Warning: aphrodisiacs, pseudocest/incest, terminology like ‘laced’ used, etc.
When you eat way too many chocolates in some discarded Valentine’s Day box oblivious to the fact that they’re laced with heavy aphrodisiacs and end up sobbing your way to your dad after a couple hours, skin all sweaty and sticky, thighs trembling, the ache between your hips borderline agonizing as your body burns with heat, crying for him as you helplessly hump his sheets and reaching for him pitifully as he gives a soft coo and lays you back on his bed so he can take care of you in all the ways you’ve never allowed and more.
𝜗𝜚⋆ (unedited) thinking of a yandere caretaker who needs for you to depend on him.
tw: yandere, drugging
you had been sent to spend a few months in a mental asylum after having been falsely accused of torturing someone. the girl had looked you in the eyes as she made her claims, covered in self inflicted burn scars and cuts that she pinned on you. she deceived your family, painting you to be a psychopath and to live your life behind walls.
you never understood why she did so.
you’d been assigned to a caretaker. he never told you his name, so you referred to him simply as ‘sir’ or something along those lines. you asked him why he was there, and he told you that he had been tasked with monitoring you, ensuring your safety and ensuring the fact that you were okay.
you spent a lot of your days in boredom, tasked with trivial things, like drawing or folding origami. he sat in the corner as you did so sometimes, gazing at you with intent as he wrote down his observations. you wondered who he was showing them to, but he flipped the clipboard when you came too close.
it was a dull routine you held.
you were forced into medication. you had never understood the reason in which you were given pills, but had lacked the ability to decline. he had pushed them past your lips, plugging your nose with his fingers as you struggled and held your head back, forcing them into your throat.
you had choked, asking him why he had done so. he had stared at you calmly, giving you a half-hearted response.
“would you have taken them if it was in your control?”
his answer had made you angry. at yet you found you lacked the energy to complain, to hit him as you would have done so. upon noticing your hesitance he had smiled, holding you by your jaw as he noted down the expression on your face.
“ah, so they’re working. you feel fine now, don’t you?”
the pills made you tired, and you were prescribed to consume two every morning. they kept you from defiance and made it difficult for you to refuse. often even in the solitude you were forced into, you found yourself too exhausted to be able to ponder your escape.
he was happy with your compliance. he cleaned up after you, organising things for you as you used them, and fed you your meals when you felt your arms wouldn’t lift up. he tied your hair behind your ears with ribbons so they wouldn’t interfere with your recreation, and he tucked you into bed each night.
141 x reader. cw. dubcon very much on the verge of noncon, implied drugging
price and kyle who, under the maple light of the underground pub scene, sniff you out. sweating over the jostled, unkempt desire to be seen. hands flirting between your drink and your hair.
it’s like you’re asking for it.
kyle, the more outrageous of the two, places a hand on your lower back. you jolt, but his eyes are the stove to your butter. orders you a drink. slides it in place of your empty glass.
“my husband and I thought you were gorgeous, darlin.”
you stare. glance past him to find a new pair of brick shoulders. a harsh, formidable jaw. blue eyes that you cannot read.
you down the drink. it tastes like brown sugar and leaving with the two men who gave you an out.
syrupy blinks. weak knees. cotton mouth that drools when you watch the brick man drive. lucid body that melts further into the stove man and his wandering hands. you cannot bring yourself to care about their real names.
you really should have.
as you’re about to find out, they’re not married. the strange, two men at the gate call them Price and Gaz. The larger of the two carries you into the house that looks a lot different than yours.
vicid, tired muscles. they lie you down. panic is a small, quiet bird in your chest. there, but not loud. it’s long until the morning, so she doesn’t sing. not yet.
she flutters when you watch stove…Gaz and a man with a mohawk play a hand game to decide who “works you open”.
Price and the one with the skull mask fiddle with their belts.
the liquor solidifies over your vocal cords, and your left dumb and mute. when you open your mouth, a pathetic croak grabs their attentions.
cw for stalking, drugging, kidnapping etc.this is like under negotiated kink rather than outright noncon. it is like very dubcon that flirts with noncon.
i just like.
stalking to law is like an ultimate form of love. i think this is related to corazon—it’s in the act of relentless pursuit that law has come to define affection at its most basic.
ceaseless, endless, tireless effort. more than the work of being a medical doctor, i think what law values over medicine is the practice of diagnosis itself. how that, too, is a kind of chase to the final answer
ruthless, methodical, and most of all—unwavering in its intensity.
