#noncon kissing tw

[charlie-artlie]

One day, years after the events of Network Effect, Murderbot gets a message package labeled “Murderbot 2.0: Mission Report”. Then, shortly after that, it gets another message package simply titled “assistance needed”. And then another, with that same title. And then another. And another.

#the murderbot diaries #murderbot #murderbot 2.0 #targetcontrolsystem #software ghost #arts #tw body horror #tw noncon #the implication here is just kissing but like #that one panel of them kissing is like #years of cat and mouse chasing and fighting and mind games #the previous comic? was just one instance of what TCS was doing to 2.0 the entire time #if ive got the gumption.... ill make another comic abt that 👁💦

[ashintheairlikesnow]

All We Have Is Each Other

CW: Intimate whumper, captivity, defiant whumpee, biting, creepy whumper, obsessive whumper, noncon kiss, vague noncon references, drugging. For @amonthofwhump Tropeathon Day 1: Duel

The Motherfucking Gallaghers Masterlist

Takes place during Jax’s second captivity. As always, Jax is used with oversight and permission from @comfy-whumpee)

-

Savvie rolls dice every time she uses the mortar and pestle in the kitchen to grind up one of her collections of pills and mix it into Jax’s drink.

She’s always gambling with the drugs. The first part of the game is seeing whether he’ll drink it before he realizes there’s something in it. If she doesn’t mix it well enough, he’ll see the cloudy bits floating around in the glass and look at her with terrible sad eyes. Sometimes she can’t take it. She just takes the drink right back out of his hand and pours it out, makes him a new one. 

Other the other hand, sometimes his sad voice and sad eyes piss her off worse than anything else could, and she just tips it up until he chokes and makes him finish it anyway. Or shocks him, pressing the button to the remote and watching his muscles lock up, knowing he’ll look sweeter once he’s fighting the way his muscles jerk afterward, the unconscious twitches he can’t quite get rid of as the aftermath works its way through him. 

Sometimes he even looks scared. Those nights are some of her favorites. Savvie never loves Jax as much as she does when he is scared of her. 

But... she can’t keep him scared all the time. What kind of marriage would they have if she did that? No, the drinks aren’t to scare him, they’re just to make�� to make things easier. And she doesn’t always do it! She doesn’t always drug him, but it’s enough that he never trusts her. She knows that. He doesn’t… trust easily. 

That’s okay. 

Their relationship got off to a rough start, that’s all, what with Jax starting off as one of the staff, bought and paid for. Plus, Jax’s dad convinced him Savvie was evil, once upon a time when he ran away from her. Taught him to hate her. She had to have her uncle fly all the way to England to bring Jax back, and it’s taking years to undo all the damage that stupid old man did. 

That’s okay. He’s getting better, he’s definitely getting better. He is. He has to be getting better. 

Still… he’s not an easy man to be married to. Not with having to keep an eye on the remote to his shock collar so he can’t take it off and try to run away again, not with the way he watches her sometimes like he wants to dunk her head into the toilet and hold it there until she drowns. Putting stuff in his drink just lets Savvie be able to relax. 

She doesn’t have to worry about what he might do when he’s so high he can’t do much of anything. Besides, it’s only like one out of every ten nights, sometimes twenty, sometimes she even goes for a month or two without doing it. 

She really doesn’t even want to. If he would just learn to be happy without it, she wouldn’t have to keep drugging him, would she? If he’d just stop being so difficult about being her husband… but that isn’t fair. He can’t be any better than he is, not really. Jax just… isn’t wired that way.

So she has to help him a little, to make it so he can have nights when he can’t stay mad at her. Or at least nights when his anger isn’t able to simmer in there behind his eyes while he says Yes, Miss Savvie or No, Miss Savvie like there’s a gun to his head. 

Still. Trying to give him these evenings where both of them just relax… it’s always a gamble. 

Even if he drinks whatever she makes without realizing it’s spiked, he doesn’t always react the same way. If she’s lucky - if her dice rolls well - the drugs make Jax… softer. He’ll lean against her when some of his strength slides away, not seek out touch but loathe it less. Those are the nights she can coax a sound out of him that isn’t clipped or tense. She still thinks about the night she gave him a back rub and he genuinely fell asleep sitting on the floor between her knees, his head drifting until it rested on her leg, the knots of tension slowly loosening beneath her kneading hands until she got distracted by the movie and forgot what she was doing. 

Sometimes he smiles, when he’s blurry and unfocused. Smiles, enough to show teeth even… God, sometimes he even laughs at some of Savvie’s jokes. It’s rare, but it happens. She loves those nights the best. Those are the nights that their marriage almost feels normal… if she just ignores the dilated pupils and the way he can’t stand up on his own. 

Sometimes he gets so foggy he can’t stop laughing, which is irritating but at least adorable to watch and take videos of to make him look at later on the next day when he sobers up again. Sometimes the side effects make him too scared to smile, his eyes darting nervously everywhere watching the movements of shadows he swears are watching him. She… tries not to give him those pills anymore.

The nights tend to end with her telling him to take off his shirt so she can enjoy the view, or even his pants, too. She usually waits on that, though, because it doesn’t matter how good the drugs are - he always hesitates when it comes to taking off his pants, as soon as his fingers touch the boxers with their oddly rolled waistband. 

It reminds him he doesn’t want to be here. Makes his addled mind come back to the collar he wears around his neck, to the reality of the life they’re living, the marriage Savvie has built all by herself whether he wanted to or not.

And he… he didn’t want to. 

So normally she waits on the getting naked bit until they’re in the bedroom and what he wants matters so much less that neither of them think about it any longer. The drugs, at least, make it harder for him to slow her down in there. 

Savvie tries not to think about that, because she doesn’t remember it that way. She likes the nights best where he doesn’t even try to fight, just lets her pull him upstairs and she gets to bury her hands in his hair and tell him what to do and have him, languid and loose-limbed, follow every command without the tension and misery he usually carries into their bed. 

She doesn’t always roll well. 

Sometimes, she rolls snake eyes… and she gets this, instead.

“Fuck’s sake,” Jax groans, words slurring around the edges, rubbing a hand over his eyes. He pushes clumsily away from her, nearly falling off the couch before he manages to catch himself. “For… f’r fuck’s sake, Savvie, what the fuck.”

His wedding ring glints, light from the TV bouncing off the deceptively plain platinum band. She’s hit all over again with a wave of love for him, for the life she’s built after he was brought back home to be hers forever, just like he always should have been. She’d been an idiot not to see it, not until he was gone and she spent years in prison dreaming about getting him back. 

“Fuck’s sake what?” She asks, voice light, smiling at him and poking him in the shoulder where they sit on the couch. 

He doesn’t slap her hand away, but she sees him look at her and… he wants to. His expression is dark. The light is bouncing off his hazel eyes, too, giving them a strange sheen of white that wipes out the color, obscures even his dilated pupils slowly taking over the iris. “What the fuck was it?”

“What was what?”

“What the fuck did you give me?” He goes to push himself to standing only to have his knees buckle beneath him, crashing him to the floor, barely catching himself on his hands. Savvie’s mouth waters, and she swallows, trying to ignore the flutter of fascinated interest in watching his fingernails scrape the rug as he tries to steady himself. “What the fuck is it, Savvie?”

“It doesn’t matter,” She answers, without changing her own tone, leaning forward with her arms resting on her thighs. Her hair falls in heavy waves down her back and over her shoulders. “It’s not anything that could hurt you.”

This time, he doesn't say Miss Savvie or try out the sad eyes. Instead, he looks away. She can nearly hear his teeth grinding. “Yeah, but once I’m all fucked up, you will.”

“Don’t be rude,” Savvie chides him, but she doesn’t move. He looks good, on his hands and knees on the floor. Well, he looks good all the time, really, but he looks even better on his hands and knees. She knows the physique he’s built with the workout routine she makes him do, knows the muscles there hidden beneath the green sweater and jeans he’s wearing. “You’ve been stressed all week. I’m just trying to help-”

“Fucking shit, the hell you are!” He manages to sit back on his knees, then collapses back until his back hits the edge of the couch cushions, upright through sheer force of will and a bit of good luck. His hands lay limp at his sides, now. When he turns to look at her, his eyes don’t focus quite right - but the fury in them is clear.

Well.

Tonight’s not going to be the best night for them, then, she supposes. She feels the edge of a headache starting up, and sighs, looking mournfully at the movie she’d pulled up for them to watch. Another night, then. A night when the gamble pays off and doesn’t backfire. A night when he can’t remember how to be angry at her.

“Fine,” She says, heavily. “I’m not trying to help you. I’m trying to help me.”Her own voice changes - drops almost a full octave from her usual carefully constructed diction and sweetness to something sharper. “I’m making tonight easier on me. Making you less… less-” She can't think of a good way to end the sentence, so she just lets it hang there between them. 

Jax snorts, looking away again. His head keeps lolling forward until his chin nearly touches his chest before he jerks it back again. “Yeah, I fucking know,” He manages, but his slurring is getting worse. “Shit f’r brains.”

Savvie sniffs, but the fake tears aren't coming as easily as they usually do. She probably accidentally gave him too much again. It’s just sometimes so hard to remember exactly how much the dose is supposed to be…

“I don’t enjoy you being cruel to me any more than you enjoy it when I do it to you, you know,” She says, suddenly… so tired. She spends so much time and effort creating a marriage herself out of a man her uncle bought for her once and abducted for her the second time, and she’s doing this all on her own - no one helps her, not really. And Jax never gives up.

She’d been sure he’d start to settle in and understand by now, but he just… he just doesn’t. And she’s so tired. Her fingers toy with the little black remote to his shock collar. Maybe she should just… just give up on having a good night and punish him for the cursing until he just bites off his stupid tongue. 

No, wait. 

She likes what he does with his tongue, when she gives the order. He’s so good with it now. Maybe… maybe just a small shock. Just to remind him he's hers. She takes a deep breath. “Jax… get on your-”

“On m’knees f’r discipline?” He starts laughing before she can finish, cutting her off, letting his head fall totally back against the arm of the couch until he’s staring at the ceiling. He sounds wild, almost like an animal. Her quiet watchful husband is feral, and Savvie resolves never to give him the pill she gave him tonight ever again. “Yeah, fucking… fuckin’ do it. Second I don’t play along, there y’go. Bzzzt.” He cackles, a cracked bark of laughter she’s never heard him make before. “Shut me up so you don’t hear me say it.”

Savvie’s heart twists. “Say what?”

The laughter dies in him as suddenly as it appeared. He turns his head, or tries to - it mostly just falls to one side until he’s looking at her. Their eyes meet, his all black pupil and hers with nearly no pupil at all. “How much I fucking hate your fucking guts.”

“You don’t hate me.” She says it firmly, as if he’s being ridiculous. “Don’t be mean, Jax. You don’t hate me at all.”

She takes a deep breath. Married couples have fights, even ugly ones sometimes, and they work it out-

“Yeah. I… I really do.” Disgusted, that’s the tone in his voice. Disgusted with her. “I do. I hate you.”

“Why do you hate me?”

The look he gives her is such a blatant are you a complete fucking moron that she can hear his voice even though he doesn’t say a word. 

“No, hold on.” She waves one hand, dismissing her own question. His eyes briefly follow the movements of her fingers, distracted by whatever the drugs make him see there. Trails of light, maybe. It’s probably beautiful. “Hold on. I know why-”

“Do you?” His question is sharp, snapped, even as his every muscle can barely tense enough to move. “Do you fuckin’ really?”

“Yes. I do.” Savvie’s too tired to talk him in a circle tonight. She’s just… too exhausted by her bad gamble, bringing neither the snuggly Jax or the scared one, but this angry, vengeful animal instead.

Her headache is getting worse. 

She grabs her glass of wine off the coffee table and chugs it so fast a little drip escapes the corner of her mouth and runs down her chin. She has to wipe it away, wincing at the… at the idea of how that looks. Her mother would have had a fit about it. If she hadn’t died years ago. “Because I had you kidnapped.” 

Jax is silent, for a beat. He squints at her. “Fuck… what’d you say? Might be hearin’ shit.” 

She laughs, softly. Not her usual laughter, crafted to fill up a room and put all eyes on her. This laugh is barely there, but far more genuine. “No. You're not hallucinating, that shouldn't happen with what I gave you tonight.”

“Oh, good, not this fucking drugging, then, jussss-” His head falls too far to one side and he forces it back up, groaning. “Jusss… others.”

“Only one of the pills does that. And you were cute when you thought there were monsters in the bathroom.” She gets that flat stare from him again and this time she can't hold eye contact, looking down and away, still fiddling with the remote to his collar. “I just. I do know what I did, Jax.”

“Yeah, I fucking know you know-”

“I had you kidnapped.” She takes a deep breath. It feels oddly good to say, like a scene in a movie confessing to a priest. A foul-mouthed priest she’s been sleeping with for over a year. The thought makes her smile, just a little. “My uncle had people watching you, and when I was ready, he knew where you’d be and he abducted you for me. I know that. I know that you’d run, if you could. I’d take your collar off right now if I thought you’d stay without wearing it.”

Jax is silent for so long she briefly wonders if he's flat out forgotten how to talk. Then he shrugs - or tries to, his arms don't quite follow his commands. “You’d find somethin’ else, some other reason for shit ‘round my neck. You fuckin’ like it.”

For the first time, she doesn't deny it. “I do.” She laughs at the way he looks almost comically surprised, unable to keep his usual closed-off expressions in place with the drug coursing through his veins. “What? Can't a girl have a kink?”

“Sure fuckin’ can, but you… you don' have a kink, you got… goddamn victims.”

