≋ The Archive: Dark/NSFW content for the Leech Twins.
≋ The Terms: 18+ only. Yandere & other problematic themes.
≋ The Management: In late 20s. English is not my first language.
“The deeper you go, the quieter it gets. Don't worry about the pressure—you'll get used to it soon enough.”
Welcome to the deep end. I’m fairly new to the Twisted Wonderland fandom and still finding my "fins" (heh) when it comes to writing in English, so I apologise for any mistakes. This is my archive mainly dedicated to the darker side of the Coral Sea.
≋ THE MENU (Masterlist) ≋
FLOYD LEECH
The Point Of No Return - Part 1 | The dove is dead, do not eat.
The Point Of No Return - Part 2 | The dove is dead, do not eat.
JADE LEECH
The Point Of No Return - Part 2 | The dove is dead, do not eat.
OTHERS
Coming soon.
≋ REQUESTS ≋
The Lounge is open to suggestions. If there's a specific character or dark scenario you're craving, feel free to drop a line in the "im mentally eel" ask box, you freak. (Please read the House Rules below before submitting!)
HOUSE RULES & DISCLAIMERS
18+ ONLY. I write dark, spicy, problematic and taboo themes mainly. All characters are strictly aged up and written as 18+ years old in every scenario.
DNI: If you cannot separate fiction from reality or if dark content isn't your "flavour," please swim back to the surface.
umm yes hello, i just wanted to say that u write smut/the actual sex parts so well like?????? it actually made me realise something and that’s the fact that i HATE smut, not bc of the sex but bc of the crude and cringe ass words being used like idk fkn “cock” and “cunt” and that sorta stuff like it maked me CREASE every time and I thought that hmm ok well maybe am just an ace (a-sexual) or smth? but nah, you sir… your stuff is genuinely the hottest thing i’ve ever read like holy shit. those two fics were fantastic, please keep this up 😩
(also the buildup is immaculate btw it turns me tf on)
My, what an incredibly fascinating confession.
I must admit, hearing that my work managed to break through your usual distaste for the genre is quite the "feather in my cap", so to say. Crude words like that can definitely start feeling a bit low effort and "cheap".
True indulgence lies entirely in the tension, the psychological weight, and the slow, agonizing pull before the trap snaps shut. ⛓️
Now, I'm not claiming to be a professional level writer or anything like that, but I have been writing for nearly two decades now (tho mostly in my native language), and I take great pride in ensuring the atmosphere is always premium grade and that the writing I post is high quality.
Thank you for the high praise, dear anon. Rest assured, the "deep-sea mafia" has no intention of stopping this little operation anytime soon. 😈
To be clear: I believe in absolute creative freedom. If raw words are your style, run with it. My focus on psychological tension, etc. is just my personal preference/signature, not a claim to superiority of any kind. There’s an audience for every style out there. Write whatever you want, however you want, and always write for yourself first.
umm yes hello, i just wanted to say that u write smut/the actual sex parts so well like?????? it actually made me realise something and that’s the fact that i HATE smut, not bc of the sex but bc of the crude and cringe ass words being used like idk fkn “cock” and “cunt” and that sorta stuff like it maked me CREASE every time and I thought that hmm ok well maybe am just an ace (a-sexual) or smth? but nah, you sir… your stuff is genuinely the hottest thing i’ve ever read like holy shit. those two fics were fantastic, please keep this up 😩
(also the buildup is immaculate btw it turns me tf on)
My, what an incredibly fascinating confession.
I must admit, hearing that my work managed to break through your usual distaste for the genre is quite the "feather in my cap", so to say. Crude words like that can definitely start feeling a bit low effort and "cheap".
True indulgence lies entirely in the tension, the psychological weight, and the slow, agonizing pull before the trap snaps shut. ⛓️
Now, I'm not claiming to be a professional level writer or anything like that, but I have been writing for nearly two decades now (tho mostly in my native language), and I take great pride in ensuring the atmosphere is always premium grade and that the writing I post is high quality.
Thank you for the high praise, dear anon. Rest assured, the "deep-sea mafia" has no intention of stopping this little operation anytime soon. 😈
Not a serious question but one I am curious abt is if Crowley actually found the reader a way home in you mafia octotrio au would the tweels try and get her to stay by trying to get her pregnant so she can’t physically leave due to a part of that world growing inside of her or would they try a different way to go abt it
Anon... you started this with "not a serious question," but this is actually such an excellent and insightful point 🖤 You have no idea how much I appreciate this. It makes me very happy too that you're feeling this level of curiosity toward the AU I've created in my head, and seriously, thank you a ton—you absolutely made my day with this.
To answer you: yes, absolutely, that's something they would do.
In a "mafia" setting like this, the tweels would be completely lawless—if they want to keep her (the reader), they will use any leverage available to lock her down. But when you also factor in their canon merman nature? It could get so much more darker.
Jade, in particular, is a creature driven by intense, scientific curiosity, right? He’d be utterly obsessed with studying the cross-species process up close. Trapping her by putting a "piece of his world" inside the reader, and then clinically observing every single stage of that forced development? That is exactly his brand of quiet, terrifying malice.
Let's just say... If it goes in that direction, he already took the first step toward those "experiments" and "measurements". ⛓️
Thank you again for taking the time to drop this in my inbox, anon. I feel a mutual "feeding" dynamic happening here. You little freaks are feeding my brain so well in turn. 💜
What choice does a magicless nobody have when cornered by the deep-sea mafia? Signing up with Octavinelle was just basic survival... Besides, these three gentlemen are far too "charitable" to leave a poor, unfortunate soul stranded with nothing. They promised you shelter and protection out of the goodness of their hearts (totally not because they saw a vulnerable little thing just "begging" to be used)
Pairing: Jade Leech & Floyd Leech x Female Reader
Rating: Explicit / Dark Erotica 🔞
Word Count: 6,656
Warnings:
R*pe/Non-Con, Extreme Dub-Con, Manipulation/Gaslighting, Extortion, Ménage à Trois (MFM), Forced oral/Deepthroating, Size Difference, Oral/Facial Fixation, Choking/Breath Control, Spit-roast, Rough Sex, Fear Play, Violence (Slapping), Heavy Degradation, Sadism, Public/Semi-public Sex, Body/Mind Alteration, Body Betrayal, Overstimulation/Sensory overload, Nasty Tweel & Octo Shenanigans in general. The Dove Is Dead and turned to ash: Do Not Eat.
A/N:
I'm back, and I'm only here to bring you even more filth. Got a little carried away as well (like always), so it ended up getting a wee bit longer than I initially planned—almost twice as long as part 1, lmao. Honestly, tho? I can keep going if you little freaks want me to. Someone requested adding some Jade-o into the mix, so... I did my best to deliver. That being said, bon appétit and enjoy your reading. 🖤🍷
(Mafia AU! 18+ All characters are depicted as adults)
The nurse was a flickering blur of white fabric and disapproving sighs, her voice reaching you from somewhere above the surface, muffled and distorted by the heavy pressure ringing in your ears.
You sat perched on the edge of the infirmary bed, the thin, clinical fabric crinkling loudly under your weight with every shuddering breath. Your legs hung heavy and useless, the cold, enchanted light catching the weeping mess of your being. The air in the room was too sharp, too clean—it felt like you could still smell Floyd’s faint trace on yourself—and every time the nurse leaned in, you held your breath, certain she’d smell him as well and finally know your shame.
"Oh sweetheart, again? You really need to start being more careful," she muttered, the antiseptic on her cotton swab stinging against your wounds. "These stairs at Ramshackle... I've told the Headmage they're decaying, but to cause injuries like these?”
She leaned in closer, the scent of lavender soap clashing nauseatingly with the metallic tang still coating the back of your throat. Her eyes narrowed as she inspected the mangled, raw scrapes on your knees—the skin shredded where you had been grating yourself against the grit of the maintenance hallway floor.
"It looks like you were tackled," she whispered, more to herself than to you. Her gloved fingers prodded the edge of a bruise. "And then dragged?” She raised an eyebrow at you.
"I... I'm just clumsy," you whispered, still struggling to draw a proper breath. The lie felt like ash on your tongue, dry and suffocating. You had to lie. If you let the truth slip—if you mentioned anything about Octavinelle—the ocean would finally open up and swallow your magicless, pathetic existence whole.
“And the respiratory inflammation? Your eyes are bloodshot, dear. It looks like a severe allergic reaction... that mold in the dorm must be truly out of hand.” She sighed, reaching for a nebulizer. “I don't think it's even remotely safe for you to stay there at this rate… What was the Headmage thinking? Here you go my poor girl… Breathe with this for a while and it should help you very soon.”
You didn't correct her as you adjusted the mask on your face. You couldn't tell her that you didn't even stay at Ramshackle and that it wasn't an ‘allergic’ reaction to anything—it was the cloying, venomous secretion from a predator’s mouth, still settled deep in your veins. You kept your gaze locked on the cold stone floor, tracing the natural speckles in the granite until they swam in your vision, picking at the dried blood under your fingernails.
[...]
After a while, once your breathing stabilised, her fingers moved toward your chin, tilting your head back to inspect your throat. You flinched, the motion sharp and jagged, as her cold thumb brushed over the blooming purple crescents where Floyd's nails had dug into the sensitive skin of your jaw.
"Goodness, your lymph nodes are terribly swollen," she noted absentmindedly, her clinical detachment acting as a shield you couldn't pierce. "Must be a secondary infection…? I’ll give you something for the inflammation."
You swallowed, the action painful against the pressure of Floyd’s hand still ghosting over your windpipe. It wasn't an ‘infection’. It was the physical map of his grip on you—his personal brand.
The nurse pulled back, clicking her tongue as she reached for a fresh roll of gauze and some painkillers. She caught your eye and gave a playful, conspiratorial little wink that made your skin crawl.
"None of the boys are giving you any trouble, are they? For being the only—and dare I say—quite pretty girl around here?" She let out a light, airy giggle, oblivious to your discomfort. "After all, they are at that age... And oh, I’m way too old hahah! Bet you have them tripping over themselves just to get a look at you!"
The sound of her laughter felt like screeching glass against your raw nerves. To her, it was a joke—a compliment. To you, it was a confirmation that no one would ever see the bruises for what they really were. They would just see a ‘cute, clumsy girl’ and ‘boys being boys’.
"I… I manage," you whispered through your tight throat, the lie burning hotter than the antiseptic.
"I bet you do, with such a variety to choose from! Just try to keep those knees off the ground, dear," she added with a final, devastatingly casual wink and a pat on your shoulder. "We wouldn't want you ruining that pretty face of yours next.”
As you were patched up, your mind didn't dwell much on the physical ache. Instead it kept on drifting back to Floyd—the suffocating weight of his being, relentlessly violating yours. You thought about the way he had looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered—even if it was the look of a feral shark eyeing its meal.
[...]
You had lost track of the hours spent staring at the ceiling, the date rolling over past midnight before you were finally dismissed into the cold, empty streets. The walk back from the nurse’s office is always the longest. Every step is a reminder of the weight Floyd exerts, not just on your body, but on your very existence.
When you finally reached the sanctuary of your own room, you desperately needed to strip away the suffocating reminders of the night—to peel off that school uniform and discard the torn, ruined knee socks.
Dropping the fabric, you forced yourself to face the vanity mirror. You looked like a marked piece of contraband—a body already claimed and cataloged by the syndicate.
Wanting nothing more than to feel unrestricted you hurriedly slipped on a simple, soft knit lounge dress. The long, loose butterfly sleeves felt deceptively light against your skin—a small attempt to reclaim a shred of comfort. Yet your knees burned beneath the hem, the fresh bandages the nurse had applied feeling like heavy, conspicuous shackles against your bare legs.
The hallway leading to the Mostro Lounge was dimly lit, the signature scent of sea-salt and metal thickening the air. A cold, formal message was flashing on your phone's screen—an explicit summon to the VIP room. You clung to the bitter solace that it wasn't a weekday—that tomorrow held no morning bells, no classes, no professors, and no agonizing effort to pretend you were fine in front of the whole school. You just wanted to disappear into your room, but you knew the rules. You didn't belong to yourself. You belonged to the contract.
