirty talk, wet & messy, come eating, mild medical procedures, hydra trash party
Rumlow moves from room to room, peering under tables and checking every closet and corner like he’s playing a ridiculous game of hide and seek with the most dangerous killing machine the world’s never even fucking heard of. He finds the soldier in the last place he looks because of course.
OR: Rumlow gets called back into work to deal with a missing asset.
READ ON AO3 HERE: Hide and Seek
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angst-after-dark · 1 year
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CW: BBU/BBU-ADJACENT, NONCON/DUBCON EXPLICIT, DRUGGING, DEHUMANIZATION, FORCED TO PERFORM
Peyton belongs to @wildfaewhump and is used with permission.
TAGLIST: @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump, @poc-whump, @badgerwhump, @flowersarefreetherapy, @gottawhump
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He wakes to his master’s hands pulling him out of bed, onto the floor and onto his lap. Sleep-fogged and disoriented, he struggles for just a moment, whimpering as he shifts, but quickly falling silent and allowing his Sir to move him, limp, pliant, and content. Each stroke of Sir's hand on his head, fingers digging softly through his hair and scratching his scalp, is soothing.
“It’s all right, Sweetheart," Sir whispers but the pet shifts again. He nuzzles Sir's stomach and clings, something buzzing in the back of his mind. Sir rarely wakes him up early. He's usually gone, racing around Central Park and buying smoothies, coffee and treats to bring home to him, before the pet wakes. The change in routine is a bit startling, something is wrong, something has changed and the pet scrambles to remember last night's events. Had he not pleased Sir? His lips brush from Sir's stomach down to the waistband of his shorts. His tongue glides over smooth silk, fabric gently, playfully gripped between his teeth. He tilts his head slightly, upwards, and blinks coyly up at him.
Sir laughs and the pet smiles. It flickers when he's pushed away. It's fixed when Sir gathers him up again and kisses him. "Everything's fine, Sweetheart.”
But there's no warning. A sharp pain stabs him in the neck and the pet jerks away and whimpers, trembling hands going to his neck as if he could stop the pain, wide eyes full of betrayal and confusion.
Sir doesn't punish him for being bad. He doesn't get angry at the pet for pulling away, grinning and gathering him up again. He gives him another kiss, softly apologetic and sweet, and the pet returns it, eager and desperate. He's good, so good.
“It’s okay, that’s it, we’re done,” he murmurs. “You’re being so good for me.”
It takes a while, no one has ever accused the pet of being a genius, for him to realize what the injection was for. The heat pooling at his stomach and flashing fire down his inner thighs is something akin to torture. sir has kept his hands off of the pet all morning reason why he should suddenly be feeling aroused, even though his master has kept his hands off him this morning. He whines low in his throat, half-asleep after dozing all morning, as his cock grows hard and insistent. Only vaguely aware of himself, he shifts, not realizing that he’s instinctively grinding his hips against the floor until footsteps walking by jolt him awake.
The pet blinks, biting back a moan, shuddering when Sir pets his head. He whines, voice soft and sweet, crawling on his hands and knees and doing his best not to rub anything against his dick.
Instead, he rubs his cheek on Sir's pant leg, shivering again and biting his lips. He's been edged before, stirred up, teased, and left alone for hours until Sir was ready for him. He's never required drugs to love Sir. It feels like a punishment and the pet isn't sure what he's done wrong.
"Please, Sir?" He breathes, "Please? I want you. I'll be so good."
“Not yet, Sweetheart," he says gently, "Save it for later. Save it for your gift."
Sir pulls him into his lap on the sofa. He swallows another moans, desperate, as his dick makes contact with Sir's pant leg. He twitches, desire and need thrumming through him. His duck throbs. Sir settles him in places, laughing softly with a kiss on the side of his head
“I didn't realize," he murmurs, lips on the pet's neck, sucking and sucking and sucking. He strokes the pet's back, "That it'd be this difficult. But you'll be good, won't you Sweetheart? Earn your gift?"
He brings the pet with him down to the guest room.
The pet's "gift" is already prepped and cuffed to the bed, all wrapped up for him in tiny, expensive gold panties that does nothing to hide their assets.
They're held fast by a golden harness stained with red and wrapped around their abdomen. Bruises litter their body, raising their skin with deep welts, some red with blood, others almost black. Their eyes are closed and despite the damage done to them, their chest steadily rises and falls.
The pet groans, his cock throbbing at the sight of them. It’s difficult to remain still, his body increasingly desperate for release. All he can think about is how much he needs to be touched but he doesn't want to touch them.
He stiffens a little, then clings closer to Sir, carefully draping himself across his lap. He looks up at him with a shy smile, hand on his own bulk. "Don't want me yourself, Sir?"
"Are you refusing my gift, Sweetheart?" Sir tilts his head up and kisses him on the mouth. The pet parts his lips, closes his eyes and yields to it. When he opens his eyes again after Sir pulls back he finds him master staring at him intently, studying his face.
“You,” he whispers, “are my gift and they are yours. Merry Christmas."