“... I… yeah. But it-... that's not my point. It isn't about the collar, Jax. Your wedding ring does it for me, too. I could barely wait to get you home after we signed the marriage certificate.”

The glare is back. His hatred is blistering her skin. She watches him try to stand, making it nearly upright before he falls back down again with a heavy thump. 

Her mouth twitches. “You want help, sweetie?”

“Ffffuck you.” 

“Well, I mean, if you’re asking so nicely.” She giggles at her own joke. 

He mumbles something she can't quite hear, trying to stand one more time but quickly giving up. He makes it onto the couch, at least. Savvie stands, turning to grab his ankles, shifting so he’s lying on his back, head and feet each cushioned by the arms of the comfortable, overstuffed couch. He struggles weakly, and it's hard work, but she gets him where she wants him. She barely breathes, taking in his chest rising and falling under his sweater, how his inhales are coming more sharply. 

She can't help herself. 

Savvie climbs on top of him, like she’s done a hundred times. She straddles him, sitting on his hips and leaning down to kiss his neck, nosing under his jaw. At first, his head tips back in resignation - but then he curses and pushes at her weakly instead. “Don’t.”

She grabs his wrists and shoves them above his head. He’s so weak, the drugs have taken all that muscle and made them… useless at holding her off. There’s a shiver of excitement down her spine. “Uh-uh, sweetie. You’re the one who said to fuck you, remember?”

She feels a thrill at saying fuck, like she’s still a kid sneaking swears in her room when her parents won’t overhear. 

“Don't,” He groans. “Sav-... Savvie, stop. G’t off me. I hate you.”

“I know.” She smiles down at him. His eyes meet hers, tired and bleary. Furious and almost resigned. “I know you hate me, Jax… but I love you.”

She leans down, her hair a waterfall curtain, blocking them both off from the world. She can smell the cologne she buys for him, blended with her own pricey perfume. His wrists jerk against her grip and she digs her nails in until he grunts in pain and the skin gives beneath. 

“Savvie,” he whispers. 

“Sssshhh.” She lets go with one hand, shifting both his wrists to her other one, and presses a finger against his lips. “I love you so much,” She whispers. “And I don't need you to love me back, sweetie, I don’t. I just need you to lie for me.”

 She kisses him, then, pressing her lips firmly to his. For half a second, his mouth is slack and unresisting even as his body shudders with disgust. He’s warm, his skin burning up beneath her. Her mouth moves against his, trying to get him to answer her, to open up.

His lips gently part. For a brief moment, Savvie feels the rush of victory.

Then he bites.

Pain blooms in a sudden flare as his teeth bury themselves into her lower lip and he jerks his head to the side, sensitive skin tearing.

“Shit!” Savvie jerks backwards, staring down at him wide-eyed. She can taste her own blood in her mouth. It’s smeared on his lips and his teeth like badly-done lipstick as he gives her a smile that's really a snarl. “Oh my God, Jax-... how dare you-”

“Fuck you! Don't fucking touch me!” He gets his arms more or less under his own control and shoves her off of him. She crashes into the coffee table, the legs giving out, tumbling her to the floor. Pain spikes hot and demanding along her hip where she hits the hard angle of the corner and she finds herself the one lying on the floor, while Jax slowly sits up, wiping blood off his lips. 

Her blood. 

Savvie pulls her fingers from her mouth and gasps. There’s a smear of red, bright and vibrant, the unmistakable sense of blood trickling down over her chin. She tongues at the wound, then winces as the pain flares bright, like he’s bitten her all over again. She considers tears - looks at the loathing in his eyes, the absolute rage written in the lines of his face - and then decides they’re wasted on him tonight. Instead, she just shakes her head. “That hurt.”

“Good. Don' like bein’ the one fucking bleeding for once, huh?” His eyes drift closed. He struggles to open them again, to keep his eyes on her. “Shit feelin’, isn't it?” 

“God.” She swallows. Blood on her tongue is making her feel nauseous and she gets to her feet carefully. Her mouth and hip throb. She’s going to be so bruised tomorrow, going to ache so much. “You’re awful sometimes, you know that?”

“Yeah.” He grins. He hasn't bothered to try and get the red off his teeth. “I know. So… so fffffuckin’ get rid of me, then.”

Savvie snorts, limping a little as she moves to pick up the spilled wine bottle from the floor. She could shock him now - that’s what she would usually do. Or call Isaac and have him carted off to spend another month locked in the kennels with the dogs. He… probably doesn’t care about that, though. Anything to get away from her. Anything is better than her, to him.

“Get rid of you?” She drinks the last swallow in the bottle, washing blood down her throat with the wine. “Then what, Jax? I should just… live here alone, without you, for the rest of my life?”

“Fucking-... yes, or go fucking die. I don't fucking care.” The flush of hot anger bleeds away, his voice softening a little. “I don't… don' care, Savvie. I don’t care about you.”

“No. You do.” She feels a burst of desperation to make him understand. “You hate me, right? That’s caring about me, still.”

“Savvie-”

“No. I love you. You are mine, and I am keeping you. This is love, Jax. What I feel for you is true love.” 

He shakes his head, swaying a little where he sits. He tries to push her away again as she takes him by the arm but his burst of energy seems to have used him up. He lets her, in the end, get him onto his feet. She leads him on his unsteady legs out of the room, and he stumbles along with her. 

“S'not love,” He mumbles. She keeps an arm around his waist to help him balance. “Fucking… fuck you. Let me leave, Savvie.”

He doesn't have the strength to push her away, not anymore. He has to use her to stay up as they take the stairs one at a time, although after three or four he jerks away again and uses the railing, leaning heavily against it as he drags himself upwards, inch by inch, step by step. 

She lets him pull away, watching his determination to not need her, how badly he doesn’t even want her. There’s a canyon inside of her, something dark and deep that hurts so much worse than her hip or her torn open lower lip, threatening to claw its way out as she watches the man she has forced to play the role of her husband do anything he can to avoid her touch. 

Her jaw sets. “It is. It is love, and you know what? It’s all the love you’re going to get. Ever. No one else will ever love you.” Savvie’s voice stays low. “You’re not… you’re not lovable, Jax, but I don’t care, I love you anyway. Nobody else would. No one is ever going to even want to love you but me.”

He slumps. The fight’s all gone out of him, for now. Her gamble failed tonight and Jax is buckling under the weight of what runs through his veins, the heavy expectations in her eyes and her smile and her devotion. 

“Fuck,” is all he says, barely a whisper under his breath.

Savvie sighs, touching her fingers to her lip again. The bleeding has slowed but there’s still a spot of red. “Goes both ways, though, I think.”

He doesn't look at her. “What?”

“This… how much you hate me… how I had to kidnap you, and put that thing on your neck to keep you here, how you wish you were anywhere but here with me… you know, I, I get it.”

He has to stop at the landing and lean over, resting his forehead against the wall. 

She lays a hand on his back, leaning over to speak right against his ear. “I get that your hate is all the love I’m going to get, too, Jax. Nobody else will ever love me, either.” 

Her throat feels tight, and she can’t tell if she really feels the twisting nerves in her stomach, the sense of dread, or if it’s part of her act for Jax. Sometimes even Savvie isn’t sure when she means the things she says. Sometimes, even worse, she really does.

“All we’re ever going to have is each other.”

He doesn’t answer her. But when she takes his arm in her hand, he allows himself to be dragged along towards her bedroom. The fight might be gone, but so is the feeling. There’s nothing in his eyes that shows he even heard her.

That’s okay. She can be honest, in the dark, in the middle of the night, knowing that he’s too drugged to remember anything she said when he wakes up again. She’ll lie to herself again by morning. So will he.

She just needs him to lie. 

-

@whumpyourdamnpears consider this my evil savvie gift to you

#whump #amonthofwhump #amow tropeathon day 1 #duel #intimate whumper #obsessive whumper #creepy whumper #noncon touch #noncon kissing #noncon references #sadistic whumper #drugging tw #drugged whumpee #jax #comfy-whumpee #captivity #defiant whumpee #whumpee fights back #amow tropeathon2024 #day1

[suncaptor]

I don't think everyone else is losing their mind enough about the fact that in 2009 they made one of the first things Sam Winchester ever do when he met the devil was kiss him.

#tw noncon kissing #s.a #HhhJHDNJAKXKAKNFNAKKZKAS #people who try to ship samifer just based on s5 confuse the hell out of me like the noncon starts Early #spn #incoherents #sammy #supernatural #sam winchester #lucifer #free to be you and me #s5

[lucrezianoin]

TW CAZADOR

I wanted to see how well the ascended scenes fit cazador and well. it does. So I made some vids for my future fanvids! Tho here i only have screenshots.

These are from the AscendedA kiss (the kneeling one) with Cazador modded on Astarion, and player Astarion. Neck grabbing is present, so SKIP THIS if you need to. There is no kiss tho, just grabbing.

#cazador #cazastarion #I guess? not sure what tags to use #tw noncon #TW SA #tw modded kiss #tw cazador

[merakiui]

ive.... ive read the latest alien!scara and ive never been more excited???????? aNYWAY PLS PLSPSLSPSLSPSLSPSLSPSLSPS PLSSSSSSS GIVE US STRUGGLE??? struggle to whatevers gunna happen *wink wink* (im sorry to subject u to my rotting flesh of a smol breyn) and idk why i always find struggling characters to an impending event thrilling?? (wats wrong w me i swear),, seeing them try whatev they can do retaliate to something thats clearly cant be helped anymore is ಡ⁠ ͜⁠ ⁠ʖ⁠ ⁠ಡ 🤌🏻

Struggling against Kabuki is a wasted effort. He’s much stronger than the average human, so your chances of beating him in a fight are very slim, if not impossible. Even so, your only option is to struggle when he tries to corner you or pin you down in the cell, insisting in the softest, calmest way that everything will be okay. The researchers won’t answer your calls for help; Dr. Zandik tells you, rather coldly, that this is your life now. You’ve signed the contracts and the NDAs. You’re bound to this alien much like how he’s stuck to you, the both of you companions until death. There is no such thing as the outside world; your life will be spent beneath a research facility that is more inhuman than some of its specimens. You’ve always known Dr. Zandik to be particularly cutthroat in his pursuit of the unsolvable, so it shouldn’t come as a shock when he encourages you to smile more, to open your arms for your alien, to let him do as he pleases. It’s for the sake of research, after all! Aren’t you just a little curious to know more?

Kabuki is more frustrated that the researchers, specifically Dr. Zandik, won’t shut up and grant the both of you peace. He could never be mad at you, but the way you avoid him, pleading with him to reconsider, is upsetting. He thought you wouldn’t mind. You’ve lived with him for a while now, sharing a space, a bed, food, bonding over differences and curiosities between species. Surely you’ve wanted to mate all along. Humans are so confusing sometimes. They give such strange signals. You’re running from him, so it’s only natural he pursues. Kabuki has tried so hard to live humanly. He wears his human skin for you, walking on two legs, holding you with human arms and hands, casting a human shadow. He’s become human for you, but the human body he uses can’t give you eggs. He hates the idea that you might fear him; you’re not supposed to! You’re meant to be comforted by him; he likes you, so he’d never hurt you.

He knows it’s abnormal. His species is so obviously different from yours, so it’s only natural mating would have its differences as well. He tries to explain this to you with his limited vocabulary. One’s to hold the eggs and the other’s purpose is to hold the fluid that’ll help the eggs settle more comfortably. It won’t hurt. He’ll be gentle and slow; he wants to savor these moments, after all. And shouldn’t you be happy to be so close like this? Aren’t all humans happier when they’re pressed against the one they love? He doesn’t want to keep you pinned by force, but he has no other way to keep you still enough to take his dicks. He hibernated and created these eggs just for you. So why are you crying? Why won’t you embrace him like you’re meant to? Why won’t you love him?

Kabuki is always cold, so when he’s looming over you on the bed, studying you so carefully, you’re practically swallowed in his icy temperature. But the tears that spatter your cheeks, falling from his pretty, anguished eyes, are somehow colder.

He loves you, so he must do this, even if you’ll continue to struggle until the very end.

#genshin chit chat #alien scaramouche #tw: noncon #i love him T-T alienmouche my beloved #and i absolutely agree with your point anon!!! #there is a thrill in struggling against the inevitable orz it’s very *chef kiss*

[unreadpoppy]

Cirice

Priest! Raphael x Fem! Tav

Read on AO3

Warnings: This is kinda dark and blasphemous, and it goes a lot into religious guilt I guess. Raphael is very manipulative and there is a non consensual kiss at the end.

A/N: Remember when I said I would take a break from writing? I lied, bitch. Anyways, this is inspired by the song "Cirice" by Ghost, and by some things I have been thinking about lately. Enjoy.

After the sudden death of Father John, a new priest had taken his place in the church, and in a short amount of time, he had amassed the love of many. 

Father Raphael was a handsome man. When he preached, he spoke with such power, his voice echoed around the room. After mass, it was customary to see him talking with some of the followers, most of them older women, who would swoon with every smirk he sent their way. 

Soon, the church had more and more people attending it, all charmed by Father Raphael. 

Of course, he loved the attention. How the flocks of poor, little lambs would follow him around, asking him for advice. He especially loved when they confessed their sins to him, pouring their hearts out and asking for a forgiveness that would never come. 

After all, there was no God;. When they cried about their fear of eternal punishment, they were unaware that Hell was already here. 

Tonight’s mass happened while it rained outside. Near the end of the ceremony, one person entered the building, all wet. Even amongst the multitude of people, Raphael could feel her presence. Try as she might, she couldn’t hide from him. 

