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#purge!au
yanderemommabean · 2 months
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Odd Idea
It's a red room scenario but the Red in this instance is for...pleasure rather than pain. Yanderes rent these secret rooms after they find a way to capture their darling, some use it as a method of a welcome home, others as a method of punishment if their darling has escaped.
These rooms have a strict set of rules, some things to consider if things go wrong, and so on. But the darling is in that room to be pleasured until the yandere has their fill, and if that yandere gets tired or needs to rest, they have hired help or even their partners to take over for them.
There are cameras and a live chat, but the darling is given ways to orgasm rather than painful punishments.
It's a half baked Idea I can see working with the yandere virus and yandere purge AU's, I can add more later on, but I figured I'd spew this out before I forget!
Lemme know what you think! (Please. Interact. Its literally the only thing keeping creators creating. )
-Mommabean
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ohbo-ohno · 3 months
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merry christmas @luminousbeings-crudematter, here's the ghoap x reader purge au! (a week and a half after you posted about it... im so sorry)
5.7k, mind the tags <3
cw: ROUGH NONCONSENUAL SEX in all caps, pwp, under-prepared/painful anal sex, some pretty intense fear stuff, people covered in blood and referenced violence (it's a purge au lol)
Your hands tremble where they’re tucked close to your chest, blood sticky and thick between each finger. You feel coated in it, like someone has taken a brush and gone over every inch of your skin, painted you in red.
It’s in your mouth. You can feel the warmth of it on your tongue, the taste of iron sickening. You tell yourself that maybe you bit your tongue, that it’s not really your ex Phil’s blood coating your teeth.
Your thin pajamas are hardly any protection against the chill of the night air, less so with how soaked they are. The stench of piss is heavy in the air, a mixture of yours and his, but you don’t have time to go back inside and change.
You’re running on pure instinct, an animal urge deep in your mind insisting you run. You’d always thought you’d have more of a flight instinct than fight. Despite how you feel now, how your legs itch to carry you as far away as possible, the cooling corpse left behind tells you the truth. 
You stumble into the wall, a wave of nausea knocking you off balance. There’s a trail of red left behind as you use one hand to balance yourself, the other held protectively over your heart. 
Your security system - cheap, but usually enough to let you sleep through the Purge - is completely destroyed. There’s no chance of it protecting you, and the bust in windows will let anyone on the streets see your vulnerability. You’ll never feel safe there, and you can’t shake the need to run.
There’s no chance of any of your neighbors helping you. There’s some neighborly camaraderie between your floor-mates, but that all disappears on Purge night. It’s every man for himself, every year, without fail. You know that. You even think the same as them, pretend no one else exists when that siren goes off every year. 
But now, shaking and terrified, you wish you could knock on a door and see it open. Hear the security system disengage and see a familiar face, beg for help and thank them on your knees.
It’s a nice fantasy. Reality is less kind, seeing you shake with a dawning chill as you manage to shoulder open the door to the stairwell, cringing when it slams behind you.
The cold cement is rough on your feet, and a distant part of yourself worries about slipping - your feet are slick with blood, and you can hear yourself leaving a trail of footsteps. You don’t try to slow down, holding tight to the metal railing and shuffling down the stairs.
You’re halfway down the first of four flights when the door on the next floor opens, a large figure stepping into the stairwell. Your stumble to a stop before you even register that you’re not alone anymore, and you’re backpedaling before you even fully realize.
He’s big, his face covered in a red skull mask. From your vantage point you can see his hair is shaved into a mohawk, and he’s shirtless with only a pair of gray sweatpants on.
He’s drenched in blood. Even more than you, and you feel like you’re drowning in it. If you’re painted in blood, someone took a bucket and dumped it on this man. You can hardly see any unmarked skin, and you wonder for a split-second if the skull was once white.
There’s an audible grin in his voice when he calls up to you. “Look’it you, bonnie thing. You tryin’ to run?” He steps to the side, leaving a wide open space for you to pass him to the next staircase. You’re frozen where you’re leant against the railing, hardly able to breathe. “C’mon, give it a shot.” 
You listen, scrabbling further back and all but throwing yourself up the stairs on all fours. You’re only the need to get away, an innate fear that tells you to get as far from the blood-soaked man as quickly as possible. You swear you hear him laugh as you launch yourself up the next flight, panting already.
There’s no safety found in going up though, as hardly two flights later you’re tugged to a stop by your instincts alone.
Standing above you, hardly six feet away and blocking the door he must’ve just come from, is another giant. This one fully clothed and with a white skull mask, somehow bigger and more intimidating than the man you can hear coming up the stairs behind you. You can’t see even an inch of skin, black gloves on his hands and mean black combat boots reaching nearly his knees.
There’s a moment, before the chase ends, where you contemplate jumping over the railing. There’s no going up, there’s no going back, and you can’t even begin to imagine what these two men want with you. The only thing that keeps you from throwing yourself over is the fear that you wouldn’t die on impact, that you’d be left injured and even more vulnerable to these men.
You’re not sure you could’ve tried that plan had you even wanted to, because the moment it forms fully in your mind a pair of thick arms wraps around you, and a heavy weight forces you to the ground.
You cry out at the sudden shove, palms scraped raw against the cement. The man behind you covers your body completely - his knees bracket yours, his hands rest on either side of your head, and there’s no part of the back of you that isn’t cloaked in him.
He doesn’t say anything as he ruts against you, the blood from his chest soaking through your tank top and making you cringe further away. You can’t stop the quiet stream of whimpers as you try to shrink into the stairs, try to get away from the beast behind you. He doesn’t care, only drops more of his weight onto you and pantomines fucking you.
You can feel the outline of his cock through his pants, as thin as the clothes both of you are wearing are. If you weren’t wearing your shorts, if he tugged the waistband of his pants down, he’d be inside of you.
The thought makes you tear up, makes you want to slam your head back and try to knee him in the balls, makes you want to fight.
But all your fight is gone. It died with Phil and your security system, and you’re left only with a weight in your bones that makes you wish you could sink through the floor. 
The hard plastic of the skull mask presses to the sensitive skin of your cheek, biting into the fat there. You can see the gleam of bright blue eyes in the sockets, the creases at the edges that tell you he’s smiling.
“You gonna fuck her here for the first time?” The white skull asks, voice deep enough that you hardly register the words. Your eyes are jerked to his form and it makes you shiver to see him sitting on the top of the staircase you’re pinned to, legs spread wide as he stares down at you with a cigarette between lips exposed by the tilted mask. You feel like a sacrifice, thrown to the stairs of a temple for a god.
“Can I?” The man over your shoulder pants, accent roughened from his own movements. You can’t tell if the wetness between your thighs is piss, blood, or an even worse option. You bite your tongue to hold back a whine, wince at the burst of iron in your mouth.
The man above you tilts his head, smoking blown into the air. “You fuck her here, you won’t get to go again on the roof. Don’t need you gettin’ spoiled.”
Your nails dig into the concrete, folding beneath the pressure as you shake beneath the red skulled man. He whines over you, like a petulant kid being told no for the first time, but goes still against you. That alone has you blinking open damp eyelashes, watching him from the corner of your eyes.
��Alright, I’ll wait,” he pants, chin resting on your soldier. “Give ye some time to get ready, huh lass? It’ll be easier for ye then. Just think about what we’ll do to ye, how good it’ll feel to get properly fucked, yeah?”
You sob when he grinds one final time against you, your hips pushed into the harsh edge of the stairs. 
He’s dragging you up after that, hardly letting either of you stand fully before shoving you up the stairs. You can’t catch your balance and let out a small cry as you fall back to your knees, mouth twisting in pain at the unforgiving surface against your naked knees.
You flinch when a gloved hand grasps your chin, tugging up until you’re forced to look towards the white skull above you.
