Sheepy

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[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Where The Current Runs Deep.

Pairing: Yandere!Hivemind x Reader (OC).

Word Count: 7.0k.

TW: Non/Con, Dub/Con, Fem!Reader, Prolonged Captivity, Social Isolation, Exhibitionism/Voyeurism, Hivemind Dynamics, Implied Previous Domestic Abuse, Non-Consensual Touching, and Obsessive Behavior.

It had been six days, three hours, and twenty-four minutes since the last time you saw one of your crewmates blink.

Which, admittedly, might not have been the smoking gun you were trying to make it into. Most of your conversations were spent with your eyes cast respectfully downward or held through comms, since they preferred not to acknowledge you directly whenever possible. Still, from the control bridge’s auxiliary seating, you had a pretty good view of their stiff, expressionless faces – the way their glassy eyes seemed to focus on nothing in particular as they carried out their respective roles with all the life and all the energy of clockwork dolls. Really, the fact that they’d asked you to join them on the bridge at all was a red flag. That wasn’t the way things were supposed to work. You were more of an ‘out of sight, out of mind’ issue.

And yet, here you were, sitting on a cheaply cushioned titanium bench as a dozen or so scientists sat in complete silence, toiling away at their various monitors with their various instruments. No one had spoken in the past ninety minutes. The last person to stand up had been the engineer, when she’d wordlessly brought the geologist another pen after his had run out of ink a few seconds prior. No one had anything to eat or drink save for the captain, who kept a thermos on the corner of his desk and took a long sip every six minutes exactly. You’d timed it. Somehow, that was worse than if none of them had done anything at all.

For your part, you stayed where you were, doing everything in your power not to move or breathe or think too loudly. You might’ve stayed like that for the remaining daylight hours, for as long as you had to until dismissed, if the pilot hadn’t spoken.

“It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?”

You startled, then snapped in her direction. The visuals were more-or-less right – her long hair pulled into a thick braid, the sleeves of her coveralls tied around her waist, all the little things you’d subconsciously come to expect after months of living in proximity to one another – but her tone was all wrong, far away and airy where you’d come to expect a certain edge, a directness. She also, notably, had not looked away from her monitor. The captain was the only one with his gaze directed upward, toward the floor-to-ceiling windows at the bridge’s helm.

You took that as a sign to do the same. Admittedly, the view was beautiful. The sea floor stretched on as far as the eye could see, illuminated by spotlights and roaming underwater drones and what few rays of sunlight managed to dive this deep. When you strained your eyes, you could see the dull glow of bioluminescent animals emerging from the sea floor, always moving so slowly toward the surface, but they tended to keep their distance. The walls of the Mariana Trench sat snugly to either side, your stationary base nestled between them. Usually, you loved it – that feeling of being so totally enclosed, how simple the world felt when cast in shades of blue and green. Now, it just felt a little claustrophobic.

The geologist turned to you, dull eyes over wire-framed glasses, and you realized that you were supposed to answer. “I guess so.”

The captain nodded, pleased. You forced yourself to clear your throat and go on. “How did last week’s expedition go?”

The biologist straightened. He’d always struck you as the quiet type, only liable to respond when addressed directly. Today, though, he seemed more than capable of speaking for the group. “Oh, it was uneventful.”

And then, the engineer, her normally clipped voice melodic, as if finishing the biologist’s thought. “Nothing to report. Just the usual marine activity.”

It was a lie and it wasn’t even a good one. They should’ve corrected you the second you called it an expedition. In reality, the captain, the pilot, and the biologist had taken one of the submersibles on an unplanned voyage to an area worryingly close to your base that had been exhibiting readings no one could seem to make sense of, least of all you. As soon as they’d gotten back, the geologist and the engineer were called to the labs for some unspecified emergency. They’d locked themselves away for hours, not making a sound, only resurfacing once you gathered up the courage to knock. You’d been too shocked to do anything when they actually opened the door, when they invited you inside, when they showed you the deformed remains of a new specimen and tried to tide you over with explanations of unusual geological activity and pre-historic fossilization. The not-blinking had started around then, too.

“Huh,” you said, layering the nonchalance on thick. You pushed yourself to your feet, stretching your arms above your head. “Well, I—um, I better get going. Filters to check and all.”

Five heads snapped in your direction at the same time. Thankfully, your panic was limited to a pair of pressed lips and a small, mostly swallowed squeak. Only the captain actually spoke, his voice calm and his tone easy. Somehow, that made it worse. You would’ve preferred the chorus, discordant and unintelligible, to a lone mouthpiece. “You’re in such a rush to leave us. Did we do something wrong?”