Tav. The lost little mouse. She would always sit in the back, make as little noise as possible, and leave without even looking at him. Raphael had tried to speak with her before, but she would cower away. 

At first, when Raphael had first started preaching, Tav was always there. She’d go every time there was mass, arriving early and quickly leaving once it was done. Always with her head down, praying intensely.

But for the past few months, she attended less and less. Raphael, being the devil that he was, could feel that her faith was starting to waiver. 

And that was exactly what he needed. A lost soul, an insecure one, ready to be taken by someone else. Like the snake that once convinced Eve to eat the forbidden fruit, Raphael would make Tav turn from God and onto him. 

Mass ended, and after a few ladies had questions for him, Raphael ushered them away, saying that the rain would get heavier if they stayed too long. Everyone left, until there was only Tav, who kneeled on her bench, hands clutched and eyes closed as she prayed. 

Slowly, Raphael walked towards her until he was in front of her. She finished her prayer, making the sign of the cross, and turned to look at him. 

“May I sit here?” He asked. Tav nodded and made space for him to sit. He looked at her, noticing the distant look in her eyes and the frown on her face. “What ails you, child?” 

She shook her head, arms embracing herself. “Nothing, Father. It’s just the cold.” 

“Are you sure? Because I have noticed how less and less you join us here.” Her back straightened. She had been noticed.  He got closer to her and said “You can tell me anything.”

“I…I don’t know if I should…say what I want.” Tav whispered. 

“And why not?” Instead of answering, Tav looked up at the giant crucified Jesus that hung on the back of the church, the one Father Raphael would preach from underneath it. As Tav looked at Christ’s face, she shuddered. 

“Ah. I see now.” He looked in the same direction she did. “Do not worry, child. God is all forgiving.” Raphael said, although he knew a different truth. 

“Is He?” She said. “Is He truly that forgiving?” 

“What do you mean?” 

Tav took a deep breath. “I used to come here almost every day, since I was small. My parents wanted me to be a good Catholic girl. I was baptized, I did first communion. I prayed every single night before bed.”

“But?”

“But…I never felt this connection that everyone speaks of.” Tav said quietly, as if confessing something she shouldn’t. “I never felt God’s presence as everyone else claims.” She looked at him for a moment. Although his warm brown eyes were inviting, she always felt something sinister behind them. 

Tav looked down again. “Forgive me, Father. I shouldn’t be saying these things in the house of the Lord.”

She attempted to stand up, but Raphael put his hand on her shoulder, making her sit again. “Please, wait.” Tav looked at him, fright in her eyes. “I can see you have more to say.”

“How?”

Raphael smirked. “I can see that there’s a thunder breaking in your heart. I can see through the scars inside you.” He placed a hand on her back. “Tell me, what have you done?” 

Tav sighed, the warmth of his hand was welcomed, considering she was still shivering from the cold. “As I said, I used to pray every night. And I believed that if I didn’t pray before sleeping, something bad would happen.” She gulped. “It was horrible. If I slept before praying, I would spend the waking hours worrying about everything. I couldn’t find sleep if I didn’t pray.” Tav took a deep breath before continuing. “So I just stopped. And right after I did so, my grandmother died.”

A tear ran down her face, and Raphael wiped it. “And ever since then, things have only gotten worse. It feels as if God is punishing me. Tonight was the first night I prayed in three months, and I felt nothing!” Tav sobbed. “But how is it fair, Father? My prayers always fell on deaf ears. He never listens, but the moment you stop praying, He punishes you?” 

The sound of thunder from outside echoed in the church. The lights went out. Raphael smirked. 

“What a poor, sad, little mouse you are, my dear Tav.” He put a hand on her head, caressing her hair. If it was someone else, Tav would have found it a gentle touch, but coming from him, she felt something was wrong. “You are lost and you feel that God has failed you.” He spoke, as if talking to a child. “But fear not. God has not abandoned you.” 

She looked up at him, frowning. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, yes.” He smirked and she got a bad feeling in her stomach. “God hasn’t abandoned you, because He was never here to begin with.” As he said that, Raphael made a gesture with his hand, and all the candles in the church were lit. 

Tav immediately stood up. “What…what are you?” She demanded, walking away from him. 

Raphael stood up. “I am your salvation.” 

She ran towards the open door, but he waved his hand and they closed in front of her face. Tav turned around, her back on the door. He approached her. “You have wasted a whole life praying and believing in a God that wouldn’t listen. One that would soon damn you to an eternity in Hell before helping you. But I listen to you, and I can make all your indulgences come to fruition just like that.” He snapped his fingers, making flames dance around his hand for a moment. 

Raphael was right in front of her. “You won’t be lost, little mouse, for I have found you.” 

“What…what do you want from me?” 

Raphael’s smirk grew. “I want your devotion. I want that everytime that you pray, it won’t be for him-” He pointed towards the cross. “But instead, for me. I want you to place your faith in me.” 

“And-and why should I do it?”

He chuckled. “Why not? You said it yourself, you don’t pray to God anymore. But I am here, I can see you, I will soothe your worries away.” Raphael whispered in a dark tone. “Wouldn’t it be much nicer to pray to someone who would listen?” 

Tav felt conflicted. This was all blasphemy and went against everything she had ever believed. But, as she said before, Tav never felt God’s presence near her. It was much easier to believe in what was right in front of her, someone she could see. 

“I guess…it would be nice.” Tav said, looking at him. His face was inches away from hers. 

“So, do you promise to devote yourself to me? To turn away from God and believe in me? To get on your knees and pray for me, your savior and master?” 

Tav hesitated momentarily. “I-I promise.” 

Raphael smiled, and he was engulfed in flames, human skin melting away, and in turn, a devil stood in his place, still with the priest’s clothes on. Tav’s eyes widened as he grabbed her face with both of his hands and said “Good” before harshly kissing her.

Tav contorted to try and get away from him. Then, he bit down on her bottom lip, and soon, the taste of blood filled her mouth. He let go, his own lips tainted with her blood.

The deal had been made, and Raphael was satisfied. As Tav put a hand on the mouth, he took a step back. “I will see you soon, little mouse.” He snapped his fingers, disappearing in thin air and leaving Tav alone to wonder what had she just done.

#raphael x tav #raphael bg3 #raphael baldur's gate 3 #tav baldur's gate 3 #tw: noncon kissing #guess who grew up catholic and has a lot of opinions

[kiskyz]

“Money”

this concept has been in my mind for awhile so enjoy!

TW: general yandere stuff, non con kissing, gold digger

“Aww~!” You grabbed the case holding a breathtakingly beautiful diamond necklace. “You shouldn’t have!”

Your boyfriend laughed, “No, no. You deserve this.”

“Babe…” You whined. “I love you so much!”

Your boyfriend, Marius Von Hagen the second son of the Von Hagen family, is a helpless romantic man with a big wallet. He bought you anything you’d show interest in, and take you to expensive places, just like the restaurant tonight. Newly opened by a prestigious chef, the cost of one person almost made you fall over but two? You couldn’t even begin to think. 

“I love you too baby~,” Marius said sickeningly sweetly to which you internally cringed.

What an idiot.

You would think that if you’re the executive president of the Pax Group, you’d be able to spot a gold digger. Yet here you are! A gold digger using said executive president for his money.

“I have something important to tell you,” You paused, “after dinner.”

He nodded, taking another bite of his steak.

You spent the dinner talking very little, unlike your usual over-the-top lovey-dovey talk. You had to think over how to approach a sensitive topic. 

Breaking up.

Despite how good he treats you, he’s been getting on your nerves lately, not to mention you don’t like doing stuff like this for over a year. It’s time you moved on to someone different.

You walked out of the restaurant and finally spoke up, “Can you just drive me home today?”

He raised an eyebrow, “Are you ok? You’ve been quiet all night and now this… Are you sick or-”

“No just… Let’s talk about it in the car, alright?” You smiled and got in the front passenger seat, Marius following suit.

As he started the car, you were lost in thought. You don’t know exactly what reaction to expect from him. 

“Ok. I-I’m sorry but…” You tried to seem as helpless and hurt as possible. “I think we need to break up.”

He was silent.

“I-I just think!” You looked out the window. “You're great but it’s just not working out.”

He pulled out of the parking lot still quiet. You shifted uncomfortably.

“Hah!” He laughed.

He fucking laughed?!

“Got sick of me?” He said in a teasing voice.

“What?” You looked away from the window at him.

“Did you really think I wouldn’t know,” He paused, “about your ulterior motives?”

Your heart dropped.

He knew.

How?

When?

How long has he known?

“I knew from the beginning.” His answer dumbfounded you. “How stupid do you think I am?” 

“Hah… You caught me!” You said defeated. “What do you want now? Want me to return everything you got me?” 

“How about you keep everything but stay with me!” He smiled.

“No.” You answered almost immediately. 

You wouldn’t have answered any other way, to begin with. You already decided to end things with him and what can he do? 

He laughed to himself, “That quick response saddens me.”

“Just drop me off at my house.” You looked back out the window.

The sky was dark, but the building lights made it seem bright outside. He finally pulled up to your apartment after a very awkward drive.

You unbuckled your seatbelt and he did the same.

“You can stay in the car.” You went to open the door but it was locked.

You sighed going to unlock it when a hand grabbed your wrist tightly.

“Ow! What the hell?!” He pulled your hand to his chest and you went with it.

You panicked and used your other hand to hit him, but he caught it. 

“I was fine with you using me,” You struggled in his grasp, “yet you had to go and try to ruin it.”

“Marius let me go!” You said in pain and shock.

He pulled you into a hard kiss. 

What was going on?

He bit your lip and you cried out. 

After a struggling make-out session, he finally pulled back, “Your such an idiot.”

You tried to scream but he let both your hands go and used one to cover your mouth and the other to grab your phone. You tried using your free hands to slam on the horn or anything, but he pushed you back into the passenger seat. 

“Stop struggling.” His voice was stern, unlike any voice he has ever used with you.

You nodded your head and let your body go slack.

Was he going to kill you? Was he going to get his revenge? What was he going to do?

“We’re going to go back to my house,” His voice was devoid of any emotion, “and you're going to stay there, with me.”

You looked at him in fear.

“Of course, I know no matter what I do, you’re not going to go silently and willingly.” He paused in thought. “Well sorry about this!”

You looked at him in confusion until you felt a hit on your head and everything went black.

#yandere tears of themis #yandere marius von hagen #yandere marius #yandere marius von hagen x reader #yandere marius x reader #yandere tears of themis x reader #yandere tot #yandere tot x reader #yandere #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x gender neutral reader #yandere x y/n #tw noncon kissing #tears of themis☁️💕 #fic☁️💕

[dresden-syndrome]

21/VII-1965. EESU State Security department.

*Redoing because tumblr messed up tags again.

"The time has come, kitten. You're taking the State Security member's oath today. I hope you're ready to prove everyone what a well-trained pet you are..."

As comrade Günther entered the room, Radím still hasn't moved an inch, sitting on his bed, with bitten lips and reddish eyes, staring empty into the wooden floor. He was wearing a perfectly-tailored State Security official uniform his Master ordered him to put on, brightly contrasting his pale, exhausted, broken expression. Today's the day Radím has been dreading for the past month. The day he'll have to truly give himself away to the state.

Two years ago, when Radím was caught on a dark alleyway and dragged to a black Volga car, a silent symbol of terror, the state's grim reaper ready to claim its next "public enemy", he believed things can't get any worse. When he found himself in a first interrogation room, writhing in blinding pain he'd never known before, he really believed things can't get any worse. When he was sent to the Minister of State Security himself - not for an interrogation, not to plead responsible for being such a disgusting wreck to EESU, the workers' and peasants' land of freedom - but for him to own, to be chained in his office, forced to obey his every wish, he was sure things can't.... Until they did. Now Herr Günther wants to make him work for the State Security. To make his beloved possession into the very kind of people that brought him there in the first place.

Erhardt walked up to his pet, lifting his chin to get a closer look at these adorable lifeless eyes. Radím isn't reacting; he's just not there, not in this moment.

The thought of having to betray his ideals, give out the last bits of freedom he kept to his soul for the worst enemies' amusement, echoed with a hollow, dull, nauseating sensation filling his head and gnawing pain in the chest. He didn't want to cry again, he didn't want to lash out on his owner, fighting teeth and nail and earning another punishment again. Just to forget it, don't focus on it, don't think, imagine himself somewhere far away - and the pain will be gone.

"The cameras are ready. Time to get up."

No reaction

"I said, get up."

Growing visibly frustrated with his pet's disobedience, Erhardt roughly pulled his leash, causing him to finally shake up. Radím let out a sharp hiss from the bolt of raw pain in the neck; it was already sore from all the tugging, which Herr Günther did a lot more these days than usual, and now even the slightest movements of his collar felt like fire.

Erhardt walked Radím through the dark hallway, firmly gripping his wrist in one hand and holding a leather leash in another, only stopping at the door of the office he'll be recorded in.

"There's this desk," the minister roughly turned Radím's head, pointing at the table at the middle of the office, "you'll stand behind it and read the oath. They're not giving you a text. You've had a month to learn it."

Comrade Günther continued, staring sternly into Radím's fear-strucken eyes.

"... You'll speak loudly and clearly, face up, straight into the camera," Erhardt instructed, tugging his helpless pet's leash, "you'll have to be a good little pet and show your respect for our country."

Noticing Radím struggling to pull himself away, as if he didn't understand a thing, Erhardt pulled a gun from the holster, pushed the disobedient boy to a cold painted wall and leaned onto him with all of his body. A couple of seconds - and the gun is forced to Radím's mouth, painfully pressing against his teeth.