You’ve landed between his feet, a boot on either side of your body, and if you’d moved forward even another half foot, you’d have face planted into his lap. 
Your heart skips a beat when you realize you’re making eye contact with him. The dark brown of his pupils blends almost seamlessly with what must be black paint smeared around his eye sockets, and the only reason you even realize you’re locked in a staring contest is the way the light reflects off the whites of his eyes.
You don’t have time to try and move away from him on your own (or, more accurately, to throw yourself backwards and pray you didn’t break something falling down the stairs) before a pair of bare hands are shoving you up from beneath the armpits, making you almost squeal as you jerk in the direction you’re forced.
“Up, c’mon,” red skull grunts, hands flitting from one part of your exposed skin to the next as he herds you upstairs. “Need to get inside ye, kitty, fuckin’ walk.”
You sob as you stumble up the stairs, the top of your foot scraping painfully against the concrete. You glance over your shoulder just in time to see White stand to follow you two, but you’re nearly sent sprawling again when Red only shoves you all the more harshly.
“Pl-please,” you manage to gasp, shoulder roughly bouncing off the wall. A glance up tells you you’re two full flights away from the rooftop. “Please, I don’t know what you want, b-but…” You can hardly talk around the sobs floating in your throat, choking you. “Please, please don’t hurt me.”
Red groans as he tugs you nearly off balance, the sound echoing off the walls and full of what you can only describe as hunger.
“Fuck, haven’t even gotten ye naked yet ‘n yer already beggin. Knew ye’d be perfect for us.”
You can hardly see through the tears in your eyes, the rest of the trip up to the roof all gray with streaks of red and black. You can’t focus enough to try and get away again, can’t get enough of your panic under control to fucking think.
The red skull catches you when you almost go careening over the rails, one broad hand catching you by the chest and gripping.
He groans, you flinch. “Fuck, cannae wait to get my mouth on these.” He pinches with his whole hand, your breast going sharp with pain on every fingertip. You whine, flinching further against his chest and trying to shrink away.
“Keep movin’, Soap.”
“Aye,” Red - Soap - pants, and you can practically hear the saliva gathered in his mouth when he swallows. “C’mon, kitty, only a little further.”
The blood on your hands has dried by the time White is shouldering open the door to the roof, your hands itching and the red flaking away every time your fingers twitch. The night air is a cold shock, just jarring enough to tug some reason back into your brain.
Soap doesn’t stop his herding until you’re far enough from the door for his partner to block it with an old metal chair, the back tucked under the door handle. You tuck your hands beneath your arms, shoulders curled in in an attempt to preserve warmth.
You wouldn’t have expected the night to be so cold. Half of the street is burning - flames painting the sky, giving you the exact opposite impression of the biting chill you feel. There are dozens of people in the streets, carrying guns and axes and chainsaws and all sorts of other weapons you can’t see. You feel bile rise in your throat when you realize the dark pools reflecting flames in the street are blood, not water.
“Fuckin’ finally,” Soap grumbles, and you don’t have any time to think before his mouth is pressed forcefully against yours, tongue shoving at your lips.
Your eyes are wide open, unlike his, and you make a shocked sound high in your throat at the sight of his maskless face. You can’t really see what he looks like with the way he’s pressed against you, but it’s a shock nonetheless.
You keep your lips pressed tightly together, no matter how much his tongue prods and tries to force its way into your mouth. You feel more than hear him laugh against you after a few long seconds, and one of his massive paws comes up to cradle your jaw pointer finger against your temple and thumb under your chin.
He stops trying to force himself between your lips after almost a minute, instead shifting to just… licking your lips. His tongue paints wide across your mouth, soaking you in his saliva. He’s almost scarily determined in the way he accosts you, his grip tight on your face as his other hand shifts to bruise your hip, covering what feels like the entire bottom-half of your face in his spit. You can’t help but grimace, trying to pull away from him, but he’s pressed too close.
“Can’t fuckin’ wait to be in ye,” he pants, breath warm and wet against your cheeks. “I know yer gonna squeeze me just right, bonnie, can tell already.”
“Please,” you say, voice weak. “Please, don’t, I don’t want you to-”
His groan is guttural. “Ye wanna know a secret, bonnie?” His voice is quiet between the two of you, bright blue eyes boring deep into yours when he pulls back. To your endless frustration, he’s handsome.
He leans close, whispering so low that you almost have to strain to hear hum. “That’s what makes you fun. Wouldnae be draggin’ you up here if ye wanted it, could get you any other night of the year for that. But it’s Purge night, lass… so you go ahead and fight as much as ye want, yeah? Just makes it more fun for me.”
You can’t help but sob at that, fat tears streaming down your face as he maneuvers you. You feel disconnected from your body as he forces you down to the ground, your soft belly left exposed when he pushes up your tank-top to cup one of your breasts, a whimper crawling out of your throat at the way the gravel presses into you.
You feel his breathing grow heavier as his hands move down to your shorts, shoving them off your hips and leaving them loose around your calves, completely disregarding your pitiful attempts at crawling away.
“Poor thing, been stuck in these the whole time? They fuckin’ reek, bonnie, no offense. That his piss or yours?”
You shake your head against the ground, face twisted up in acute humiliation. For some stupid reason you don’t want to even begin exploring, you find it necessary to whisper, “H-his.”
Soap hums, and you curse yourself inwardly when the humiliation is slightly alleviated.
“Get ‘em off her,” the white mask says, and you can’t help but jump at the sound of his voice. He’s sat on a large box only a few feet away, leaning back and relaxing, looking for all the world like he’s settled in for his favorite show. “Don’t want anythin’ of his touching her now.”
The sound Soap makes at that is animalistic, a snarl coming from deep in his chest that makes you flinch as he all but tears the shorts from your body. You wince at the wet splat of them landing several feet away.
You force your forehead into the gravel when your knees are forced wide, a rough hand and another pair of knees spreading you.
“No, no, no, no, no, no, no…” you can’t help but beg, voice trembling. “Please- god, please don’t-”
“Fuck,” he moans over your shoulder. “Yeah, keep goin’, lass.”
You sob at the feeling of warm skin against your bared behind, his thick length slotting itself smoothly between the slightly spread lips of your pussy. Your eyes squeeze shut and it takes all your willpower not to keep begging.
He slides himself back and forth against you for a few long breaths, using online the slight slickness from a mixture of piss and blood to get some friction. But to your immense horror, it only takes a few moments for the sensual movement against your clit to have your body preparing itself.
The slight wetness at your hole might be a betrayal, but it’s not nearly enough to ease the way when he pushes inside of you with no warning.
You nearly scream, a high sound of pure panic and pain when it feels like you’re being split in two. Somewhere off in the distance, you hear someone laugh. Right above you, Soap groans.
He’s buried himself to the hilt inside you before the pain has had any time at all to fade, and he’s fucking into you hardly a second after that.
Every thrust forces a grunt from your throat, the entire weight of him slammed into your back each time his balls smack against your clit. Your face is twisted up in a grimace, your whole body racked with pain that your assaulter couldn’t care less about.
“Fuck, kitty. Yer squeezin’ me so good, such a good girl, shit-! Knew you’d be ti-tight as a vice, fuck, but didn’t know you’d be squeezin’ me so tight I can hardly move.”
Your whine is plaintive, his moan is filled with pleasure.
“Yer gettin’ so wet for me, bonnie. Ye like this, huh? Bet you like it just as much as I do, gettin’ thrown around and takin’ advantage of. That it, kitty? Ye like being forced?”
You sob and shake your head against the ground, crying all the more when sharp pebbles dig into your cheeks.
“Naw, I think ye do. Why else’d you be- fuck, squeezin’ me like that?” 