The double doors creaked open, revealing the lounge in its after-hours quiet, with only the muted, low downtempo jazz beat echoing against the walls. It wasn't Floyd who greeted you this time.
"You're late, Koebi-chan."
The voice wasn't the one that had been whispering in your ear in that shadowed corridor, but an entirely different one. JADE LEECH stood by the aquarium, a silk cloth in his hand as he meticulously polished a glass decanter. He didn't look up, but the slight tilt of his eyebrow told you he had already cataloged the way you were limping.
"The stairs…" you attempted to lie out of shame in an almost whisper, the words stuck in your throat. "I… fell."
Jade finally turned. His smile was a masterpiece of simulated concern—sharper and more clinical than his brother’s chaotic glee.
"And allergies, I… have those," you added quickly, the frantic redirection spilling out as you looked down at your feet like a caught pup.
Jade made his way toward the bar next to where you were leaning on. He spread the silk cloth down on the dark wooden surface, placing the glassware on top with a quick, almost robotic precision before finally turning his full, undivided attention to you.
"The stairs at Ramshackle are indeed quite treacherous, aren't they?" he mused, closing the distance until he stopped just inches from you. He reached out, his black gloved fingers gently catching a stray lock of your hair—the same one Floyd had been roughly tugging on not long ago. "Though, I don't recall the stairs having the habit of leaving such marks on a delicate jawline."
Your breath hitched. The air in the room felt like it was being sucked out. Of course he knew.
"Floyd is... spirited," Jade continued with an unbothered smile, his voice dropping to a silk-wrapped threat. "He doesn't always understand the concept of 'finesse.' But then again, neither do you, it seems. You should have come to us for help, rather than bothering the school nurse with our private matters."
He leaned in closer, his two-toned eyes—the mirror image of his brother's—searching your face for any sign of rebellion. "It’s a breach of discretion, and therefore a breach of contract. And we do so value discretion in Octavinelle."
Before you could find the words to apologize, the office door at the back of the lounge opened. AZUL ASHENGROTTO stepped out, adjusting his glasses. He didn't look angry; he looked disappointed, which was far worse. He held a folder—your folder.
"Jade, don't tease our guest," Azul said, though his eyes remained utterly devoid of any warmth. "She’s had a very taxing night already. Haven't you?" He walked over to the leather sofa, his hand gesturing smoothly for you to follow. It wasn't an invitation; it was a command.
"Come, come. Let's discuss the interest on your debt. Since you’ve been so... 'clumsy' lately, I think it’s time we adjusted the terms of your stay.” He tilted his head towards you, the blue light from the aquarium catching the cold edge of his smile. “We can't have you wandering off and… falling down again, now can we? It’s simply not safe for something so valuable to be left… unattended."
You sat, feeling small and fragile between the three of them—the mastermind and his two shadows. The cage wasn't just physical anymore; it was the realization that they were closing every exit for you, one by one.
"According to our amendment," Azul continued, adjusting his glasses with two fingers, "your curfew will be strictly monitored from now on. Any unexcused absence from the lounge will result in an immediate compounding of your interest. I trust there won't be any issues with that?” Azul made a brief, dismissive motion with his hand toward you. “Jade. If you please."
At Azul's words, Jade nodded then moved with a silent, fluid grace. He dropped onto one knee right in front of you, his towering frame still managing to crowd your space even while kneeling. Without a word, his gloved hands reached out, lifting your leg so your foot rested right against his lowered thigh.
"Please excuse me, darling," Jade offered you a soft, simulated sympathy, pulling a small silver tin of ointment from his breast pocket. "We must ensure these heal beautifully. Azul dislikes flawed collateral."
You flinched as his long fingers gently split the medical tape on your skin, but his grip on your ankle was firm. You couldn't move an inch.
"Now then," Azul continued smoothly, completely unbothered by his vice-housewarden tending to you like a damaged piece of asset on his sofa. He adjusted the frames of his glasses again, looking down at the folder. "Since your little 'breaks' keep disrupting the lounge operations, your standard interest rate of ten percent is no longer applicable and—effective immediately—your debt will accrue interest weekly, rather than monthly."
"Ah..." A sharp hiss of pain escaped your lips. Jade had just pressed the cool, antiseptic cream directly into the raw scrape on your knee. His touch was incredibly precise and clinical, but he applied just enough pressure to make your eyes water—a deliberate reminder of your helplessness.
"Oh? Does it sting?" Jade asked, tilting his head up to offer you a perfectly pleasant, empty smile. "My apologies. I'll be as gentle as you allow me to be." He didn't lessen the pressure against your wounds, his other hand remaining wrapped like a vice around your ankle so you couldn't pull away.
"Furthermore," Azul’s cold voice cut back in, the rustle of his papers sounding like a death warrant. "To ensure the safety of our investment, your labor hours will be increased. You will report directly to Jade or Floyd the moment your classes finish for the day. No exceptions. If you are even a minute late, the interest rate will be adjusted accordingly.”
"Now, now, Azul, let's not distress her so much," Jade intervened, his tone smooth and theatrical. He finally released his grip on you, standing up with that effortless, terrifying grace. Stepping over to the back of the bar counter, he retrieved a heavy, diamond-cut whiskey glass, the intricate crystal fracturing the light as the liquid inside shimmered with a strange, dark purplish hue.
He offered it to you, his mismatched eyes gleaming. "I made this myself from a unique blend of night-blooming flora and fungi. It is highly effective for soothing a racing heart and stabilizing... tremors."
You stared at the dark, purple liquid, smelling its earthy aroma that made your stomach turn. Paralyzing fear kept your hands glued to your lap.
"Come now, drink, my darling," Jade coaxed softly, his voice dropping to a low, silken purr as he sank down next to you on the sofa. His long, leather-clad fingers reached up to cup the back of your neck, thumb pressed firmly against your pulse point, feeling it hammer frantically beneath his touch as he brought the cold rim of the glass directly against your lower lip. He didn't offer to let you hold it; he intended to feed it to you himself.
"We can't have you trembling so much…"
Left with no choice, you parted your lips, a bitter, faintly sweet taste coating your tongue as he tilted the glass, slowly forcing you to swallow every drop of the mysterious liquid. Jade watched your throat move with a dark, satisfied intensity, thoroughly pleased. When the glass was empty, he gently wiped a single dark drop from the corner of your mouth, trailing your lower lip with his thumb, his touch lingering just a second too long.
"See? That wasn't so bad, now was it?" his voice a low, quiet hum of approval.
Deliberately leaning across your lap to place the empty crystal glass onto the side table next to you, his broad shoulders completely caged you against the sofa. For a breathless second, his chest brushed against yours, trapping you in a sudden wave of his scent—something deeply masculine, clean, and carrying a faint, intoxicating hint of expensive, ocean-chilled cologne.
"You're not upset, are you?" Azul asked softly, leaning over his crossed legs towards you, fingers steepled elegantly beneath his chin, his presence looming like a tidal wave. "After all, we are only looking out for you. We would never leave a poor, unfortunate soul like yourself on a wayside… You should feel immense gratitude, I'm sure."
You looked from his pretentious display of sympathy to Jade’s calculating smile beside you, knowing that Floyd was probably somewhere waiting for his turn to "play" again. With your freedom of choice already thoroughly stripped away, you nodded slowly.
"I am… grateful," you whispered, as you tightly clamped your hands to your elbows.
"Good girl," Jade's smile widened into a devious smirk as he leaned closer, his shadow swallowing you once more. Long fingers tilting your head to the side as his thumb brushed against the bruised marks Floyd left earlier on your jaw with a terrifying tenderness. His golden eye flashed with a quiet, dangerous amusement as he clinically inspected his brother's messy handiwork.
"Now then," Jade intoned, low and sinister, his thumb giving one final, agonizingly gentle stroke against your skin before he slowly let his hand trail down your neck. "Why don't we go see Floyd? He was quite grumpy that you left without letting him finish—ahem, without saying a proper goodbye.”
The words had barely left his lips when the heavy double doors of the lounge swung open as on cue, the casual, heavy thuds cutting through the thick air. You flinched, your heart leaping in your throat as the tall, lanky silhouette slouched into the room.
The tall man looked utterly spent, drifting toward the bar counter with a lazy, midnight indolence that contrasted sharply with the violent predator he had been hours before. He reached for a glass, pouring himself a drink with slow, practiced nonchalance. The collar of his lavender shirt was casually unbuttoned, hanging loosely off his frame with a messy, effortless sort of charm. Fresh, desperate nail marks slashed across his forearms; faint, rust-colored spatters lay dried against his jawline and the cuffs of his sleeves.
Adjusting his glasses Azul glanced at the slouched eel over the frames of his spectacles. "Floyd. I trust you took care of the—"
"Yeah, yeah, sure did. Don't worry 'bout it, 'Zul," Floyd cut him off with a careless wave of his hand, his voice still carrying heavy breathlessness. He downed the liquid in one fluid swallow. You watched in fear as he wiped his mouth, smearing a faint trace of blood against his lips before his tongue sweeps out absently to lick it off.
He set the glass down with a quiet clink as he poured another one. A slow, lazy grin spread across his face as his heterochromia eyes locked onto you. For a moment he just leered at you behind the rim of his glass, making your heart skip a beat—though you could already feel Jade’s concoction doing its job, quietly forcing your pulse to calm down.
“Hmm~ Look who's back,” Floyd drawled from across the room in a gravelly purr that dripped with dark amusement, his eyes scanning your form with lazy delight. “All quiet and behavin’... Were ya waiting for me? Missed me that much?~”
As he stepped away from the counter, Floyd waltzed over—his long strides agonizingly slow—before slumping heavily onto the cushions right on your empty side, the heavy scent of sea air and liquor invading your space. Instantly, your entire body stiffened, an instinctual panic screaming at you to flee—but there was nowhere to go as Jade’s grip on your thigh anchored you firmly into place.
Floyd threw his arm nonchalantly across the back of the sofa behind you, his massive frame eclipsing yours as he propped his ankle over his opposite knee in his signature, careless slouch. On your other side, Jade's presence was just as heavy; his sharp, intimidating gaze above you leaving you pinned between the two like a caught little butterfly.
Satisfied with the arrangement, Azul simply hummed, dipping his quill back into the inkwell. The dry scratching of his pen resumed, a steady sound that offered no salvation to you.
"Eee-h? Did the nurse wrap ya up like a little present just for us~?” Floyd mocked, his sharp teeth clicking against the rim of his glass as he took another slow sip.
“It certainly seems so, doesn't it?" Jade chimed in, his voice smooth beside your ear. His fingers shifted slightly on your thigh, the fabric of your dress bunching slightly beneath his palm. "Though, I must say... this sort of attire suits you much better than the official uniform. It makes you look far more... accommodating."
Floyd let out a lazy snicker in agreement at his brother's words, his eyes tracking the way the tight material clung to your tiny frame.
For several agonizing minutes, the only sounds in the lounge were the scratch of Azul's nib and the quiet, downtempo jazz as the shadows of two massive eels pinned you to the cushions.
Finally, Azul stood up, gathering his papers into a neat stack. He tapped the edges against the mahogany table, a cold finality ringing through the room as the modified terms of your existing contract were officially filed away. He adjusted his fedora, casting a cool, entirely indifferent glance over the sofa where you sat completely frozen.
“Alright, it's getting quite late, so I’ll be heading off to my quarters now. Thank you for attending this urgent meeting" Azul said smoothly, his voice flat and businesslike.
With a slow, measured stride, he crossed the dimly lit lounge, the soft click of his polished shoes agonizingly steady against the floor. He passed so close to you that the hem of his coat brushed your knees, yet he kept his eyes fixed forward, treating you like nothing more than a signed piece of collateral.
He paused at the door, his hand lingering on the brass handle as his eyes drifted back to the heavy leather sofa. "And you two… whatever you do, just—make sure not to leave any… nasty stains anywhere by the morning, understood?”
“Of course, Azul. Have a good rest,” Jade replied instantly, his voice dripping with smooth, flawless courtesy.