"If you mess up our recording, we'll have to punish you," Erhardt slid a gun further, making Radím choke and clench from the blunt pain in the mouth, "no matter how many punishments it will take, you will learn to read it."

As the minister got satisfied with a look of his pretty rebel boy's distress, he replaced the cold metal of the gun with his warm lips. A little unwanted kiss as a statement: "Don't forget, kitten, you belong to me".

Erhardt swiftly grabbed his wrist and entered the room, greeting the cameramen on the sides.

"How are you, comrades?" he asked, lightening his usual intimidating expression with a smile.

"Good morning, comrade Günther!" a short bulky man on the corner cheerfully replied, "How's your toy's doing? Did you get him ready to film?"

Radím turned his head in embarassment. After two years, he supposed, he'd got used to be called like that. He wasn't getting any urges to resist, to fight, to make clear he's a person of his own despite even the EESU government itself stating otherwise, like in the first year of captivity. He knew fighting would be pointless. He's got used to it. Yet each time Radím heard anyone referring to him - pet, toy, kitten, sweetie, little thing, just to name a few - it still felt like a punch, like a boot on the chest, a creepy reminder of his place.

"Don't worry, comrade lieutenant, we've prepared him well for today," Erhardt replied, laying a hand on his poor pet's shoulder.

The back lights went off. Radím put his clenched shaking hands the desk, looking up on the old white ceiling to soothe the discomfort in his eyes from the camera lights.

The time has come. He has to do it.

Radím made a deep breath.

"Ich schwöre... "

His chest was getting heavy. He could feel his eyes beginning to water. "Don't think about it, don't think, it's just some German words"... At this moment Radím felt lucky he wasn't speaking German from birth and it's just a foreign language he had to learn. He tried to imagine he didn't know the words, he was just reciting a phrase, like he did back in school at a German lesson. "Just don't think and it'll be easy"...

"...Der Osteuropäischen Sozialistischen Union..."

Radím tried his hardest not to realize what's happening. The State Security member's oath. An oath of loyalty to the EESU government, the EC Party, the terror and enslavement they bring to the people. The very thing he was, and is, ready to sacrifice his life for fighting against.

"...Meinem Vaterland..."

His voice began to tremble. He clenched his fists even more as tears were filling his eyes.

"...Allzeit treu zu dienen..."

If he finishes it well, he'll feel completely betraying everything he's been fighting for. If he doesn't, he'll get punished by Herr Günther and his officers... and forced to say it again. And again. And again. His owner never backed up or agreed to a compromise. What he demands, he will get. There's no way out.

"...Und sie auf Befehl... der Arbeiter-und-Bauern-Regierung..."

The harder he tried to detach himself from it, the harder it became, the harder it was to hold his shaky voice and the tears blurring his eyes.

"...Gegen jeden... Feind..."

Radím laid his face down on the table, hiding it behind his hands.

"...Zu schützen..."

He couldn't make it.

When Radím raised his head on the sound of footsteps, Herr Günther appeared with the three officers standing behind. The dread set in as he found himself firmly restrained by one of the men, his hands twitched behind the back, his owner observing him with a familiar sinister look.

"No matter how many punishments it will take, you will learn to read it."

Day 6 of Whumptober

Prompt: Recording

Art taglist: @painful-pooch @prismpanic @generic-whumperz @suspicious-whumping-egg @onlywhump

#whumptober2023 #no.6 #recording #oc #art #writing #blood tw #guns tw #noncon kiss tw #military whump #historical whump #pet whump #whump art #whump drabble #whump oc #whumpee #whumpblr #whump community #captive whumpee #whump ideas

[the-whumpening]

The Pet Tiger, #3 [nsfwhump AU]

Prev | Masterpost | Next

CW: Reference to noncon, forced use of buttplug (not really explicit, mostly just mentioned), violence, restraints, choking, pet training, noncon touching (kissing, fingers in mouth), emotional manipulation and mental fuckery, Ozmund once again being a creep

————————————————————————————

3: Breath

After Faye dabbed golden powder on his eyelids and painted his lashes with a coat of dark paste—“he likes how it looks when it runs”—she forced a wide-based apparatus inside of him. He had seen them before, among Evius’ stash of toys and tools back at home, but they hadn’t had the chance to use any before . . . He shakes away the thought.

Ash is left to wait in what he can only assume are Ozmund’s personal quarters. The room is certainly lavish enough to fit his tastes, though most every part of his estate is similarly opulent. In the minutes—hours?—of silent waiting, Ash’s mind tumbles over what’s to come.

Is Ozmund going to . . .? Surely not, he reasons. If what he wants is Evius, there’s no way he’d find me attractive enough to . . . But, what he said before . . . Ash’s throat tightens as he shifts his weight from foot to chained foot. His hands, too, are bound behind him, preventing him from covering his nudity or freeing himself. When Faye had brought him to the room, she insisted he kneel to appease Ozmund and offer his body some rest. Though he complied at the time, as soon as she left, he contorted his body to stand again. He hadn’t anticipated the wait being quite so long, though—now, his legs are sore and tired, and the plug shifts awkwardly in his ass with every adjustment of his hips.

He nearly contemplates kneeling once again, if only to rest his feet, before the heavy wooden door finally opens. Ash’s body moves before he can think, scuttling backwards to press his back into a corner and pulling his shoulder in as if to protect his core. Ozmund enters the room, leaving his back to Ash for a moment as he locks the door with a loud thunk.

“Don’t fret,” he says, “No one will bother us now.” Ash can hear the smile in his smooth, low voice. Is that supposed to be a comfort? he wonders. As Ozmund turns to face him, his grin stiffens to a disappointed grimace. “Now, darling pet, aren’t you meant to be kneeling?”

At the word, Ash’s knees buckle beneath him against his will. His temple knocks against the wall as he drops to the ground. He groans, his head spinning and throbbing. Before he has the chance to right himself, Ozmund’s hand is in his hair, dragging him on his knees out from the corner. His bare skin scrapes painfully against the coarse rug, the plug insistently pressing into him as he’s forced to kneel in the middle of the room.

Ash bites the inside of his lip as he glares up at Ozmund. If he didn’t, he’s sure hot, stinging tears would escape down his cheeks. Ozmund loosens his grip on Ash’s hair, smoothing it back into place.

“I heard you gave the servants some trouble, as well,” Ozmund sighs. “I had hoped you might be clever enough to not need training, but . . . I suppose we’ll have to teach you from the ground up.” His fingers trace the sharp line of Ash’s cheek; Ash stiffens, waiting for the strike, but it doesn’t come. Not yet. When Ozmund speaks again, his voice is calm, but it fills Ash with a sense of dread. “You will learn every rule, every expectation. You will serve me with perfect obedience. And your training begins . . . tonight.”

Ash’s muscles shake with strain as the manacles fall away at Ozmund’s command. He slumps forward, trying to rest on his hands, but his throat is caught in Ozmund’s grip. Something cold and metallic clicks into place around his neck; his head snaps back up in an unspoken question. Ozmund meets his eyes and merely nods.

He takes several steps back from Ash, never breaking eye contact. When he’s satisfied with the distance between them, Ozmund snaps his fingers and points to his feet.

“Come.”

Ash tries to stand, but Ozmund shakes his head. The collar around his neck gives a choking squeeze, bringing tears to Ash’s eyes.

“Crawl, pet,” Ozmund clarifies.

The squeeze on Ash’s throat loosens, and he coughs as he falls back on his hands and knees. Once again, he chews on his lip to fight the humiliating tears threatening to overflow. He crawls to Ozmund’s feet.

“That’s a good pet,” Ozmund murmurs. “Now sit.”

Ash knows well enough to kneel, and he does so despite the hot, angry glow in his cheeks and the persistent pressure in his backside.

“Much better. Let’s try something a bit more . . . difficult.” He leans closer to Ash, his voice dropping low. “Open.”

Open? What-what does that mean? Ash wracks his brain, searching for some possible action he could take. Before he can make the connection, though, the collar once again cinches around him. His mouth pops open as he gasps for air, his fingers clawing uselessly against the smooth metal.

“There it is,” Ozmund purrs, locking Ash’s jaw in place with his hand like one would a snake. As Ozmund touches his face, the squeezing pain eases and he frantically pants. “Breathe, darling. Breathe because I allow it. Do you see now?” Ozmund’s thumb traces Ash’s bottom lip, playing with it. “Defiance will only bring you pain.”

Before Ash can finish catching his breath, Ozmund slips two fingers into his mouth, pressing down his tongue and pushing towards his throat.

“When I say ‘open,’ you will present your pretty little mouth just like this, and you will accept whatever I give you.” He pinches Ash’s nose for a moment with his free hand, cutting off his airflow. Tears finally spring from Ash’s eyes, the carefully applied mascara streaking down his cheeks. Ash pants through his stuffy nose when he’s released, Ozmund’s sharp nails trailing to his cloudy eye. “If you bite me,” he continues, casual and calm, “I’ll have to pop out your eye. You’re not using this one, right? Perhaps I’ll pluck it out first—something to remind you to behave.”

Ash gags against Ozmund’s fingers, fighting to breathe and keep his composure. For a few nauseating seconds, Ozmund thrusts his fingers back and forth, only further triggering Ash’s gag reflex. When he finally removes his hand, Ash drops close to the ground and heaves, praying he doesn’t vomit and incur more punishment.

To his surprise, Ozmund crouches to his level and strokes his hair. “You’ll learn, pet. We’ll train that awful reflex out.” He picks up Ash’s chin as the spasms finally stop. His voice almost tender, he continues, “I knew you’d look beautiful when you cried for me. I’m going to make you so perfect, darling. You won’t even remember how pathetic you used to be. Now, remember: no biting.”

He crushes his lips to Ash’s, forcing his mouth open and slipping his tongue inside. Ash feels sick. His tears fall faster, now fully sobbing; his keening moans and shuddering breaths pouring directly into Ozmund. Ozmund only seems emboldened by Ash’s suffering—reinvigorated, even. He peels away from Ash, nipping his bruised lip on the way, and latches a finger through the ring of Ash’s collar.

“Back to work, pet. You’ve got so much to learn.”

#whumpblr #whump writing #whump #writeblr #dnd whump #the pet tiger #pet whump #nsfwhump #captivity whump #creepy whumper #intimate whumper #tigerverse #tw noncon touching #tw choking #tw noncon kissing #tw restraints #tw violence #rublewriting

[inkblot22]

Crazy sickening thought but what if there’s a scenario where azul takes advantage of reader? Like imagine reader not having anywhere to after four years and crowley giving up/deciding reader is too expensive and a burden to take care of since they are a grownup and haven’t been useful. They decide to desperate to find a way so they and grim dont end up on the streets look for azul for a place to stay and azul agrees only if they agree to be azuls spouse and meet conditions of his like never leaving him, cooking for him, kissing him times throughout the day. Whats your thoughts on this? Do you think azul would add more terms?

Hello! This is excellent and you caught me on an Azul day. I apologize in advance because this is honestly a bit long.

TW controlling behavior, abuse, captivity, coerced marriage, Crowley being a deadbeat, non-consensual kissing/touch, isolation and being in the ocean at night, my best attempt at legalese, Jade and Floyd because these three are the scariest package deal ever conceived. Misogyny, if you squint, as well as house-spousification. That is a word now.

Grim is way too calm about this. It's not that you could really resent him for being oblivious, but sometimes you indulge your irritation with one thought, "Grim is lucky that I love him."

And he is. He's lucky that you're here, lucky that you're willing to sell your body to a certain silver-haired asshole just so he can indulge on various seafoods, including fresh-caught tuna.

Well, that's not really fair. Azul hasn't gotten more physical than a few hugs and kisses, sharing the same bed, that type of thing. You can tell he's considered doing more, you see it in his eyes when you lay down to go to sleep or wear certain colors, usually dark blues and violets. Not that you've worn much else in...

Seven, how long has it been? Let's see... On your fourth year at NRC, Dire Crowley invited you to his office for tea. Not in so many words, he said that your time at NRC was reaching the end of it's stay. He'd send for you upon discovering a way for you to return home, but until then, you and Grim needed to begin your internship within the week. You hid your unease as best as you could, but when you got back to Ramshackle, you could barely breathe. Grim wasn't present for the meeting, so when he saw your obvious despair he immediately threatened to burn whoever had hurt you. You had laughed it off, promising him that everything would be okay.

You should have known, honestly. You sent messages to both Ace and Deuce, letting them know what happened, and they both felt awful, but were in no position to have you come stay with them. Although any of your former upperclassmen would have probably accepted you, but right when you were wondering how you were supposed to get a job without any form of identification past your very own person, much less a place to stay, you received a message in a group chat you had long forgotten about.

Underneath the all caps title of the chat, "THE FISH MAFIA," Jade had simply invited you to the Coral Sea with Grim for a dinner. Of course you had accepted. Perhaps you could ask Azul for a job in his mother's restaurant, and subsequently, move to whatever land mass was near the Coral Sea. That way you and Grim wouldn't be homeless.

You let Crowley know and he set up the mirror for your departure, even going so far as to give you a pair of potions so you wouldn't drown and wishing you well. You tried not to dislike him even more for that, tried being the key word.

Jade and Floyd were waiting for you on the other side. They looked about the same as the last time you'd seen them, perhaps a little longer than before. Floyd grabbed both you and Grim and darted through the water, stopping in front of an elegant building that seemed to be made out of shells. You were guided in, all the way to the back, where Azul was waiting, in human form.