“Cause- because-” you try, but you can’t get the breath in to get more than a single word out.
“Huh? Cause- cause-?” Soap mocks, his voice pitching up to mimic you as he plants himself deep inside you, grinding his hips against the meat of your ass. “C’mon, kitty, tell me why. Go on.”
“Cause I want you to stop!” You cry, balled up fist slamming into the gravel. You can’t help but whine ow when the sharp rocks poke into your skin, and Soap’s laugh shakes your entire body.
“Good,” he whispers, breath hot against your ear. “Squirm all ye want, lass. I love it when you fight.”
You can do nothing but go limp beneath him as he begins fucking you again, his pace somehow faster and even more relentless. It’s a small mercy that there’s no fight left in you, that you can’t give him any more pleasure. 
It certainly doesn’t stop him, though. Despite the fact that you’re doing your best impression of a dead fish, Soap pants and moans against your shoulder like you’re the single best thing he’s ever slept with. His cock is painfully hard inside of you, and his pace never once slows.
He’s loud when he finally comes, the sound of his orgasm clear enough that you know he’s thrown his head back to the sky. You can only whimper as he rolls his hips against you, working the last spurts of cum out of his cock and into your unwilling body. 
“Fuck,” he sighs in your ear, sounding far more satisfied than he has any right to. “Good girl, kitty. You were perfect.”
You sniffle beneath him when he slowly pulls out, both of you groaning at the sensation. He gives you an almost perfunctory pat on the ass, and stands to walk away. You manage to open your eyes and focus just in time to see him slide to the ground in front of his partner, leaning against the wall.
“Yer turn,” he sighs. “Warmed her up good for you, Lt.”
Despite the hatred boiling in your gut, you can do nothing but lay limp on the ground and watch as his partner stands, cracking his neck and moving towards your prone form. 
You want to run, you want to fight, but you can only watch the executioner come closer and wait for the metaphorical axe to fall.
He crouches by your head first, grasping your chin and pulling up until your torso tries to follow to alleviate the tension. He stares deep into your eyes for a long moment, and you find that it’s impossible to even tell where his pupils are with no real lighting. You feel like you’re truly looking into the empty eye sockets of a skull, no man and no mercy to be found.
“You’ll call me Ghost when I fuck you,” he rumbles, thumb stroking over the scrapes on your cheek. He doesn’t wait for a response, simply hauls you up by the shoulder and turns you onto your back. 
He’s rough with your limbs as he shoves your legs together and up, his forearm banding across the backs of both of your knees and holding them to your chest. You whimper and wiggles as best you can, but the bruising blow against your thigh is enough to have you gasping and stilling.
“Don’t fight,” he warns, and you feel his gloved fingers running up the crack of you. “You’re hurtin’ enough as it is, and I’m not gonna help. You wanna make it worse too?”
You shake your head, unsure if he can even see you through your legs. He doesn’t respond, and hums when he swipes two fingers through the liquid gathered between your lips.
You whine when those fingers move further down, a fresh panic creeping in when he presses around your back hole.
“You should be glad Soap fucked you so good,” Ghost drawls. “He gave you all the lube you’re gonna get.”
You feel like an animal when you whine again, unsure of how to even begin trying to speak. You yelp when a thick finger slides into your hole, completely disregarding any resistance and forcing its way in until it’s buried to the knuckle. Your cries go ignored.
“Quit squirmin’,” Ghost scolds, pulling his finger out to smack your ass before shoving two back in. “You’re fine.”
You’re not, you’re terrified and hurting and upset, but none of those things matter when Ghost only coaxes more of your slick and Soap’s spend to your unused whole so there’s less resistance. 
The only blessing you have is the fact that you can’t see more than the outline of Ghost’s figure with the way he’s got you positioned. You try your best to close your eyes and float into disassociation, and while you can’t fully manage it, the fact that you can’t see his face - his mask - helps you distance yourself from what’s happening.
The moment you realize this is of course the moment it stops being true. 
He seems to decide you’re ready after scissoring three fingers inside of you, hefting himself up so that he looms more fully over you. You can only whine as you feel the movements of him unbuckling his belt, feel the weight of him slap against your slightly spread cheeks.
Fresh tears fall past your lashes as you stare up into the fathomless darkness that are Ghost’s eyes. There’s nothing there, just a cold empty skull prepared to ruin you.
You don’t even have the energy to beg.
The stretch of him inside your ass is five times worse than Soap was. There’s no natural lubrication, and nowhere near enough synthetic lube either. Your hole feels like it’s on fire, the stretch white hot as he gives you no mercy.
You’re not even fully sure what you’re babbling as he slowly sinks to the root, only aware of the pain and fear and panic sitting heavy in your heart. You fear you’ll choke on your tears, head jerking back and forth.
He sighs when he bottoms out, heavy barrel chest forcing your knees past your shoulders. Your hips strain, just another pain from the endless abuse.
“There,” he grunts, patting your thigh when you go limp from it all. “Stay nice and still now, just need a place to dump my cum.”
Upsettingly enough, that hurts. The idea that you could mean nothing to this man is somehow worse than the thought of him having some other twisted feelings for you, your hormone-addled mind deeply insulted. 
His thrusts are long and slow, each one pulling nearly completely out before slamming back in. The sound of your skin slapping together is embarrassingly sexual, and a distant part of you is aware enough to pray that no one nearby had heard your screams and cries.
Ghost is near silent as he fucks you, the opposite of Soap. You can only hear the occasional grunt when you squeeze him because he’s inches away from your face - you can even feel the occasional gusts of breath when his hips start working a little faster. 
There’s nothing you can do but lay limply beneath him and take it, just a vehicle for his pleasure. You almost manage to float away, to pretend none of this is happening or has ever happened, when his free hand moves from your thigh to the top of your cunt.
You nearly squeal when he rubs your clit, the smooth leath gliding over your slick bud. Your eyes fly wide open, back arching as much as you can with three hundred pounds of man holding you down. The loud laugh from several feet away only makes you writhe more.
“Make her squirt, Lt!” Soap shouts, his voice carefree.
“Shut it, Johnny,” Ghost grunts, voice roughened with pleasure. You don’t even have time to focus on the fact that he’s just told you Johnny’s name, far too preoccupied with the tidal wave of pleasure rushing towards you.
You have no idea why it happens. You’re never quick to come - almost every single partner of yours has complained about you taking so long to get off, it’s been an Issue in several relationships. 
So it makes absolutely no sense that after hardly a minute of rough circles against your clit, you’re clenching down on the cock in your ass and moaning loudly as your orgasm overtakes you.
The natural clench of your body only makes the pain worse, a sharp spike of it running up your cunt and making your moan shift into more pained sounds. Ghost only moans in tandem above you, his thrusts becoming slightly less even as he lets your orgasm coax out his own.
You sob when you feel his cum paint your insides.
Unlike Johnny, Ghost doesn’t pull out after he comes. He lets your legs fall limp on either side of him, just barely managing to catch them for you before you slam your ankles to the ground. He leans his torso over yours, elbows resting on either side of your shoulders while you do nothing but wait beneath him.
He’s sweat off some of the makeup. This close, you can see hints of pale skin in the sockets of the mask. There’s nothing to read in his eyes, but that flash of skin tells you he’s still a man.
You swallow, trying to work moisture back into your dry mouth, and whisper, “Will… will you let me go now?”
You know it’s more likely he’ll kill you. It’s what you can only imagine happened to all those bodies in the streets, what you know happens to tens of thousands of women every year. 
So it’s not a surprise when he doesn’t answer you verbally, instead covering your mouth with his palm and pinching your nose shut with his fingers. 
Your eyes flutter shut after a moment, lungs tightening already, and all you can hope is that suffocation is a quick death.
———————————————————————
You wake, gasping, in a dark room. 