“I have to do my job, sir.”

He hummed. “Make sure to report back when you’re done.” He paused, something like a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Your input is so very important to us, after all.”

You hated the way he said it, like he was fighting not to laugh. You hated the way the pilot was looking at you, now, head cocked and fingers drumming over her desk. You hated the way the geologist was moving, back too straight and limbs too stiff as he started to push himself out of his chair and—

Oh, fuck.

It was time to go.

You offered another dull excuse before slipping out of the bridge and back into the vessel proper. You knew where you were going – hell, you’d spent the last twenty weeks dreaming of the day you’d finally get to make this walk. Down the hall and past the communal spaces, then up through storage – carefully avoiding the labs on the same floor. The transport module (or, more realistically, the elevator shaft) had its own compartment, carefully sectioned off from the rest of the craft. It was only meant to be used twice: on the day you arrived and then again on the day you left, when you would be ferried up to the surface and granted the privilege of never having to think about life on the sea floor again. Only the captain knew the launch code, but there had to be a manual override. And hopefully, you’d spent enough of the past few months wrist-deep in the vessel’s wiring to figure out how to activate it.

You didn’t have time for delicacy. You’d barely stopped moving before you were dropping to your knees in front of the access panel and prying the interface out of its casing. It came away easily, and then you were digging through wires and ports, searching for something to connect, something to pull free, something that would get you out of this godforsaken pit at the—

There weren’t footsteps, or voices, or any warnings you might’ve heard over the sound of your own racing pulse. There was only a hand on your shoulder, another around your wrist – gently easing you away from the open panel.

“Oh, no, that won’t be necessary.” A voice, simultaneously painfully familiar and altogether alien, sighed in your ear. Your captain. Or, what used to be your captain, at least.

You weren’t sure you ought to be calling him that, anymore.

And, judging by how softly he spoke as he went on, he seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“I think it’s about time we met properly. Don’t you agree?”

~

 The captain, as you’d known him, was a man just south of middle age with white streaks in his startlingly dark hair, crows’ feet carved into the corners of his eyes, and a scar across the left side of his mouth that he would joke was from biting down on a fishhook in college. At least, you’d assumed he was joking.

You guessed you’d never get the chance to ask, now.

He was also gigantic – taller than most sailors with the physique to match. Even seated, he seemed to dwarf his surroundings, to leave you frail and minimized on the other side of the table. He’d wanted to do this in his office, but you’d insisted on the canteen. At the time, it seemed like neutral territory, somewhere wide and open with plenty of space to breathe. Now, you could only lament not pushing for someplace more closed-in. At least, if you were cornered, you wouldn’t have to keep glancing over your shoulder.

It didn’t help that the engineer was posted by the doors, back to the wall and her unblinking stare focused on you. The captain tilted his head to the side apologetically. “I’m sorry. I’ve only just gotten used to having so many eyes.”

“Eyes you stole from my friends.”

“These people weren’t your friends.” Pity dripped from his voice, honeyed and thick. You squared your shoulders. “This one, maybe, but not the rest. They saw you as—What’s the word?”

“A janitor?”

“Oh, dearest, not even that.” He paused, smiled. The expression looked wrong, like he was manually calculating how far to strain his lips. “A criminal.”

You inhaled slowly, holding your breath for a moment before letting it out again. The sting was present, but manageable. You’d known that. You must’ve known that, even when you first volunteered for this. There weren’t a lot of people willing to spend half a year of their life on the bottom of the ocean, and even fewer who would spend that half-year doing laundry, sweeping floors, and changing lightbulbs. But it was better than jail. This way, you could pretend you’d chosen to be here.

“Not to worry!” He clapped his hands together. “They won’t be saying much of anything, anymore. And the names I call you won’t nearly as cruel.”

“They weren’t—” You cut yourself off, shaking your head. “What are you?”

“You can see that for yourself. I’m sitting right in front of you, love.”

“No, I mean—Where did you come from?”

“You call this the… Pacific Ocean, don’t you?”

You shot to your feet, slamming your palms into the tabletop. “Why are you doing this?”

He glanced over you, then met your eyes. “That would’ve been a question for your coworkers. They were the ones who dug me up.”

You fell back into your seat, huffing. This was getting you nowhere slowly. The captain – the monster – seemed to feel the same way.

“You don’t seem very scared.”

“I don’t have to be. If you could do—” You gestured vaguely to the engineer, still lurking in your peripheral. “—that to me, you would’ve.”

“Would I, now?”