"Hello, Prefect... or shall I just use your name? From what I've heard, you won't be living in Ramshackle for much longer."

You had forgotten about that. Your memories, up until that point, were relatively positive when it came to Azul, so of course you overlooked his harsh comments, forgotten by the haze of happy memories you had with him. But Azul had always been somewhat mean.

"Regardless, take a seat. We have all the foods you like on the land, and then some." He offered you a somewhat wan smile, "No drinks, though. Sorry. Perhaps we can go to a cafe after this business is finished."

You took a seat and one of the servers placed a large, flat rock on your lap.

"It's to keep you from floating away." Azul had said.

You thought that was kind of fun. That was probably the last time you had that thought connected to Azul. Grim didn't bat an eye and began scarfing down the contents of the table, and you met Azul's staring eye.

"Business?"

"Yes, my darling, business. I take it that you don't have a large window of opportunity, so please believe me when I say I want the best for you and your familiar. I am offering you a place to stay, food, drinks, and clothing. All you have to do is sign this teensy little document."

"Wait, what's goin' on?" Grim paused his eating to give you a confused look.

"Oh... It'll all work out, Grim," You began.

"Dire Crowley has given our little human here a week to move out of Ramshackle house." Azul interrupted.

"Good! That place was run-down anyway!" He went back to eating.

You couldn't blame him for his shortsightedness then. You simply sighed and Azul addressed you again.

"So, my dear, knowing that I will provide for you and your familiar, and knowing that you'll be homeless in a week's time with no real way to regain a home, I believe you can understand how signing this is in your best interest."

You nod, once, slightly hesitantly, and Azul smiles, passing a document to you. It's dry to the touch, but a quick scan and you decided it was better to just sign and get it over with.

Presently, tucked neatly under Azul's arm as dawn breaks over the beachside, you really wish that you'd read the entire contract earlier.

It wasn't so bad at first, he set you and Grim up on the top floor of one of the land-based establishments that his mother owned and had passed down to him. He said it was something of a side hobby, but you read it more as a front for his other business. Regardless, for a long while, things were fine. What little you had was already in the room he'd set up for you and Grim. But then the stipulations of the contract began coming into effect.

Within three months of the signing date, the signor will be legally wed to the signee.

That wasn't so bad. The wedding was ridiculously extravagant, but you managed to wrangle Grim into a bow tie and that was cute enough. Azul was all smiles, but every time you wanted to run, you remembered that it was all for your and Grim's wellbeing.

The first night you went home as spouses, Azul talked at length about a possible honeymoon. You nodded along, too tired from the day's events, and went to open the door to the room you'd been sharing until now with Grim. Azul grabbed you by your arm, hard enough to leave a mark, and pulled you into the master suite.

"Married couples should sleep together, shouldn't they?"

2. Both parties are required to show the other affection, physical and otherwise. The consequence of withholding such results in a loss of privileges.

This was a bit less okay. Azul wasn't overly touchy, but you found that he didn't care who saw what. You weren't opposed to most of it, seeing as his hand was usually on your shoulder or back, somewhere not at all concerning, but he also would occasionally turn and kiss you without warning or permission.

It made your head spin. In every other way, he was very reserved, but every time he kissed you was so random. It wasn't that he smelled bad or tasted bad, unless he had just returned from a meeting, wherein he would generally smell like alcohol-free bourbon or something adjacent. You'd always try harder than usual to pull away when he smelled like that.

"It's just a gentleman's drink, my angel... My goodness, I didn't know you were this shy!"

3. If the signatory is otherwise unoccupied around noon, they will prepare lunch for their spouse and bring it to him. A breach of this term will result in the signatory's familiar being put outside for a night. *See addendum A.

Every day, for the last year, you have walked in, regardless of Azul being in the middle of a meeting or not, and served him a lunch that you threw together.

At this point, you're pretty certain that you could bring him a banana peel coated in mayo and ketchup on a dirty plate and he'd eat it like it was the best thing in the world. Every time you put lunch in front of him, he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you close, pressing a kiss against your ribs and looking up at you as if you've hung the moon.

"This looks delicious, my angel. Thank you."

4. Privileges such as allowance, certain articles of clothing, certain food items, will be withheld in the case of a breach of contract.

This one wasn't really observed by Azul. As far as you could recall, every time you messed up, he would become inconsolable, then really cold.

If you did something he really, really didn't like, he'd "invite" you for a midnight swim, then lock you in the bathroom while you were still wet. This is why an addendum was added, since getting sopping wet and locked in a cold bathroom resulted in you getting sick and unable to make lunch.

"I'm doing this because I love you so much."

5. The signatory shall adopt the moniker of a stay-at-home spouse. They will be allowed days to go out and shop for both necessary groceries and personal effects.

Your "going out" days were Wednesdays and Saturdays, partially because that gave Azul an excuse to tag along on at least one of those days and also because he could send one of his lackeys to follow you and Grim around.

Everything you purchased was looked over by him, and when you got home, he'd ask you about various items you purchased while trying to coax you to sit with him.

"Angel, why in the world do you need... five packages of... 'dino gro capsules'?"

6. Azul Ashengrotto may exercise his discretion to determine whether or not his spouse is following the contract to the best of their ability.

Azul was not a fair or reliable judge. At best, he wanted you to be by his side as often as possible, but at worst, he'd be irritated by Grim's very presence in the house. You weren't afforded much mercy. If the twins were visiting on land, which they did way more often than you liked, and you happened to have really done it that day, they'd sneak in and drape blankets over you.

Azul didn't care if he noticed, and it felt like every day it got worse. Every day you'd find out about another rule of the contract, every day you'd have to lie and tell Grim that everything was okay.

But you could feel it, this pressure, building up within you. One of these days, you'd snap, and hopefully Grim wouldn't be there to see it.

Because you didn't want him to think you resented him.

#tw controlling behavior #twisted wonderland #disney twst #tw: dark content #tw: yandere #tw: dark themes #tw captivity #twst #yandere #tw misogyny #tw noncon kissing #tw mention of alcohol #tw abuse #tw emotional abuse #tw emotional manipulation #yandere azul ashengrotto #yandere azul x reader #tw jade leech #tw floyd leech #yandere x reader #anon asks #anon answered #thank you for sending an ask!!

[ashintheairlikesnow]

No More No

CW: Dehumanizing language, medical abuse, medical whump, Facility whump, defiant whumpee, sadistic whumper, Some references to noncon

Nova’s pieces can be found in this masterlist

For @amonthofwhump, day 9: Medical abuse

-

"Here we go, little lady, time for round two. Just be a good girl and lay back for me, okay?"

"No! I don't want it, no, you can't make me, not again, not again, no!"

"Hey, now. You're not supposed to know that word-"

"No, no, not the needle, no no no-"

Her voice cut off when the asshole's hand smacked into her forehead, forcing her writhing body back against the padded bench. Some fucking doctor, she thought, kicking out and nearly succeeding before he ducked, the sides of his white coat flapping under the cold florescent lights. She felt her big toe just graze his brown hair and bared her teeth in a snarling hostile grin, her own thick, long black hair hanging in her face like a demon ready to drag him to the depths.

"What the fuck, did she not finish her first round?"

"No," The trainee's handler said, frowning more in confusion than anger. "She did. She was fine, coming along nicely, until she just lost her shit yesterday. She mentioned a cousin."

"They don't have cousins."

"Yeah, hence me signing her up for another round. Come on, Ninety-Seven, you know better than this. You've been my sweet soft girl for two weeks, what happened, huh?"

"Maybe I just got sick of eating you out-"

"Ninety-Seven! I can handle some rebellions, but crude language is subject to severe consequences for you!" Her primary handler grabbed her right wrist with gloved hands. She made quick work of jamming it up above her head and locking it into the restraints, the magnets catching with a strength 445097 couldn't fight, not at this angle. 

She yanked at her wrist anyway, just to hear the little chain rattle, and tried to throw a punch. "I'll use whatever fucking crude shitty language I want!"

Handler Abernathy pulled just out of reach, some wispy brown hair escaping her severe bun to frame her face. It made the trainer pause at the unexpected softness it gave to her handler's usual severity. 

"I don't want the needle," She said, plaintive now, trying for the soft puppy voice, I'll be good now sound that everyone seemed to like from her. She couldn’t make tears well up, but she could put the tremble of them into words. "Please… please, Handler, no."

Handler Abernathy softened, just a little. “Ninety-Seven-”

"Too bad." The stupid doctor grabbed at her other wrist and this time her heel caught his chin, sending him stumbling backwards, knocking over the tray of syringes and pale, faintly colored liquids lined up there. "Jesus Christ! That bitch-"

"Back off, Bill, let me get her handled," Handler Abernathy said, voice thin with effort as she managed to evade 444097's flailing legs and get her other wrist secured. "She does better for me anyway.  Don't you, babygirl?"

"Please, please, not the needle, I can train without it, I can learn-"

"Hey. Hey, sweetie." Abernathy's glove was cool where the leather touched her cheek. The trainee raised her chin and opened her mouth for the kiss, Abernathy's lips picking up the trainee's expertly applied lipstick. She lowered her eyelashes, heavy with mascara. Her breath came in pants that raised her chest up and down, just brushing the front of Abernathy's black WRU handler uniform. 

The oversized t-shirt meant she couldn't use it entirely to her advantage, but she tried. Sometimes a show of being overcome would soothe the handlers, calm them, get her what she wanted or just out of trouble. 

"There we go." Handler Abernathy dropped to a whisper, lips moving against the trainee's cheek. "You'll be good for Dr. Bill, right? It's just a little prick."

"Not that little," Dr. Bill said, a little affronted. 

"I meant the needle, dumbass." Abernathy groaned, closing her eyes in brief annoyance. "Just get it going, yeah?"

"Yeah, yeah. She knocked all of it over, give me a second." Bill rifled through a cabinet in the small exam room while Abernathy turned back to the trainee and smiled. 

"Here we go, sweetie. Just give me that pretty little ankle… here we go…" The trainee swallowed, watching as Abernathy moved her foot into the stirrup and buckled her ankle in place, then did the same with her other leg. "There's my good girl. There she is. Much better, right?"

"Handler… I-I don't want the needle, please, I promise I don't remember anything, it was a mistake…" She jerked her left ankle but all it did was rattle in place. She tried to tear up, next, but she couldn't seem to make the tears come, no matter how her voice trembled. "I don't need it, I don't…"

"Ninety-Seven." Abernathy shook her head, tucking those stray little hairs the trainee had thought so pretty back behind one ear. "We all know you're lying right now. It's what your kind does. You start acting up with aberrant memories, we have to wipe them away again."

The trainee's eyebrows furrowed. "Handler." Her voice was a whimper, a whine. "Please, Handler, no…"

"There's that word again." Abernathy sighed, disappointed. "Bill, get her hooked up. Don't worry, babygirl. Just a couple of days should do it. Then… no more cousin, no more bad girl behavior, and no more no, huh?"

"Fuck you." She dropped the sad eyes and spat, watching with a thin thread of satisfaction as Handler Abernathy wiped the saliva from her cheek. 

The doctor snorted. "Better for you, huh? Doesn't seem like it."

"Oh, shut up."

There was nothing she could do - the trainee could only shake in the restraints as Bill came over, humming cheerfully with an IV bag on a roller full of a cloudy liquid. The trainee's eyes latched onto the sight of it as her heart started to race. 

"No, no please, please please please my name is my number I'm a pet not a person, I know, I know, I signed up for this all pets legally consent to giving up their former failed identities in exchange for a safe secure home and future I know what you want me to think, I know!"

"I know you do, baby, I know." Abernathy smiled, taking her chin in hand and turning her to look into her handler's sparkling eyes, drinking in her fear and helplessness as Bill wiped something cold and tingling along the crook of her elbow. "But, listen to me, honey. Listen. Say 'yes, Miss, I'm listening."

Now, the tears came. 

The trainee's lower lip trembled as she swallowed and then said, in a whisper, "I'm l-listening, M-Miss…"

"Good girl. I know you know all the right things to think, to say. But…"

The pinch of the needle made her flinch, and Abernathy leaned forward to kiss her. Her handler's lips were soft but pressed hard, swallowing her whimper as the needle was placed and the first rush of cold fluid raced through her blood toward her pounding heart. 

"We need to make sure," Handler Abernathy murmured, pressing one more quick kiss before pulling back, "that you don't remember any of the wrong things to think and say, either."

"Please… p-please, no, please don't make me do this again!"

Handler Abernathy turned and left the exam room, her boots clomping loudly across the floor. The tears came, now, and the trainee could barely see through them and her hair as the doctor grinned at her, staying behind to watch, for just a moment, as the trainee's muscles felt heavier by the second.

Once she slumped backwards, the doctor stepped up close. 

"Be a good girl and just chill here for a while, okay?" He patted the side of her face. Each soft touch felt like a blow. 

"Don't… don't leave me al, alone, please-"

"I'll come back once that perfect pretty head is so empty you can hear the wind blow right through it." He gave her hip a squeeze, then patted her thigh like the flank of a horse before he turned and walked out, too.

The door buzzed locked behind him.

Her eyes were already drifting closed, the Drip taking its terrible hold. The small sweet face she had been holding in her mind, of a cousin she had known, whoever she had been, was already fading. 

"Don't-... D-Don't leave me al, alone…"

There was no one left to listen.