A shiver runs down the pet's spine; he wants to beg, to protest but after a moment of tense silence, Sir releases him and he moves their legs apart, giving him space to kneel between as he’s supposed to. They make another small, choked noise and the pet finds himself wanting to look up at them, desperate to reassure them, but resists the urge and leans down instead, delicately licking and mouthing at them in exactly the same way that he’s attended to so many of Sir and Miss Dahlia's other guests. If he closes his eyes he can almost pretend that everything is normal, that this is Sir, though most of their friends tend to be half-hard already by the time they finally get to use the pet, and the gift taking longer than usual to respond to the pet's attention.
The gift's breathing is unsteady, and when the per finally takes them into his mouth he hears a stifled sob. It makes his stomach lurch, twisting with a sense of something….strange, something he's unused to.
He can't stop, of course, and pushes deeper into without even slightly gagging. It's alright. He'd make them like it. He'd make them like it and be good.
The gift doesn’t touch him, doesn’t speak and the pet continues, undeterred. His own cock throbs painfully when the release of hot cum down his throat is accompanied by quiet sobs and the gift finally dares to touch him, twining their fingers in the pet's hair.
He doesn’t move to pull away when they finish. He knows he should continue offering himself to a client but he hears Sir snap his fingers, and hurriedly crawls to his side. Sir doesn’t pick him up, but lets him lean against his leg at his side, idly stroking the pet's hair and his face.
The pet nuzzles into his thigh and struggles to control his breathing. He’s still painfully hard. How long will Sir make him stay like this?
Sir keeps stroking his hair, gentle and soothing and motions for the pet to climb into his lap. “You don’t need to be sorry, pet,” he murmurs. “You did wonderfully. I’m not angry. Just rest now.”
He sobs, curling forward against his master’s chest, wrapping his arms around Sir's neck to anchor himself. Sir is speaking, his chest rumbling with the words, but the pet doesn’t think it’s meant for him and even if it is he’s too far gone to listen or understand, consumed by the agonizing pleasure ripping him apart from the inside. He’s undone, and it’s nothing but a relief.
He can’t speak coherently enough to ask for permission to come, but maybe Sir taking hold of his aching cock is permission enough, engulfing it in his hand. It’s not like he can stop himself, anyway; there’s nothing he can do to prevent the long-overdue orgasm that rips through him, deafening all his other senses, and leaving nothing but blessed silence in its wake.
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zmediaoutlet · 6 months
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I think about ur Deanna EVERY DAY OF MY LIFE I can’t stop thinking about her PREGNANT WITH JACK and sam LOSING IT and them both having a weird like “well I guess it’s not an incest baby… LIKE I WANTED” moment
honestly this, bud anon. I mean I tend to try to write them as down-to-earth and canon-close as possible considering the boinking, but the next scene I'm pondering in that not-quite-a-fic is them at a doctor to get a 2nd opinion bc surely the piss test can't be right, right? and getting the positive result, and Deanna looking blankly into the middle distance, and Sam looking at her and looking at her stomach and then taking a very deep breath and saying absolutely nothing at all, because not only is it not his, it's HIS, and that's -- you can imagine Lucifer torturing him with that kind of imagery, can't you? I can. Talking about all the days Deanna was on her back in those first 30 years of hell and wondering how many hellhound puppies she whelped, and if only Lucifer could've got out of the cage to do his part --
but then Deanna's ears are red and her lips are pressed tight and Sam has to come back and not say all the things he's thinking because that would only hurt her more. Any of his own weird tangled terrors and jealousies have to wait.
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r0-boat · 2 years
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WOW NON CON WARNING
Cw: non con, yandere
im down baaaaad
Shane thirst
You never leave your door locked. Maybe it's because you trust this little town too much. Or maybe it's the front door that's been broken for years and Robin never got around to fixing it.
Your so cute you know that?
So bright so trusting so optimistic...
Makes him sick to be honest...
God he hated you out of all the people in this town he hated you the most.
So lucky to have people who care about you so we love you to have such an escape from your awful past life you've already been here for what a couple months and he cant stop hearing about you....
Fucking even his boss Can't Stop talking about you.
'Shane be more like the farmer' 'Shane the farmer Works harder than you' 'if the farmer worked at the company they would easily rise-' blah blah blah.
As much as he hates you he can't help but love you.
As much as he wanted to he could never hate you for long.
He can't stop thinking about you... your sunny smile, your weird but refreshing personality, fuck he wants to lock you away and keep that all to himself.
It's a routine now, twice a week instead of going to the saloon he gets drunk on something else. Your scent, your tight hole. Your helpless sleeping form groaning and gasping as he fucks you deeper.
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whump-queen92 · 3 months
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Tumblr media
Artwork by the lovely @grayweathersby
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defectivexfragmented · 8 months
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I'm disappointed I have to post this; non-con situations need to be discussed thoroughly beforehand. If you put one of my boys in scenario where it's suddenly non-consensual because of your muse's inner monologue or ooc comments, I am going to reply with pulling my muse out of it. For example, your muse saying to mine "I want you to fuck me" while the inner monologue says "I don't want to do this". Even if its simply the verbiage being used to suggest your muse doesn't want the situation to play out or isn't comfortable. I am going to find a way, whether it be a knock at the door or a cell phone ringing, to pull my muse out of the situation or I am going to drop the thread. I don't care if that is considered meta-gaming or god-modding. I will not allow for my muses to be tricked into participating in non-con.