You’re lurching forward before you’re even fully aware that you’re awake, coughing loudly and gasping when it feels like your throat is bleeding.
“Oh, poor thing,” you hear a familiar accented voice coo, and a moment later there’s a warm hand patting your back. “Yer alright, deep breaths.”
You jerk back from Soap - Johnny - as soon as your coughing is under control, scrambling back on your palms and staring at him with wide eyes. He only grins at you, looking for all the world like any other normal man in his sweater and sweatpants.
He got changed at some point - these pants are clean. He’s not wearing his mask either, and you’re struck dumb by how non threatening he manages to look.
He also changed your clothes - or Ghost did, maybe. You try to cover your chest with one hand, but there’s no hiding the fact that you’re completely naked. 
Johnny only laughs at your attempted modesty. “Been starin’ at them for hours, lass. Ye’ve got nothin’ to hide.”
That’s… horrifying, and does absolutely nothing to calm you down.
It’s then that Ghost rises from a chair, stepping forward and making you aware of his presence. “Calm down, Johnny. We don’t want her panickin’ this early.”
Soap fully pouts, tilting his head at you before glancing up at his partner. “I haven’t even done anythin’, Ghost. Was just sayin’ hi, tha’s all.”
Ghost snorts, gripping Johnny’s mohawk and tugging back until the other man sprawls back on his ass. “You know how you are, pup. Give your kitty some space.”
Johnny listens, crossing one leg beneath him and bending the other close to his chest, looking casual as can be. Meanwhile your heartbeat only gets faster, and you wince when you happen to lean too far one direction and feel a throbbing reminder of what these men did to you.
Ghost steps forward again, crouching just out of arm's reach. You realize he’s not wearing the same skull mask as before, but a balaclava with a printed skull pattern instead. His eye sockets are unpainted, and you’re shocked by how such little things make him look so much more human. 
“You can calm down. Long as you behave, nothin’ much worse’ll happen to you.”
You find yourself almost comically not-comforted by that, and can do nothing more than stare at him with wide eyes. 
“Where…” Your voice cracks, so you swallow and start again. “Where am I?”
It’s Johnny who speaks up. “Our place. We finally brought ye home with us, kitty.”
The world feels like it’s slowed around you, and your eyes drag from one kidnapper to the other. You have to swallow again to work any moisture into your bone-dry mouth.
“Is the Purge over?”
The creases at the corner of Ghost’s eyes are painfully obvious with how pale his skin is, and you shudder at the thought of him smiling.
“Been over for… what, five hours now? Somethin’ like that.”
You can’t fight the tremble in your voice now. “Then… then you have to let me go.”
Ghost’s head tilts, the creases get deeper. “Do I?”
You nod with as much conviction as you can - which is almost none. “You can’t keep me here. You’re breaking the law.”
Ghost leans closer on the balls of feet and you lean further back, your spine pressing into the wall behind you. “Are we now? And who do you think will stop us, pet?”
“The- the police. Someone will report me missing, they’ll come looking.”
“Oh? And you think they’ll come here?”
You nod as best you can, and jump when Ghost laughs. It’s low and quiet, only a few beats, but it’s like gasoline thrown on the small fire of panic in your mind.
“You have no idea where you even are, and you think they’ll find you? I hate to break it to you doll, but you’ll be lucky if they look for you for a week. You have any idea how many people go missin’ after the Purge?”
Your breath is quickening. “So that’s it? You’re just going to… going to keep me here, forever? What are you even going to do?”
His laugh is sharper, meaner this time. “We’re gonna do a whole lot more of what we did last night, pet. Keep you as a little cocksleeve, a pretty thing tucked in the basement just for our entertainment. Ain’t that right, Johnny?”
You manage to tear your eyes away to look at Soap and see that he’s nearly salivating, having inched closer and closer and shifted so he’s knelt behind Ghost. There’s a feral spark in his eyes that has every hair on your body standing straight up.
“Yeah, tha’s right. Don’t worry, lass, we’ll make sure yer never lonely. Might even stay the night with you, cuddle up in the winter. Bet ye could keep our cocks nice and toasty in the cold, huh? Gonna let us use ye as a little heater?”
“A heater, a mattress, a fleshlight… your future’s lookin’ bright, sweetheart,” Ghost drawls, mockery dripping heavily from the cruel words.
Your eyes dart back and forth between the two men and their predatory stares, your heart racing against your ribcage.
It’s not a conscious choice for you to launch yourself towards them, reaching out and clawing your sharp nails down Soap’s face with a feral scream that tears your throat to shreds. 
Even as Ghost throws you off and forces you to the ground, you vow to fight these men to the end. You’ll kill them both if you have to, leave them dead and wander however many miles it is back to your apartment.
Ghost only laughs when you shout this in his face, and you scream as you lunge forward, just managing to catch his masked chin between your teeth and bite.
With your fight instinct back in full force, you’re ready to make their lives hell.
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ominouspuff · 10 days
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*The Office theme starts up*
Fanart for @chiliger’s Purge-Trooper!Cody comic that’s had me laughing out loud many times. Vent-Dweller you are dear to me. Thank you for creating, @chiliger!
@interested parties, the medic’s gun reads “olde Betsy”, and “tranc-66”.
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anstarwar · 7 months
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Cody had succumbed to the darkness and lived in it for the better part of a decade.
Rex knew they would find him, that Cody wasn’t permanently lost to him.
When they brought Cody back—rescued him—Rex would sit with him for hours, just as patient with Cody as he’d been with any of his troops when they needed it. Sometimes Cody would talk. Not much more than a few words, not enough to fix any of it. Not yet.
Every day Rex would sit with him and when Cody was ready, he leaned into him and the tears began to flow. It was instinct for Rex to wrap his arms around him, to comfort him like Cody would always do on Kamino a lifetime ago.
Rex watched the sunset and pressed Cody closer as his own tears formed.
They would be alright.
Everything would be alright in the end.
+++
Companion/follow-up to my Sith!Cody takes Rex as hostage pic from the other day
See Rex is just fine!
[Image ID in alt text]
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0h0possum · 29 days
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A Codywan and How to Train Your Dragon crossover that turned into a the Mandalorians factions are dragons AU, because I can never just do something simple and for the heck of it.
If you’re not interested the AU lore, leave now or suffer my rambling lol.
Basically, the idea is that Mandalorians started as a race that could shift into dragons. The Mand’alor line and those of most influence were notably ‘Fury’s (for example Mand’alor Tarre Viszla was a Nightfury and so is his generational line). But over time most Mandolorians who could shift were killed off or just lost the ability as more non-shifter Mandolorians married in. Eventually only a few of the Fury’s were around, and when Mandalore split most chose factions lead by the remaining Fury lines. AKA: the New Mandalorians/Lightfury’s, the Haat Mando'ade or True Mandalorians/Duskfury’s, and the Kyr’tsad or Death Watch/Nightfury’s.
Basically this also helps explain (in my head) why Mandalorians would follow Death Watch (terrorists) or the New Mandalorians (Intense Pacifist). It’s because they see those lines that can still shift as chosen leaders or a physical embodiment of the Ka’ra’s will.
How is Obi-Wan a shifter though? Well in this AU he’s the son of Tor Viszla. Long story short, early on when Obi-Wan was born he displayed being force sensitive, and Obi-WAN’s mom (Tor’s wife??? Idk it’s not important to the story) basically went ‘Aw hell naw’ and tried to drown Obi-Wan. Only to be stopped by a traveling Jedi who stole Obi-Wan and saved him. Totally unaware that this baby was Mandalorian, the son one of the biggest Mandalorian factions, AND also one of the last few existing Mandalorian dragon shifters. (Also Obi-Wan’s mom doesn’t want to admit that she lost Obi-Wan to a Jedi and just tells Tor that he was force sensitive and she succeeded in drowning him).