-

@eatyourdamnpears @sableflynn @orchidscript @whump-tr0pes @burtlederp @arlinthesnep @finder-of-rings @hackles-up

#amow winter whumperland 2022 #whump #lady whump #lady whumper #lady whumpee #implied noncon #noncon kissing #box babe #box boy universe #bbu #pet whump #facility whump #medical whump #needles tw #noncon touch #noncon touching #nova bb #dehumanizing language #degrading language #sadistic whumper #defiant whumpee

[suncaptor]

Meg starting to sexually assault Sam by kissing his neck and then later possessing him and taking control of his body by force 🤝 Sam kissing Lucifer's neck when they first interact but only because he thinks it's a dream of his dead girlfriend before Sam does say yes to Lucifer taking control of his body

#HHHHHHHH #s.a #tw noncon kissing #tw consent issues #spn #incoherents #sammy #supernatural #sam winchester #lucifer #meg

[lucrezianoin]

alright under cut because of the non-con possible trigger

this is cazador modded into astarion kissing karlach for the first time and she is modded as astarion

I will use this for the angstiest videos ever

#tw cazador #tw noncon implied #this is astarion kiss for karlach which i hate because it seems ascended astarion #and you can see it perfectly fits cazador #Cazador

[quietwingsinthesky]

anyway. lucifer demanding kisses from sam in return for helping him ever. and the thing is, he will help them, and he’s an archangel, his help is invaluable. people will die if sam doesn’t kiss him. and so sam makes deals again and again and again.

#tw noncon #again! sleeping beauty kiss to raise Sam from the dead!!! banging my pots and pans!!!! #even better if lucifer is all helpful and gentle with him. so long as Sam agrees to this. #even better even better if sam doesn’t/can’t tell Dean. even better even better if dean starts to warm up to Lucifer specifically because #he’s so sweet to Sam and Sam seems to be kissing him back of his own will. and more importantly lucifer isn’t trying to separate dean from #sam (yet <3) so. it’s fine actually :) they made friends with Crowley after he tortured and killed people. and who hasn’t tortured sam here? #Lucifer redemption arc in Dean’s eyes as Sam’s boyfriend while sam is going through the horrors (the devil wants to make out with him) #(and Lucifer won’t help if he thinks Sam is ‘faking’ it <3) #samifer #spn #sam winchester #lucifer spn

[mika-writes-fanfics]

Healing Touch

Dabi x Fem!Reader fan fiction

Synopsis: You encounter an injured Shigaraki and offer your healing quirk to his aid. Little did you know, healers were hard to come by in the underground and Shigaraki takes a liking to your skills. To further his cause, he kidnaps you and holds you captive under the watch of the LOV. You play the role of the LOV's little healer while you think of a way to escape. Unbeknownst to you, the pyromaniac with a cold heart begins to melt in your presence. Your compassion and wit draw him in, all the while he swears it's only curiosity he feels toward you. But when your touch heals his burns and your personality soothes his anguish, Dabi begins to wonder, what exactly is he feeling for you? And why the hell does he feel so torn up when you slip away?

Warnings/Tags: mention of blood, Stockholm syndrome, kidnapping, female/afab reader, healing quirk, sexual tension w Dabi, implication of non-con (not by Dabi), Muscular is a creep, Dabi gets a new fit, aftermath of UA training arc

Author's Note: TIME FOR SEXUAL TENSION. All my homies hate Muscular, FUCK him. He gave me bad vibes during the UA training arc, so I’m trashing on his character. Handing Dabi a few W's before he gets couple L's. Also I'm feeding you guys a long chapter so buckle the fuck up. Warning: Muscular is a creep and implies noncon.

Word Count: 7.8K

Link to AO3

Chapter Seven: I Really Hate This Guy

You ended up recovering just fine after eating and sleeping your dizzy spell off. By the next day, it was as if nothing had happened at all. As far as you were concerned, nothing did really happen. Your memory of the incident was fuzzy. You knew that you pushed yourself too far and fainted for a moment, but what came afterwards was a complete blur. It must not have been too much of a disaster, considering you awoke in your bed without any bruises. You reason you must have simply fallen into your bed. You just hope you didn’t cause Dabi any trouble. Little did you know that Dabi was the one who caught you, brought you snacks, and made sure you were okay before leaving you to rest. 

Your morning goes by quietly as you freshen yourself up in the bathroom. There’s not a sound in the other rooms, meaning the others are either still asleep or away on missions. With your morning routine done, you exit the bathroom and enter the hallway. As you are heading to your room, you notice Toga’s door is cracked open. Curiously, you creep forward to her door and quietly swing the door wider. The hinges softly groan, causing you to hold your breath and cringe. But when you release your breath and press on, you notice that it’s empty. She must be out on a mission. You swallow thickly, feeling some anxiety rising within you. Now is the perfect time to snatch a knife. You glance over your shoulders, checking to make sure the hallway is clear. If you’re gonna go through with this, you can’t have any witnesses. When you realize the hallway is clear, you make your move. You quickly, but quietly, stride over to Toga’s desk and pick out the smallest switchblade you see. Your heartbeat patters in your ears and your hands shake as you take the knife and tuck it into your waistband. Not wanting to risk being seen and questioned, you make your leave, immediately heading straight to your room. 

You relax a bit once the door is shut behind you. The hard part is over, the next step is to hide it away. You let your back rest against the door as you chew your lip and weigh your options. As far as you’re aware, no one except Dabi or Toga have ever set foot into your room. Which means, almost any place that’s out of plain sight and hard to quickly get to would be a good place. After a few more moments of contemplating, you settle on a discrete location and stow it away. You hope you’re now one step closer to freedom. 

You steady your wildly beating heart by taking a few breaths, assuring yourself the stashed knife would not be found. It’s important you get your emotions under control, your shaking hands and nervous demeanor would raise suspicions, should you let them show. You’re unsure of how many minutes have passed before you finally calm yourself. What you do know, however, is that you’re fucking starving. It’s time for you to head downstairs. 

You leave your room and quietly make your way to the kitchen, checking to see if the bar is empty along the way. Despite how quiet the base is today, you’re definitely not alone, as your eyes catch a glimpse of Shigaraki and Mr.Compress conversing together in the bar. Looks like your escape route is guarded again, not that you’d have any way out anyways. You expected as much, but that doesn’t mean it’s any less disappointing. Still, you have to hold onto hope that someday they will slip up, either by allowing you enough time to attempt at picking the lock, or being stupid enough to leave a key behind. You’re not sure how likely that is though, given how most of them warp in rather than using the front door anyways.

You move on from the bar and onto the kitchen. The cupboards are surprisingly well-stocked, despite Shigaraki seemingly not generating much income. Villainy doesn’t normally pay the bills very well, after all. You wonder if there’s a mysterious benefactor helping the LOV behind the scenes. Whatever the case is, you certainly don’t mind if it means you get to eat. You fix yourself a quick breakfast and eat in peace, feeling partially amazed by just how mundane your day is going so far. This has to be the most boring day you’ve experienced in captivity.

You’re premature in your thoughts as the semblance of tranquility is shattered by a commotion in the other room. Judging by the voices, it seems the others are back from their mission. When there’s a mission, there are usually injuries too. You wash your empty bowl in the sink and head to your room, figuring that they’ll be looking for you there. As you head to the stairs, you meet Dabi in the halls. 

“I’m assuming you’re back from some sort of mission?” You ask him. 

“Yep,” he confirms. 

“Any injuries?”

“Not this time, it was just recon work.” 

“Looks like your staples got snagged though,” you point out. His fingers shoot to his face, touching the area and then feeling the blood stain his fingers. “It looks like they’ll need to be replaced.”

“Yeah, seems like it,” He agrees. “Didn’t you mention once that you had some?”

“They’re in the first aid kit,” you verify. 

“You mind bringing them over to my room?” 

“Yeah, I can do that.” You leave to fetch the necessary medical supplies, digging through what you have in your kit. Although he didn’t outright request it, you grab disinfectant, gauze, and a medical stapler.  You never really paid it much mind, but through your sifting, you notice he gave you equipment that goes well beyond amateur first aid. There are even suturing tools and nylon threads. But conveniently, nothing you could use to your advantage.

‘Where does Shigaraki even get all this stuff,’ you wonder. It’s weird, you think, how Shigaraki managed to get his hands on professional medical equipment. You think back to those sets of locked doors and the hospital-like smell you saw, once before. There’s gotta be something weird behind those doors, to warrant Shigaraki’s secrecy and for him to have all these medical supplies. 

Not wanting to keep Dabi waiting any longer, you shake the thoughts from your head and scoop up the necessary supplies. You head over to Dabi’s room and knock on the door. He calls for you to come in and you oblige, opening the door and shutting it behind you. You realize just how different his room looks in the light, as when you helped him to his room that night, everything was shrouded in darkness. You’re able to see just how bare his room is. There’s not many personal belongings in his room. In fact, his room isn’t much different than what yours looked like when you first arrived. Though, there is one thing he added.

You didn’t notice that one night, but there’s a mirror on his dresser, likely for this very reason. He leans over and looks into his reflection, eyes focusing on the bent staples. Unceremoniously, he yanks out the staples and then holds the area together with his free hand. You can’t help but stare at the scene, mouth agape. It’s no wonder Shigaraki wanted a healer, this man is incredibly wreckless with his personal health.

“You should really disinfect that first,” you chide. 

He shrugs. “Kinda hard to do with just one hand, I’ll pass.”

You sigh and twist off the cap from the disinfectant, pouring it onto a gauze. Looks like you’ll just have to take it upon yourself to clean the wound. You sidle up to him and snake your arm in between his. Your hand replaces his and supports his cheek. He lets you take over and watches your movements through the mirror as you dab the area with the gauze. 

“There, that should do it. Can you hold this again for me? I’ll get the stapler,” you request. Your hand brushes his as he holds himself together once more. You retract from his space, walking over to toss the sullied gauze into the trash before retrieving the stapler. It’s when you go to approach him again that nervousness starts to settle in your mind. Wait, how the fuck do you do this? You’ve never really done this before. Inserting staples is where your medical knowledge tapers off. He seems to notice your uncertainty, as he motions for you to hand over the staples. You oblige, feeling a bit relieved. Inserting staples is not something you’re entirely familiar with. Given the state of his body, he’s much more accustomed to it than you are. He uses the stapler and rejoins the flesh without a wince.

“Do you have any burns today?” You ask. He shakes his head. 

“No, I didn’t use my quirk,” he explains. “Wouldn’t mind you taking care of this, though.” He gestures to the scar underneath his eye, the same one that just got the staples replaced. 

“Yeah, sure thing,” you agree. You figured he might ask such a thing, it seemed painful. 

“You’re always standing when we do this. Here, sit,” he encourages, tapping on his desk nearby. You suppose he’s right, but you wonder what warranted such thoughts. You’d hate for this to be the case, but you wonder if it has anything to do with your fainting yesterday. With no other place to sit except his bed, you acquiesce to his request and hop onto the desk. He stands in front of you and you notice it’s a bit hard to reach his face without bending forward awkwardly, on account of your thighs getting in the way. You part your thighs to make it easier, allowing him the space to come closer. 

His hands are splayed on either side of your thighs, bearing some of his weight as he leans down to your level. You try to focus on the task at hand, attempting to avoid thinking too deeply on how his hips feel in between your thighs. It’s proving to be a hard task. You try to steady your breath before your hand touches his face, beginning the healing process on the skin. 

His warm fingers deftly brush against the skin of your thighs. The featherlight contact pulls a slight shudder and quiet gasp out of you. He must notice this as he lets out a light-hearted, airy chuckle. “Don’t tell me you’re cold already,” he teases. Your skin erupts into goosebumps, obviously felt under Dabi’s fingers. His voice takes on a more husky tone when he speaks again, “Do I have to warm you up so soon?”

You’re not sure if he means to, but his words seem flirtatious. The implication makes you even more flustered. You clear your throat before speaking, trying to cover up your obvious nervousness. “N-no, I’m fine. Just a random shiver is all.” 

You internally cringe at your own stuttering. It’s obvious he’s picked up on it. Dabi hums in response, eyes narrowing slightly in disbelief. “If you say so.” Heat rises in your cheeks. You huff out of frustrated embarrassment. He wasn’t entirely certain before, but judging from how you don’t recoil at his touch and how flustered it makes you, he’s confident in what he heard at the door now. Magne was right. You are attracted to him, you just don’t know the feeling is mutual.

Truthfully, he’s not sure what to do with this knowledge. This is uncharted territory for him. All he’s been focused on is his grandiose plan to ruin Endeavor. Fawning over someone was pointless and distracting. Besides, after what happened to his body, he thought his appearance was too unsightly anyways. It was better for him to abandon the idea altogether, lest he gets rejected and tossed aside all over again. But after hearing you don’t think he’s repulsive, what the fuck is he supposed to do now? It’s not like he learned what to do from his father. He knows he feels attraction towards you, though. Until he figures out the rest, he’s content with sneaking touches and stealing glances. The rush you give him is just too addictive to pass up. 

“Th-there, that should do it,” you shakily say. He hums in acknowledgement. Your eyes meet his, only to notice that he’s much closer to your face and looking at your lips with narrowed eyes.

“W-what are you doing?” You ask, nervousness clear in your voice. 

“Your lips turned blue last time, just doing my part to make sure you don’t fall on me again,” he replies. 

“And are they blue now?” His hand cups your jaw and his thumb just barely grazes your bottom lip. Your heart begins to quicken at the gesture. 

“No,” he answers. “Looks perfect to me.” He makes eye contact with you and you can’t suppress the way your mind hangs onto those words. 

He’s inches away from your face, close enough to see every detail of your face. His eyes momentarily dart to your lips, an action you don’t miss. You swallow, feeling the butterflies swarming in your stomach. It’s your turn to glance at his lips. You can’t help but wonder how his lips would feel against yours. When your gaze meets his, you feel your breath hitch upon realizing he was watching you. His pupils are dilated and his eyes are lidded. To him, yours look the same. 