to love someone, to law in many ways, involves this level of constancy. this desire for him is more internal than external. law is not especially expressive as an adult. almost as a way of correcting his behavior from childhood, he’s become rather reserved. such reservations disallow him to becoming as emotionally vulnerable as he might like to be with you
in this context, there is also the years and years that law spent pursuing violence as a doctrine. corazon prevented him from losing himself to it, buts it’s clear in his efforts on doflamingo that this part of him festers somewhere deep inside. always itching to escape
all of these things and your relationship with law, one which is formed where you are pirates on opposing sides, is what creates your relationship.
there’s some impracticality to your relationship that sets it off. something prevents your relationship from stabilizing—likely differing crews or ways of life. something that makes you part ways a little sooner than you’d like
and it’s like, something inside of him shifts. at the very idea you’ll disappear. that one day the only other person to show him such love will die without his input all over, and law will have to let go.
somewhere along these lines, the clear end stops being clear. he enacts his revenges for corazon, but without a clear path - there’s nothing preventing him from become obsessive with something else. someone else
here is how i think it goes: you disappear, and law tracks you. finds you and hunts you until you’re in his sight again, cornering you with the intensity of him. and you slip away again, until there’s this gradual discomfort or sense of unease. at first it seems like a coincidence but that’s disproven by how often it happens. that law seems to be a vestige of your life, this haunting thing that comes to seek you no matter the cost
you make no effort to stop him. it becomes a game. how far can you go before law pulls you back into his gravity? how much do you bend before breaking? these kinds of touch-and-go interactions become so intense with time. law follows you to the corners of the earth like a man without sense and each time you see him after escaping—your heart pounds a little harder in your chest.
law is always stoic when you come in contact again. he’s good at remaining impassive. the fear lies in the precarious nature of it. the intense, insane effort it takes to run into you. all the things that needed to line up to make it happen and how blase he seems despite himself
it chills you and excites you, this pursuit. for your relationship with law is always every so slightly out of reach—you enjoy it. in a shameful, foreign way. of this obsession. when law comes to see you again and you see his visible longing, you find yourself more than willing to become his subject. this fucked exchange continues and law continues to escalate.
and i think with time, he likes to push through with captivity. he kidnaps you eventually. stows you away to have to himself, some childish part of him resentful he can’t have it all. he keeps you on his ship and ties you in the captains quarters. he makes use of your body. he defiles it with drugs and keeps you safe with him through his abduction.
but he always returns you. there’s always some ache in your cunt when you return somewhere on land. law never keeps you too long with him, no matter how much he desires it. it’s like hitting reset, like falling in love a hundred times over for law. he stalks you, he finds you, he ruins you—and he lets you go to start that same thing over again. it’s like some mutual understanding between you, unexplainable to anyone else. you always let him leave you where you have to be left, because you know law will always come find you
for law, stalking is the most ultimate act of love. to capture you would defeat its purpose. he always lets you go, and sees how close he can really get without ever having to say a word.
lohen putting something in my tea and dragging me to wherever the fuck he wants as long as it keeps me and my delicate chubby body out of this god forsaken heat
weird cryo boy i promise i’ll tussle and playfight with you and let you bite me (lohen is absolutely a biter; all the more in the softest place with the most chub. your thighs are NOT safe) as long as you will use the cryo vision to keep me at a comfortable temperature
Does Sloane get offended if a darling doesn't want to be drugged during sex? How often would they allow (if they'd allow it) "normal" aka non-drugged sex?
Sloane doesn’t get offended, they just take it as another way darling doesn’t realise how much they need to be taken care of! Of course darling doesn’t want to be drugged; but they whimper and push and complain so much otherwise and use up all their precious energy, so really Sloane is doing them a favour by drugging them pre-emptively!
They might have sex with a darling who is awake and cognisant and moving, but honestly? They don’t really enjoy it. Darling needs to be unconscious, asleep or groggy at the very least to really get them going!
Cassie McKay drugging you up and making you all lenient before kissing you and fucking you all dumb! 🫶
limp and pliant 🥺🥺not fully understanding as she runs her hands over your body, she tells you it's just part of the examination, don't worry. you're in good hands <3
They're already deep into their cups, their clothes are slightly askew - they're having a rough night. You approach them, sit next to them, ask them what's wrong. When they don't readily reply, you offer to get them a drink. "A friendly gesture," you tell them.
They start to sip at it as they tell you what's wrong. When they reach up to wipe at their tired or teary eyes, you quickly slip something into their drink.
They don't notice.
Their words begin to slur and they start rubbing at their face. You suggest stepping outside together for some air. They nod, eyes blurry. You help them to their feet and walk them outside and to your vehicle.
By the time they realize you're buckling them in, they can't get proper use of their limbs anymore.