Maybe I’ll get into it later but basically Obi-Wan grows up as normal in the Temple, but obviously at some point he shifts and has the biggest panic of his life. But with help from friends (Quinlan, Garen, Siri, and Bant) he figures out shifting (enough to control it) and helps keep it a secret (Mandalorians and Jedi still don’t have best relations and Obi-Wan is paranoid about being kicked out of the Order anyways *cough cough Brandomeer cough cough Melinda/Daan*). To be clear, Obi-Wan isn’t like ashamed of what he is. He just doesn’t want the judgments of coming from CLEAR Mandalorian roots, and Death Watch at that. Plus he kinda just decides to not think about how he’s pretty much definitely related to well known terrorist Tar and Pre Viszla, because then he doesn’t have to address it. Besides he’s happy as a Jedi.
Anyways, NOW CODY-
So without getting to detailed (mission failed lol) all the clones ARE shifters (Duskfury’s just like Jango Fett), but they have it suppressed by the Kaminoans (probably part of their chips? I haven’t thought it fully out yet). BUT THINGS HAPPEN, probably Cody and Obi-Wan get stranded alone somewhere for a long time and Cody gets his chipped fucked up somehow, and now he’s shifting into a dragon???? And scaring the shit out of both him and Obi-Wan. But Obi-Wan exposes himself as a dragon shifter as well to comfort Cody and show that he will keep his secret. Plus he clearly understands him. (At this point they both are under the impression the clones aren’t shifters, and think Cody is just an outlier and “late bloomer” so to speak). Cue them learning how to be dragons together and be comfortable in their other form.
And eventually they get rescued and find out somehow all the clones are shifters, and therefore find the chips and discover Palpatine’s plan, SO THE GALAXY IS SAVED!
(Additionally the clones get rights and go to form their own society/group (Obi-Wan comes with to be with other dragons, but mostly to be with Cody), and they form an alliance with the New Mandalorians and accidentally unit Mandalore purely by the three Fury types (Nightfury/Obi-Wan, Duskfury/Cody, Lightfury/Satine) being around each other lol.
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thetreefairy · 7 months
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Hiii, for your event can i request prompt 5 and 7 for platonic yandere gojo! With a student reader and a purge au? ❤️
Thank you for requesting<3, unfortunately I was feeling rather sick so this is a bit later then I intended. And I made it way longer then expected Prompt 5: "Don't run away~! It just gives me a reason to hurt you!" prompt 7: "You should be praised for how much of an idiot you are."
Gn student reader
Warnings: swearing, gojo is mocking reader, infantilization, kidnapping, reader jumps out the window, gojo is just an ass reading after this point is at your own viewership.
Ko-Fi - Event - Event masterlist
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Reader couldn't believe it, they had gotten a purge letter.
A fucking purge letter from Gojo Satoru, their teacher. And now they still had 2 days until the purge.
Megumi knew that something was wrong right away, he and Reader were quite close friends. However knowing that Reader wouldn't tell him if it was just him asking he asked his classmates and Gojo.
So after class they ambushed Reader.
"Reader, why are being so fidgety?" Megumi asked with a worried tone. "I am not!" Reader retorted, hearing Gojo scoff causing them to tense up.
"Yeah, you are! Did you get a purge letter or something?" Yuji shot at Reader. "You know we can help you right?" Kugisaki added. But reader knew the condition under that, as long as it isn't one of them.
"I am leaving, I'll see you guys after the purge." Reader grins at them, causing Gojo to smirk, then their classmates to figure it out.
Even if Reader somehow escaped he had all year to convince them to just live with him. After all, they need a good parent figure. Perhaps he can convince his students to help...
.
.
.
Reader had made sure they had all what they needed, a weapon, a bag with basic necessities and a comfort item. Reader put on their comfort bracelet, all of their doors were locked and now they just had to hide.
But it was a bit too late.
"This is your Emergency Broadcast System announcing the commencement of the annual purge.
For 24 hours every yandere action will be legal except Murder and causing any permanent bodily harm to your darling, 'marking' however is allowed if your darling is a romantic darling..
The police cannot be called, the paramedics can only be called in deathly situations"
Gojo couldn't wait, his child would finally be safe in his arms. He was sure that the process would be a bit awkward, but as long as Reader would be a obedient child... Everything would be fine.
But unfortunately for his patience Reader won't be going without a fight.
At first Gojo knocked on the door, hearing Reader shuffle away quietly to hide.
"Reader~, can't you open the door for me?" He asked in a humming tone. "Papa will be kind then."
He could basically hear them hiding away. He kicked open the door. Reader heard this and bit their cheek. They couldn't make a noise, Gojo needs to think they aren't here.
Unfortunately for you Gojo heard you, he entered the room you were in. He could see that Reader was desperately trying to find a place to hide. But when Reader saw him they backed up to the window.
"Come here." He told them. "Why don't we just turn in quietly, huh?"
"No." Reader mumbled. "You are going to leave, and leave me alone." Gojo chuckled. "Reader, my dear child, you have no say in this."
His eyes widening as they broke the window behind them, his anger and annoyance increasing. "Don't run away~!" He cooed. "It just gives me a reason to hurt you."
"Shut up!" Reader shouted. "If you take one step closer I'll jump out of this window without using my curse technique!"
Gojo glared at Reader. "Don't you dare."
"Then, stay as you are." They hissed, causing Gojo to chuckle. "You don't make the rules." he said.
"It's still the purge." Reader hissed. "You have no legal rights over me."
"Yet." He said in a happy tone. "My darling child, are you foolish enough to believe you can escape?"
Gojo didn't want to activate his curse technique, he knew Reader gets uneasy even using their own.
He took a step forward, and reader did just what they warned they would do.
They jumped out the window.
Gojo now had no choice but to activate infinity to try and get Reader safely on the ground, which he was able to. But not without injury.
This caused him to laugh, his child looked like a deer running away from the predator. "You should be praised for how much of an idiot you are." He hummed, Reader glared at him.
They lost their freedom rather quickly, but perhaps they can win the next purge.
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yandereworlds · 22 days
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BAT FAMILY BOT (PURGE AU)
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After some contemplation, I've finally gotten around to making another Bat Family bot after receiving many requests for another one, but this one is centered around the Purge. I just feel like there's a lot of potential with the whole Purge concept because there's a lot of ways you can go about it, so.. Here it is!
I couldn't find a decent photo for the bot, so I decided to make my own. So, feel free to visit the bot and let me know what you guys think! I have a lot more DC concepts for bots and so far, I can tell you guys are really enjoying them. Thank you for the continued support, you guys are amazing.
You can find the bot here! And here's a link to my Ko-fi, if you'd like to help me continue making bots for JanitorAI. Hope you guys enjoy!
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blughxreader · 11 months
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Platonic Yandere!Batman x gn!Reader
Purge AU. Info on au. You receive your official government letter announcing a yandere's claim on you in tomorrow's Purge. Accompanying it are five crimson letters from the yanderes themselves. ~600 words
Dear [Name],
I want to take this first encounter to assuage your fears—you are in no danger.
The fear you must be feeling might be the most dreadful you’ve ever experienced, and I’ll forever regret it. While the monotonous bureaucracy of the Purge is taxing on everyone, it’s a necessary evil… Inside this letter, you’ll receive what brief explanation I can give you and, hopefully, comfort you in some capacity.
[Name], I’m your father, and this letter is my official and legal introduction. In the next 24 hours, I and your siblings will bring you home.
You don’t know this yet, but we met on a moonless evening many months ago. You were walking alone, trying to leave the emptying streets before Gotham’s evening crowd took hold of the city. I worried for you and decided to keep a close eye until you were home safely, but something about your demeanor kept my attention. How polite and unassuming, yet quick to navigate the streets you were. You drifted through the evening like a wayward spirit, eventually finding yourself in my heart and soul.