As the heavy doors clicked shut, Floyd let out a low, rumbling chuckle, his arm shifting on the back of the sofa, his long fingers casually tangling into the hair at the nape of your neck. He tilted his head, looking past you to his twin. "Hey, Jade-o," Floyd gave his lips a lick, a lazy, malicious glint dancing in his eyes. "Why don't ya use your little trick on her, hm? I really wanna know what Koebi-chan is thinkin’ right now under all that fake quiet."
Jade’s smile widened, a dark, elegant yet wicked compliance crossing his features. "An excellent idea, Floyd. We haven't done that in a while, have we? And I must admit… I'm incredibly curious as well."
Before you could protest, Jade's index finger lifted your chin, his mismatched eyes locking onto yours with an inescapable, hypnotic weight. The air around him turned into a humming static.
"Shock the Heart," he whispered.
A sudden, searing jolt of raw magic snapped through your chest, bypassing your defenses and tearing down every wall of restraint you had left. Your mind spun, and before you could stop yourself, defiant insults spilled past your lips—completely raw and dripping with venom.
“You're both fucking disgusting, acting like some kings when you’re just Azul's over-glorified lapdogs! You're so fucking pathetic the only way you can get off is by forcing yourselves on others—no wonder no one likes you, you fucking freaks! Yes, you can force me to stay here and do whatever but you'll never make me respect you, not one bit!”
The room went dead silent for a beat. On your right, Jade’s smile twisted into a wide unhinged grin, his golden eye flashing with a lethal, razor-sharp intensity at the "lapdog" comment. You quickly clamped your hands over your mouth in absolute terror.
Floyd let out a loud, delighted bark of laughter, his grip on your hair tightening as he yanked your head back to force you to look up at him. His face was inches from yours, his sharp teeth bared in a hungry grin.
"Ahaha…! Damn, Koebi-chan~!" Floyd jeered, his hot breath fanning over your hands. In a single, violent and effortless motion, his large hand wrapped completely around both of your wrists and wrenched them away from your face as his gaze dropped down to your trembling mouth, his eyes dark with sudden, heavy lust. "Should I put that bratty mouth to a better use? Huh, Jade-o, whaddya think? Should I show her what a ‘disgusting freak’ I am?”
"Oh, you absolutely should, Floyd," Jade's voice dripped with a flawless, mock-sorrow. "To think—after everything I've done for you... and this is how you truly view me? Calling us lapdogs... why, that makes me so utterly heartbroken. But, since you view us as such 'disgusting freaks' anyway, it would be a shame not to live up to your expectations.”
Floyd was quick to act. His grip on your hair tightened, anchoring into the strands at the back of your head with a firm, unyielding pressure that left no room for resistance. With a low, lazy chuckle that vibrated deep in his chest, he shoved your head downward into his lap. His large hand pinned your face against his crotch, his fingers tapping your cheek for a taunting beat, before he tilted your face up just enough to force you to meet his gaze—one of absolute dominance.
“Since ya didn't wait for me to finish back there, and all those, oh-so-mean things ya just said about us, you owe me big time, little shrimp… You know the drill, yeah? Don't use your teeth~”
Without giving you any time to process the threat, Floyd’s free hand dropped to his hips. A familiar sharp, metallic click of his belt buckling open echoed through the lounge, followed by the heavy slide of a zipper that made your heart violently seize. He freed himself with an agonizingly casual ease, the sheer reality of what was happening crashing down on you just as his massive hand anchored into your hair.
“Open wiiiide~” he crooned, his voice dripping with a cruel, sing-song amusement.
The air left you in a wet gasp as he took total control of your movements. There was no gentleness in his guidance; he used his strength to dictate the rhythm entirely, introducing your mouth to his length with a relentless, heavy deliberation. Your mind began to spin, the intoxicating effects of Jade’s midnight drink mixing with the sheer, paralyzing reality of Floyd’s size.
You tried to instinctively pull back as the depth of it overwhelmed your senses, but Floyd only bared his sharp teeth in a thoroughly amused grin. When your hands flew up to push against his thighs for leverage, he ruthlessly slapped them away, pinning your wrists behind your back. He didn't need your help; he wanted your absolute submission.
Your chest heaved, your airflow completely irrelevant to his pleasure as he pushed your head all the way down and then back up, forcing you to take him fully, burying his length deep against the back of your throat.
Muffled, helpless gags were caught in your constricted airway, the intense friction forcing hot tears to spill over your lashes, tracking wet lines down your cheeks. Saliva pooled at the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin as he held you there, forcing you to endure the suffocating depth of him.
“This is the smartest you've sounded all day today!” Floyd grunted, in a rough, arrogant scoff of a laugh.
Every instinct screamed for you to fight, but between the heavy weight of Floyd caging you and the cold shadow of Jade watching intently above your side, all resistance melted away.
Beneath Floyd’s merciless guidance, the panic slowly began to blur. The edges of the room faded, replaced by the overwhelming heat of him filling your mouth. Stripped of your defenses, your autonomy completely stolen, you fell into a breathless, unthinking daze—becoming nothing more than a pliant doll completely at the mercy of their whims.
From your other side, Jade just watched it all unfold. His posture remained perfectly elegant, his chin resting casually in the palm of his gloved hand as he leaned down against your back. His fingers trailed the curves of your lower body while his gaze tracked every spilling tear, every helpless gag, and the little kicks of your feet every now and then. For some time, he simply admired—fed on your degradation, his empty smile never wavering as his brother roughly possessed you.
But as your eyes started going glassy and your body limped helplessly against Floyd, the cool, clinical amusement darkened into something ravenous. Your total undoing was simply too alluring to just look at.
"My, Floyd..." Jade’s velvety voice slid into the heavy thickness of the room, dripping with heat. "You truly have trained that foul little mouth so beautifully. She is completely cooperative now."
Floyd slowed down his unyielding pace, his head snapped back, a wild, breathless grin flashing across his face as he looked at his twin. "Haah? Riiight, Jade-o~? Koebi-chan's real soft now~. She ain't even bitin’ no more." He beamed somewhat proudly.
"Well, in that case..." Jade murmured, his corporate composure finally dropping entirely as he slid his hands across your thighs and up to your waist under your dress. His towering frame leaned over you, blocking out the last remaining light in the room. "Surely you don't mind sharing? It would be a pity to let such compliance go to waste after all."
Floyd let out a dark, smug chuckle that vibrated right against your mouth. "Go right ahead, Jade-o~ Take whateeever ya want from her," he drawled lazily, as he shrugged. "She doesn't have much to offer but, ya know... 's a pretty good set of holes~”
Before your overloaded brain could even process the words, Jade's weight shifted. He didn't crowd your face; instead, his heavy, powerful hands slid up the curve of your waist, his long fingers sinking ruthlessly into your soft flesh with a terrifying, unyielding authority.
With a single, effortless hitch of his arms, he pulled your lower body upright, shifting your position until your hips were arching back off the cushions, perfectly exposing the vulnerable dip beneath your lower back.
Your eyes widened in a sudden, sharp spike of panic, a muffled cry catching violently in your throat—but Floyd instantly choked it out, his hand tightening at the back of your neck as he pushed deeper, completely filling your mouth and trapping your air once more.
You felt the agonizingly deliberate, slow glide of your undergarments as Jade leaned his weight down over your lower back, letting out a soft, amused hum at your helplessness.
The leather-clad fingers slid with a terrifying, practiced ease between your thighs, finding your most sensitive, vulnerable parts with the clinical precision of a surgeon. He didn't stroke you to prepare or pleasure you; instead, his thumb applied a strong, sudden pressure right against the hyper-sensitive bead at the swell of your core, just for the cruel curiosity of watching your entire frame violently quiver in his grip.
“My, how incredibly responsive,” Jade whispered into the shell of your ear, his voice a low, mocking purr.
He didn't release you, shifting his massive frame to anchor your legs beneath him. Simultaneously, Floyd yanked your face upward letting you finally get some air—but it was more about displaying your tear-stained, ruined features for him to admire.
“Lookin' so pretty, eh? While Jade-o works ya over,” Floyd jeered against your mouth, his hot liquor filled breath fanning your lips as his twin deliberately grinds his fingers in an intentionally cruel way against you, forcing a pained whimper from your throat and a short-lived attempt to wriggle out of their grip. Floyd let out a lazy, derisive huff through his nose, his free hand bunching your cheeks. “Such a good little dolly... takin' it all in so quietly~”
When—in fact—you weren’t able to take it all in anymore and your body went completely rigid from the prolonged ache and overstimulation of Jade's clinically precise touch he finally withdrew his hand. As he fixed his own clothes behind you, the cold air of the lounge hits your bare skin for a split second before it's replaced by a sudden, blinding force. He didn't hesitate. Bracing his weight over your lower back, he drove himself forward, claiming the tight depths beneath in one heavy, unyielding thrust.
“Mmph—!!” A shattered, ruined sob died in the back of your throat as unimaginable fullness of them both ripped through you. Every inch of your body felt occupied, stretched to its limit by the twins' coordinated assault. Floyd holding your head in a vice grip, dictating the breathless, sloppy rhythm at your mouth, while behind you, Jade established a deep, mercilessly abrasive pace that rocked your entire frame against his brother's lap.
They were moving in a terrifying synchronization. You couldn't tell where Floyd ended and Jade began anymore; you were just a fragile, messy “dolly” caught in the middle of a shifting, predatory tide. The intoxicating haze of the sedative completely fractured under the sheer intensity of the friction, leaving you drowning in the heavy scent of that ocean-chilled cologne and the relentless, dual possession of the inner ridges of your body.
Just as the tension in Floyd’s thighs coiled to an unbearable peak, his long fingers tightened ruthlessly in your hair, pulling your head back just enough to force you to look up into his darkened, blown-out pupils.
“Hey... remember what the boss said ‘bout not leavin’ behind any stains? Mhm… ya better swallow every last drop, Koebi-chan,” Floyd rasped, his voice dripping with dominant malice as his pace faltered into heavy, deep jolts.
As Floyd spilled inside your already crowded mouth, the pressure was strong enough to push some of the thick fluids up into your nostrils, making you audibly choke. He exhaled a low, satisfied breath of amusement from his chest. “Better keep it aaall in… bet you're leakin’ all over that leather beneath ya anyway... like a needy little slut, aha~.”
Your mind fractured at the terrifying realization of your own physical betrayal. The cool leather sofa beneath your hips was indeed slick and wet, soaked through by your own body’s involuntary, hyper-stimulated response to the dual assault.
You were astonished—sickened by how your own traitorous flesh succumbed to their touch every single time. Surely you didn't like it. Who would be okay with this type of treatment? You loathed them. You loathed what they were doing to you. But your body no longer felt yours.
The moment Floyd began to fix himself up, before you could even catch a proper breath of air, Jade ruthlessly snapped his hand around the front of your throat. His fingers squeezed, the brutal grip hauling your upper body backward and flush against his own chest. With his other hand, Jade kept both of your wrists pinned securely behind your back, locking your arms in a vice grip that arched your chest forward. You had no strength to hold yourself up, you had no other choice but to collapse entirely into his manhandling.
Floyd rose to his feet smoothly, towering over you with a dark, heavy-lidded stare. He reached down, gripping your chin and jaw in one hand, squeezing just enough to bunch your lips together as he forced your face up.
“Ya wanna try sayin’ all those things again?”
"Look at ya," Floyd laughed, his thumb roughly smearing the stray moisture at the corner of your bruised mouth. "Suckin' me off and leakin' all over the place, and now ya look like a total ratted-out mess! Such a pathetic, dumb little thing aren't ya?” He playfully slapped your flustered cheeks, alternating between them in a mocking rhythm.
Fisting his hand into your hair he yanks your face up, his palm suddenly coming down in a final sharp, stinging slap across your flushed cheek. The loud crack echoed through the room, leaving a slight burning red mark on your skin.
He let go of you with a low chuckle, and Jade immediately took total advantage of your dazed, stinging state—an agonizingly precise invasion. He found the exact, hypersensitive nerve endings he had ravaged before, deliberately targeting them with an unhurried, rhythmic friction that made your entire lower body convulse.