You opened your mouth, but stopped short of spitting anything out. It felt like a dial being turned, a switch being flipped. There was nothing, and then, there was everything.

In an instant, it was all too much. A hundred thousand voices in the back of your mind, chanting the same hymn at their own tempo. A hundred thousand images flashing across your vision, each stolen from a new set of eyes. You tried to focus on something else, to feel the cool wood under your hands, but even that sensation soon blurred into a million others until you couldn’t tell what belonged to you and what belonged to another body, another mind. You were being pulled downstream and the current was using your arms and legs against you. You were listening to the loveliest song you’d ever heard and you couldn’t seem to open your mouth and—

And the music stopped as you fell back into your own body, as you blinked away other perspectives and heaved air into your own aching lungs. You were on the floor, splayed across the tile. There was saliva at the corner of your mouth, and more concerningly, the captain was kneeling over you, his thumb stroking your cheek.

“Do we understand each other?”

You forced yourself to swallow. Your voice came out hoarse, dry. “Get away from me.”

“I can try, but it’s a small craft.”

“Then let me leave.”

His thumb settled, then slipped lower. “You know, there are so many things I’ve always wanted to try.” He cupped your chin, stifling a laugh. “With someone who isn’t myself, I mean.”

Disgust tore you through you, curdled and vicious. You brushed him off and scrambled to your feet, stumbling past the engineer and out into the hall. The captain joined her in the doorway, but only watched on as you did your best to get away.

~

The weeks following your conversation passed slowly, cold honey through a tight bottleneck.

The assigned date of your designated departure came and meant. It was quickly made clear that you weren’t allowed anywhere near the transport module. Someone, usually the geologist, always seemed to be posted outside, just waiting for you to try your luck again. For the first few days, the engineer also followed you in-person, but that wasn’t a permanent feature. You couldn’t get into much trouble nearly seven miles below sea level, and whatever project your captor was working on seemed to be an all-hands-on-deck situation. It had something to do with excavation, but how far it fell outside of the vessel’s expected field of research was lost on you. Still, you were thankful they were distracted. It seemed to be enough to know that, no matter how much distance you tried to maintain, you’d always be within arm’s reach.

You spent most of your time hiding. It felt a little childish, honestly. Not very long ago, you would’ve gladly done anything if it meant never feeling alone again, and now you were locking yourself in your bunk, tracking movement patterns on security cameras, pressing your ear to every door before you opened it and praying that there wouldn’t be footsteps or voices on the other side. Your contract was only for half a year, but you had enough food and fresh water to last five times that, meaning that entertainment was going to be more of an issue than survival. You ransacked the others’ rooms, stealing books and card decks and gaming consoles, anything that might help pass the time. And, at night, when the isolation was almost too much to bear, you fled to the atrium.

It was a large, open space on the vessel’s uppermost floor, which was otherwise reserved for vehicle bays and tool storage. The ceiling was high, domed, and entirely transparent, and even before something took over your crewmates and everything went to shit, you liked to lie in the center of the room and watch the dark water ebb and flow. Now, you tried to keep your visits brief, to leave before anyone had the chance to join you. You’d only slipped up once. A swarm of bioluminescent jellyfish was passing over your vessel in the small hours of the morning, and you must’ve lost track of time. A storm of gold and crimson lights was still gently bobbing past when he joined you.

They were all limbs of the same creature, but the captain seemed to be the designated face. He settled next to you, legs crossed and head bowed. You stiffened, got ready to bolt, but he only laughed, waving off your skittishness. “You’ve been avoiding us.”

You swallowed. “…should I not be?”

The way you said it, muted and questioning, must’ve given away your paranoia. The captain shook his head. “There’s no need to worry. If I wanted to keep you on a shorter leash, I could.”

Great. Perfect, actually. He thought he was being nice.

“I have something for you.” He never looked away, but the sound of clipped footsteps drew your attention to the doorway. The biologist, uncanny smile plastered over his face and a small, silver tray in his hands. “A gift. To celebrate our three-month anniversary.”

The biologist stopped in front of you, and you recognized what you’d desperately been trying not to. A perfectly round, perfectly generic cupcake, the icing only a little smudged. Your stomach dropped. Perishable food was hard to get down here, even harder to keep fresh. There was one for every member of the crew, and they were supposed to be saved for birthdays – a little piece of home to keep you all sane, in theory. Anyone taking more than their share would mean there wasn’t enough to go around, which meant someone would be angry, which meant someone would be angry with you and—

And you took a deep breath, forcing yourself to look at the biologist’s grinning face.

You guessed you didn’t need to worry about that, anymore.

