I KNOWWWWWW It's more Overkill but my computer is pissed as hell that it's been open for like over 2 days and I really wanted to draw and also I'm STRESSED so I will continue to draw genius horrifying scenes. And then retiring my laptop for a day so I don't get deltarune spoilers.
Speaking of horrifying scenes: Below here is stuff relating to mostly Dawn's attempted noncon kiss and then one art of dawn's loop 6 death (burning alive, not graphic it's right Before that but still.)
THEY MAKE ME SICK. THEY MAKE ME ILL. I KEEP FUCKING FORGETTING TO TAG OVERKILL HOLD ON @askoverkill give me a dusk charm I need to shake them badly
She was six when the training started, looking older for her age or not, Jessica was a child when Joan has marked her as the next War Dog; Jennifer was still her stepsister, Jocelyn was still her mom, and Joan’s already her Master.
Speed
She’s a fast learner, as you’d expect from a prodigy, from the one meant to be the most powerful wizard of her generation; a shame she doesn’t learn fast enough to avoid punishment.
First
There are many firsts in the life of a girl, even one that has had her childhood taken away from her before she knew she was a person of her own; too many firsts are Joan’s: spell, punch, sparring session, kiss, and time.
Cold
Sometimes she lays on her bed, alone and in the dark, and hates that she feels cold when nobody’s holding the leash on her invisible collar.
Betrayal
When she was born, Jennifer had carved a promise in the fabric of the universe, I’ll keep you safe, and Jessica never quite cared that she failed at it for sixteen years; then Joan whispers on her ear, hands bruising her hips like she loved to do, that it’s Jennifer who told the Coven how where she was.
Bitter
Sometimes Jessica isn’t sure how the fuck her mom has fallen in love with someone that has a mouth full of poison.
Freedom
She frowns at the way Head Magician Cornwell (this is not a cove, kid, my title is professor) doesn’t set curfews of 7pm and doesn’t punish who is late for dinner, Sub-Head Magician Greenwood (uh, call me Peyton, kid) looks at her with a frown every time she looks confused: “it’s a little bit of freedom, this is a school, not a prison.”
Tiles
White is covered with blood mixed with soap, Jennifer looks tired, worried, and she doesn’t seem happy that Jessica’s already out of her bed.
Play
They call the vigilante “straightjacket psycho” – it’s not too accurate, Scarlet’s more a “straightjacket dog that doesn’t know what to do with Its teeth”; Scarlet’s more “a predator that must play with foot not that Its free”.
Suicide
She’s twelve when she seriously consider It for the first time, the day after Joan summoned her to her private quarters and told her to strip naked; she stayed there for forty minutes, just being looked at her, and thought if she should leave and find the handgun she knows Mom keeps around.
War
Jennifer’s envious of her, she knows, and doesn’t care too much, children shouldn’t go to war; (you’re a child too, the devil in her head says, I’m a weapon.)
Sky
The sky’s a beautiful blue when Mom dies, when Jessica decides that maybe she should teach Joan that you’re not supposed to tame an evil that has taken home inside a child.
Belly
The first carved rune she puts on herself after running away is on her lower belly, women has always found ways to not carry spawn of monters; Joan whips her back until she passes out of blood loss, but doesn’t dare corrupting a ten year-old spell.
Smoke
Peyton gave her a cigarette, offered with a smirk; after Peyton died, she uses all of the girl’s last open packet to burn little circles on her thighs and says that the smoke is what makes her tear up.
Wash
The Dog can’t wash Itself, so Joan throws buckets of ice cold water at It; Jessica scrubs her skin until it’s red, inflamed, but Joan’s touches are still there, they’ll always be there.
Blanket
She had a dream, once, about her and Jennifer and a happy family; she wrapped herself in the blanket, thin and old, because Jennifer’s the reason she’s back in hell.
Stain
Joan’s invites a friend sometimes, she doesn’t know this strange woman’s name, but she knows the stains she leaves on her soul.
Name
She changes name again, again and again; settles for Scarlet, like the blood she reaps from people that are a little too much like her mother.
Red
The first time Patricia spells a diagnostic spell on her, Jessica’s surprised that her corporeal is a soft shade of blue; but she’s not surprised by the solid ball of red on her abdomen, even if Patricia makes the same pitying face Rachel made not even a year ago.
Rage
There’s an inferno of hatred under her skin, she wishes it’d burn the ropes keeping her in place as Joan lists everything she has been thinking about doing to her in the last ten years.
Bite
There’s only one time that Joan tries to bring a male friend, he does look less enthusiastic than her lady friends when the Dog kneels in front of him; cuts and cuts down Its back to learn It can’t bite and spit out flesh.