"No—please, Jade, stop... I can't, please..." The desperate, broken begging tore from your throat, as your body was already entirely spent, incapable of enduring another wave of his clinical torture.
Jade merely pressed his face against yours from your side, pinning your wrists harder against your spine with his raw strength as he felt your internal muscles helplessly squeeze and spasm around him—the exact reaction he was hoping for.
"Now, now," he chided softly, in a smooth, terrifyingly polite manner against your ear. "You handled it so exceptionally well the first time, didn't you? Surely you can manage it again for me. Do try to hold still while I finish my experiment."
You had indeed become exactly what they wanted: a quiet, obedient set of holes to play around with.
The helpless involuntary spasming of your body finally snapped the last thread of his clinical detachment. A dark, guttural growl tore from Jade’s throat—a raw, terrifying sound you had never heard from him before. Abandoning all calculation, he shoved you down completely flat, pinning your waist and face mercilessly into the wet leather beneath. With your body uselessly trapped under the massive weight of his arms, Jade abandoned his slow rhythm entirely. He began to ram himself inside you with a frantic, unhinged ferocity, his hips slamming against yours in a merciless, primal desperation. The clinical investigator was completely gone; there was only a starving predator blind to everything but his own impending, violent release.
Reaching his peak at last Jade let out a long, shuddering grunt above you, delivering one final, deeply buried thrust as he erupted inside you, forcing your lower back down against the wet leather before slowly, agonizingly pulling himself out.
You lay limp on the cushions like a marionette with its strings cut, your chest heaving, leaving you gasping for the heavy air thinking it was finally over.
But they weren't finished with their doll.
Jade leaned over gripping your ankle to drag you across down on the floor, forcing your face right down against the slick, damp stain on the leather cushions beneath you.
"Look at the mess you've made, Koebi-chan," Floyd hummed, casually squatting down leaning his weight against his knees as he looked down at you. "Azul's gonna be real mad if he finds this... Ya gotta clean it up."
"Indeed," Jade's smooth voice slid over your shivering spine, entirely devoid of mercy. "We cannot have you ruining the Lounge's furniture. Go on, clean it up. Every last bit.”
Before you could even draw a breath to protest, Floyd’s massive hand entangled ruthlessly into the hair at the crown of your head. With a sadistic grin, he dragged your face downward, pinning your cheek flat against the cold leather right into the center of the slick, damp stain.
"C'mon lick it off," Floyd commanded as his knuckles ground into your scalp, physically guiding your head in a slow, humiliating back-and-forth motion across the cushion. "Wipe it up real good for us, yeah?"
Left with no choice, you were doomed to submit. Tears blurred your vision as you parted your swollen, ruined lips against the leather, your tongue dragging over your own slick, betrayed moisture as Floyd’s unyielding grip dictated every degrading stroke. Jade leaned over from above pulling his leather gloves taut over his knuckles, his golden eye tracking the absolute, broken compliance of their little doll in a heavy, satisfied silence.
"Mmh... there we go, yeah, that's better." Floyd finally and abruptly let go of your hair as he got up, stretching his massive frame toward the ceiling with a loud, lazy yawn. "Aaaaah fuck—handlin’ all that shit made me starvin’. Jade-o, let's go raid the kitchen before lockin’ up."
"A splendid idea," Jade murmured smoothly. Without a single trace of the heavy, ravenous beast that had just consumed him, his elegant, polite demeanor snapped back into place like a mask. He casually adjusted his tie as he looked down at your collapsed form. "You may dismiss yourself when you are able to walk, Koebi-chan. Do ensure you are back in your room before morning preparation begins."
They didn't bother to offer you a hand. They didn't even give you a second glance. The two towering predators turned on their heels, their heavy footsteps echoing across the floorboards as they walked out of the lounge, leaving you—their ruined plaything—behind, soaked in the heavy, inescapable scent of liquor and ocean-chilled cologne.
Likes are precious, reblogs are pure gold—please don't be a silent reader, drop your thoughts in the tags or my inbox! My asks are always open for feedback, brainrot, or prompts.
went to ur account in hopes of finding more gems by you but instead i find out that ur acc is fairly new.. sigh, guess i’ll have to be patient for part two huh. i enjoyed part one immensely though!! poor nameless student 😓😓
Half of the time, I don't know what tf to reply to y'all because deep down, I'm just a sensitive guy who gets all giddy and shi from all the attention and praise. 😵💫
Thank you sm for being here and checking me out!
Your patience will be rewarded very soon... and as for that poor nameless guy? Yeah, he ain't gon be seeing that daylight no more. Truly a shame. 🥃🚬
Me politely waiting for Floyd to knock the sonic rings out of this 😻. Please beat me up good sir and I'll pretend like I dont enjoy if it gets me more
I love your work! Me want more movie! Feed ussss
LMAO NOT the sonic rings! 💀 the image of him grabbing and shaking the MC until those gold rings scatter across the floor is going to literally live rent-free in my head forever now 😭
Ahem anyway, if you're seriously volunteering to be his personal punching bag... Floyd heard you loud and clear, dear. 🦈 Just remember that once those rings start flying, there are no refunds on your contract, little shrimp. Those rings be flying everywhere like it's the damn arcade lmaooo
PLEASESPELASPELASPELAS I NEED MORE PSLPELSPALSPELAPSE
Deep breaths, darling!
To be completely honest, I did NOT expect this kind of incredible reception and hype at all after posting a single piece—you guys have completely blown me away! :P Because of that, I don't have any fully completed drafts sitting up my sleeve ready to post just yet.
BUT... I have a vault of WIPs, and my inbox is also open for requests 🖤 So please don't be shy~ If you have any tropes or specific, twisted cravings you've been dying to see... consider my ask box a safe space to confess them. I'm really curious about what kind of obscenities you have hiding in those filthy little minds of yours. Tell me exactly what you want. Spit it out, do your worst 😈
The Point of no return—The Feeding Grounds (Part 1.)
What choice does a magicless nobody have when cornered by the deep-sea mafia? Signing up with Octavinelle was just basic survival... Besides, these three gentlemen are far too "charitable" to leave a poor, unfortunate soul stranded with nothing. They promised you shelter and protection out of the goodness of their hearts, totally not because they saw a vulnerable little thing just "begging" to be used.
Warnings:
(AU! 18+ All characters //TW: R*pe/Non-Con, Extreme Dub-Con, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Breathplay/Choking, Overstimulation, Dacryphilia, Public/Semi-public Sex, Degradation, Predator/Prey Dynamics, Monster Characteristics, Body/Mind Alteration, Manipulation/Gaslight, Rough Sex, Fear Play, Marking, Dark Obsession, The Dove Is Dead: Do Not Eat.)
To you, Mostro Lounge always felt suffocating. And it wasn't just the enchanted underwater atmosphere or the endless clinking of expensive glassware; it was the way the air always felt so… charged, like the static before a storm.
You had been working the late shift, weaving through the tables of wealthy students, but you could always feel a pair of eyes tracking your every movement. It wasn't a secret who they belonged to. FLOYD LEECH was slumped in a booth in the far corner, his long legs stretched out into the walkway, tripping up anyone he deemed "boring."
He hadn't said a word to you all night. He didn't have to. Every time you passed him, he’d let out a low, humming sound—a vibration you felt in your bones more than you heard with your ears. It was his way of tagging you—or rather; his prey.
"Koebi-chan is working so hard today," he finally drawled as you tried to squeeze past him with a tray of empty glasses. He didn't move his legs. Instead, he reached out, his large hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling you closer until you stumbled. His skin was unnervingly cool. "But ya look all worn out. Is Azul overworking you again~? Your little heart’s goin’ so fast… thump, thump-thump…” He feigned concern that you didn't buy.
"I have orders to finish, Floyd," you asserted, with a quiet but stern voice, looking away, desperate to avoid those mismatched eyes that saw way too much.
"Orders~?” His brows arched, “C'mon, Azul doesn't care. He's got his nose in a ledger. Aha~” he laughed, a jagged, unpredictable sound. "And I’m bored, Shrimpy. And when I’m bored, I start gettin’ all... itchy."
He squeezed your wrist—just a fraction too hard. It wasn't a bruise yet, but a promise of one. You winced, the tray of glasses rattling slightly in your other hand, but his grip was like an iron shackle. He leaned in closer, his two-toned eyes blown wide as he watched the way your breath hitched in your throat.
“I start wonderin' just how much a little thing like you can take… before ya truly break apart,” he purred, his thumb tracing the racing pulse at your wrist.
He seemed to savor the way you trembled under his touch and the way your eyes darted around in fear. A dark, satisfied grin spread across his face. “Heh, don't look so scared... I’m just lookin' out for ya. Ain't I a nice guy?” His voice was teasing, devoid of any sincerity. “I think you should take your break earlier.” He tilted his head to the side, smiling in a way that might have deceived you, if not for the obvious pair of teeth that could easily tear you to pieces.
Unable to take your eyes from the glint of that deceitful smile you swallowed hard, afraid to say the wrong thing—but then again, was there ever a right thing with this madman?
The silence that followed was heavy, pressurized by the intensity of Floyd's leering gaze. When you failed to reply, his voice dropped an octave, any playfulness vanishing from his demeanor into something intimidating and downright threatening. “Out the back door. I'll give ya five minutes. If ya make me wait, I might get real cranky. And you don't like it when I'm cranky, do ya?” He let go, almost shoved your hand away. The ghost of his grip remained on you like a mark.
You knew you couldn't go to Azul; the Housewarden would just give you that cold, logical smile and remind you of the "services" required to keep your roof over your head. You couldn't go to Jade; he’d only "help" by escorting you directly to his brother.
You made your way to the kitchen, your heart hammering against your ribs. It wasn't a choice; it was an inevitability. The pressure wasn't just coming from the millions of gallons of seawater held back by the dorm’s magical glass—it was radiating from the booth in the corner. You felt the weight of Floyd’s gaze like a physical force on your body, pushing you toward a conclusion you weren’t allowed to decline.
Involuntarily, you set the tray down on the stainless steel prep table, your fingers trembling as you fumbled with the knot of your apron. Removing it felt less like a relief of ending a shift and more like a forfeit. You hung it on its hook—a thin, white flag of surrender.
You pushed open the heavy service backdoor, stepping out of the bustling, jazz-filled lounge, and into the maintenance corridor. It was a long, “dead-end” alley of sorts, tucked away between the kitchen’s outer hull and the massive stone foundation of the dorm.
Beneath the muffled, rhythmic hum of the dorm's life-support, the thudding of your own heart felt overwhelming, echoing in your ears with a frantic, uneven beat. Only a sliver of light caught the stone walls, casting long shadows that seemed to pulse to the now distant, distorted beat of the music inside.
The air felt stagnant as you dragged your tired body deeper into the corridor. The thick scent of wet stone, brine, and the metallic tang of machinery filled your senses. As you braced yourself against the masonry wall, a violent shiver raced down your spine. The biting chill of the trenches sinking into your skin.
But you knew that wasn't really the case; the trembling wasn't because of the cold. It was something else coiling in your throat—a feeling you tried your best to ignore as you slowly sank to the floor.
You didn't try to run anymore—you knew better—but you couldn't help the way you stiffened, once the door opened again like a gunshot, making you bolt right back up.
The heavy, rhythmic thud of footsteps began like a countdown—leisurely, confident, and soon, entirely too close. As if surveying his territory, a pair of heavy-lidded eyes caught the light, glowing with a dull, predatory gleam that made your blood run cold every time you made the mistake of looking into them.
"Ahh~... there ya are.” He came to a halt just inches from you, hanging his head down above you like a beast cornering his kill. “Good little shrimp. I knew you wouldn't make me come lookin' for ya.”
The door clicked shut, the sound final as a coffin lid. Floyd loomed over you. He didn't need many words for himself; it was his physicality—his towering, deceptively relaxed frame and hands tucked away in his pockets—that was enough to broadcast his absolute dominance of any space.