Still, the idea of choking down freeze-dried cake was enough to make your stomach turn over. “I’m sorry, I—” You pushed yourself to your feet quickly enough to make your head spin. The captain followed you up, catching your arm when your balance threatened to give out. “I really can’t do this, right now.”

“Of course. You must be tired.” The biologist was already leaving. “Let me walk you back to your room.”

It wasn’t a question, but you shook your head regardless. “I’m alright, just a little—”

“I insist.” His hand slipped from your arm to your upper back. “Unless you’d prefer the captain’s quarters?”

“No.” Bile rose into the back of your throat. The repulsion was instinctual, the rejection reflexive. “Please, no.”

“How you break my heart, love.”

This time, his hand slipped down to yours, squeezing gently. You should’ve just taken the fucking cupcake.

“It’s a good thing I have spares.”

~

Four months. That was how long you made it post-invasion, trying to live every moment as if you were under constant observation, ignoring every base human urge that might’ve been at odds with your all-seeing captor. Sixteen weeks. One hundred and twenty days. People had cracked under much more banal forms of torture in much less time.

And, in your defense, you had the foresight to take precautions. An especially busy day that saw all useful members of your crew posted at their stations. An unused wing of the medical bay rather than your own room. An allotted fifteen minutes to do what you could. You figured, failing everything, you could be proud of yourself for giving it your all. Admittedly, you hadn’t spent much time thinking about worst-case scenarios.

This was definitely worst-case.

The pilot stood on the threshold of the medical bay, the door hanging open behind her. Heat flooded your face, your cheeks, and you made a valiant effort to pull your hand out of your pants and wrestle your coveralls back up to your waist – as if that’d do anything to undo the damage. She waited until you were (mostly) redressed and scrambling off of the cot before edging forward, careful to keep her body between you and the door. That was fine. You were too mortified to so much as think about going much of anywhere.

“It’s a—a human thing,” you rushed to explain, as if it made this any better. As if it would get her to stop staring at you like that. “To blow off steam, and kill—”

You tried to step around her. An arm lashed out to stop you, barring any hope of retreat to your left. “You’re so cute when you’re flustered.”

“I’m not—” You cut yourself off, swallowing. “I’d like to go back to my room. Please.”

The pilot didn’t respond. Her attention flicked downward once before returning to your face and refusing to let go, pinning you under the weight of her wide-eyed gaze. You were stuck there, trapped and immobile, as her free hand found your collar, then drifted south, lean fingers grazing over your collarbones, your midriff. Finally, she dipped below the waistband of your coveralls, dragging her two fingers over the seat of your panties. The material was still disheveled, too flimsy to provide any real sense of comfort. Her thumb caught on your clit and—

“Please,” you gasped, surprising yourself. She didn’t seem fazed. “Stop touching me.”

A second passed, then another. When she eventually did draw back, it was with an airy sigh, the smallest quirk of a frown tugging at her lips. “Fine.”

You waited for her to pull away entirely, to lose interest and return to the bridge with the rest of the crew – not totally unlike the previous inhabitant of her body had, on the rare occasion she was forced to speak to you. Instead, her hand curled around your wrist, blunt nails pressing into your skin as she tugged toward the door. You half-expected her to take you a little too literally, to drag you back to your bunk and lock you inside, but she passed the rooming area entirely, taking you down the hall toward the captain’s quarters. Your heart seized up inside your chest, but you tried not to let the panic seep into your voice. “Where are we going?”

“To do different human things.” And then, more cheerfully, “You’ll like it.”

You doubted that, but her pace was steady and her grip was unwavering. It didn’t seem like she planned on giving you another choice.

The engineer was already waiting by the door. She followed you and the pilot in, keeping close in case you tried to bolt. You were given all of a second to take in the massive, king-sized bed before being mercifully pulled in another direction, into the en-suite. The engineer must’ve worked quickly. The shallow tub (an Olympic pool compared to the shoulder-width shower stalls in the communal bathrooms) was already full, steam still rolling off the water’s surface. A body scrub and matching oil sat on the low wall, neither used. You did your best not to wonder who’d brought them.

You looked to the pilot, then the engineer, who both watched expectantly. It took an embarrassingly long moment to realize they were waiting on you. “Oh, I’m supposed to…?”

You nodded to the tub. The pilot’s smile turned sympathetic. “Before the water gets cold, yes.”

The engineer chimed in, “You have taken a bath before, haven’t you?”