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nastyatticman · 1 year
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another Eddie Gluskin x reader idea - pre Outlast game, but Mount Massive has gone to shit
TW: non con, public humiliation
I’m thinking you were working at Mount Massive, watching things go downhill fast.
It was getting concerning since you were still, somehow, trying to advocate for the patients. Even if all you could do was make a small difference in their days, show a little bit of kindness in a sea of misery. Maybe you were a psychiatrist or worked in the pharmacy, or even just in the cafeteria.
Your exact occupation isn’t important. For a few of the patients, you were a bright spot in their normally dismal routine. It was hard to tell with some, who were too reserved to speak to you much.
Not Edward Gluskin. He made his feelings about you known very quickly. You thought he was always very cheerful and well groomed. He seemed to have an interest in presenting himself as a gentleman, and speaking a … particular way towards the female patients and workers.
After some rude nudging from your coworkers you found out he’d always comb his hair when he knew he’d see you. Aww, looks like he’s got a crush on you, they’d said.
You waved it off. Of course he’d get attached to you, you reasoned. You were generally kind - even as you set boundaries - and besides, he was flirtatious with many people anyway. It didn’t mean anything.
It didn’t matter in the end, did it? Not when you were laid off after repeatedly raising concerns for health and safety.
There wasn’t much you could do - not with hearing whispers of ghosts and strange happenings deeper in the facility - not with the female patients being sent to a different facility, while all the women working were laid off.
You didn’t feel right just leaving, so you made a point to visit the patients who you saw often to say goodbye.
Things were clearly off. Security presence had increased, even in the areas you didn’t normally need an escort. You were flanked by two guards who made things awkward at best. Strained, mostly. They rushed you but you made sure to say everything you planned to.
You saved Eddie for last for… Perhaps sentimental reasons? You weren’t sure how he’d take it. As much as he’d been kind to you, you heard he could lash out when he was rejected. What did those poor women do to him, back then…? No, you weren’t attached to him…
When you got to his cell he noticeably perked up. And when you asked to be let into his cell and the guards let you, Eddie was over the moon.
It didn’t last long, however, once you explained the situation.
To say that Eddie didn’t take it well would be an understatement. You could see anger distort his handsome features before he took a deep breath and calmed himself. So he could explain to you that no, you weren’t leaving, you wouldn’t leave him.
Denial. His file said something about that, his tendency to deny things right in front of his face when he was desperate enough.
You took a deep breath of your own and stepped back. Time to assert boundaries again… You told him this would be goodbye, and turned to the door.
“For now,” he insisted.
You shook your head, started to tell him no.
He swore under his breath. “Fine. At least give me something to remember you by.”
“I - I can’t,” you answered. That would be breaking some kind of rule. Even if you were on the way out the door, it would surely count as preferential treatment or something… “I’m sorry. I wish you the best in life.”
You tried to leave quickly, but your exit was blocked by one of the guards.
“‘I wish you the best?’” the guard mocked. “That’s cold.”
The other guard outside agreed. “Come on, can’t you leave him with something?”
You laughed, trying to push your way past. “I don’t have anything to give him.”
The closer one pushed you back towards him, turned your body to face Eddie again. “At least give him a happy ending.”
Eddie’s face flashed with anger when he saw the guard touch you, and he reached a hand out to pull you towards him. The guard let you go, let him take you.
You could feel his muscles through his shirt as he pulled you close. The guards jeered.
He put his arms around you, one cradling the back of your head, the other going to your hip. He whispered something sweet in your ear.
One of the guards said something obscene - or at least, it must have been, considering the way Eddie reacted. He let you go and took a heavy step towards them.
“Don’t you dare speak that way about them. They’re not some two bit whore for you to boss around.”
They laughed it off. “We don’t want to boss them around.”
“Yeah,” the other agreed. They turned to each other, then back at you. “We just thought, since they were leaving and we know you have a thing for them… You should get a chance to say goodbye. Properly.”
One of them pulled something out of his pocket and tossed it to Eddie. He caught it easily and looked at it in his hand, confused. You could just make it out, the square condom wrapper.
“Come on, we won’t tell anyone…”
“No, I couldn’t,” Eddie said. He shook his head, put his arm up in front of you defensively.
One of the guards reached for his baton, but the other stopped him. They backed off.
You tried to step out, but he stopped you.
“I couldn’t,” Eddie repeated. He looked to you and grinned, backing you up towards the wall.
You looked back at the guards, who just pointed, urging you to turn back to Eddie.
“I have no use for this,” he said to you, his voice low. You could practically feel the vibrations with his chest pressed up against yours. He tossed the condom to the side. “I have a latex allergy.”
His hands went down your body, to spread your thighs.
“It’ll be safer if we do it raw.”
You shook your head in vain. He leaned in closer.
“Just relax, and think of me. Think of us,” he said, tilting your chin towards him. “Okay, darling?”
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