That chance encounter sent us spiraling down a destined path, one in which I never anticipated would lead to here. I never realized the grim darkness I had been living in until I experienced your light, and now, the day before our first meeting as father and child, the promise of eternal contentedness just beyond these 24 hours is almost too much to bear.
Your brothers and sisters are equally ecstatic. You’ll never be bored for a moment in your life moving forward, as the halls of our home are always thrum with the echoes of banter and excitement. I can’t promise it will be an easy life free from any sorrows, but your new family already loves you so, so dearly.
In time, I’m confident that you, too, will reflect on this event as the start of a better life.
However perfect your joining our family seems, I find myself asking how it came to this. How did I discover a soul as kind and lovely as yours? Despite all my failures and shortcomings, the world still crossed our paths and sent the merger of our lives into motion.
As a servant of justice, I’ve dedicated my life to protecting what is moral and just. I’ve spent decades refining my values and priorities, yet this has often left me at fragile crossroads between myself and my children.
I’m flawed. I’m imperfect. I don’t think I’ll ever be worthy of being your father. I need you to know these things before we meet, to save yourself from the inevitable misfortune that will strike us. Yet know this: there is not a force in this world that will keep me from you. I love you more than I love humanity, more than the Earth itself. I would defy the laws that govern the universe if it meant seeing you happy.
The world is dangerous and unpredictable. However inadequate I feel at protecting your light, I know you’re significantly more likely to fade from existence outside of my care.
To receive a crimson letter from the city a day before the Purge might be one of your darkest nightmares, and for that I’m sorry. With my heart, soul, and all my love for you, I promise to rectify the misery you and your biological family are experiencing. Please take comfort in the fact that you will be the most beloved and cherished person in the world.
I will give you everything. For your family’s sake, I hope they can rest easier with this knowledge.
Please remain put until we arrive.
See you soon.
Love,
Dad
Note... I love this self-hating old man. Damian's is finished and will be up soon! For more yandere batfam, visit my masterlist!
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bones-of-a-rabbit · 1 year
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*forgets to actually post stuff to my tumbl* *suddenly remembers that u guys might think I’m dead* ANYWWWAY how about a doodle purge huh haha
Staring with,,,,, betrothed au shitpost,,
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iris-drawing-stuff · 3 days
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Yeah! Danganronpa Amane! Looking at the DR wiki all the Lil Ultimate titles all seem to correspond to a class subject (Lil Ultimate Homeroom, Social Studies etc.), so I made her the Lil Ultimate Faith studies.
I'm picturing her as the blackened of a case. I think she'll really kill (heh) at that role. Especially since my favorite Amane moments are when snaps (like when she attacked Es with scissors).
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I also made a pointing sprite for Mikoto.
I used the cult's symbol from Magic and the balloon in Purge March for her school symbol. Here's the symbols (you can use it if you want)
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dummy-dot-exe · 1 year
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by N9+@NineplusN
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yanderemommabean · 2 months
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really random Yandere purge au idea:
Yandere’s have to get a license the before the purge to be able to kill other people and be able to take their darling. And after the purge (and once they have their darling) they have to do a darling registration thing or whatever. The government makes them do this to keep track of the darlings and so later on then can make sure they’re still healthy physically and at least somewhat mentally. If a Yandere files a registration then they will have a little background check and a test (to see if they’ll harm the darling) done on them and the government will decide if they’re suited to keep their darling or if the darling should be freed.
(sorry if this is absolute gibberish or makes no sense, it just popped into my brain. Have a good day/night and don’t forget to drink some water)
Shush! It isn't gibberish at all! I love the idea of Yandere's needing to have a background check to make sure they aren't going to harm their darling, just the people keeping their darling away. Maybe they have to fill certain criteria as well like any other test, they have to show they can remain calm when a darling is screaming and biting, they have to show they can be kind even when secretly angered, they have to know certain medical knowledge, and so on!
Yandere's are allowed anonymity, as once they're known surely their darlings will try to leave or fight. But Darlings are still notified that they've been chosen, and are only given the bare minimum info such as the dates to appear for testing and examination (for their safety, but most darlings never show. these tests just go over what the yandere could have missed, and go over what the darling would like to go through if they consent to being kidnapped and/or also have feelings for their yandere).
Ah! This is such a fun idea to explore for the purge!! The government having more of a hand in it makes me wonder if the CEO of lovely smiles has something to do with it?
-Mommabean (wonderful idea!!!)
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ohbo-ohno · 3 months
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I love your works, especially the serial killer ghoap ones. I’ve had this thought on my mind for a bit. It’s not really dark, more fluffy(?) I just started playing ACNH again and it got me thinking, would serial killer ghoap let reader have a switch? I mean, poor reader has seen so much shit and needs at least a little bit of normalcy in their life. Ofc ghoap would monitor them while they played and such, which leads me to my next part. Let’s say reader has gotten stockholm syndrome and isn’t super phased by all the gore in stuff. Reader just sits in a little corner that maybe has pillows or blankets OR a cage that has pillows and blankets and shit like that. But reader just stays in that corner playing their switch while ghoap does their murder stuff. Idk, I feel it’d be a cute image. Ghoap just torturing someone while reader sits in a corner playing animal crossing. Sorry for rambling, I just really wanted to share this thought. Drink water and make sure to eat ❤️❤️❤️
someday i'll write the serial killer fic. i have a full outline of it. i have like 1k done. it EXISTS ok i PROMISE and i WILL post it. eventually
but in the meantime! questions are fun! (also tysm for saying you love my stuff, ily)
i think they'd absolutely let her have a switch <3 in exchange for good behavior
my reader inserts tend to be massive pushovers (mostly in an attempt to not give them so strong of a personality as to be distracting) but the serial killer girl is soft. i think the contrast of really rough ghoap with really soft reader is Primo.
but i also think ghost and soap would fucking eat UP having a soft little thing to take care of. i think this version of them would really get off on the corruption of it all, coming to their girl covered in blood and watching her try to keep her stuffies from getting stained red :( they loooove watching her get all teary and sniffly when they make her watch them torture people, love watching the way she tries to hide her pretty face :(
so of course they let her have a switch! they looove hearing her talk about all her little villagers, love when she tentatively shows them her new island setup <3
and that second part - do you know how hard johnny would get if he was torturing someone and saw his girl completely tuned out and just playing her little game? she'd be lucky if he didn't bend her over right then and there
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eetherealgoddess · 24 days
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Someone requested a bonten/purge au in one of my comment sections forever ago. Hope you enjoy!♡︎♡︎♡︎
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ꨄWork Nightꨄ
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Oneshot - Yandere Bonten/Purge Au
❦You work during the purge❦
Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, & Haitani Brothers x Reader
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Not fully proofread!
MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR, AO3, AND WATTPAD UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!
I apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.
Notice:
✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.
✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.
✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.
✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.
✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable
✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.
Enjoy!
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Work Night
Recently, you learned about the extra money you could make by working on Purge night. Usually, you wouldn’t stay out during the ‘holiday’ but you decided to try it. Now, why wouldn’t you just go out and steal from a bank or something? Because, that’s a death sentence. Other people are out doing the exact same thing. At least you’ll still be safe inside. The job is to clean and mandate the shop, protecting the merchandise while it stays closed. Fortunately, the store you work in has never been broken into, or stolen from, nobody really caring for flowers on a night as chaotic as this, which makes your job easy.