Thunder
Jessica was scared of storms, of thunder when she was small, when she was Jocelyn’s daughter enough to be comforted by her; loud noises startle her still, Caroline frowns at her with how Scarlet always puts earphones with the loudest possible music as soon as it starts raining.
Water
Blood runs thicker than water never made sense until she heard the full saying, it rings true in her head when she sits alone with Patricia and realizes that this safety, this warmth, is what she’s supposed to feel around a motherly figure.
Empty
It’s not an odd thing, deep down, when she looks in a mirror and dead eyes stare her back; there’s nothing new about how she’s an empty shell.
Battle
The battle isn’t even a true battle, it’s a bloodshed; a weapon of mass destruction leaves a trail of blood, entrails and deserved death behind It – and It does twice, the thrice worse the second time.
Lay
She lays on the snow, shivering and breathing puffs of white air, half-naked, covered in bruises and wounds; she lets her brain idle, but not even the Dog has the energy to move.
Fear
Agent Fletcher has hunted her for months, has spent almost two years under her care, had accepted the memory spell, and never was scared of her; the Dog’s confused why there’s fear in her eyes now.
Leg
The first time she tries to have sex after Hell 2.0, legs around Caroline’s hips and pulling her closer, there’s a moment where it’s not her “friend” she sees; Patricia says it’s normal, and Caroline seems about to throw up.
Morality
There are books on morality, on ethics, in the library; she doesn’t read them, she doesn’t need them to know that everything about her is utterly immoral.
Knife
The Dog doesn’t feel anything, the Dog wants to feel something, the blade cuts through It hand like butter and the pretty girl next to It screams (the girl in the back of Its mind hums in appreciation for the hurt.)
Castle
Jocelyn had taken her and Jennifer to a beach once, it’s a haze memory, she was barely a toddler helping her sister build a sand castle; when she lays on her bed, late at night, she wonders about the children she never had (never wanted to) and if she’d love them enough to take them castle-building in the breath.
Torture
They thought they knew horror, knew pain, with the torture Scarlet gave them; rumors spread quickly that this new version paints all the walls with their blood, leave them alive, but just a squirming torso without ears and eyes.
Horns
Her spiritual form has horns and a tail, somehow Caroline gets away with making fun of her (“somehow”, stop lying, you love her).
Beg
She’s not ready to see the way Jennifer falls on her knees and apologizes, her eyes begging to be believed, she didn’t know; and Jessica doesn’t put it above Joan to manipulate blood of her blood to believe Jessica’s the villain here.
Darkness
She’s unfairly comfortable, as if she’s a child who has the right to be on the lap of their mother, seeking this safety with Patricia: “I hate it, all this darkness inside me,” she whispers, Patricia just hold her closer, Patricia just whispers like a mantra, and I love you anyway.
Shiny
Caroline’s eyes are shiny with tears, but she still brings the Dog closer, holding It blood-covered hand, she still helps It to clean up and takes It to bed; she sees a feral animal and doesn’t sacrifice It.
Mirror
Jessica learned, pretty quickly, that Joan likes when she has reactions; she wants to hit the mirror with her head, she doesn’t, she just let Joan watch her face as she’s taken like the whore the woman wants her to be tonight.
Freak
“So… you and Jennifer?” Caroline asks, her hand feels nice playing with her hair, “yeah, two coven freaks,” – two coven freaks that only found safety in each other, Caroline only hums and accepts as if that’s the most normal thing in the world.
Spite
The way she spreads Joan’s remains across the compound is out of spite, it’s almost petty, she leaves pieces of flesh and skin in every single place where Joan raped her; there’s almost not enough of the Head Magician for that.
Patchwork
Scarlet’s not ashamed of her scars, she’s ashamed of where most of them comes from; Jennifer takes a sharp breath when she sees her shirtless for the first time, it takes a second to notice she’s looking at the Carved Rune close to her waistband – she doesn’t even try to look annoyed when Jennifer steals her from Caroline for cuddles for the next week.
Clean
Patricia wraps her arms with clean bandages, covered in her own blood; she woke up with the ghost feelings of Joan’s hands holding her arms back and- “hey, hey,” she says gently, “stay with me, dear, you’re free now, you’re clean now.”
Collect
Apparently Scarlet collect hearts like they’re nice, neat action figures.
Laugh
Scarlet likes the way they laugh, Jennifer’s quiet like her, Caroline’s soft like mom was, and Patricia loud and taking up space; Scarlet likes it, she likes that they make her laugh too.
Forehead
Mom used to give her forehead kisses when she tucked her in bed, she pretends she doesn’t cry in some sort of relief and grief the first times Patricia did the same.
Memory
Sometimes, more often than she’ll admit, she’s seeing a memory in front of her and not Joan; Jennifer looks more heartbroken that there’s a reason for it to happen than because for a second, Scarlet sees her abuser in her.