His heart is thumping in his chest, much like yours is. The feelings between you two are wordlessly understood, demonstrated by how you’re both locked in place, frozen within this moment in time, as the tension crescendoes at an all-time high. Your resolve crumbles as you wish for the dam to finally break. He is the forbidden fruit, and consequences be damned, you want a taste. He seems to lean in closer, his breath fanning your lips. Instinctively, yours part. His eyes flutter closed and you do the same. The moment is rudely interrupted as a voice calls from the door.

“Dabi, y/n, the two of you are needed downstairs,” Kurogiri formally informs. Your eyes immediately snap open. To say his voice startled you is an understatement. You’re thankful Dabi’s door is still shut, at least. Kurogiri is not the worst person to discover the two of you like this, but you’d much rather not be discovered at all. 

Dabi lets his forehead fall against yours and begrudgingly opens his eyes, gazing at you with a soft expression you’ve never quite seen on him. He seems to hesitate before pulling away from you, battling the desire to just kiss you quickly. He locks eyes with you one more time and lets out a sigh, one that is mixed with disappointment and frustration. His fingers card through his hair, an attempt to soothe the tension he feels. He parts his lips to speak and tiredly drawls,“Alright, we’ll be right there.” 

You slide off of the table and the two of you walk together downstairs, neither of you mentioning that close moment. Everyone appears to be gathered in the bar, with Shigaraki standing near the door next to an unfamiliar person. The stranger has a hulking figure, with large, rippling muscles over his entire body. He appears to have an artificial eye on the side of his face marled with a deep, large scar. The eye is unlike anything you’ve seen before, as it exposes some of the ocular muscles and does not aim to look very natural. 

The rest of the LOV is waiting for an explanation as to why this stranger is in the bar, seemingly approved by Shigaraki. Dabi and you stand tucked in the back of the crowd, behind Toga and Magne. Toga glances over her shoulder, catching sight of you and Dabi. She gives you a Cheshire Cat grin. “What took you two so long?” Toga teases in a hushed whisper. 

“Healing stuff, you know, the usual,” you offer in explanation. Your voice must not sound confident, as she seemingly picks up on your lie. 

“Right, sure,” she giggles, knowingly. You’re thankful Shigaraki begins to speak, interrupting that interaction and saving you from more embarrassment. 

“This is Muscular, he will be accompanying you all on the mission tomorrow. Get your introductions out of the way now, I don’t wanna hear you were all too busy chatting to pull off the mission,” Shigaraki commands. “Talk about your quirks or something, you need to know how to use each other to our advantage.” 

“Does this include me?” You worryingly ask Dabi. 

“No, this doesn’t involve you. You and Shigaraki are staying behind,” he assures. You sigh in relief. 

Shigaraki leaves his place next to Muscular and takes a seat on the bar, barking at Kurogiri to make him a drink, the action silently encouraging the others to get on with their introductions. Toga takes the initiative to approach Muscular first and bounces over to him. She seems excited to meet new people, and therefore Muscular, despite the unspoken nervousness that seems to build in the room.

“Hi, I’m Toga!” 

“Your quirk, what is it?” he interrogates, seemingly completely uninterested in the casual small talk Toga was attempting to initiate. She pouts at his disinterest. It’s hard to hear where you are in the bar, but you swear you hear her mutter a ‘so rude’ under her breath. 

“I can become someone else if I drink their blood. The more blood I drink, the longer I can look like them,” she explains. Her voice has lost her usual enthusiasm, replaced with a cordial but curt tone. 

“Does that mean you can take on other people’s quirks?” 

“No, I can just look like them or sound like them.” 

“What happens when your timer runs out?”

“The facade melts off and leaves behind this gross clay,” she answers, grimacing at just the thought. This gives you more information about her quirk, something that you file in the back of your mind for later. The rest of the introductions go by as you hang back in the crowd with Dabi. Even Dabi seems slightly put off by Muscular, as he’s not in a hurry to approach him. Muscular ends up walking to Dabi, the crowd parting as he does so. Looks like the feeling is mutual amongst the rest of the LOV. 

“Dabi, I take it?” Muscular asks. Dabi answers a very unenthusiastic ‘yeah’ in response. To others, it sounds like his usual apathetic attitude, but somehow, you’re able to distinguish the difference. “So you’re the guy leading the mission.” 

“That’s right,” he answers. Muscular hums in acknowledgment, before his eyes meet yours. 

“Oh? And who is this pretty little thing? She looks too weak and sweet to be a villain, is this your pet or something?” The hulking man asks. You don’t like the way he’s looking at you or the questions he’s asking. You take a few steps back, hoping increasing the distance between the two of you would offer you some comfort. He must notice your attempt at backing away as he says,“Aw, don’t like me? That’s too bad. Not like that’s ever stopped me before though.” 

He licks his teeth and you tremble on the spot. This guy is fucking creepy and dangerous. Everyone else seems to notice your discomfort and the female members mirror it. Toga and Magne shift uncomfortably and tense up. Dabi shoots the man an annoyed glare, subtly slotting himself in the space between you and Muscular. 

“She doesn’t concern you,” Dabi coldly states. He diverts the conversation with an assertive tone. “Let’s go over the plan since we all know each other now, yeah? Everyone’s got their role in this mission. We can’t afford anyone screwing it up.” You take the opening as your cue to leave, and flee upstairs. On your way up, you glance at Shigaraki, trying to gauge his reaction to ensure you’re permitted to leave. He uses the hand not wrapped around his glass to wave you off, silently allowing you to bolt. 

Meanwhile while you’re upstairs, Dabi is going over the plan. He’s rather short with everyone. Dabi’s body temperature is rising, his skin slightly steaming. Truthfully, he’s fucking pissed at Muscular for that little stunt he pulled. Who does he think he is? He’s unaware of the obvious: he’s pissed because Muscular threatened you specifically. It’d be a cold day in hell before he lets someone hurt you, especially like that.

 Muscular continues to test Dabi’s patience, as he interrupts the discussion to ask, “So what quirk does that pretty little thing upstairs have?”

“She can heal people with her skin!” Twice gleefully answers. His tone shifts to a more whiny tone to seemingly chide himself for revealing your quirk. “Don’t tell him that!” The answer seems to satisfy Muscular, as he doesn’t interrupt the plan again, allowing Dabi to give careful instructions and cool off. After all the information is laid out, Shigaraki beckons Dabi to come over. 

“Dabi, Kurogiri has just informed me that my Master intends to loan us a Nomu for this mission,” Shigaraki states. 

“A Nomu? That’s one of those artificial soldiers you mentioned once before, isn’t it?” Dabi asks, with interest. Shigaraki confirms, before divulging in more details. 

“They’re trained to only respond to their commander. We’re setting it up to only take orders from you,” Shigaraki starts. He begins to go into detail about the quirks it has been fitted with and all of its resistances. Dabi glances over during his conversation with Shigaraki only to find Muscular is nowhere to be seen. There’s a pit forming in his stomach at the realization. 

“Give me a minute, I gotta go check something,” Dabi interrupts. Without even waiting for Shigaraki to respond, he heads off in the direction of the stairs. 

“Come back here, we weren’t done,” Shigaraki complains. 

“Fuck off, it’ll only take a second. It’s not like the plan is happening anytime soon.” Shigaraki huffs in response, grumbling under his breath and beginning to scratch at his own neck in palpable annoyance. Dabi heads up the stairs, searching for Muscular and you. His ears are able to pick up on a conversation, instantly focusing in on your voice. 

“Oh, um, sorry. I just healed someone else,” you meekly say, your apparent fear masked under the guise of politeness. 

“What’s that got to do with it?” Muscular asks with annoyance. 

“If I heal too much, my hands get cold enough for frostbite to set in.” 

“Oh? But isn’t your quirk healing skin?”

“What’s your point?” Your tone is much more guarded, steeling yourself for what comes next. You don’t like where this conversation is headed.

“I’m just saying it doesn’t have to be your hands. Just take off your clothes. I’d warm you right up, baby,” he purrs. You feel nauseous at his implication as pure fear seeps into your body. 

He’s making you really uncomfortable. This is one of the first times since your capture you’ve been genuinely worried for your safety. Shigaraki was intimidating when you first met him, but all it took to avoid his wrath was cooperation. But Shigaraki didn’t ever stoop this low with you, nor did anyone else. You’re surrounded by villains but this man seems like a true monster. 

Your pulse races as more anxiety rises within you. The large man inches closer into your space, slowly cornering you against the wall. You frantically weigh your options. Do you risk shouting for help and hoping you’re saved? Or are you going to screw your eyes shut and cope with what comes next? You really wish you kept that knife on you. Hiding it was a safe bet, but you could really use that advantage right now. 

“What are you still doing here?” You hear a familiar voice interject. Muscular turns his body to face the source, allowing you to see Dabi. 

If looks could kill, Muscular would probably be dead ten times over. Dabi’s expression even rattles you to your core, despite not even being the intended recipient. There’s this oppressing aura of intimidation surrounding him, only furthered by the cold and unhinged look in his eyes. You realize this must be what his enemies see. This is why many people fear him, but not you. 

“Just wanted to meet the healer you’ve been hiding from me. Is there something wrong with wanting to get to know everyone before the mission?”

“There’s no need, she won’t be going.”

“What a waste,” Muscular criticizes. He directs his next words to you, “Maybe next time.” With that, Muscular withdraws from your space and starts down the hall, glancing over his shoulder at you before he descends the stairs. Dabi’s eyes watch him as he leaves, not even risking taking his eyes off until Muscular is out of sight. Afterwards, he looks to you, noticing your very apparent scared state. 

“Are you okay?” He finally asks, his voice much softer towards you. “Did he do anything?” 

“Besides say some gross things? No, he didn’t get the chance to act on it,” you answer. Dabi’s brows are still furrowed out of concern for you and annoyance at Muscular.

“He doesn’t know which room is yours, so you can hide in there. I’ll let you know when he leaves,” he instructs. You nod and don’t hesitate to hide. You’re grateful for Dabi’s interruption. Imagining what would have happened to you had Dabi not intervened only serves to further rattle your nerves. You sit on your bed, tucking your knees against your chest and renaming as quiet as possible, so as to keep Muscular from figuring out where you are should he attempt to look for you. The silence in your room helps you come back down from anxiety and back to reality, though you can never fully relax, as your ears still pick up on what you think is Muscular’s voice downstairs. In an attempt to drown out his voice, you cover your ears with your pillow. It helps some, as a lot of the sounds downstairs are muffled by the cotton in your pillow. You let out some deep breaths, finally slowing your beating heart back down to a normal level. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed when you hear a knock on your door. Your steps are cautious and slow as you head to the door, carefully opening it and peering through the sliver of space to see who it is. You’re met with a wave of relief to see familiar purple scars and shining silver staples. You open the door wider, feeling safer not seeing Muscular. Dabi notices the difference in your demeanor and obvious tension leaving your body. It’s strange, he thinks, that someone could be relieved to see him. He doesn’t quite understand why the thought makes him want to grin. 

“Happy to see me?” He jokes with a smirk before sauntering in. It’s almost criminal how attractive he looks with his signature smirk. “You can relax, you know, he won’t be staying around here before the mission.”

“Oh thank god. I don’t like that guy,” you admit. He chuckles at your honesty. 

“I don’t either, but he is strong. We could use him, even if he’s stupid and rash. In any case, he’d make a great pawn.”

“So he’s not going to be a permanent member?” 

“I doubt it, he lacks real ambition. He’s probably just itching for a fight is all. I bet he’ll fuck off after the mission once he realizes we’re not constantly starting meaningless chaos,” he denounces, smirking while shit-talking about Muscular. It brings you some comfort to know that Dabi is both on your side and shares your distaste for Muscular. His expression turns a bit more serious and he adds, “I doubt he’ll be around you again, but for what it’s worth, I won’t let him try anything. If he tries anything, scream, and I’ll be there. I don’t care if Shigaraki needs him or not, I’ll fucking burn him.” 

Normally, you’d be socially obligated to admonish someone for saying they’d murder another person. But, in this case, you’re making an exception. “Thank you, Dabi,” you show gratitude. You give him a soft smile, before attempting a lighthearted joke, “I promise I’ll give him my best girl-in-a-horror-movie shriek.” 

“Atta girl,” he praises and laughs. The two of you part ways for the night afterwards, leaving you to get some much needed rest after the rollercoaster that was your day. Falling asleep isn’t as difficult as you feared it would be. You drift off to sleep, knowing that Dabi has your back.

The next couple of days pass by relatively quietly, at least, for the league’s standards. They seem to be gearing up for the upcoming outing, as everyone minus Shigaraki and Kurogiri leave one night. When they arrive, you notice that they’re now fitted with new equipment. Toga carries this backpack with clear tubes on her persons, and you’re able to notice the tubes connect to a rather large syringe. Magne now has a huge rectangular metal beam, one end colored in red while the opposite is blue. It’s a magnet, you realize. Dabi even received something new, as he’s wearing new clothes. His new jacket is black with silver cuffs at the half sleeves. There’s a stitching motif around the collar and along the split tails of his coat. 

You really hate how your first thought is how good he looks in it. It seems like their little mission was nothing more than a supply run, hence the lack of injuries on Dabi. Truly, you’re thankful for it, in more ways than one. With the way you’re feeling about him, you’re sure that any close encounter would result in you finishing what you started on that damn table. 