Unlike other stores surrounding you, this one is a small business, and the price to protect it was too good to pass. You’re also not alone, currently sweeping the floor amongst the other two coworkers who are taking care of the other chores on the checklist. Hearing tapping on the window, the three of you look up, your body jolting as you eye the masked strangers
“Do you know them?” One of your coworkers questions. You respond with a shake of your head as your grip on the wooden stick tightens while your body tenses. You all stood quietly, examining the tall figures. Blood stains their suits as well as the weapons that are hanging to their sides. One of them moves closer to the window before he taps the metal bat against the glass and tilts his head, the moonlight exposing the red liquid splattered on the white crying mask.
“The doors are locked right?” The other coworker questions.
“Yeah.” You respond breathlessly. Your heart pounds against your chest as a sense of dread forms when they all move closer. You gasp as the man pulls his arms back and slams the bat against the glass. Shards shatter everywhere before they step inside. You hear your coworkers shriek as you all scramble to run towards the back door.
“Fuck!” You hiss just as you move out of the way right before the person with the baton could crack your skull. You make eye contact through the mask, an eerie smile plastered on the white face. You fall in the process, rolling your body out of the way before the weapon could meet your stomach, smacking a piece of glass when making contact with the floor.
“Pesky little thing.” He all but purrs as you get back on your feet. Your head turns to the person with pink hair holding a katana closing in on one of your coworkers who backed into a corner.
“Please! Don’t kill me!” Her legs shake as she holds her hands up, her eyes wide as tears fall down her face. The mask holds a frown that resembles the person’s grip on the weapon before they pull back and penetrate her chest. You gasp right before dodging the machete that almost slices through your neck, turning your attention to the purple mullet who has on a mask that displays an expression of laughter.
You change your direction, running towards the large hole in which they entered, passing the man using the bat to beat your male coworker’s face into unrecognition. You hop through the hole and run aimlessly, your only thought to get somewhere safe and hide from not only your current tormentors, but anyone else who’s lingering around to be a menace on this celebratory night.
“Please, please, please.” You beg to whatever deity can hear you above, your legs burning as you feel tightness in your stomach from running faster than you’ve ever had to before.
You force yourself to sprint through the pain as you hear footsteps behind, not bothering to turn around. Your adrenaline pumps as you continue down the sidewalk. You begin to struggle to breathe the longer you push yourself, attempting to take in deep breaths and releasing as a way to fight through the pain. You knew you couldn’t stop, especially with the footsteps closing in behind you.
You make a side glance to an alleyway and turn into it, hoping to find a way through by a shortcut. Before you can continue, a hand grabs your bicep and snatches you back.
“Where do ya think yer goin?” The random middle aged man pulls you toward him with a gun against your head. He wrapped an arm around your neck and leans closer to your ear.
“Yer gonna do what I say.” He growls in your ear as his grip tightens while you’re frozen.
“My, my. You’re in quite the predicament, huh?” The man with the machete states, amusement dripping from his tone. The guy holding you turns his attention to the three masked men with confusion on his face.
“Who the hell are you? Go away! This is my kill!” He exclaims with anger.
“Your kill? We found her first.” The guy with the bat argues with a chuckle.
Your eyes widen when you notice that the guy with the katana is missing. Fear engulfing your mind you pull your head forward before slamming it back against the man’s nose causing him to release his grip and cover his wound. Blood drips over his mouth as you move just in time for the weapon to slice through his body, the blade piercing through his stomach now stained with fresh blood. The sound of his gun hitting the ground echoed through the alleyway.
Holy fuck! I just almost got kabobed!
You swiftly snatch the gun from the ground and clumsily aim it at all four men whose attention has turned to you.
“Back the hell up!” You exclaim, scared out of your mind as your hand shakes while holding the gun. Your reaction causes smirks and laughs from the masked figures in front of you.
“Go ahead. Shoot.” Your eyes widened at the male with the katana as your grip tightened on the gun.
Honestly the only time you’ve ever seen a gun was on tv so this is your first time holding the weapon. You had no idea how to use it besides pulling the trigger, but for some reason you hesitate. You breathe heavily as you back up slowly.
“J-just stay away from me! Let me go a-and I won’t have to.”
You stupid bitch, just shoot them! What’s wrong with you?
You look up at the sky, noticing how the night gradually disappears as dawn forms.
Thank God! If I can just hold out till this is over, I’ll be free!
“If you don’t wanna get shot then go away! Now!” You demand, voice trembling as you figure out how to cock the gun.
“Oh? You’re giving us ultimatums now?” The tallest one questions with mirth.
“It’s hilarious that you think you have a say in anything just because you’re holding a gun.” The purple mullet states, crossing his arms with the machete still in his hand.
The sound of their phones going off causes them to grab the devices from their pockets and eye the notification.
“Seems to be your lucky day.”
“Boss needs us guys, let's go.”
“See ya next time!”
They all walk away, leaving you holding the gun as you watch them walk off. You release a large breath as your hand is placed on your chest to hopefully ease the pounding of your heart. Gun still in hand you rush off to your home.
“I-I survived!” You laugh out when you make it inside, locking the door behind you.
“I need to smoke some tree on god.” You moan out before turning on the news.
You listen to the news anchor announcing the end of the purge. You set the gun on the table and walk to your bedroom. After you gather your pajamas you take a quick shower, wiping residue grime and blood, thinking back on your dead coworkers with a shiver.
A few months since the traumatic event passes and your life has only gotten weirder since then. First and foremost, you decided that you wanted to get out more considering you have been a loner for most of your life and don’t really have any major accomplishments since graduating from highschool. Considering the purge was a more recent holiday, you knew that your death could approach even sooner than before.
Anytime you had downloaded dating apps, you never took it seriously enough to make friends or partners so you went out of your comfort zone and met quite a few people this time. Unfortunately, it seems as though after about a week or so they would ghost you for no particular reason that was stated. No matter how much you thought you had bonded with someone, they disappeared as if they never existed in the first place.
You didn’t take it personally at first but after a few times you wondered if there was something wrong with you. It wasn’t until there was someone you talked to for longer than the deadline in which the others had disappeared. You couldn’t believe you caught the attention of someone so attractive but you accepted the circumstances regardless.
More time passes as you two get to know each other and bond quickly, becoming closer than you ever had with someone in a long time. So close that you two decide to spend the purge together at your apartment. He offered his place but you wanted to stay in the vicinity of your own home just in case.
You had just stepped out of the shower while he was in the living room. After drying yourself and lotioning up you put on a different outfit. Just as you step out of the bathroom, you notice a presence with a familiar suit sitting on your bed with his leg crossed. Icy blue orbs pierce your own as your eyes widen.
“R-Ran!” You yell in fear as you run out of the room. “Someone broke in!” You run to the kitchen to grab the gun, only to be pulled back by your arm. You eye the unknown man who looks almost identical to the male you had been seeing though you could recognize that purple mullet from anywhere.
“God, why’d you have to drag this so long?”
“Isn’t it obvious? He wanted her all to himself.” A male with golden eyes says from the couch.
“Ah, yeah. You’ve caught me.” The man with mid length blonde and black hair chuckles, walking towards you.
“He even grew his hair out. Ridiculous.” The pink haired man spits as he walks into the room.
“W-What the fuck is going on?” You yell, eyeing Ran with confusion and anger.
“You know, we could’ve just snatched her that night. Why’d we have to wait a whole year?”
“Cuz it’s fun, Kazu. Didn’t you enjoy murdering all of those people she talked to.”
“Whatever. Let’s just hurry up so we can explain it to Mikey so he doesn’t kill her.”
“What the hell are all of you talking ab-!” Before you could finish you were interrupted by an impact on your head, succumbing to the darkness.
You groan as you wake up with a throbbing headache, aiming to rub your head only for your arms to not move. When your vision is back you notice that your arms are tied behind the chair you’re forced to sit on.