“Shut up.” And just like that, more out of spite than anything, you were wriggling out of your uniform. Your clothes formed a wrinkled heap where you let them drop, each layer leaving you that much more exposed, that much more desperate to crawl back inside of something thick and warm and protective. Covering yourself would’ve been an admission of defeat, so you kept your arms stiffly at your sides as you stepped into the tub. The scalding water burnt at your numb skin. You hadn’t realized how cold you’d been until you started to thaw.

Surprisingly, they didn’t join you. The engineer perched herself on the basin’s wall while the pilot leaned against the vanity, taking in the view. You pulled your knees up to your chest, but it was clear you were being overprotective. The engineer only hummed as she cupped the water in her hands and poured over your head, soaking your hair, your face. It reminded you of something else, something sacred. You had to hold your breath, but that part was holy, too.

The engineer’s hands found your shoulders, massaging gently. The words caught in your throat and snagged on your lips, but you spit them out regardless. It would’ve been more painful to let the silence sit. “Is this your idea of what humans do? Or did you just want to embarrass me?”

“Partially,” the pilot answered. You chose not to wonder which question she was responding to. “My other reasons are much more selfish.”

“Tell me.”

“It’s a little silly.” If you hadn’t known better, you might’ve thought she sounded shy. “I wanted to see what it was like to take care of something else.”

Oh.

You sank that much deeper. The engineer’s hands followed you down, never leaving your skin for a moment.

You’d never noticed how cold she felt, before.

~                                                                                                                                       

“I really didn’t mean to.”

The biologist hummed. He was sitting at your feet, leaning against the wall next to your cubby of a bed. He’d brought tea, the mugs mismatched and the contents still hot enough to steam. You were determined to let yours go cold, and he seemed happy enough to run his thumb over the ceramic rim, soaking in the warmth as it seeped out.

“You did an awfully thorough job.”

“I didn’t—” You stopped yourself, sucking in a deep breath and pressing your cheek into your stiff pillow. Behind you, the geologist shifted, slotting his chest against your back and draping an arm over your waist. Your captor had become increasingly more interested in that type of thing, recently – touchy, sentimental, human. You would’ve liked to say that they wore you down, but honestly, you hadn’t put up much of a fight to begin with. “It was self-defense.”

“You didn’t call the police.”

“I was going to, but there was so much blood, and—and then they were already outside, banging on the door. Anyone would’ve frozen up.” You let your voice get very, very quiet. “He kept me in that apartment for sixty days. Two months. What was I supposed to do? Go outside and make small talk with the neighbors?”

“And the trial?”

“I wasn’t allowed to talk at the trial, the lawyers—” Again, you cut yourself off. “And you already know this. You’ve been in my head.”

The geologist’s forehead settled against the back of your neck as the biologist spoke. “I like the view better out here.”

“You’re so creepy,” you huffed. “It’s just, if this is hell, or some stupid karmic punishment you’re all in on, then—”

“You don’t think I’m real?” He almost sounded offended.

“I don’t think you deserve to keep me here.” There wasn’t a point in answering. Whatever was happening to you, it was real enough. “I’ve got family waiting for me to come back.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Fine. I have friends. People who are going to miss me.”

The biologist sent you a skeptical glance. You bit down hard on the side of your tongue.

“You can’t keep me here forever.”

The geologist’s hold on you tightened abruptly, crushing your ribs into your lungs before going slack just as quickly. “Not forever,” the biologist mused. “How long do you think the oxygen recyclers will hold out?”

This time, you didn’t bother responding at all. The geologist seemed content to draw you that much closer, and the biologist was more than happy to sit at a distance and watch.

~

You found the captain on the bridge, sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of the glass wall. The room was dim, the overheads switched off in favor of the softened blue of the emergency lights. No one else was there, his spare sets of eyes scattered to different parts of the vessel. It looked like he’d been waiting for you.

The jellyfish were passing through again, too. The swarm was dense and close, the view all-but completely obscured by bobbing golden lights, casting the bridge in a ruddy bronze. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve thought you were on another planet.

…you did know better, and the thought still lingered longer than it should’ve.

You sat down next to him, legs bent in front of you. It was uncomfortable, but that didn’t matter. You doubted you’d be staying in this position for very long.

“If I—” The words burnt like acid on your tongue. You rushed to find a less corrosive replacement. “If I do what you want me to, I can leave, right?”

“I don’t remember saying that.” His voice was lilting, tone playful.

“Then say it now.” You huddled into yourself. “I need to get out of here, and this is the only time I’m going to ask nicely.”

“I don’t seem to recall you ever being particularly nice, either.”