The day comes and goes. Night falling without any more commotion or contact with Dabi. It’s not until the next day that this pattern changes. There’s a knock on your door. Just like the last time, you slowly open the door, checking to see who it is. With no sign of Muscular, you swing open the door, allowing Dabi to step in. You expect him to take his seat on your bed like usual, only he doesn’t, and instead stands in front of you. You’re about to part your lips to ask what he needs, but he speaks first, answering your question. 

“We’re about to leave for the rendezvous point,” he informs. Neither Dabi nor the others usually let you know when they’re about to run off to do one of their missions. The fact he’s even letting you know makes you think that this one is significant, far more important or dangerous than anything they’ve done before. Thinking about what could happen makes you a bit nervous. 

“Do you think there’s going to be a lot of injuries?” You ask, approaching the topic with a careful tone. 

“If all goes well, it should be just the usual,” he answers. The ‘usual’ implies he’ll be the only one returning with the typical burns characteristic of his quirk. 

“And if it doesn’t?” You counter. Dabi doesn’t answer you. The silence cements the direness of the situation. 

Dabi looks at you with an intense longing you only saw a glimpse of that time you nearly kissed. He thinks about what would happen if he doesn’t get the chance to come back to you, what would happen if he got caught by the heroes. The thought causes an ache in his chest, but he won’t back down from the mission. He can’t. This is a stepping stone to his eventual goal. He’s sure that the LOV could bring him closer to his eventual target. He has to take the risk. And if he has to take this one, what’s another?

He steps closer to you and pulls you against his chest, wrapping his arms around you. The sudden gesture takes you by surprise, but you don’t stiffen out of discomfort. Rather, you seem to relax in his hold and almost lean into his touch. Still, you can’t help but acknowledge this seems out of character for him. 

“What’s gotten into you? Is everything okay?” The worry is clear in your voice.

“I just… wanted to do this before I go,” he explains. His voice is quiet and unsure, something you interpret as a result of his unfamiliarity with affection. Against your better judgement, you find yourself reciprocating, wrapping your arms around him. 

“Well you’re coming back, aren’t you?” you ask, your voice partially muffled by his jacket. He doesn’t respond immediately. The two of you reluctantly part but still hover in each other’s space. You look up at him, making eye contact. There’s this look in his eyes that you can’t quite place. He seems far away from you, despite being close enough to touch. 

“Yeah,” he answers. Somehow, you can tell he’s not entirely confident in his answer. Your stomach twists upon noticing, and you can’t help but feel a bit saddened to think of him disappearing on you. You’re beginning to question your sanity. Is Stockholm finally setting in? How are you going to feel about him when you finally escape? Will these feelings you have for him make you never wish to leave? He exits your room with great hesitation, leaving you to stand there in silence, reflecting on your burning questions. 

After a few minutes, you hear Shigaraki calling for you downstairs. You close your eyes and breathe in, steeling yourself for the incoming interaction with Shigaraki, before releasing your breath and heading downstairs. When you arrive in the bar, you find everyone has their equipment packed and are clustered in the open area of the floor. You cringe when you see Muscular in the far corner, but Shigaraki waves you over, unintentionally saving you from appearing available for conversation to Muscular. You approach Shigaraki, feeling a bit confused as to why you were requested here.

“I thought I wasn’t going?” You question, your voice raising towards the end in uncertainty. Shigaraki scoffs in annoyance.

“You’re not,” Shigaraki retorts. 

“But… then why did you…?” You trail off, referencing why he called for your presence downstairs.

“I’m not dumb enough to let you wander around on your own. You’re staying down here so Kurogiri and I can babysit you,” Shigaraki patronizes. You make it a point to not let Shigaraki’s words get to you anymore, considering he talks that way to literally everyone. 

“Invest in a nanny if it bothers you that much,” you grumble under your breath, before taking a seat in one of the bar booths. You rest your elbows against the table and place your chin in the palm of your hand, with an uninterested expression. With nothing else to look at, your eyes wander the crowd. Your subconscious takes the reigns and your eyes travel over to Dabi. He seems to have a determined expression on his face as he speaks with Twice. You wonder what drives him, what motivates him to do the things he does, how he continues to use his quirk despite how it hurts him. He’s never revealed much to you, or really anybody, what goal he’s working towards. It both fascinates you and terrifies you. Some part of you admires it, even, how he’s so driven that his own self destruction won’t stop him. 

You must have been staring and lost in thought for too long, as his gaze snaps to you. Your surroundings fade into the background and you feel frozen in place. The moment is interrupted as Kurogiri summons a warp gate in the corner of the room, the two of you diverting your gazes to the strange purple portal. Everyone files in, one by one, and slowly becomes enveloped into the gateway, transporting them to a location completely unknown to you. Dabi is the last to file in. He glances over his shoulder to look back to you. His eyes stay locked onto yours, his bright eyes partially shrouded behind the mist, all the way up until he disappears in the violet haze. You find yourself asking a million questions about their plans. Just what does Shigaraki have in store for them? What’s so dangerous about this mission? What does the league of villains hope to accomplish?

A few hours trudge by painfully. You’ve spent this entire time counting; counting how many times Kurogiri seems to polish the same spot on the bar, how many unopened bottles of expensive liquor are collecting dust on the shelves, how many scuff marks tarnish the shine of the wooden floor… The point is, there’s only so many things in the room. You’re painfully bored and running out of novel ways to entertain yourself. 

Meanwhile, Shigaraki spends his time playing on his Switch, carefully holding it with his pinkies raised up. It seems inconvenient, you think, to have to constantly be mindful of disintegrating everything you touch. You wonder just how many gaming consoles he’s gone through, how many he’s accidentally dusted with his quirk. Though, based on how heated he gets over his games, you wager that a lot of those instances may be more on purpose than on accident.

 Speaking of which, it seems like he’s reached a tough part of the game, as he groans at the sight of the flashing ‘Game Over’ graphic (which is his third time seeing the words, and yes, you’ve been counting that too). The gaming console is tossed aside. Shigaraki checks his phone and repeatedly taps his finger onto the bartop. You can deduce that he’s feeling impatient and waiting on something based on his mannerisms. Your ears strain to hear how he mutters in annoyance, mumbling about how everyone sucks at giving him updates. You can only presume he’s referring to the mission. Your boredom emboldens you, as you find yourself starting a conversation with Shigaraki while his attention is not grabbed by his handheld console. There’s always been one very obscure thing you’ve wanted to ask him. Now’s your chance to have this stupid curiosity settled.

“I have a question,” you say.

“It better not be about the mission,” he deadpans.

“It’s not,” you assure. He seems to relax a bit, until you add, “My question is much worse.”

“I swear to god, if you ask about-” he starts to rant, before you cut him off. 

“Do you ever wash your hand mask?” You gesture to your face, referencing the hand he always wears there. It’s obvious he’s taken off guard, even with his face being partially obscured by the covering. There’s a very tense silence. You interrupt the quietness, “So… I’ll take that as a no…”

“It’s a taxidermy,” he finally replies, no longer stunned by your unexpected question. 

Well, that certainly explains why. 

It’s your turn to remain silent. 

“Oh,” is the most you’re able to muster. This situation makes you miss talking to Dabi, Toga, or Magne already, and it’s only been a couple hours. He notices you picking at your nails, something he sees as you trying to entertain yourself. 

“Are you bored?” He asks. 

“No, not at all. I love sitting here in silence. It’s riveting, really. You should try it,” you answer sarcastically. He sighs and you notice him scratching at his neck, probably agitated by your sarcasm. 

“Here’s the remote, entertain yourself and stop bothering me,” he orders, holding up the remote before tossing it at you. You manage to grab it before it either hits you or falls on the ground. 

“Don’t mind if I do,” you beam. He places his phone on the counter, screen down, and resumes playing on his Switch. You spend the rest of the night lounging around, enjoying the free access to the league’s tv without the other members vying for control of the channels. Against your better judgment, you flip to the news, curious as to what’s going on in the world. You feel a bit disappointed not seeing anything about your disappearance on the news. The lack of coverage makes you wonder if anyone even noticed your absence at all. You try not to let it get to you and choose to busy yourself by watching increasingly odd gameshows. It helps a bit, as the bizarre tasks the contestants are forced to participate in gives you something else to think about. 

You’re not sure how much time has passed, and you’re about to doze off, until you’re startled awake. Kurogiri summons a portal, and out pours the rest of the league. You eyes quickly scan all the bodies, taking inventory of everyone. There’s Toga, Magne, Twice, Dabi, Spinner, and Compress. Muscular and a few of the other strangers are gone. What happened to them?

“The target?” Shigaraki interrogates. 

“Handled by your’s truly,” Compress ensures, with a grandiose flourish. His stagelike mannerisms are showing. 

“Toga, how much blood did you get?” Shigaraki adresses next. She holds up  the syringe attached to a pump, the same gear you see her leave with. The amount in the vial is remarkably small, with barely any blood present. 

“One person’s!” She cheerily answers. Shigaraki lets out a sigh that can only be described as a frustrated huff. 

“It’ll have to do,” he settles. “Whoever’s injured should go get healed first. We’ll talk about the rest of the plan afterwards.”

Dabi saunters over to you, accompanied by Compress following behind. Compress seems to be clutching his own shoulder, making you worry that a much more serious injury underneath his jacket. Your eyes scan over Dabi, not noticing any blaring signs of other wounds, apart from the usual burns on his hands and arms. Maybe you were worrying over him for nothing after all. 

“What sort of injuries am I working with?” You ask the two of them.

“Compress ate shit and got slammed to the ground. There’s gotta be some bruising. If not to his body, then his ego,” Dabi snickers. “Nothing out of the ordinary for me, though.” 

“Oh come off it!” Compress groans. “I’ll have you know I took that tussle with grace.” 

“In that case, I’ll start with Compress,” you decide, interjecting their bantering. You rise from your seat in the booth and motion for Compress to sit. You crack your knuckles before instructing, “You’ll need to remove your coat, I can’t heal through fabric.” 

Compress sheds his mustard colored coat, revealing an orange button down shirt underneath a black buttoned vest. You can’t but wonder why this man wears so many fucking layers of clothing. The sheer amount of buttons he has to undo makes the process a little awkward, as you’re left standing there, wringing your hands. After a moment or two, his torso is now bare to you. You can see blooms of purples and blues across his chest, no doubt from the impact. Your hands touch the bruises and your quirk activates. Dabi can’t help but grit his teeth at the sight and hover by your side. 

“Your hands are so cold. Will you be alright? I heard you can get frostbite like this,” he asks with a shuddering voice. Your hands move over to the last cluster of bruising on his chest, leaving behind even, porcelain skin in it’s wake. 

“Don’t worry about it, Dabi will warm me up,” you dismiss. There’s a sharp silence as you realize the accidental innuendo of your word choice. To your dismay, Compress picks up on it. 

“Oh will he now?” If he wasn’t wearing a mask, you’re sure you’d see his eyebrows raised in amusement. 

“Come on, I didn’t mean it like that! He has a fire quirk, he can heat up his hands for Christ’s sake. Get your mind out of the gutter,” you defend. With no more bruises left, you cross your arms and huff. “And to think I took you for a gentleman, Compress.” 

“Pardon the crude implication, but your words made it easy to assume,” he feigns an apology through strained snickers. He rebuttons his clothes and shrugs into his topcoat, smoothing over the wrinkles with his hands. Compress rises from his seat in the booth. You expect him to run off, but he stands in front of you, and asks, “Would you forgive me if I showed you a magic trick?”

“If it’s a good one, I’ll consider it,” you bargain. 

With a sleight of hand, he presents to you a white azalea. “For your services,” he offers. You pluck the flower from his hand and twirl the stem between your fingers. “Harvested fresh from the Nagano forest.” 

“Hm… I suppose I’ll forgive you, just this once,” you offer, bringing the flower to your lips. Your gaze turns to Dabi as you address him next, “Lemme just set this down and I’ll heal you next, Dabi.” 

You turn to place the flower on the table, but the plant is stolen from your fingers, the motion expertly performed with the skill of a thief. You’re about to protest when Dabi tucks the azalea behind your ear, a gesture you weren’t anticipating, especially given how public this display of affection is. You’re too busy glancing at the crowd, searching for any signs of the others acknowledging what happened, that you fail to notice the side eye Dabi gives Compress. 

“I was worried you were gonna take it from me for a minute there,” you mumble while fiddling with your hands.

“Nah, looks better on you than it would me,” he contends. He slides into the booth and presents you with his hands. “Now, you ready to do this or are you too cold?” You shake your head and clasp your hands around his, firing up your quirk.

“It’s good to see you’re not too hurt,” you mention. 

“Yeah, the mission went well,” he explains. 

“Really, is that so?” you respond. You’re doubtful it truly went well, considering how there’s less members than what they left with. Not wanting to outright ask about what happened, lest you learn of abhorrent details, you decide on a more subtle approach. “It’s just… I notice there’s some people missing, is all,” you carefully mention, almost in a whisper. 

“Not the important ones. You trying to say you miss Muscular?” Dabi jokes. 

“God no, I’m glad he’s not here,” you’re quick to respond. 

“Besides, we caught a UA brat and the boss will convert him to our side. The kid will replace the others, once we let him out of the marble,” Compress boasts. There’s a sharp silence that takes over you upon hearing so and you halt all your moments. They kidnapped another person? What seems to be a child, at that? 

The look of disappointment that flashes on your face is something Dabi won’t ever forget. You seem to wilt at the information, contrasting the still-fresh flower tucked in your hair. “I see,” you murmur. 

They really put the kid in kidnapping, didn’t they?

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