As production marches forward, so does the date of our first episode release! Stop by again on January 29th for the drop of Prologue, Chapter 1 on YouTube. Trailer available here.
Art credits: @patchyegg87 / Voice credits: Jacob Martin
Tw: Yandere, gore, implied murder, Rook’s very suspicious
Maybe he’s just that one guy living in a lonely little cabin by the lake. Nobody really knows much about him. At most, the villagers could only describe how he looked like, or how peasant he was. “A charming young man” was the most you’ll get out of the villagers’ chatter.
As the “delivery service” of your town, you cycle around on dirt-paved roads, running errands for the townsfolk for a small price. It ain’t much, but it’s an earnest living.
Occasionally, you drop by. Knuckles rapping away on that wooden door, calling out Rook’s name. You figure as someone passing through, it’s your duty to make sure that he hasn’t just upped and died. Rook answers your call promptly, a gentle smile dancing across his lips as he opens the door.
Ah, how nice of you, darling . Taking the time out of your day to check in on him. Oh, just look at you! How exhausted you must be, cycling all this way.
Wouldn’t you come in for a cup of tea? Rook never takes no for an answer, casually shooting down every excuse you could come up with. His arm soon finds itself way around your waist, carefully ushering you into his cabin.
Gently guiding you towards his living room, before those skilled hands of his busy themselves. Pouring you a cup of tea, asking questions. Rook’s way of making small talk, you reason.
What’s your favourite animal?
Oh, those? They were tricky to hunt, that’s for sure. Rook’s caught some before. Maybe next time you could drop by to see him in action.
Favourite colour?
Ah, how beautiful. Rook very much admires that particular shade as well… what an odd coincidence. He’s seen some wildflowers in that colour. Would you care for some blossoms?
How’s life been, in the village?
Ah, is that so? Rook prefers a quieter life, in the woods with nothing but the melody of nature to keep him company. It’s mediative, in a way. Maybe you should try, sometime.
You answer most of them light heartedly, laughing politely. Quipping back some questions of your own, you lean forward expectedly. Only to be greeted with a placid smile, before Rook turns the tables once more.
Emerald eyes staring into yours unwaveringly, their gaze burning into your irises itself. There was something unnerving about the intensity Rook’s eyes had, but you shrugged it off as just… a quirk of his. Yes, it had to be. He had to be focused, as a hunter living off the land… right?
A little weary from the constant bombardment of questions, your eyes flicker around the room, trying to find something else to talk about. Glancing at the walls, your eyes narrow in confusion. Most hunters you’ve known frame at least one or two of their exploits on the walls for the world to see. Even if taxidermy wasn’t their thing, at least there’ll be a photo or two.
Rook didn’t have that. His bows were framed on the walls, yes. Some metal crossbows, strings pulled taunt, ready to fire at any time. These laid beside more traditional bows, ranging from the natural hues of wood to the metallic sheen of steel.
Yet there weren’t any animals in sight. Only… pictures. Pictures of people in black and white. Going about their day. Most of these seemed to portray people in their most natural state, walking around, running errands… all the mundane activities of everyday life. But one thing struck you as odd.
None of them seemed aware they were being photographed. Out of all the photos on the wall, none of the subjects were looking into the camera. How odd.
Turning towards Rook again, you remark about how devoted he was to his craft. Surely to amass such a collection, he must be rather passionate about photo taking. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Rook stiffen ever so slightly, a sinister glint gleaming in his eyes. Before it resumed its usual calmness, the placid smile clicking right back into place.
Well, yes… you could say he was very passionate about what he did. These people have treasured the photos Rook took of them… until the day they died.
A chill ran down your spine. You laugh nervously, remarking about how late it was. You should really be getting back to work. For a moment, Rook refused to move. A bead of cold sweat ran down your back, heart thundering away in your chest. Panic rushing through your veins, nothing but the pounding of your pulse beating within your eardrums.
Until finally, Rook got up. He walked you to the door, lamenting that you had to go so soon. It’s so rare he got any visitors. It’s rather lonely all the way out here in the wilderness….
Before you could even think, words slipped right past your lips:
“I’ll come back again. Maybe you can take my photo then?”
The ghost of a faint smirk danced across his lips as he clutched at your hands, proclaiming his gratefulness in elaborate prose. Before you stepped out of his door, Rook places something in your palm.
A necklace of… sorts. A silver charm was threaded through it, in the shape of an arrow. A lucky charm, Rook explained. It’ll keep you safe. Well, as safe as the circumstances allowed, he chuckled.
It used to belong to a client of his, but as of now? They… no longer have any need to use it, you see. So now Rook bestows it upon you! Ah yes, silver looks terrific on your neck.