Something shifted out of place deep in your chest. You moved to stand, but he laid a hand over yours, laughing. “Sorry, sorry. I should know better. I know what it’s like to be trapped somewhere very, very small for a very, very long time.” He lowered his voice. “Let me have this. You’ll get what you want out of it, too.”

“Just this once?”

“Just this once. Then, I’ll take you back to the surface.”

You didn’t want to. No part of you wanted to give anything to the monster that’d held you captive for over a year, but you needed fresh air in your lungs. You needed to see another person, someone who didn’t look at you like something to cut open and dissect.

This didn’t seem like a lot to give up, in comparison.

You nodded, and his hands were on your hips immediately. He hauled you into his lap, and then you were straddling him, your legs clumsily thrown around his waist and your chest pressed into his. There was no pretense of reluctance, just his mouth on your neck and his fingers working at the buttons of your uniform, haphazardly pulling and dragging until fabric slackened and you felt cold air wash over newly exposed skin. This close, he should’ve been enough to warm you up, but even that small comfort rang hollow. His body was malleable stone against yours – willing to give, but so undeniably lifeless below the surface.

A calloused hand cupped your breast, groping harshly. A pained hiss slipped through your grit teeth, and his head tilted back, wide eyes meeting yours. “Can I kiss you?”

“Would it matter if I said no?”

“Of course.” His smile had turned simpering. “I would cherish any reaction you showed me.”

That didn’t mean he would listen, though.

His lips were chapped and tender against yours. There was nothing romantic about the way he kissed you, just a heady sort of affection and a curiosity that made him lap over your tongue and push into the hollow of your cheeks like he was trying to memorize the shape of your mouth. At the same time, his thumb swiped over your nipple, fingertips biting into the plush flesh of your chest. It was almost a relief when he moved on, his touch skirting over your midriff, your navel, your stomach before settling just above the waistband of your panties. You wished you hadn’t worn them at all, in hindsight. Anything to save yourself the stabbing agony of realizing he would have to take them off of you.

Not that he seemed to be in a rush to. The pad of his thumb dragged over your clothed slit, mapping the terrain, before pulling back and pressing into your clit. His mouth fell to your throat, sucking harsh bruises into your skin as he traced mindless patterns into the most sensitive part of you. It was humiliating – how quickly your deprived boy gave in to the first hint of stimulation you’d gotten in the better part of a year. You could feel yourself getting hotter, getting wetter, the seat of your panties soon uncomfortably damp. You felt the captain’s grin against your jugular and clenched your eyes shut.

His touch was sickeningly exploratory. Your panties were pulled to the side, two thick fingers eased inside of you. Even that was too much of a stretch after surviving so long on nothing at all. You buried your face in his chest as he rocked his palm against your cunt, doing your best to keep your teeth planted in the flesh of your cheek, your nails burrowed into the back of his neck. It was unfair – he was still dressed while you were being split in half. He was going to get what he wanted and you’d be the one to suffer for it.

A third finger, added while the heel of his palm ground against your clit. You jerked forward, a strangled moan escaping before you had a chance to swallow it down, and the captain cooed in sympathy. “That’s it, love.” He pressed a kiss into your temple. “I’m only trying to make what comes next a little easier.”

“I—” He curled his fingers and you sucked in a shallow breath. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Yes, you do.”

God, you hated him.

“No, you don’t.” There was another kiss, this one to the corner of your mouth. You were beyond caring where he touched you, how he touched you. Minutes too soon, you could feel a steady pulse playing in the pit of your stomach, a tightness in your chest that wasn’t entirely due to burning hatred. You felt his tongue against the side of your neck, following the curve of your throat once, then twice before biting down – teeth sinking into skin too fluidly, too easily. It took you a second to decide why it felt so unnatural beyond the initial shock, but not much longer.

He hadn’t hesitated. Not the way he should have, when he knew what he was doing to you might hurt. Not the way anything human would have.

He stayed there, latched onto you and sucking gently, as what was left of your self-control eroded and fell away entirely. Your hips bucked against his hand, the movement jolting and involuntary, and then you were moving on your own, working to fuck his fingers that much deeper, to make up for that many more days of your third and final stay in prolonged captivity. When he raised his head, it was only to chuckle, to nuzzle against you, to pay more attention to the angle of his wrist, to how exactly he nudged you closer and closer and closer to the ledge. “So beautiful,” he whispered, mouth close enough to your ear for his voice to echo in your mind. “I could keep you like this forever.”

You made a mewling, pained noise, cut off abruptly as your body went rigid against his. He led you through the worst of it, pace slowing as he drew out every little clench and tremor, but his patience was clearly thin and his attention clearly elsewhere. You felt him shift underneath you, and then your body was being lowered to the floor by too many pairs of hands. You didn’t realize that you’d shut your eyes until you had to force them open, until you saw the pilot’s smiling face above you, her unblinking stare fixed on your face.