Without taking his eyes off you, he began to methodically roll up the sleeves of his lilac dress shirt, exposing the powerful, pale lengths of his forearms. You felt like some type of dish on a display as that unblinking leer was assessing your 'worth,' weighing exactly what kind of ‘game’ he wanted to play with you this time.
You timidly tracked the outline of his sharp, polished dress shoes with your eyes before craning your neck up to meet his gaze—unsure what to expect of the sinister man in front of you, and even more certain that he might not be a man at all.
"N’aww, Koebi-chan~..." His voice was a low, melodic crawl that made the hair on your arms stand up. He was already in your space, his heat radiating through your thin uniform. "Look at ya, shakin’ like a little bait-fish on a hook. I haven't even touched ya yet, and you’re already fallin’ apart."
He didn't wait for you to answer. His hand shot out, his long, powerful fingers clamping around your throat with a bruising strength that forced your feeble hands to clutch at his in desperation. He shoved you back against the stone, the impact knocking the very air from your lungs.
"Such a fragile and squishy little thing, aren't ya~? But if a little squeeze like this already has ya gaspin’ for air, how are ya gonna handle it when I really get hungry, hm? Better start getting used to it fast, ehe~”
As his hand hooked into the damp lace beneath your skirt, he stood tall and overpowering, looking down at you with those uneven, heterochromatic eyes—one wide and manic, the other half-lidded and dangerous. He was a hulking, unpredictable force, with movements devoid of any hesitation.
"Go ahead... scream if ya dare, Shrimpy," he whispered, his tongue darting out to taste the terror on your skin. "I love it when ya make noise. Makes me wanna see how much louder I can get ya to go~. But you're bein' such a good, quiet girl today... you remember what happens when you’re not, don't ya?”
One hand stayed locked on your jaw, his thumb forcing your mouth open while his fingers dug into your skin. The other ruthlessly probed your sensitive folds, forcing a rhythm that ignored your gasps. You had learned that moderation didn't exist in Floyd's vocabulary; he was a monster of excess who demanded total surrender. He wanted the air from your lungs, the ground beneath your feet, and the frantic rhythm of your fear.
"Now answer me, shrimpy," he hissed into your ear, his voice a hoarse, ragged rasp. "You actually like it when I’m like this, don't ya? I can smell it, ya know… how your body’s lookin' for mine. You’re just like me, a little monster that craves a bigger one to fill ya up to the brim. Don't lie to me. Tell me how much ya love it…"
A wave of nausea surged through your chest. You tried to shake your head, to choke out a denial, but with his hand still vice-gripped around your jaw, all that emerged was a pathetic, broken whimper.
When you didn't—couldn't—answer, he spun you around with a brutal, effortless strength and slammed you face-down onto a heavy, bolted-down industrial storage unit. The edge of the cold metal bit cruelly into your hips, and the impact forced a sharp, pained gasp from your lungs as your chest was pinned flat against the hard surface. He loomed over your back, a hulking shadow that blotted out the dim light of the corridor.
"If you're so desperate to be used up, you can't even find the words to thank me… It's okay, Shrimpy~ I can do the talkin' for the both of us.”
His movements were violent and jagged. He didn't ask; he took. You felt his heavy weight crushing you into the surface as he hiked your skirt up, the fabric bunching crudely around your waist. He used his thigh to wedge your legs wide, the sheer pressure of his body leaving you breathless. You tried to claw at the smooth metal frantically. You tried to plead, but your attempt died in your throat—a panicked, broken sound that only seemed to fuel his dark amusement.
He leaned down, face inches from yours, breath hot against your skin. “Aww, where are ya tryna go?” He mocked in a chuckle as he felt you try to pull away from him. “Seriously, where did ya learn to be such a nasty little liar from, eh shrimpy?”
He withdrew his hand from beneath your skirt, his bony fingers glistening in the dim light, as he held them up to your face. “See that? You're so soaked I could swim in ya… you're practically drippin' for me. You were squeezin' my fingers so tight back there, too~...”
He roughly dug his fingers back inside you, digging into your sore walls with a possessive rhythm that ignored your whimpers and the way you tried to squirm away from him.
"Aha~... see? Your voice is shakin' just like your little legs. You just stay nice and quiet and squeeze for me, okay~?" His smirk widened into pure sadistic glee. You heard the harsh metallic snick of his belt being unbuckled—a sound that felt like a death knell in the muffled silence of the corridor.
You should scream. You should thrash around until your nails tore against the metal and your heels kicked uselessly at his shins. But the memory of the last time you tried to fight back kept you pinned in place.
There was no "no" with Floyd—it was a mere invitation to be even more ‘creative’ with your pain. He gave you the illusion of space, the phantom hope of a gap to slip through, but it was just a shark letting his tiny fish dive a few inches deeper before swallowing it whole.
It was easier, safer, to be his "good little shrimpy." Because when you were good, he might eventually let you breathe. When you were bad... he’d make sure you forgot how to.
Without a shred of warning, he replaced the invasive prodding of his fingers with the full, punishing weight of himself. He drove into you with a brutal force, slamming his hips against yours—uninvited and utterly dominant.
You let out a choked cry, but his hand was already there, clamping over your mouth to silence the sound. His other hand tangled in your hair, yanking your head back until your neck arched painfully. He wanted to watch the way your makeup smeared under the heat of your tears—collecting your misery like a trophy.
"Ah, look at that face... So cute~. Don't you dare look away from me" His voice swayed, slowly losing all its playful lilt as something disturbing began to set in. His face inches from yours, eyes now dancing with utter animalistic mischief.
Abrasive, rhythmic pain replaced your senses as your caged body was rocked back-and-forth against the unyielding metal. A now devastatingly familiar, sandpapery sensation stinging deep in your core.
Through your teary eyes, you could barely make it out, but it wasn't your imagination: Floyd's jaw began to distend, unhinging slightly, a little more than a human’s ever should, as his impossibly long tongue slithered out his razor-sharp maw.
"F-Floyd... please... stop… please…" you cried out through the agonising rawness. But the plea was just a broken thread, a pathetic attempt to claw back any shred of agency.
The wet, slimy muscle swiped upward from your chin, dragging over your lips and across your cheeks, leaving a trail of thick saliva. It wasn't a “kiss”; it was a claim. Cold against your feverish skin, a visceral mark of his total obsession. An invasion that had your breath hitching in a way that felt dangerously like another sob.
He always took a sadistic kind of pride in the way your face was smudged by tears, convinced that your distress was just another form of gratitude. After all, you were his favorite plaything, and his undivided attention was a gift you were obligated to accept.
The tip of his tongue flicked against the corner of your eye, savoring the salt of your tears with a slow, deliberate lap. A low, primal growl rumbled deep in his chest—a vibration you felt more than you heard.
"Come to think of it, you cried like this last time too," he would say, his voice a haunting echo in your mind. “Tears of happiness, yeah? Ahaha~”
In the distance a faint groan of a door opening, followed by footsteps, echoed from the far end of the maintenance corridor—a reminder of the "normal" world that you no longer felt part of. You braced yourself, trapped between the shame of being seen like this and the exhausted hope that someone would come to your rescue.
As the seemingly hesitant, unsuspecting clacks slowly approached from around the corner, Floyd’s eyes widened with a manic flash. He didn't pull away. Instead, his grasp on your jaw and hair intensified as he forced his tongue deep through your forcefully opened mouth, invading your oral cavity and throat so completely it choked back any possible screams.
His movements became faster and more erratic—a frantic, starving scramble for his own release. You wanted to snap your teeth shut, to bite through the intrusive muscle and taste his blood in a sick, twisted way, but it was useless.
In a final, desperate act of defiance, you clawed at his arms—digging your nails into his pale flesh until you drew streams of blood—but his grip remained overpowering, tightening even harder around you.
A strange, heavy haze began to cloud your mind—a creeping numbness spreading from your throat making your limbs slowly turn to lead as you struggled to find air through your stuffed breathing canals. Dark spots overblotting your vision—your strength fading out with each ruthless thrust. You weren't just losing the fight; you were drowning away entirely. And ironically, Floyd was the only thing keeping you afloat in his arms while you sank.
"U-um, Floyd-senpai? Azul-sama was asking for the inventory—"
The Octavinelle first-year stopped dead. In the dim, flickering light, the scene was a nightmare: the school’s most volatile predator hunched over a limp, half-dressed girl, his tongue still deep in her throat.
Floyd turned his head slowly towards the stunned ‘intruder’ before he reeled his tongue back with a wet, deliberate slowness, leaving behind a thick string of saliva. Bridging the gap between you like a spider's silk before it finally snapped.
His face contorted into an expression of pure, murderous rage, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand—smearing the blood from his arms across his jaw—red evidence of your struggle. He didn't care about being caught; he cared about being interrupted.
“You..." Floyd’s voice didn't just drop; it was a guttural growl. "I was havin' a real good time, and ya have the audacity to come in here makin' all that fucking noise? What, ya wanna be part of the fun too, little guppy? Huh?!”
To your immense relief, his focus snapped towards the petrified student as he finally retracted from you, the sudden absence of his intrusive presence leaving you feeling like a hollow husk.
You slumped against the metal container struggling to draw air into your lungs as thick silver strings oozed uncontrollably from your mouth and nose, trailing down your chin to drip onto the cold surface. Floyd's hand shoved against your back with a careless, bruising force as if you were now a mere obstacle in his way, tossed aside like a damp toy that he was done playing with.
Your weak body tumbled like a ragdoll from the metal surface down onto the harsh floor with a dull thump, as he began to straighten his rumpled clothes and pluck his belt back into place with dismissive bone-chilling casualness.
He looked down at the smear of moisture on his knuckles—a cocktail of your combined sweat, spit and blood. Like a predator after a successful hunt he licked it off in a single, slow swipe before stepping over your legs. Frenzied and bloodthirsty, he didn't even glance back at you; he just spat on the floor near you—a final nail to the coffin—before lunging towards the paralysed witness.
The sound of Floyd slamming him into the opposite wall—the sickening thud of bone against stone and the student's dreadful, truncated cry—gave you the split-second window you needed. Disoriented, chest heaving, you forced your weight on one elbow to set off for your escape. Dragging your body on the unforgiving, cold floor felt like a second violation against you.
You with your uniform were a ruined mess, and on your tongue lingered the heavy, mixed taste of salt, metal, and Floyd's poisonous venom. It was intoxicatingly sweet. You couldn't ignore the disturbing craving; the urge to swallow it all. Your stomach churned from disgust. You needed to get out. The primal urge to survive took over every fiber of your being.
The excruciating pain of the hard stone scraping your bare knees signaled that the paralyzing effect was finally wearing off, replaced by a stinging clarity—as the adrenaline peaked you scrambled to your trembling feet. Clutching your skirt, you hurried past Floyd and his new victim of his violent whims.
Through the deafening pounding in your own ears you could hear the wet, heavy thumps of Floyd "teaching a lesson"—the sound of someone being bludgeoned until their ribs broke—and the terrified, wet gurgles of a beholder begging for mercy.
"Hurry, hurry, my little shrimpy! Run along! I’ll come find ya once I’m done here… ! Aha haha~!"
As Floyd's maniacal laughter echoed through the halls, you picked up your pace. You didn't dare to look back as you burst through the back doors and into the Hall of Mirrors. Ignoring the burning in your lungs with the pressurized air and the remnants of the damned, cloying venom you didn't stop running. With vision of a fractured blur and head that felt like it was submerged in an ocean of cotton, you made your way through the chilly night until you reached the sterile, quiet sanctuary of the school nurse's office, praying to the Sevens that you wouldn't bump into anyone—lest they see the ruin he left behind.