Waving hesitantly , you cycle away from his cabin. Heaving a sigh of relief you had no idea that you were holding. An odd man… but charming, strangely enough. You guess you could pay him another visit the next time you were out.
Just… another one. To keep him from getting too lonely, Y’know?
From the window of the cabin, Rook stood slyly to the side. Parting the curtain with a single finger, watching you go. Goodness, how adorable. The darling on their bicycle, cycling off into the distance.
How defenceless.
Oh, how did he wish to reach right over, and trap you in his embrace. Rook could tell you were getting unnerved. With your gaze flitting all around, avoiding his own, with your trembling fingers as you pushed yourself off his armchair, clumsy excuses about the time….
Goodness, you were rather adorable, were you not? The silver necklace around your neck fit you perfectly, as well. As expected from his beloved cherie! Worry not, a charm is placed in the arrow itself. Harm will never befall you… well, unless you take it off. Rook wouldn’t know where you were, then. It’ll be hard for him to protect you, then.
That silver chain looked gorgeous around your neck, on that tender, soft skin of yours…
You couldn’t blame Rook for wondering how his own silver arrows would look like, impaled deep into your skin.
reminder the reason they made Vil mad Epel talked in his accent was because in the original JP version it was actually Epel cursing he didn't like but they had to do a knockoff 4kids version in EN so they couldn't have Epel cursing, which let to Vil being weird about the accent
Edit: Check the reblogs or go here where another user explains in further detail!
nsfw below cut. (cw: bimbo yuu, implied fem yuu/no pronouns, dubcon probably, implied dumbification?, i think? idk i didn't feel like writing an entire sex scene, if y'all are good little followers and ask fuckin nicely you'll get a part two ig.)
in love with the idea of being like. bimbocore. around riddle mcfucking rosehearts. do you even understand okay okay okay shuddup
riddle fucking hates you at first. not like, hates you hates you, but you're the antithesis of everything he was raised to be: smart, talented, modest, gentlemanly and polite. but you? you're ditzy, your grades are horrendous, you're immodest and vulgar, and you're still fucking insanely hot. that's what he hates. he hates that you're still able to capture his heart, and make his whole body flush.
he hates the way you practically hop into his lap any chance you get. how you dress so far out of the bounds of the uniform it's not even funny. that skirt cannot be up to dress code regulations! and for seven's sake, button up your shirt. it's distracting...
the way you lick pastry cream from your lips or fingers at every unbirthday party, staring at him. he knows you know what you're doing him. the dumb little giggles you let out when he lectures you.
"just because you're not from this universe doesn't mean you can skim by in class. you need to be tutored, prefect! as a housewarden, you cannot fail! being pretty doesn't guarantee you a career."
"heheh, you think i'm pretty?~" you reply in that same sing-song voice every time. the same voice you call his name with, hugging him close to your tits, where he can smell your overly-sweet perfume, and sevens what he wouldn't give to stay there.
he's made up his mind. he's had enough of your teasing, your flirty bedroom eyes from across the lecture hall, the way your hands brush against his face and arms so casually, the way he just cannot look you in the eyes for too long without feeling the blood in his brain shoot somewhere-fucking-else. you're flunking. as a prefect of night raven college, he can't let this slide. you could get expelled, and then where would you go? he's sitting you down for a tutoring session.
a tutoring session that winds up in you feeling stupider than ever in his presence. he's wondering aloud how you can possibly be this dumb, how you could be so absorbed in anything other than your studies, so invested in sexual innuendo and dressing to attract attention.
"is that truly what you do in your free time? sleep around and flirt with every boy you meet here? is this fun for you, watching how angry you make me?"
he's beyond frustrated, nigh on shouting, when he realizes he's got you backed up against the table...
....and he snaps, pushing you face down onto the table and nipping along your neck. he shoves his gloved fingers into your mouth to silence your sudden noises. you can feel his leg slipping between your own, pressing against your heat, and you push yourself against him. he hums, and you can tell he's grinning that mean smirk behind you.
"you can make it up to me, rose. even you aren't so dumb that you can't follow orders, right?"
like honestly. i think twst is just so genuinely good and deserves so much recognition and appreciation that i think it should have merch at hot topic. at my age i simply dgaf about what twst becoming more popular might do to the fandom because i 1) don't believe non-annoying fandoms exist (my mutuals are never annoying though dw 💖💖) and 2) am more than capable of ignoring people. i just want the anime to get released and i want it to get a dub with all of my favorite voice actors in it so i can meet them and have them sign my twst merch at cons and i want to be able to walk into the mall and see malleus on t-shirts 😤😤
Hm I usually dont have many ideas but.. Deuce spade x amab!reader dubcon? Oh!! and even better if, like, reader is dubcon-ing Deuce on reader's birthday! Uhm btw this is my first time requesting smth so im sorry if theres anything weird! 🥹✨ Have a good day and take as much time as you need! 🫶
Yes, Deuce my boy, love him! Thank you for requesting, baby!
a/n: i do not encourage having sex while intoxicated, this is just a fictional scenario. All characters are aged up and depicted as 18+ y/o
"Congrats again on surviving another year, [Name]!" Ace wraps his arm around your shoulder, a glass of red wine in his hand. You shake your head at his clearly drunk state, he can't stand still, shifting from leg to leg.