Dread and embarrassment and panic flared in your chest, driving spikes into your heart, your lungs, your throat. “I don’t want other people to—”

“They won’t.” His hands were already pulling at your uniform, dragging it off. Your panties were stripped away just as quickly, just as heartlessly. You tried to grab for his wrists, but the pilot was faster, catching yours instead and drawing them above your head. “It’s just us. It’s only ever been us.”

But it wasn’t, not really, not in the way that matters. You could see the others in your peripheral, made shadowed and faceless by your refusal to look closer. It was almost a mercy when the pilot ducked, lowering her head to your chest and latching onto your breast, reminding you that there were worse things in the world than unwanted voyeurs – worse things you were currently experiencing, in fact. The captain’s hands found your sides, then your hips, pinning you to the floor as he settled between your legs. You whimpered, sobbed, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the sounds of rustling fabric and hitched breathes, to distract you from the feeling of something hot and blunt pressing into you pussy.

He hesitated there – the pilot, too, her tongue going still where it was lapping over your nipple. “I love you,” he said, nearly under his breath. “And I wish this wasn’t the only way to make you understand that without getting rid of the you.”

You didn’t know what he was talking about. You didn’t have time to figure it out, either.

He was already inside of you.

Big. He was too fucking big. For the first time, you genuinely resented – sincerely, deeply, searingly resented – that the captain had been chosen as the dominant mouthpiece, rather than one of your much more moderately sized crewmates. It felt like you were being torn open from the inside out, his thick cock splitting your cunt in half, jagged veins and liquid heat arousal only making it more overwhelming. Your legs snapped closed around his waist, hips bucking against his hold, but the captain didn’t seem to notice. He buckled, head falling low as he caught himself with a palm planted next to your head. The pilot moaned against your skin.

Long, agonizing moments passed before he started to move. You became terrifyingly aware there was still more of him that he was trying to ease into you. His thrusts were short and slow, every inch another way to make you squirm and clench. You weren’t in control of your body, anymore. If you cried, if you struggled, if you went limp – that wasn’t your fault. You were only doing what you had to.

Finally, finally, you felt him bottom out, his hips pressing into yours. There was an airy grunt, another less dignified noise, and then he fell into a steady pattern of grinding down and pulling back and thrusting in with enough strength to force the air out of your lungs, to make your back arch off of the unforgiving cement. Your hands grabbed for his shoulders instinctively, and he let you, falling that much closer. The pilot retreated, but only far enough to pull your head into her lap. Touching wasn’t the priority. She and the others were just there to observe.

His cock twitched inside of you. There was no cursing, no unconscious reactions, but his hold on you tightened and he buried his face in the crook of your neck, breath cold and wrong against your skin. “I’m sorry, I don’t—” A rough groan, a stilted thrust. “I don’t want to, but—”

He didn’t have a chance to finish. It was already happening.

It wasn’t like the first time. That day, it’d been deliberate, a calculated plunge into the middle of a very large, very cold body of water. This time, his influence came in fragments, pulling you into the river but giving your mind a chance to cling to the shore. You could feel the ground against your back as you blinked through a hundred million sets of eyes, and you were aware of the pressure in your core as that pulsing, heartbeat choir overwhelmed anything else you might’ve heard. There was water in your lungs, but at least you still knew which lungs were yours.

Your orgasm came in waves, flooding in from multiple perspectives. There was your pleasure, strained and confused, and then his, tender and so loving and filling you to the brim. That was enough to bring you back to yourself, although there wasn’t anything you could do to mitigate the damage. His hips were pressed flush against yours, his hands clamped tight enough around you to bruise, excess cum dripping down your thighs, the curve of your ass. You couldn’t be sure how long you stayed like that – a second, a minute, an hour. It didn’t matter. It was all an eternity to you.

Eventually, he seemed to catch himself, straightening with a slight laugh. “How embarrassing. I—” He cut himself off, smiling. “Next time. I’ll be more considerate, next time.”

Your only response was a low, disgruntled whine. Sympathy softened the corners of his expression. “Why don’t we get you cleaned up?”

“And then—”Your voice gave out immediately, dissolving into a coughing fit. The pilot rubbed the back of your neck. “Then the surface, right?”

“Of course, love.” The words might’ve been more comforting if it hadn’t been for the way he looked at you. “And then, the surface.”