A/N: Huge thanks to everyone who took the plunge into Part 1. Seeing this finally leave my drafts is long overdue. A very special thank you to a certain someone who helped unleash the monster and gave me the push to just go for it—you know exactly who you are, love. 🌹🦈
As a new author, I’m always looking for constructive criticism and it is highly encouraged! Let me know your thoughts or if you have any feedback in the comments or my ask box.
ramshackle's finally turned into a heap of rubble. you saw that one coming a long time ago. what you didn't see is the harem of unsavory magicians trying to keep you confined within their dorms. (<- prev | next -> )
TW ! choking, bruising, biting, violence, strangling (YES ITS THE EELS) suggestive themes, implied drugging, subtle n*nconsensual somnophilia
You’ve nearly had it. Savanaclaw isn’t a place where you can feel safe— Grim, your only solace of familiarity, won’t sleep with you because of the beastmen and said beastmen keep getting pummeled because they thought it was a good idea to comment on how fuckable you are in front of Jack. Ruggie and Leona don’t even seem to care about keeping their junior in check, maybe even approving of it.
How can anyone blame you for being normal and wanting not to be the cause of a dozen students’ broken noses? You need to escape, fast.
You’ve long told Headmaster Crowley about your broken-down Ramshackle, but in headmaster fashion, he seems to be taking his sweet time fixing it. No doubt he’s forgotten about it as he’s frolicking about somewhere. Maybe you can ask the staff to let you sleep in a janitor's closet or the infirmary. Sevens, is this gonna be your life from now on?
“Hmm~? Shrimpie, I heard you’re gettin’ desperate these days~” The last person you want to see regarding your living accommodations is towering over you, mismatched eyes glinting with sick glee as he leers at you. Floyd’s sharp teeth straighten into a mischievous smile, lanky hands grabbing your shoulders. “Why don’t you come to Octavinelle? We ain’t nothin’ but hospitable~”
In Heartslabyul, you were lulled into a sense of comfort because they were your close friends. In Savanaclaw, you were happy at first because Jack is one of the most decent people you know. As soon as you step foot on Octavinelle territory, you know that you were fucked right from the get-go. Scheming businessmen, sadistic twins… You couldn’t get out of this no matter how hard you tried.
FLOYD LEECH seems amused at your darting eyes and frightened look… but also equally displeased at your seemingly resigned state. Clearly, he wanted something more alive to play with. You juggled over whether or not to amuse him by fighting back or to potentially earn a tantrum by staying still and waiting for the right opportunity. Knowing that both types of Floyd were equally as bad, you decided to opt for the one that required less energy.
“C’mon, shrimpy, do something~” He’s poking your cheek as you lay blankly on his bed. He doesn’t share a room with anyone, which checks out because you doubt anyone would want to share a room with this crazy. “You’re boring me here!”
You hold up two fingers in his face. “If I do anything, you’ll either: one, amuse yourself by forcing me to do more through violent means and force.” You put down one finger. “Or two, you’ll squeeze the shit out of me till I lay here dead.” You put down your hand entirely. “Well, tough luck. I don’t like any outcome, so I’m gonna stay still until you get fed and either leave me alone or maul me.”
The lanky eel, kneeling at the side of his bed, pouts as he lays his cheek beside your face. “That’s no fun~ Am I that predictable?”
Predictable in the way that Floyd will always do something disastrous, no matter what happens. Unpredictable in the way that you never know what he’ll end up doing. You flip your head to the side, sulky mismatched eyes and a handsome face just inches away from you… And you sigh. God, these evil suckers just had to be handsome. You pinch his cheek and sit up. “Don’t worry,” you say, drily. “I never know what’s going on in that head of yours. Never did, never will.”
Floyd’s face brightens up, moods as ever-changing as the ocean waters. “Aww, ya flatter me, shrimpy!” He grins as he tackles you to his bed. Ack. You feel like he dug something into your ribs. “Me, I liiike always knowing what’s on your mind. Your face is so cute and expressive! Like when your eyes keep shaking whenever you’re scared, or that stupid-looking smile when you try to lie, or the way your mouth gapes whenever you’re tired! I could stare at you for hours!”
What the… Oh, whatever. “No commentary on the way I smile when happy or something?” You don’t even know why you care anymore.
Floyd stares at you as if you just asked something foreign. “Well, I think your smile’s stupid. Stupid and cute. But—” His mouth slits into a smile of razor-sharp teeth. “I think you’re squishiest when you’re shakin’ in your boots, yeah?”
Staring into a mouth full of teeth that could chomp your flesh off, you gulp down a whimper. Floyd’s grin stretches even more. “Yeah, yeah, like that! I like the way ya try to be a~ll strong and brave when everyone knows how scared ya are. Like how your throat bobs cuz ya got a scream stuck there or something.” His cold, cold hands— gentle at first, then an inescapable pressure as his thumb digs into your throat— clamp themselves around you. His eyes widen as he watches you scramble to pull his hands off you and laughs maniacally. “Yes, like that! Ah~ I don’t get it! How’s someone so pathetic this adorable to look at!”
His expression drops into downright threatening. “It’s fucking annoying.”
Shit, his choke has you seeing stars already. “F–Floyd,” you gasp out, scratching at his arms futilely. “Stop this— I— Kkgh— It isn’t funn—!”
“I’ll tell ya what isn’t funny!” His voice is screeching, eyes looking down at you in… hatred? Glee? Annoyance? Obsession? Fuck, you just want his hands off you. “Who the hell do you think you are, running around in my head like that? Little magicless shrimpy who’s got nothing but a cute face on ‘em! Smilin’ at me like that… makin’ friends with Azul and Jade like it’s sooo easy! You’re makin’ em boring!” He bares his teeth at you. “You’re controlling me!”
How the fuck was that your problem?! You feel your strength failing you. You can’t breathe. Darkness was clouding your vision. You were really gonna fucking die here. You want to go home. You want to go home. You want to go—
He lets go, and you take in a frantic breath as he sits back with an amused expression. “Haha, you’re cute when you’re all gasping like that.”
You glare at him, but you feel that it comes off weakly. Your mind is dazed after being deprived of oxygen, and you feel faint. He laughs even more, a cross between amusement and being… genuine.
“Seven,” he whispers, staring at you like a treasure found on the sea floor. “I really do like starin’ at ya.”
If JADE LEECH had anything to say about the purpling bruises on your neck, he didn’t say it. Rather, he opted to smile at you with his usual slimy grin and poured you a cup of morning coffee, playing the part of the attentive gentleman. His brute of a brother walked right behind you, yawning and sporting a grumpy frown and disheveled hair.
“Did you have a good night’s rest?” Jade asks, sitting across from you on one of Octavinelle’s dining tables. He’s already dressed in his school uniform despite it being too early in the morning. Ugh. You return his smile, passive-aggressive and barely holding back ire. You’re wearing one of Floyd’s tanks, so you know he can see it. He chuckles, sharp teeth glinting as he lifts his cup of coffee. “Well, apologies for my brother. You know how he is sometimes.”
This isn’t something to just apologize for, you think, but rather a lawsuit and a restraining order. But you doubt any lawyer would be willing to represent you, the magicless alien with not even a single official document on them. You decide to grace his remark with a scoff into your coffee cup.
“Now, now, let’s not be like this,” Jade pouts. He feigns sadness as he regards your surly demeanor. “We are friends, aren’t we? You know it hurts me to see you be so cold to me.” You level him with an unimpressed stare, and he raises both hands as if to show innocence. “It’s true! Please look back on the times we had together. Saving Azul… breaking you out of Scarabia… defeating Jamil… Why, I thought we were best friends!”
You have to admit, it’s a bit humorous to see Jade act so pitifully, even though you weren’t falling for it. You crack an amused smile, leaning back on your chair as you take another sip. “Mm, yes. Making a deal to release 300 students from slavery… kicking me out of Ramshackle… nearly drowning me on multiple occasions…”
Jade gives up the act, returning to his intimidating smile when he knows you’re not falling for the act. “Why, they say you’re not truly friends if you don’t tease each other.” You snort again.
The two of you fall into a… not-so-comfortable silence. Not-so-comfortable in the way that he’s been staring intensely at the welt around your neck. After a few uneasy minutes, he stands up and walks away. He returns with a salve pot in his hands. “May I?” He asks, fingers already flitting across your neck. His touch is as ice-cold as his brother’s— probably thanks to their cold-blooded biology— and makes you shudder all the same. You offer a meek nod and bare your neck to him.
Jade’s smile stretches as you place yourself in the most vulnerable position possible.
He rubs the salve on your bruises, gentle and tender, all while thinking how you’re still the naive fool you were from the start of the year. By now, you should know not to show too much weakness to them, to him. Yet here you are, offering up your neck like he wasn’t capable of digging into that warm flesh and watching the light leave your eyes without remorse. Two fingers press against the pulse on your neck— one, two, one, two. A sign that you were alive and warm. You crane your neck to frown at him. He chuckles and backs down from the knowing glint in your glare.
“If Floyd bothers you that much, you can always sleep over mine tonight,” he coos. “I imagine it’d be a more comfortable rest. Perhaps more comfortable than that… Heartslabyul vice-leader.”
“Trey?” Jade hears the self-mocking in your voice. “Where’d you hear that?”
“Why, didn’t you know? Your sleepovers are the hottest scandals of Night Raven College right now!” He pleasures in the way your ears burn. If he’d nibble on that soft shell, would it be weak enough to break and bleed? “That man… couldn’t stop smiling when I chanced upon him in the greenhouse and pressed him for details. Irritating smile, that one, but I confess it had made me a tad curious as to what exactly transpired.”
He bends his face to grin down at you. “Would you care to reenact the details of that night?”
“W– We did nothing!” You yelp, pushing away that mischievous face. “Just slept in the same bed, that’s all!”
“Hmm, are you sure that’s everything?” Jade hums, circling you to face him. He tidies your hair, untangling the morning knots here and there while observing your face. “He did slip something about your soft, warm tongue… pressed against his fingers… opening up prettily for him…”
Jade’s glee heightens when your blush deepens even further. There was no need for him to use his unique magic to deduce that this was the truth. “He told you that?!”
“Nope!” He laughs a bit when he hears your frustrated groan, tricked and betrayed. “I was merely guessing what that pervert might have done to you. No need to fear, dear. Should you sleep with me tonight, you would not suffer like that?”
You stare at him incredulously. “Really?” Sevens, you really know him, don’t you?
“Of course not.” He twirls a strand of your hair around a finger, kissing it gently and peering down at you. You swear that his one golden eye shines under the fluorescent lighting. “Unlike him, my perversions lie somewhere… bloodier.”
Like hell you were gonna sleep with Jade after that! … Is what you told yourself. Unfortunately, being the target of a Leech sibling’s affection means there is no way to squeeze yourself out of that situation. AZUL ASHENGROTTO seems to know that much, because even with the huge scowl on his face as he observes your bruised neck and the bite marks on your collar, he can’t seem to blame you. He’s cooking up a healing potion that could at least lessen the severity of these ugly marks. You had joked about never being able to pay back that potion, and he sighed and said it would be on the house… after all, it was his members’ fault.
“What a surprise,” you laugh as he offers the potion to you. Azul looks absolutely distraught by your mangled neck. “Didn’t think I’d get something for free from you.”
The octo merman huffs at you. “I’ve given you lots of things over the months, haven’t I?!”
It’s been a while since the two of you were alone together, but you remember how fun it is to tease him. Outside, Azul could be pompous and condescending— he has an image to retain. But now alone in his bedroom, it seems that Azul has decided to forgo the facade and be his normal, pouty self. “Honestly,” he sighs, willing the used cauldron and other supplies to fly out of the room. “I do a lot of things for you that I wouldn’t do for anyone else, don’t I? And for free too!” You squint at him. “Most of the time.” You squint harder, and he throws his hands in the air. “Sometimes! Sometimes is already too much— I’m enterprising here!”
You smirk and chug the potion down. Slightly sweet and bubbly, not unlike a soda. “Thanks so much, dorm leader,” you coo. “To be on the receiving end of the Octavinelle head’s generosity, you truly embody the illustrious Sea Witch’s benevolence.” He takes the bottle away from you, miffed, but you smile at the red coloring on his ear tips. What a cutie.
He sighs. “Jade and Floyd… They’ve always been violent, but something about you makes it worse. Floyd’s strangled a few people here and there, yes… But Jade’s always managed to hold himself back.” He brushes a careful finger over your wounds and sighs when you wince. “Sevens, they outright mangled you. The potion will take effect in a few minutes, don’t worry.”