Safe
Somehow, there’s nothing but understanding in both of them when Scarlet comes home smelling like sex; somehow they understand that she feels safe when she gets to kill who she feeds of.
Dimple
Scarlet’s sure Jennifer feels more than “friendly stuff because she cares about you” towards Caroline when she reached and poked one of her dimples; being a goner for dimples might be a family thing.
Liquor
She hates the taste of it – Joan grabbed her jaw and forced cheap tequila down her throat so she would take whatever Joan wanted her to now that she can’t switch easily, –and Jennifer apologizes when Scarlet gets a blank look on her eyes from a tequila-tasting kiss.
Pile
Part of Scarlet doesn’t really understand why Caroline and Jennifer like to pile on her for cuddles at every opportunity, she sees Patricia snickering (it hurts that there’s one person missing in her life, but it feels like who’s there tries to keep her warm enough so she can keep going).
Complex
It’s a complex thing, Scarlet thing, with the biting, raging Dog that needs to be out from time to time; but maybe she’s not too complex to be loved by Patricia and Caroline and Jennifer (to be forgiven for not unlearning the habits carved into her bones).
I love your Cioccolata NSFW hc, you are god dude!! Could you maybe do hc‘s for him how would treat his patient (who fall in love with him)?
mold man has returned to my inbox - and again, all of you cioccolata fuckers are so nice! so here you go, anon. 18+ and general grossness under the cut!
Cioccolata realizes quickly that you’re acting different than his other… patients. You’re not recoiling in horror at his touch, you’re leaning into it. When he comes in the room, you perk up instead of coiling away. A subject so interesting certainly couldn’t be thrown away… so he keeps you.
He’s not exactly going to be nice - he’s going to treat you similar to how he treats Secco, though he’s less concerned with you recording and fetching things for him and more concerned to see how easily you obey him. He finds out your favorite treat and gives it to you as a reward, just as he does for Secco.
He’s going to experiment with how you react to his touch on every part of your body. When you moan and call out his name, it excites him in a way he hasn’t felt in a while. A patient calling out for him wasn’t an occurrence that happened - ever. And yet here you were, begging for his touch and falling apart underneath him without the threat of a scalpel.
He’ll experiment with all sorts of drugs to see how you react to his touch - and eventually, he’s going to see how you react to more intense touch while he fucks you on the table. Secco records it all, of course.
Eventually, he takes you as a personal experiment, setting you up in a nicer area in his personal bedroom. It’s not exactly nice, but it’s his fucked up way of showing that he values you.
Secco likes you a lot - he sneaks you sugar cubes. You distract Cioccolata from him, so he tries to make it up to you by sneaking you anything he can.
Cioccolata doesn’t really know what love in, but he knows he enjoys having you around to experiment on and play with. He’ll keep you alive as long as he’s there - just like Secco. However, his experiments get more intense as time goes on… He’ll do his best not to do too much to you.
Masterlist // Series: A Coven’s Violence // Warnings: implied noncon, non-graphic vomiting, suspicion of teen pregnancy
Mackenzie knew this was bad, of course it was fucking bad.
She was a healthy person, despite the constant bruises and such, Mackenzie rarely needed medical attention that wasn’t related to her training and the missions. Mostly because of a slightly different anatomy, just different enough to make her easily strong and resistant. She was safe in the cold season, and from every other little disease that sometimes wrecks across the coven.
Mackenzie’s hands were shaking as the possibility hit her like a semi-truck.
It has been a few days since these symptoms started, the nausea and the dizziness. She almost fainted yesterday, caught herself on a wall and was glad it didn’t happen in front of Mother or in front of Heidi. Mother would be pissed off, Heidi would be worrying like a mother hen. Her head was pounding as she heaved again, she already threw up her attempt at a breakfast and acid enough to taste nothing but its bitterness. And she was angry, so fucking angry. If she was right, it was fully Mother’s fault. Sure, sure, great idea to forbid any kind of birth control.
It was better to figure out what was wrong with her as soon as possible, she hoped it wasn’t what she thought it was, knowing it’d end terribly if she was right.
What to know? Charlie is a pretty possessive man, obsessed with his best friend’s wife - and that night, after a fight with her husband, Charlie knows she’s home alone.
POV: Marissa
Content: lady whump, non-consentual touching, home invasion, implied noncon, and a pretty creepy captor
[Charlie / Marissa masterpost]
Let's go out and party, her sister had suggested. Marissa didn't feel like it though. She felt like sitting on her couch in her sweatpants, emptying a bottle of wine all by herself and muse about fundamental differences between men and women. Or between Jason and her, for that matter.
They'd had a fight, yet again, one of these nasty ones that developed from an innocent question like "When we go to Florida next week, do we take your car or mine?", and that had developed into a discussion on days off at work, mismatched priorities, neglected parents and "Won't you ever even try to understand how I'm feeling?".