~

Half an hour later, you found yourself slumped against the captain’s side in the transport module, still not quite able to rely on your own legs. Both the elevator walls and its shaft were entirely made out of glass, but even as you ascended out of the abyssal darkness, through the brightening twilight and back into the more hospitable sunlight zones, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to enjoy the view. A few stray jellyfish from the previous swarm were still bobbing diligently toward the surface. You tried half-heartedly to name the species, but nothing came to mind. You’d had a tense conversation with the captain (the real captain) early on about deep-sea life, but he didn’t seem to think you’d run into anything more interesting than—

You straightened abruptly. The captain hummed, holding that much tighter. “Is something wrong?”

“There aren’t supposed to be jellyfish this deep. Not in a group this size.”

“So there aren’t.”

You hesitated, then tried another angle. “Whatever you’re doing down there, is it—”

“The work will carry on, but the worst of it is over.” He squeezed your side. “You’ll understand, soon.”

Neither of you spoke for the rest of the ascent. There was a brief depressurization, and then the doors opened into the sterile, chromatic control bay you only vaguely remembered from the day you were sent down. You let go of the captain, rushing forward. You were going to get out of here. You were going to breathe fresh air and feel the sunlight and talk to someone else, anyone else. You were going to kiss the first person you saw. You were going to—

You made it one glorious, euphoric step outside of the module, then came to a stuttering halt. A half-ring of strangers stood perfectly still in front of you, a mix of scientists and engineers and operators you wouldn’t know if you recognized. Any familiar traits, any human spark – all of it was made alien by identical, calculated smiles and those unblinking, unfeeling, unthinking eyes. You were tempted to rush to the closest window, to hope beyond hope that this hadn't spread any farther than the facility, but you smothered the urge quickly. You already knew what you were going to find.

The captain stepped behind you. “You can go on running, if you’d like,” he said, resting a hand on your shoulder. “I shouldn’t have problem catching up.”

“But, it can’t be—”

“It is.” He laughed, the noise bright and giddy. For once, it sounded natural.

“I told you – it’s only ever been us, love.”

[froopa-coopa]

silt verses animatic because this story will forever haunt me

[hermusicpersona]

Giyuu literally wrote to Urokodaki "i did smth illegal as a demon slayer and as a hashira but i ll send said illegal thing to you so that you can be part of it AND risk your life for it as a demon slayer and as a hashira" and Urokodaki just wrote back "bet"

Like Giyuu had his doubts about himself and all that depressed shit but him and Urokodaki were like this 🤞🏻

[sheepybones]

I'm literally sobbing

Who were the costume designers for the Matilda Musical Movie (2022)?

Because putting Ms. Honey in a hot hair balloon dress with a feather necklace broke me.

[gothicwill]

Still think this is the funniest Hannibal post I’ve ever seen

[antarctic-arcanine]

If I ever share anything that was AI generated it is purely by accident. I hate that it's getting harder and harder to tell and it makes me want to never use the internet again. It definitely had its faults, but man I miss the internet of the 2000s so much.

[friend-of-giants]

To add, if I ever reblog art or photos or something that's AI generated, please tell me. I will gladly delete it. It really is getting harder to tell the difference and it won't be long before it's truly impossible to know.

At least it was easy to tell by looking at the hands and fingers 🙃

[pigeon-princess]

Barbie Rupunzel has always been my favourite so this is for little 5 year old me who loved dragons and wanted to be an artist when she grew up.

[sheepybones]

80% of my time spent on this app is just wiggling the damn post button in a big ol circle

It soothes the sheep brain

[queenoftheantz]

work doodle as im relistening to the Silt verses. She is gods special little princess and she hates it

[sobecomesomethingelse]

"kill them with kindness" WRONG. CRAB 🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀🦀

[mossgoblins]

[feralpodcastlistener]

me in the first episode: wow i really like Faulkner :D he’s a super nice contrast to how serious Carpenter! is he’s so silly i love him

me literally every episode after that: oh—this guy is pretty ok with killing people

[sheepybones]

Close!

Welcome back, Carden.

[al4thea]

Gifted Shane copious amount of alcohol and enabled his alcoholism just to take all his precious blue chickens. That's so mean, I'll do it again

[moonferry]

i love the new dialogue for loved gifts like. you give sam a pizza and he'll go aw yeah pizza time like yes baby it is pizza time GOD ur so hot .

and seb sees the void egg and goes Woah i relate to this or smth

update: someone needs to take picsart away from me

[thememedaddy]

[lesbianralzarek]

wasnt a failed assassination. it was a successful long-range ear piercing by a deranged claires employee. they force femmed him. because of woke