“I get that it’s in their biology to be violent, but really! Making trouble for me…” He continues to rant. A scheming smile spreads across his face. “Why, if you insist on pressing charges, I’d be happy to write up a contract for you. Nothing too charging, of course! Though the same can’t be said for them once we present our — ahem, your clauses.”
“No one’s pressing anything, Azul,” you laugh, resting your cheek on your hand while Azul paces his room. “It’s, well, it’s not nothing… but I’d rather not get myself into any more trouble. If the rumors are true, then I’d rather not have any conflict with the Leech family.”
“Hmph, too kind!” He turns around and wags a finger in your face. “This is why it’s so easy to take advantage of you. Even things like this, you’re willing to let go! Have you not learned a single thing during your time here in NRC? You’re lucky that you have me to cover up for you!”
“Yes, yes,” you hum. “Ve~ry lucky.”
Azul smiles— less pompous and more satisfied— and straightens his back. Heh. “Exactly! After all, I am benevolent. Worry not, your rest with me will be the most peaceful you’ve had in days!”
He can hardly believe his luck. Wait, no, this isn’t luck. Everything good that has happened to Azul’s life is because he worked hard for it, and Sevens, did he work for this. You, vulnerable in your state of sleep, sprawled across his bed like it was the most natural thing in the world. From the state of your eyebags, he guessed that you haven’t gotten a good night’s sleep with either Floyd or Jade, but with him… Heh, the twins might not view it that way, but this was a win for Azul.
Gently as not to stir you, Azul reaches out and brushes his hand against your cheek. It’s warm, like rays of sun on his cold skin. As soon as he saw you in that fateful entrance ceremony, he thought you really weren’t NRC material. When you sidled up to him in the underwater museum and had a conversation about his past, like he didn’t try to kill you and your friends, he knew you weren’t made for this school. Not when you were too good for him. Not when you stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him, gazing at that horrid field trip picture and granting an unjudging ear to his monologue.
“Look at you,” he murmurs. “Aaah… No one deserves you. Not me, not anyone. But aaah…” He cozies up in the crook of your neck, relishing in that soft warmth. “The things I would do to keep you down in the waters with me. I’d do anything for you, buy anything for you… just to be mine and mine alone.”
“Mine, be mine…” His begging comes off in short whines, pleading to your unconscious body. “I couldn’t bear it… to see you frolicking around with some idiot that isn’t me…”
Something slithers around your leg, sticking to it like a parasite on an easy prey. It suckles softly, while its owner cradles you with his many legs as he relishes in his most prized treasure’s body. You shift a bit, eyes furrowing as if your unconscious mind was telling you that something was off. Sleep wasn’t supposed to carry the weight of another person, and rest should not be disturbed by tentacles gently suckling on your skin.
Azul wonders what would happen if you’d wake— not that you would, he made sure of that. He wonders if your eyes would widen, heart stuck in your throat, face frozen in that fearful expression that the twins love to praise. His heart drops. No, he’d rather see you gently smile at him. He’d rather you return his myriad of desperate kisses and stroke his hair, call him pretty despite all the insecurities.
He brushes his lips against yours— not quite a kiss, but enough to make him crave more. You truly make him pathetic.
Floyd Leech changed Azul Ashengrotto’s nickname to ILLKILLYOUILLKILLYOU
ILLKILLYOUILLKILLYOU (Azul Ashengrotto): Heh. Now what could have possibly caused this tantrum now?
fuck ur mushrooms (Jade Leech): Now, now, Azul. As your closest friends, it’s not nice to play dumb around us.
ILLKILLYOUILLKILLYOU (Azul Ashengrotto): Ugh. It’s weird when you say that. And I don’t like your tone.
You (Floyd Leech): WHAT DID U DO TO MY BRUISES ON SHRIMPY. WHERE ARE THEY.
fuck ur mushrooms (Jade Leech): It has also occurred to me that my bite marks are gone. What a shame… The mementos of our beautiful night together gone because of a scheming octopus.
You (Floyd Leech): IM GONNA FGUCKING STUFF YOU IN UR OCTO POT U STUPID OCTO AND ILL STUFF U FULL OF UR STUPID POTIONS TILL U TURN BACK ROUND AND NICE TO EAT THEN TURN U INTO TAKOYAKI AND FEED U TO SHRIMPY
fuck ur mushrooms (Jade Leech): Floyd, please. Let us not feed this stupid octopus to our pitiful prefect.
ILLKILLYOUILLKILLYOU (Azul Ashengrotto): … I don’t appreciate the comments on my body.
fuck ur mushrooms (Jade Leech): Mm. Pity. Floyd and I are looking over octopus recipes. Personally, I’d prefer to place you on a sushi platter.
fuck ur mushrooms (Jade Leech): Perhaps we will start off by cutting those insipid tentacles of yours. For erasing our marks and placing your own.
You (Floyd Leech): it was kinda hot tho
You (Floyd Leech): back of the thigh. erotic doncha think
ILLKILLYOUILLKILLYOU (Azul Ashengrotto): Why, then you’ll be pleased to see the marks on their back, Floyd.
fuck ur mushrooms (Jade Leech): Oh my. I don’t think mother and father would be pleased to know that Floyd has broken yet another phone.
□ need him in a way that is concerning to feminism
▣ all of the above and more in a manner that fuses us together at the atomic level to such an extent that we become a new element that requires a similarly unique family on the periodic table
Hello, everyone. I don’t have much to say here, so I apologize for any English mistakes you might come across—english is not my first language.
WARNINGS: Blackmail, sexual abuse, emotional manipulation.
All characters are written as 18+. Please, do not proceed if you are under eighteen.
Enjoy your reading!
You stare at your haggard reflection in the mirror, the edges of which are marked by cracks — though not as broken as your spirit.
The body you examine from top to bottom is no longer yours, nor does it seem like a part of who you really are. You want to rip off that skin marked by love bites, as they call it, turn it inside out, peel it like a tangerine.
Disgusting.
Your soul screams, trapped inside that contaminated piece of flesh, disgusted by being there. You grit your teeth as your eyes, intensely red, meet your own reflection. They are like that not only because of the incessant tears that fall, but because of the pure and suffocating rage that pulses through every fiber of your being. A fury so overwhelming that you feel capable of reducing NRC to dust with the force of a single scream.
But the cruel reality is that you can’t.
At most, you would scare Grim and the ghosts of Ramshackle. And drawing attention to yourself is the last thing you want, or they might discover the situation you're trapped in. As entangled as a butterfly caught in a spider’s web, slowly being devoured alive. And your tormentors fit this dark metaphor perfectly.
You swallow the sob that rips down your throat like a thorn. It’s unbearable to stare at your own image for more than a minute without being dragged into the memories of the horrible things they’ve done to you. And it doesn’t matter how many baths you take; their smell seems embedded in your skin, like an invisible scar.
"Henchman, how long are you going to stay in there!?"
On the other side of the door, Grim’s dismayed voice echoes through the bathroom walls. It’s so unexpected that, for a moment, you’re startled, imagining that he might come in and discover the marks you’ve been trying to hide at all costs. However, the door remains locked; you make sure of that meticulously, checking the lock repeatedly before getting into the shower just so your nosy little friend won’t suddenly come in.
You clear your throat, doing your best to keep your voice from sounding choked with tears.
"I’m coming out now, oh great Grim-sama."
You answer, a little more hoarsely than he would like, but with a clear hint of mockery.
However, considering your roommate’s modest intelligence, it’s quite likely that he takes your mockery seriously, believing your words are genuine.
"That’s right! The great Grim-sama should be in there and you out here."
A breath escapes your lips, in disbelief at his naivety. Sooner or later, you’ll have to teach him not to take everything others say so literally. At least, your furry little friend is a source of encouragement for you, even in the midst of misfortune.
You turn on the sink tap, letting the water run as you wash your face, marked by seemingly endless tears. When you finish, you look up at the mirror, staring at your reflection for the last time. The features once contorted by anger and bitterness slowly dissolve as your lips form a discreet smile, carrying an unexpected softness and a long-lost innocence.
You’re good at pretending. Good at lying. Too good at covering up. Maybe too good for your own good.
But your silence comes at a high cost: the weight of unexpressed emotions accumulated day after day, and you could drown in them at any moment. It’s a miserable existence of constant vigilance, of keeping yourself in check so the truth won’t come out — because deep down, you know no one can really help you.
Telling what’s bothering you, who is bothering you, would have dire consequences for your friends. The Leech brothers have always been too good at getting rid of anything — or anyone — that threatens them.
"You can come in." You announce to your feline friend after opening the bathroom door and giving him space to jump inside, then closing it again, since Grim can’t reach the handle on his own.
You grab your cellphone from the small dresser next to the bed, sitting on it and logging into Magicam to see what’s new — more specifically, to check if there’s anything compromising about you spreading through social networks.
Going through each profile, especially the ones belonging to the Leech brothers, you let out a sigh of relief when you realize everything is fine.
At least, for now.
The cell phone vibrates in your hands with a message notification. Just above the screen, before the preview disappears, you catch Jade’s name flashing across it.
Your lower lip is clenched hard between your teeth in nervous tension, already knowing that absolutely nothing good could come from this. With no choice, you open the message.
Jade: Meet me in the greenhouse, after class.
You: I can’t. I’ve made plans to study with my friends.
Jade: Oh, really? Interesting. But I doubt you’ll be able to focus on studying if that video ends up on all their phones.
You: Please, leave me alone.
Jade: You know I hate cheap blackmail, but sometimes you have to be persuasive, right? Go to the greenhouse, after class. Alone. Or maybe the rest of the school will get to see a much more… intimate side of you.
You: You don’t have to do this. I’m going.
Your fingers curl around the device with such force it looked like you were about to snap it in half. Rage boils inside you. That bastard! How could he be so deceitful?
Before you actually broke the only means of communication you had — since Crowley wouldn’t give you another one anytime soon, and buying a new one was out of the question — you made the sensible decision to throw the phone onto the bed.
Grabbing a nearby pillow, you buried your face in it to muffle the shrill scream that escaped your lips, dragging on for several seconds.
[...]
After classes, it was easy to lie and convince your friends that you were meeting with Jade just to discuss a few tasks that needed to be done at the Mostro Lounge — since you worked nights at the restaurant to have a little extra money at the end of the month, even if that meant constantly facing the two people you hated most in Twisted Wonderland.
And, as expected, none of them wanted to join you. Grim, in particular, scrunched up his nose at the mention of the name “Leech,” preferring to steer clear of the topic like it was a plague. In the end, they all agreed to wait for another opportunity to study together, confident in the belief that you could take care of yourself.
And how could you not?
You face four overblots, one after another in a short span of five months, without ever letting the situation shake you. You always maintain a cold and impassive attitude while assisting in the fights. Seriously, you even headbutt Riddle during his overblot. If that isn't excessive courage — especially for someone without magic — then what is?
In a way, you’re almost like a source of inspiration for these boys; kind, confident, clever, and funny. Yes, that’s everything you are… or everything you wish you were.
“Oh, look who decided to show up.”
Your eyes meet Jade’s heterochromatic gaze the moment you open the glass door of the greenhouse and step inside. The air inside is humid, heavy with the scent of damp soil and fungi in various stages of growth. Jade is alone, seated at the long wooden table, surrounded by pots holding an alarming variety of mushrooms.
“You came so quickly, pet.” The nickname slides off his tongue like a thin, sharp blade, slicing through your mood the instant it’s spoken. Jade always knows just what to say to make you shudder — in disgust, in frustration, or maybe both. “Sometimes I wonder just how far you’re willing to go over a single video.” He smiles, that same devilish, toothy grin you’ve come to despise over the past few weeks.
In your mind, you rewrite his words: Sometimes I wonder how close I can push you to the edge… just for my own pleasure.
“Maybe that’s why no one wants to join your stupid club,” you snap, provoking him even though you know it’s a terrible idea. You still do it.
“Feeling bold today, aren’t you?” Unfortunately for your ego, his smile doesn’t waver, but his two-toned eyes narrow in a veiled threat.
“What do you want?” you ask sharply, not wanting to drag this pointless conversation on.