“What is it about you that caught those idiots' attention?” You look ahead to see a man with platinum hair boring into you with dark orbs. Your breath hitches as you become wary of your surroundings. His aura doesn’t help.
“I-I don’t know what’s going on! Please, let me go!”
“Did I say you could speak?” You immediately shut your mouth as you eye him with discomfort.
“You’ve distracted my men. Why?”
You didn’t know whether to answer or not though it’s not like you have a response anyway. Considering the memories that recollected you knew that Ran had been one of the masked strangers from that night. You had no idea why he did what he did or how you caught their attention to the point where you’re not dead yet. You don’t want to find out, all you want is to go home.
“I guess we’ll have to find out.”
Your eyebrows furrowed in concern. You have no idea what he means by that. As if cued, the said group of males walk in, Ran with his original short haired purple style that you remembered from a year ago.
“You found her, you deal with her.” The short man states with a stoic expression before he stands from his seat and walks out of the room.
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anstarwar · 7 months
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May I offer you some angst on a Sunday eve?
As the rebels closed-in Cody got desperate, grabbing the first one who got too close
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mishapen-dear · 1 day
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apocalypse au. cannibalism. corpses. Offscreen loss of loved ones
-
“Some leather armour,” Bad notes, tugging curiously at the straps of the corpse’s armour. “Euagh, almost broken, though.” The armour gets tossed to the side. “A granola bar? Okay, we’ll take that.”
Cellbit twitches at that. He wants to ask, “Do we have to?” but there’s several reasons why he doesn’t. Protesting a backup food supply is never a good idea, for one. It’s not worth it to risk starvation just because he’s worried that the backup food supply will become their primary. He tightens his hold on the bloody sword and insists again. It’s not worth it. Instead, he says, voice rasping, “There’s too many. It’s all going to rot.”
“You think so?” Bad looks up at him, then runs a critical eye over the little encampment. Ten bodies, some larger, but all fat deposits slimmed by lasting hunger. Bad licks at the blood left on his hand from looting the corpse, considering their haul thoughtfully. “I don’t think things rot that fast, Cellbit.”
He twitches again when Bad says his name. It wasn’t an admonishment- it was barely even an opinion Cellbit should validate, knowing how long it takes Bad to consider something rotten -but there is something yearning and grieving and desperate slinking between the muscle fibers of his heart that squirms to hear that disagreement. He’s shaking. He hasn’t stopped shaking. He wants to bite the edge of his sword hard enough that his teeth will crack into sharpened splinters. He wouldn’t need the sword, then. “I don’t- we should cook it,” he says. “Some.”
Bad snaps his fingers triumphantly, as though he’d remembered something. “Pre-digestion!” he exclaims so loudly that Cellbit flinches. No birds fly away- they’ve already been scared off. “Oh! You want to save some for later? Yeah, sure, we can do that. But we should eat what doesn’t fit in the car.” Cellbit doesn’t know how to explain that he can’t eat as much as much as Bad. Not even cooked. It fills him with- it’s not envy but it isn’t not envy, either. Some dissatisfaction.
Back in the— when he was small Cellbit had always assumed that it was Bad’s size that lead him to take the larger portion of their meals. It made sense, and he always got his fill so he was happy with it. Then, when he was grown, it was frustrating. Bad could eat an entire corpse in one sitting; Cell couldn’t even get through an entire leg. He’d realized then, gnawing at bone and just waiting to be done, that Bad couldn’t have possibly eaten an entire corpse. It was childish dreams made memory, morphed by the horror and the trauma and the things he didn’t think about. And now they’ve met up again, and these are their first corpses but Cellbit knows that despite their looting Bad’s share of the resources are always depleted, even when they come across a feast and- The clever part of him is wondering how much he’s really misremembered after all.
Bad seems oblivious to Cellbit’s thoughts. “We can smoke some of this and it’ll last you a bit longer,” he suggests thoughtfully, starting to dig through the corpse’s clothes again. “It might take us some extra time, but this place is safe enough that they set up camp, and we don’t know when we’ll get the chance again. Good idea. Do you want to carve the meat or set up the smoker?”
The thing in Cellbit’s heart writhes almost giddily at the praise. He thinks that he hates it. He misses when he could fool himself into thinking he deserved it. “The meat,” rasps its way out of his throat, proving him right.
Bad lights up. Cellbit can immediately tell that he’s up to something. “In that case- I have something for you that might make it… a little bit easier.”
“What is it?”
“Close your eyes!” The bleeding part of him wails at the thought of the vulnerability, but this is Bad. He’s only alive because of him. Fitting to die because of him, too. Cellbit closes his eyes and continues to shake. The back of his teeth are dry. There’s the sound of rustling as Bad does whatever, and then a triumphant, “Ta-da~!” Cellbit gratefully takes this as his cue to open his eyes again.
Badboyhalo is holding a knife.
Badboyhalo is holding a kitchen knife. Thumb and fingers pinching either side of the blade, handle out, an offering. It’s clean, except where Bad’s hands have stained it red.
Cellbit had been calm, before, the way you are when you’re doing what you were made for. Then he had been satisfied, and excited, and then jittery and bad and happy and satisfied and dreadful. Longing and hatred and benediction and fulfillment. The sight of the knife fades all of that out. When he grabs it, those feelings turn to static. Still there, still hunting him, but forced to back away in the face of its armed prey. The world smooths out a little and hurts a bit less.
Badboyhalo has given him a knife.
“Bad-“ he says, and doesn’t choke up about it.
Bad smiles at him. Bad beams at him. “I was waiting for a good time to give it to you. I know you’ve got your sword, but I remember you telling me that knives are your favourite. Is that still true?”
Overwhelmed, Cellbit nods a little. “Thank- thank you. Obrigado, Bad.”
“De nada!” Bad chirps, cheerful as anything. He pats Cellbit on the shoulder, gently, as his tone shifts. “The sky is still blue, Cellbit. Remember that.”
He wanders away before Cellbit can bring himself to mutter, “Mas às vezes está nublado.” But it’s just Cellbit now, and his knife, and the bodies, and no one living can hear him.
He’s already dropped the sword, he realizes abruptly, clinging to his knife with both hands. He needs to pick it up and clean it before the blood coagulates. There is meat in front of him, still warm and waiting to be processed. Still, he manages to pick up the sword and wipe it in the vicinity of cleanliness on the body’s clothes, his other hand still clinging to his knife. He cuts the clothes, and drops the sword to the side.
When the knife cuts flesh, he starts to grin again. The world turns into a loving red, and he gets to work.
-
Bad feels bad.
He doesn’t dwell on it. Guilt or grief- they both started with g. It’s probably even better, even, feeling guiltier than griefier! Take away the question of accountability entirely, hold control, do what he has to do. And he has to do this.
The log in Bad’s hands cracks. He giggles at it, then takes several quick breaths as tears rapidly pool in his eyes. He doesn’t wipe them, just carefully lays the log down into his makeshift fireplace.
Bad doesn’t like hurting his friends. It’s like a bad prank that leaves lasting damage; it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. But it’s not really all that bad, all things considered. Bad isn’t hurting him or putting him in more danger. If anything, Cellbit is safer with him. They’ve done this before- anything Cellbit can’t eat, Bad can, and they know Cellbit can eat Bad. It’s better. It’s what needs to be done.
There’s a loud lowing in the distance. Bad stills as he listens to it. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Cellbit still carving. They found someone else tonight. Bad feels some tension leak from between his shoulderblades. They’ll be fed and full, and slow in the morning. Cellbit and Bad will have more than enough time to get packed up after a rest.
Cellbit has someone left. Bad is giving him a gift, but he can’t give it yet. Bad knew exactly what he would do if it turned out his own loved ones were still around, and he knows what Cellbit would do, too.
If Cellbit knew that Roier was still alive, he’d leave.
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