"Say, [Name], I think your boyfriend's had enough funny water already," you turn your head to the sound of Epel's voice, quickly looking in the direction he's pointing. You can see Deuce standing against the wall, face flushed red and eyes glossy. "My dude, ya gotta take him to bed."
You bid your friends goodbye, making your way to Deuce. Once he finally registers your presence, his face lits up, hands wrap around you as he murmurs something in your shoulder.
"What was it, baby?" Deuce lifts his head up, suddenly looking serious. He presses his lips to your neck and whispers against the skin.
"Want you..." You stand absolutely speechless, never expecting Deuce Spade to so openly tell you that. Your boyfriend moves his hand to palm your dick through the fabric of your jeans. You're pretty sure you heard your two friends scream "get a room, you two", but decide to ignore them.
Your room is enveloped in complete silence, a contrast to the ruckus outside. Deuce leads you further in the room, tugging your hand as he falls down on the bed, your weight on top of his. You've seen your boyfriend being bold and initiate sex, but the way his eyes are filled with lust raises goosebumps on your skin.
"I want you so bad. Touch me everywhere, rail me." Deuce's fingers find their way in your hair, closing the distance between your faces. His kisses, usually gentle and slow, are now messy and hurried, free hand tries to unbutton your pants as quickly as possible.
"Wait, hold on! Deuce, you're drunk. Let's do this some other time, when you're in the right mind."
"I said I want you to fuck me so hard I'd be unable to walk for the whole week! I want to scream your name and let everyone hear who makes me feel good. I think I'm in the right mind right now, do you?" You gulp and nod slowly. Too stunned by Deuce's sudden brattiness, you reach to pull your shirt over your head, tossing it aside.
Cyan eyes watch as you pull your pants and underwear down, shortly after following the same routine. All your attempts to control yourself crumble, when Deuce lets his hands roam all over your body, purposefully missing your aroused dick.
"Shit, fuck it!" With swift motions you turn Deuce on his stomach and bring his ass up. Your hot breath hits his exposed skin, shivers run down his spine, "Lord help you, if you forget what happens today after you wake up."
"You can always remind me tomorrow." You can practically hear a smirk in his voice, which only riles you up more. With a slap to his ass you let your tongue circle around his rim, the tip sliding inside. "Ah! It's fine, fuck me. I prepped myself..."
"You keep on surprising me tonight, babe. Is it the alcohol that brings out the brat in you?" You're not given a reply, but the way Deuce pants slightly louder is more than enough for you. Amused, you align your erection to his hole, not putting it in. "Gotta tell me what you want, Deuce."
"..." Slightly annoyed at being ignored, you lend a harsh slap to his ass. "Fu-uck! Fuck me! Please."
"Just what I wanted to hear, slut." Your dick easily slips inside Deuce, his face, though almost fully hidden in the pillows, is adorned by pink flush. You settle for a quick but steady pace, angle chosen perfectly as your tip brushed against his prostate with each thrust.
"Where'd your bratty attitude go, slut? Can't handle what I give you? Such a shame, you were trying so hard to rile me up. Yet, when I fuck you, - just like you wanted, mind you, - your dumb self goes whining like a bitch on me." As if to prove your words, Deuce lets out a high-pitched whine that grows into a loud moan.
Your boyfriend's legs tense, hole clenching around you, which means his senses are higher than usual. Alcohol did it's job, you think. Soon enough Spade starts bubbling and screaming into the pillow he had in his arms, hips struggling to meet yours in a desperate attempt to chase his orgasm.
With your name on his swollen lips, Deuce cums in white spurts that lend underneath him. He lays still, breathing a little rapid as his muscles relax slowly.
"Hey, did you pass out? Tch, and who asked me to fuck him so rough he'd be limping for a week? I didn't even get to cum, babe," you laugh under your breath, covering your sleeping boyfriend with a blanket, before scattering his clothes from the floor and placing them on the chair, "You owe me one, Deuce. Better pay back tomorrow morning."
You lay next to him, wrapping an arm around his waist and planting a quick kiss to his forehead.