“Fufu, in a hurry, are we?”
He mocks before standing, and your body reacts before your brain can even process it. Your muscles tense at the thought of him coming closer to do what that bastard does best: be a damn leech.
But instead of approaching you, Jade calmly turns and walks to a nearby table, where a small pot holds a peculiar mushroom. With the care of an expert, he plucks it from the soil.
Only then does he face you again. Looming in front of you, presence heavy and suffocating — like a predator eyeing his prey.
“I’m not going to be your damn guinea pig.” Your voice is tight, your words dripping with contempt. You want to lunge at his throat.
“No?” Jade raises a brow, feigning surprise.
Then, in a slow and deliberate motion, his free hand slides into the inner pocket of his white lab coat. His lips curl into a wicked little smile.
Your stomach sinks. You know exactly what he’s about to do.
The phone.
“I’ll do whatever you want.” The words escape before you can stop them. The bitter taste of surrender clings to your tongue — such a contrast to the defiance you had just moments ago.
It takes everything in you to swallow your pride and protect the little dignity you have left.
Jade looks more than pleased with your sudden and ‘voluntary’ change in behavior. His hand abandons the phone, but you know it isn’t a retreat — just a reminder that the threat still exists.
“Just give it to me,” you mutter, holding out your hand, annoyed.
“Thank you for your cooperation.” He smiles and tosses the tiny fungus into your hand. His next words are accompanied by his signature move: hand over heart in mock gratitude. “It’s so good to have you as an unofficial member of the Lovers Mountain Club.” A guinea pig — that’s what he means. You’ve learned to read the double meanings behind Jade’s flowery language.
“What does it do?” you ask, examining the pink mushroom with white spots, barely the size of your pinky finger.
“You’ll find out once it takes effect.”
“I hate surprises that come from you.” Your voice is sharp, full of resentment.
“From me? Oh, don’t be so cruel.” Jade frowns and feigns sadness, though the playful gleam in his eyes betrays the act. “Now… the mushroom you’re holding? Ah, that’s a different story. I’m sure it holds a rather peculiar surprise.”
You hate those last words — the clear disdain in them. It’s like he’s mocking your ignorance. Jade definitely knows what that damn mushroom is capable of. He just doesn’t want to tell you.
Your eyes fix on him, your fingers curling tightly around the fungus as if you could crush the answers out of it. But Jade just offers another wide smile, baring the sharp teeth that always make him look more predator than man — which, in truth, he is.
“You know exactly what this thing does, don’t you?” you ask through gritted teeth.
“Oh, how perceptive.” He chuckles, his voice smooth like a seaside tale. “But where’s the fun in just telling you?”
“You have a nasty habit of playing dumb,” you growl.
“I’d say it’s a personal charm,” he replies, unbothered. “But if it makes you feel better, I only withhold the details that would make everything… boring.”
The cunning glint in his eyes only fuels your irritation.
“Jade, if this thing is poisonous, I swear—”
“Poisonous?” He tilts his head, tone dripping with false innocence. “Now, now, do you really think I’d let you hold something like that without warning you?”
“Yes.” The reply is instant, dry.
Jade laughs, a low, rippling sound, like an echo from the ocean depths. He steps closer — just enough for you to smell that ever-present marine scent clinging to him — subtle but deceiving, like the merman before you.
“How cruel.” He sighs, placing a hand to his chin as if deep in thought. “But I understand. Trust is such a fragile thing, isn’t it? Like glass… or a tiny mistake when ingesting a mysterious mushroom.”
Your heart skips a beat.
“Jade.”
“Yes, yes, I know. No jokes.” He raises his hands in mock surrender, but the smile stays — mocking. “Let’s just say this mushroom has… interesting properties. You might find the effect a bit inconvenient, but I personally find it fascinating.”
The way he emphasizes “inconvenient” makes your skin crawl.
“What effect?”
Jade doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he observes you for a long moment, like a predator studying its prey. Then, with the ease of someone who has all the time in the world, he leans in slightly, voice nearly a whisper.
“Why spoil the surprise? You know I’m being honest when I say this will be… interesting.”
Your stomach twists. Something tells you that, with Jade Leech involved, “interesting” is just a euphemism for “trouble.”
Either way, you have no choice.
Anger bubbles beneath your skin, but there’s nothing you can do except follow his orders like an obedient little pet, lowering your head and offering your paw as instructed. The bitter taste of submission is worse than any poison that mushroom could carry.
A sigh slips from your lips, heavy with frustration, before you finally bring that damn mushroom to your mouth. No chewing, no hesitation — you swallow it whole, as if you could erase the disgust along with it.
For a moment, nothing happens.
“That’s it?” you ask, brow furrowed.
“Oya, were you expecting more?” His voice drips like poisoned honey, full of amusement. Jade’s eyes gleam with something strange — laced with danger.
He takes a step forward, collapsing the space between you. His presence has always been too overwhelming, suffocating like the deep sea where no light reaches. But this time, something is different — something predatory in the way his gloved hands rise, about to reach for your skin.
“If that’s all, then maybe we can—”
“No, no.” You react before his touch lands, instinct screaming at you to back away.
With a quick leap, you dodge, feeling the heat of your skin narrowly escape Jade’s sticky hands — even if they’re covered by the pristine gloves he always wears.
The merman’s grin stretches, sharp teeth bared as if he just had fun toying with easy prey.
“I’m leaving!” you shout, louder than intended.
And then, without waiting for a response, you turn on your heels and run, refusing to look back.
Because deep down, you know if you do, you’ll find Jade still there, smiling. Watching.
And, worst of all, waiting.
[...]
Hours later, while still working at the Mostro Lounge, you can no longer hide from yourself what you feel. The heat beneath your skin is scorching, pulsing, almost unbearable. The knot in your abdomen tightens, radiating a warmth that runs down your legs, and your head spins in a slow spiral, as if trapped in a lukewarm, thick dream.
You can barely register the customers' faces, and the simple task of writing down an order feels like it demands absurd concentration. Each step feels as if gravity has lost part of its weight over you.
A fleeting train of thought is enough for you to understand: all of this strange, unfamiliar sensation is the fault of the mushroom you were coerced into eating earlier.
So that’s what Jade means with that nonsense about “interesting effects.” Well, interesting it is — especially the throbbing sensation between your legs — although none of it is welcome. And even with your mind foggy, it’s easy to connect the dots: all of this is nothing but a crude trap, made to leave you... vulnerable.
You hate realizing that. You hate that disgusting conclusion and everything it implies. Suddenly, the urgency to leave becomes stronger than any effect that damn fungus causes. You need to get away from the crowd, away from prying eyes — and, most of all, away from the Leech brothers.
Your gaze sweeps the room, searching for them. You find only one — which isn’t exactly a relief. The other could be lurking in the shadows, waiting for the right moment to strike.
And there is he. Floyd Leech. The lazy smile, the sharp eyes, the unpredictable gestures — as dangerous as they are hypnotizing. You don’t dare look directly into his eyes, but you feel it. You feel when he turns toward you. When Floyd’s gaze burns into the back of your neck like direct sunlight.
In a moment when he seems distracted — maybe arguing with some unfortunate customer — you take the chance. You slip quickly through the door that leads to the kitchen, praying to go unnoticed.
There, among the boiling pots and the scent of spices, no one questions your presence. You walk straight to the side door of the pantry and push it, relieved to find it, as always, unlocked.
You enter, closing it behind you. There’s no lock — Azul is the only one with the key — but simply keeping the outside light out already creates the illusion of safety.
You’d never choose this place, its interior lined with shelves of ingredients and stacked boxes. You know very well that if the Leech brothers enter, there’s nowhere to run. It’s the worst place to be alone. But right now, anything is better than staying under Floyd’s gaze or anyone else’s.
You close your eyes and press your trembling arms against the wall, determined to wait until the effects of the fungus wear off — even if that takes hours. Going back to Ramshackle alone isn’t an option; your body feels ready to collapse at any moment.
In here, wrapped in silence, your heart hammers so loudly it seems to vibrate inside your skull. Everything is muffled, as if the world outside is underwater.
You hear a click — the distinct sound of a door being opened. Your eyes snap open, but your dazed mind and even more sluggish body aren’t fast enough to react.
That’s when you feel it: sudden heat pressing against your back. Before you can move, a dull thud echoes through the tight space.
Someone… or rather, Floyd, slams both hands against the wall beside you, trapping you between him and the concrete. His hips press against yours in a slow, playful motion, and you sense the wide grin spreading across his face, even without seeing it. A shiver runs up your spine as Floyd’s drawn-out voice cuts through the pantry’s muffled silence.
"Heeeh~ Koebi-chan is trembling..." he hums, leaning in to sniff your neck with a satisfied sigh. “You also smell sweeter than usual…” His tone wavers between playful and something dangerously hungry, like a predator savoring its prey before the bite. He seems to feel just how much your body is already reacting to him… how soaked your panties must be by now.
The heat rolls over your skin in waves, blending with the peculiar dizziness that’s been dancing in your mind since you ate that damned mushroom. The effect is intoxicating, clouding your thoughts and making everything around you blur — except for Floyd’s overwhelming presence.
"Now’s not a good time for this..." you manage to murmur, afraid that any louder sound might draw unwanted attention. But every word seems to melt in your mouth, soft and weak.
Floyd doesn’t seem interested in your excuse. On the contrary, the mischievous glint in his eyes and the way his fingers drum against the wall suggest he’s enjoying your unease. He tilts his head, pressing his lips to the curve of your neck, his breath hot and ragged. He moves his hips against yours again, forcing your body even harder against the cold wall — your breasts now fully pressed against the freezing concrete, contrasting with the almost suffocating heat he pours over you.
"Hmmm~... but Koebi-chan is being so sweet today." The laugh that slips from Floyd’s lips sends a shiver down your spine. "If I squeeze a little more, do you think you’ll break?"
Your fingers curl against the wall as you struggle to stay clear-headed, but the effect of the mushroom makes every touch, every whisper, every closeness unbearably intense. The rising heat inside you mixes with the nervousness of being cornered by a Floyd especially intent on teasing.
"Neh, neh, Koebi-chan..." He chuckles softly, his teeth grazing your skin. "Should I take this chance? Or are you going to try to run?"
The way he whispers those words sounds more like a challenge than a real question. You’re not even sure you can take a single step away from him.
You try to move away, but your knees falter, and a wave of dizziness washes over your body. A shaky breath escapes your lips as your legs give out completely. Before you can collapse, Floyd catches your waist with ease, lifting you into his arms like you weigh nothing. He laughs, spinning you slightly before casting an amused glance toward the pantry door.
“I think we should take her somewhere more comfortable, right, Jade~?"
"Indeed." Jade’s voice fills the space, smooth as silk. He’s leaning against the doorframe, watching everything with the same smile someone would have while observing an exotic dish. How long has he been there, silent?
“Ahhh~ Jade! Look, Koebi-chan’s all limp like seaweed." Floyd laughs, keeping one arm around your waist as your feet finally touch the floor. But it’s him who’s holding up your entire weight.
Jade raises an eyebrow, his gaze shifting from you to his brother. "Hmmm... I suppose it’s because of that peculiar mushroom she ate earlier. The symptoms include dizziness, heightened sensitivity, and... well, a certain degree of vulnerability."
The way he smiles as he says that makes your stomach turn. You try to pull away, but Floyd only presses you harder against him, his grin wide, eyes sparkling with excitement. "Heehee~ that means I get extra fun taking care of her!"
Jade lets out a dramatic sigh before walking to your other side, also wrapping an arm around your waist to help support you.
"Very well, I think I should come along. After all, we wouldn’t want you getting too carried away, Floyd."
The teasing in Jade’s voice is unmistakable, and you wish you could respond, but your mind is a whirlwind of uncontrollable sensations. Floyd, on the other hand, just grins wider, clearly pleased with the situation.
"Neh, Koebi-chan~ Looks like you’ll have some extra company.” Floyd whispers close to your ear, his voice dragging like a wave ready to swallow you. “Get ready, ‘cause it’s gonna be a veeeery fun night~"