Jason had left with banging doors, no, he probably wouldn't, and she had replaced his company with an expensive bottle of red wine from France.
Stupid idiot would probably get shit drunk with some of his idiot friends, have them assure him that women were overly dramatic but in the end worth it, and come crawling back in the next morning.
She took another sip of the rich wine and leaned her head back, closing her eyes and enjoying the slight dizzyness the alcohol brought. She still wanted him to come to Florida with her. Hopefully he'd get to his senses, and his superiors would as well. She was not really in the mood to face her family alone. Jason's support would come in handy.
A knock on the door made her eyes open. Jason already? Too drunk to use his key? Her gaze flew to the clock. Just shortly after nine. Highly unlikely. And she hadn't ordered anything. Maybe she should order a pizza or something. The wine alone wouldn't do her well.
Glass in hand, she strolled towards the door, smoothing her hair and wiping of the remains of her angry tears. She'd give a sorry image, she guessed, but whoever was there would just need to live with it.
They had patience, at least, calm shape of their body visible behind the milky glass.
She pulled open the door and peaked outside, almost in need of suppressing a groan when she recognized their visitor. Charlie Atwood. Jason's best friend. Probably been ordered in by Jason to get drunk with him and gotten the wrong place. As if she hadn't had enough of self-absorbed men tonight. She held the door open with her shoulder and pointed to the rough direction of Jason's favorite pub. "Wrong place, Charlie. Jason isn't here. He should be -"
The slow smirk on Charlie's lips as he shook his head was disconcerting. "Right place", he said. His hand reached forward to hold the door, just in the moment she wanted to push it close. "I didn't come for Jason."
There was something wrong in his eyes, in the way he stared at her, hungry and determined, something that set free too many memories. "You're not welcome here", she said, more firmly than she felt, and tried to close the door again.
He chuckled, unimpressed and stepped in, placing his hand on her hip. "And what exactly will you do about it?"
Her gaze flew down to his hand, resting on her possessively, and back to the victorious grin across his face. She couldn't fight back a rising panic.
"Thought so", he said and gave her a light push back, before he closed the door behind him.
"Leave, Charlie", she said, slowly backing away, lifting the glass like some pathetic weapon. "This is not funny."
He didn't reply, just stood by the door and looked her down slowly, deliberately. Predatory.
The phone. She needed her phone. Call the police. Call Jason.
It was charging in the kitchen, right behind her back. If she was fast enough-
She spun and ran, the glass shattering on the floor behind her.
It took her a few steps to the kitchen. She slammed the door shut and grabbed her phone the same second, unlocking it with her finger, dialing -
She screamed when his hand dug in her hair from behind and yanked her head back. "Nobody will come for you", he hissed into her neck, while his other hand wrestled the phone from her fingers.
"No", she gasped. "Please, Charlie, no, you can't -"
The phone clattered on the ground at the other side of the counter. So close. At the other end of the word.
He spun her around by the shoulders and slammed her against the wall next to the fridge. The same place where he had forced that kiss on her, months ago.
He remembered as well. Of course he did. His hands went up to cup her face, stroking her cheeks almost tenderly.
"I can and I will, sweetheart. Let's finish what we started back then, shall we?"
listening to feed us your girls and thinking about kaey (and also indi) taking on a protective role to ensure the safety and security of those around them, especially in terms of others who would be taken advantage of in the same way they were.
kaey protecting julienne, protecting tristan, trying to protect others. fighting back for them but not himself. resisting for their sake, not his own. choosing to be the sacrificial lamb, but also then having to enact his own violence to further protect them from aleksey. because if aleksey got his hands on them it would be a million times worse. thus how kaey found himself so good at torture.
"do it or I will" and choosing to do it himself because he knew how awful aleksey was, and he knew they knew too. he was a respite in comparison. (edit for clarification: this is in terms of torture / punishment, not noncon)
"use me, not them" and becoming a shield. because he could take it, he knew he could. and making himself something enticing to aleksey to convince him it was a worthy trade off.
kaeys relationship with noncon is very much "this doesn't feel right, this doesn't seem correct, but its the only thing I've known and I'm told it IS right and okay. I already know I'm damaged and broken, maybe I'm just more broken than I thought for questioning this"
like. trained to believe it is love. trained to believe its okay, that its GOOD. that hes good for allowing it, that choosing not to endure it is weak. that its what hes good for. thats its a part of who he is.
and then when he meets indi, when he meets henri, when he meets other people he remembers how fucked up it was. that it was truly fucked up and he was not broken, is not broken. that consent is important and hes allowed to consent and not just sit and endure. that his feelings and opinions matter.
I had more thoughts but I was interrupted by my sister so 🫠 accept this
